The Games People Play Learning to Bring in GOP Vote

The coffee was stale and the table littered with computer research as campaign manager Dan Conforti looked up from the latest poll and offered a grim summary of the race.

With only two weeks to election day, their candidate appeared to be losing, ranking sixth in a field of seven.

“We made a few mistakes we shouldn’t have,” Conforti told his four-member campaign team matter-of-factly. Still, he thought their candidate had a chance. “We have to walk our precincts and look at the new poll. And then. . . . “ Conforti grinned. “We have to smear someone in the last round.”

In real life, Conforti is a Yorba Linda schoolteacher. But Sunday morning, he and 40 other political activists were at the Doubletree Hotel in Orange, taking part in a computer-simulated city council election. Sponsored by the Republican Party of Orange County, the election game was part of a weekend workshop designed to teach the basics of running a campaign.

Working for one of seven fictitious candidates, participants told the computer when they wished to raise money, walk precincts, debate opponents or send “hit” mail to residents of the imaginary city of Erehwon (Nowhere spelled backwards). In turn, the computer told them when they had made a smart move--or had done something dumb.

“I am worried that you are not raising enough money to fund even a limited direct mail campaign,” a computer printout often chastised teams when they ordered too many yard signs (at $500 a precinct) or mailers (at $1,500 a precinct) but failed to hold fund-raisers.

Atlantic Richfield Co. developed this game (as a public relations primer) for its employees in 1980 when oil prices were high and the company was under attack, said ARCO consultant Robert McElroy. Since then McElroy has played it with congressional aides as well as housewives and with Democrats as well as Republicans.

“I don’t think it’s one of those things that can save the world,” he said, but its 16 rounds of strategizing are “the nearest thing to a real campaign.” Possibly better, he said; in this fictional race, “they don’t have to live with that turkey (the candidate) after he’s been elected.”

Slate of Candidates

Certainly the game offered a sampling of American politics. The seven candidates for four Erehwon council seats included two incumbents, a Latino college professor and a savings and loan executive. Among the challengers were a fat-cat agribusinessman, a black employment counselor, an environmentalist, a neighborhood activist and a 28-year-old deputy district attorney.

As the game went on, some teams became vociferous proponents for their candidates, cheering as each new computer poll, flashed onto video monitors on each table, showed their candidate ahead.

Still, a few “campaign strategists” said they were having trouble supporting their candidate. “We have a black candidate who has wrong ideas to begin with. Frankly I don’t think I could have voted for him,” said Peg Moore, vice president of an Irvine software firm.

The game received an unexpected dose of realism when McElroy caught one Republican, a county party vice president, Dennis Catron, at another team’s table.

Conforti’s Victory

“Hey, what have we got here? A spy?” McElroy roared. Catron explained that he was “just doing a little campaign research,” but McElroy was not impressed. Taking Catron by the arm, McElroy escorted him to his own table.

After three hours of strategizing, the game was over. To Conforti’s delight, his team’s candidate--initially ranked last--had won. But on the other side of the room, campaign manager Amy Jane Frater’s candidate--once one of the leaders--had gone down to defeat.

“It was rigged,” Frater said morosely at one point. But she was quick to suggest a more likely problem: “We didn’t target any precincts” with mailings, she said.

Frater, a city planner, wasn’t sure exactly how she would use the game’s political skills. But she thought she’d find a way. “It’s simplified, but some of the issues are similar to a real-life campaign,” Frater said.