Gimmicks Become a Drug on Local Political Market

Congressional candidate Bill Mitchell thought he had the perfect angle to dramatize his concern over the drug issue: A challenge to Rep. Jim Bates (D-San Diego) to take a urinalysis.

Bates one-upped Mitchell, however, by quietly taking a drug exam in advance of his opponent’s challenge and testing negative. “He’s kind of off the wall . . . so we were ready for something like this,” Bates boasted. “Ordinarily, I’m not in favor of congressional leaks, but this time, I made an exception.”

Another would-be congressman, Daniel Kripke, who hopes to unseat Rep. Bill Lowery (R-San Diego), came up with his own attention-getting tactic to try to embarrass Lowery over the fact that his downtown campaign office is located above an adult bookstore. Thousands of mailers Kripke sent to 41st District voters last month were enclosed in envelopes with large, bright orange lettering saying, “Help Get Bill Lowery Away from Pornography.”

“Is that the best this bozo can do?” Lowery responded.

As those snapshots of campaign ’86 in San Diego illustrate, gimmickry and name-calling have not lost their appeal among publicity-hungry candidates.

Aware that public interest in politics is at a low ebb during the summer, many local candidates have resorted to a variety of tactics--some of them time-tested, others apparently new--in an attempt to draw attention, however fleeting, to themselves.

“You do what you have to do to get your message out and make people take notice,” said Bill Smelko, the Democratic nominee in the 77th Assembly District. In his effort to do so in his uphill race against incumbent Larry Stirling (R-San Diego), Smelko recently “debated” his absent opponent--”He didn’t show up, so I won,” Smelko joked--and signed a 13-week contract for his own political talk show on cable television. (No, the show will not begin with an announcer saying, “And now, heeerrre’s Billy!”)

Some candidates, however, avoid such tactics, arguing that campaign gimmickry detracts from serious, issues-oriented politicking and undermines public confidence in the political system.

“I want to be taken as a very serious candidate--to start pulling out gimmicks would be counterproductive,” said lawyer Joe Chirra, Democratic opponent of Rep. Ron Packard (R-Carlsbad). “Gimmicks may get you some attention, but I think they also reinforce some of the negative things people think about politics and politicians.”

Others, though, concur with former San Diego City Councilman Mitchell, who argues that campaign gimmicks can be effective in capturing the attention of politically passive people--and, perhaps more importantly, the news media--”so that you can go ahead and try to make your serious points.”

“In politics, you’re always competing for the attention of the public and the media,” Mitchell said. “But that’s good training for the job, because if you’re elected to Congress, you’re one of 435 and better know how to make yourself heard and command attention.”

That is a task that has never intimidated Mitchell, a maverick Republican noted for the occasionally offbeat ideas that he offered during his two terms on the City Council. He was defeated in November by Abbe Wolfsheimer.

Seeking to rebound against Bates in the 44th Congressional District, Mitchell has campaigned hard on an anti-drug theme and has relentlessly hounded Bates for suggesting at a congressional hearing last January that the legalization of drugs should be studied. “That’s the main reason I decided to run,” Mitchell said. “We have kids killing themselves with drugs and this clown wants to put ‘U.S. Choice’ on drugs. Bates is a real menace.”

For his part, Bates accuses Mitchell of distorting what he terms a “poorly phrased” remark in which he told the congressional panel that the decriminalization of drugs “should be looked at much closer.” His comment, Bates contends, was intended “merely to raise the question” of whether a program similar to England’s state-run heroin program “could help take the extremely high profit out of illegal drug sales.”

“Most of the time, (Mitchell) carefully threads the needle so that he misconstrues what I said but doesn’t lie,” Bates said.

A Mitchell campaign brochure, however, states flatly that Bates “says he wants to legalize drugs”--one occasion on which Bates argues that Mitchell “crossed over from deception to falsehood.”

Mitchell, meanwhile, promises to “turn up the heat even higher” on Bates on the drug issue, a strategic decision that generated his latest salvo--last week’s urinalysis challenge.

And, while Bates says that he has already tested negative on a drug exam, Mitchell continues to press the issue.

“That proves nothing,” Mitchell said. “The proper way to do this is for both of us to take the test at the same time with the same doctor. Of course, we’d have to get an independent doctor, not a Republican or Democrat doctor.”

Mitchell has not confined his verbal barrage--which includes some of the most caustic name-calling heard in any local race this year--to the drug issue alone. The former councilman also has referred to the congressman as “Banzai Bates” for advocating the use of additional Border Patrol officers along the U.S.-Mexican border, and called Bates a “defense rapist” because of his votes against certain weapons programs.

Earlier this month, a schedule conflict forced the postponement of another gimmick planned by Mitchell’s campaign--a news conference featuring a slot machine as a visual backdrop to illustrate his contention that Bates “is a congressman into whom you can insert two bits and pull out a vote.” That charge stems from Bates’ acceptance of a $2,000 honorarium for touring, along with 13 other congressmen, a Virginia coal company’s mines.

Although gimmickry and verbal hyperbole have dominated his campaign, Mitchell professes a wish to avoid such tactics, and places the blame for his failure to do so on Bates, not himself.

“I’d prefer not to use gimmicks and to debate the issues seriously, but he won’t do that,” Mitchell said. “So I have to do something to attract attention.”

Not surprisingly, Bates has a different perspective on his opponent’s tactics.

“He used to be just Bill Mitchell, kind of a kooky guy but basically fair,” Bates said. “Now, you can’t even say he’s fair.”

The 41st Congressional District race also has produced some lively verbal sparring and unusual tactics, most of them initiated by challenger Kripke.

Admittedly trying “to get under Bill Lowery’s skin,” Kripke, a professor of psychiatry at UC San Diego, sent out about 2,000 fund-raising mailers, labeled in orange ink as a “Special Anti-Pornography Message,” last month.

The enclosed two-page letter pointed out that Lowery’s campaign office is located in a Gaslamp Quarter building above Pleasureland, a hard-core adult bookstore. (Several other businesses, including the political consulting firm that ran San Diego Mayor Maureen O’Connor’s successful campaign, occupy the same building.)

“Bill Lowery consciously chose to put his headquarters in the Red Light Quarter,” Kripke charged. “That’s a very important symbolic statement about his political behavior. This is not a frivolous low blow.”

Lowery, however, counters that Kripke is “really, really reaching” by trying to raise the campaign office’s location as an issue. Noting that the building’s owners tried unsuccessfully to evict Pleasureland, Lowery added, “In urban areas, you sometimes have to walk past some seamy things to get to the boutiques and shops.

“Is this an issue that the voters are concerned about? I hardly think so. To suggest that I’m giving some kind of endorsement to pornography by having an office there is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.”

Kripke’s reference to the Gaslamp Quarter as the “Red Light Quarter” even drew City Councilman Uvaldo Martinez, whose district includes downtown, into the fray.

“Your scurrilous remarks are an affront to everyone who is working to make the Gaslamp a safer place in which to live, work and play,” Martinez wrote Kripke. “Your letter shows a remarkable level of ignorance by a candidate for national office . . . “

Kripke responded with an acerbic letter--and accompanying press release--of his own laced with references to Martinez’s indictment on felony charges stemming from alleged misuse of his city-issued credit card to pay for personal meals.

“You might wait till the courts determine the extent of your criminal guilt before volunteering as a moral reference for Mr. Lowery,” Kripke wrote Martinez.

If his bombast on the issues infuriates Lowery, so much the better, Kripke said. Like Mitchell, Kripke claims that he has been forced to rely on such tactics to try to counter the incumbent’s attempt to ignore his candidacy by refusing to agree to a series of debates.

“This campaign has been fun--I’m enjoying myself,” Kripke said. “Maybe things would be different if Bill Lowery wasn’t a coward afraid to stand up and defend his own record.”

Lowery says he is determined not to “provide entertainment value in this race by responding to every crazy thing this guy says.”

In the 77th Assembly District race, Democratic nominee Smelko, a lawyer, has opted for an unusual but not unprecedented method of trying to reach voters.

A former collegiate debating champion, Smelko has been frustrated by Assemblyman Stirling’s rejection of a debate.

To display his displeasure, Smelko held a “one-man debate” last month in El Cajon--a variation of the so-called “empty chair” tactic long used by candidates whose opponents shun joint appearances. (Stirling says he will appear with Smelko at community forums this fall, but adds, “I’m not going to let him determine my campaign schedule.”)

Smelko, meanwhile, recently signed a contract to host his own weekly 30-minute political talk show on Cox cable television. Starting Aug. 25, “Bill Smelko’s Spotlight” will air on 13 consecutive Monday nights at 7 p.m. on Cox cable Channel 4.

Calling the show “a throwback to the days of Lincoln and Douglas,” Smelko argues that the program will give voters “an extended opportunity to evaluate the merits of issues and ideas” in his campaign. Viewers will be able to phone in questions, and Smelko hopes to lure public officials to the program to discuss issues.

“I really think this is the way of the future in politics,” Smelko said. “It’s an alternative to the intrusion of say-nothing 30-second TV commercials and political junk mail.”

Why does Smelko think people would choose to watch his show over “Monday Night Baseball,” “PM Magazine” and “Dallas,” programs that air at the same time?

“I think a lot of people will welcome the chance . . . to be able to cast a knowledgeable ballot,” Smelko said. He paused briefly, then joked, “Besides, if need be, I’ll take a urinalysis on TV to get the ratings.”

As evidenced by Smelko’s quip, Mitchell’s challenge to Bates has spawned numerous jokes--most of them unprintable--in political circles.

At least one other local candidate, however, sees the idea as meritorious, not merely campaign gimmickry. Tom DuBose, a National City businessman running against Assemblyman Steve Peace (D-Chula Vista), said he, too, intends to take a drug test “because the people have a right to know that their legislators are clean.” He has challenged Peace to do the same.

“I don’t mind taking any tests,” Peace responded. “Just as long as I don’t have to take a shot.”