ELECTIONS ’88 : ORANGE COUNTY : Rosenberg’s New Race in the 40th : More Backing and Savvy This Time Around

It was vintage Nathan Rosenberg, stepping off the platform and plunging into a crowd of young Republicans gathered recently in the ballroom of a Costa Mesa hotel.

The congressional candidate ignored the microphone, relying instead on his own booming voice to deliver his message. Moving with the precision--and purpose--acquired during his days as an Air Force Academy cadet, Rosenberg was both direct and compelling as he maneuvered crisply down the aisle.

“Come join us and help win the 40th Congressional District,” he urged the fashionably dressed crowd of party loyalists. “It is a chance to experience firsthand what you, as individuals, can do in this great political process!

“Walk with me, and we can make a little history!”

Against the Odds

In 1986, Rosenberg tested history, challenging longtime incumbent Robert E. Badham (R-Newport Beach) in the race for the party’s nomination in the 40th District, a prized seat among Capitol Hill conservatives. Rosenberg did well, capturing 35% of the vote, despite a late start, no name identification and opposition from key party regulars who were angered that the Newport Beach resident dared to run against an incumbent Republican.

This year, the situation is different, with Badham having announced in January that he would not seek a seventh term.

Older, and by his own admission politically wiser, Rosenberg has positioned himself as a leading contender among 12 Republicans in the June 7 primary.

The 35-year-old businessman has done it with money, about $435,000 in contributions, and a door-to-door campaign that Rosenberg predicts will make personal contact with GOP voters in most of the district’s 675 precincts, from Fountain Valley to Laguna Hills, by election day.

Rosenberg said his volunteers, numbering close to 1,200, have so far walked two-thirds of the precincts, handing out pot holders and flyers that picture the candidate with his wife, Claire, and their three children.

Viewed as independent, and still resented by some party regulars, Rosenberg has had to take to the streets in this predominantly white, upscale district to fish for votes. He lacks important local endorsements, and some party officials have suggested that he is too moderate for the district’s half-million residents.

And his political opponents continue, just as Badham did two years ago, to raise Rosenberg’s ties to his brother, est founder Werner Erhard. Now defunct, est was the controversial self-improvement program that was the predecessor to the association known as the Forum.

With his rivals using such tactics, “and no real endorsements in his hip pocket, Nathan had to go directly to voters,” a political consultant with an opposing campaign said. “It’s smart because nobody is better when it comes to the one-on-one . . . he’s dynamite on a doorstep.”

Rosenberg, his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, turned the corner in the deserted apartment complex and encountered Herman Platte, a retired tradesman. At 82, Platte’s walk is sort of a shuffle, and years of bending to pound nails and pour concrete have rounded his shoulders.

But his eyes are still sharp. And when the handsome young man with the quick step put his hand out and asked for his vote, Platte looked the stranger over real good. A lifelong Republican, Platte peered from under his blue baseball cap and told the candidate that he planned to vote June 7 just down the street at Corona del Mar High School.

But he added tersely: “I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

Sensing the challenge, Rosenberg waited for an opening, and when Platte mentioned that his daughter was a nun, Rosenberg seized on the statement. He told Platte a sister of a valued campaign aide was also a nun. The ice was broken, and by the time Rosenberg resumed his precinct walk, Platte had softened.

“I don’t know much about him, but he’s the only candidate to come my way so far,” Platte observed. “That counts for something.”

To prove that it does, Rosenberg says he has worn out three sets of soles on his best black loafers.

His message has not changed much since his primary defeat two years ago. Rosenberg believes that the promise of building consensus through strong leadership on key issues like transportation and the federal budget deficit is still highly marketable, and is his true strength.

Politically, it is difficult to distinguish Rosenberg from his chief rivals, Irvine Councilman C. David Baker and Newport Beach attorney C. Christopher Cox. The three men often seem almost to trip over each other at forums in their attempts to paint themselves as the most conservative. But the personalities of the three are very different.

Personally, Rosenberg contends that he is the ideal fit for the district.

He embraces the same entrepreneurial spirit that drives the county’s booming economy. He is chairman of the board of Submersible Systems, a Huntington Beach company that markets miniature air tanks for underwater divers. Among his customers is the U.S. Navy, which purchased nearly $1.3 million worth of the devices last year. He is also a partner in a Newport Beach investment firm, which buys, manages and sells other companies.

A stylish dresser, he is glib and urbane and drives a a black Mercedes sedan. His confidence borders on brashness.

After graduating from the Air Force Academy in 1974, Rosenberg received a commission with the Navy and Coast Guard and flew search-and-rescue missions off Florida. He then transferred to Washington, D.C., where he sharpened his political skills in the Carter Administration, working in the office of Defense Secretary Harold Brown handling mail and reviewing overseas cables.

Later, he resigned his commission and worked as a defense specialist for Democratic Sen. Robert Byrd of West Virginia.

The fact that he worked for Democrats has prompted some Rosenberg critics to question his Republican credentials. But Rosenberg said he took the jobs because “the Republicans had nothing, and I wanted the experience. . . . Sometimes one makes hard choices.”

He is married to a Harvard graduate, and his three children are under the age of 5. He is a skilled fund-raiser, often teaming with his wife to attract money for local charities. He pores over business periodicals but takes literary side trips into historical novels, the most recent being William Safire’s “Freedom,” about Abraham Lincoln. The beach is his escape, and when he is not campaigning he jogs three miles a day.

Fiscally and militarily, he counts himself as a hard-line conservative. But he breaks with the right on social issues. He opposes abortion but believes that it is a matter best decided by the individual, not Congress or the courts.

And he contends that the conservative movement in California has missed a golden opportunity on the environment, failing to speak out loudly enough against offshore oil drilling, air pollution and traffic.

“It is not a liberal or conservative issue,” he says. “It is a quality-of-life issue, and in this county quality of life is everything.”

Rosenberg, who has never held elective office, has not taken a public stand on the countywide slow-growth initiative on the June 7 ballot.

Privately, campaign aides said they have tried to persuade Rosenberg to support the measure, but he has taken the position that growth is not a federal issue but a concern best addressed by local officials. He denied that he has remained neutral because of his links to William Lyon, one of the county’s biggest home builders and a person who has been instrumental in raising money for Rosenberg.

“With Nathan Rosenberg, there are no hidden agendas,” he said, sipping a vanilla milkshake in a Newport Beach coffee shop. “Two years ago, some people called me an opportunist. I like to think I recognized the need for a leadership change.”

The door opened only a crack, and the man on the other side snarled, “What do you want?”

Undeterred, Rosenberg pressed ahead, identifying himself as a candidate for Congress and asking for the man’s vote. The response hit a nerve.

“I wouldn’t vote for that Jew,” the man said, not realizing that he was talking to Rosenberg.

When Rosenberg explained that he was not Jewish, the man replied:

“Well, maybe he’s not Jewish by religion, but he’s Jewish by birth--so what’s the difference?”

Rosenberg has encountered anti-Semitism despite the fact that he is not Jewish. He has received anonymous letters calling him a “dirty Jew,” and he has been the target of an anonymous telephone campaign aimed at portraying him as a Jew.

“How do you respond to that kind of crap?” a frustrated Rosenberg asked. “I’m a Christian, but many of my relatives and friends are Jewish. . . . This whole thing stinks.”

In fact, Rosenberg is a devout Christian who rarely misses a service at St. James Episcopal Church of Newport Beach. When an aide recently suggested that he could spend his Sundays more wisely politicking, an irritated Rosenberg reportedly said: “I don’t miss church, campaign or no campaign.”

Rosenberg’s father, who emigrated from the Soviet Union, was Jewish. His mother was a New Englander and a Christian. Rosenberg’s father was wounded during World War II and converted to the Episcopal faith while recovering in a military hospital.

It has been a nettlesome subject for Rosenberg, and it has led him to one bottom-line conclusion.

“If a voter makes his decision based only on my religion,” he said, “I don’t want his vote.”

If he is elected to Congress, Rosenberg said, he will work to overhaul the tax system, and possibly push for a flat-rate income tax. He favors tax breaks for large corporations that provide day care. He also supports using the military to combat drug trafficking.

And he believes that Californians, particularly those in the south, need to protect the state’s precious water supplies. One of his proposals is to line the earthen canals that carry water from the Colorado River with concrete. He contends substantial amounts of water are lost because of percolation into the ground.

In the 1986 40th District primary, Rosenberg said, the problem was that not enough people heard his pitch.

This time around, he is taking no chances. He has mailed an 80-page booklet on his views to 100,000 people in the district. And he has a 12-minute video on his life and vision for the future that he shows at coffees and fund-raisers.

He is determined not to finish second again. The Badham defeat, he said, devastated him.

“I never felt so upset, hurt and squashed,” he recalled. “The reality lesson was we went hunting an elephant with a BB gun.”

Still, Rosenberg won points and support from influential party members, like Lyon and south county developer and county GOP leader Gus Owen, for breaking with tradition and taking on the Badham.

“Rosenberg is aggressive, almost to the point of arrogance,” said Bill Schreiber, Badham’s campaign manager in 1986 and now a political consultant with Orange County-based Nelson, Ralston & Robb, Communications. “But a lot of people like Nathan’s boldness, his willingness to look the establishment in the eye and say: ‘I’m going to do this whether you like it or not.’

“Give him credit--he doesn’t back down,” Schreiber declared.

NATHAN ROSENBERG Office sought: 40th Congressional District representative. The district includes the cities of Newport Beach, Irvine, Costa Mesa and Laguna Beach and portions of Laguna Niguel, Laguna Hills, Tustin, Santa Ana, Fountain Valley, Huntington Beach and Silverado Canyon. Occupation: Businessman, chairman of the board of Submersible Systems, a Huntingon Beach manufacturer of miniature air tanks for underwater divers. Also, a partner in a Newport Beach investment company, which buys, manages and sells companies. Party Affiliation: Republican Age: 35 Residence: Corona del Mar Public office previously held: None.