Dogged Supporters : Many of Perot’s Volunteers Are Staying the Course--Even if He Isn’t

Four hours had passed since Ross Perot ended his maverick bid for the presidency, and tears were still welling up in Jean Nash’s eyes.

“He’s got to get back into the race,” insisted Nash, 62, of Torrance, one of 20 shocked volunteers who at noontime Thursday milled disconsolately through the Perot campaign office in Lawndale.

“If he gets out of the race, we’re going backwards. The Republicans will promise everything, the Democrats will promise everything. Nothing will get better.”

So Nash made one last bid of her own, scrawling a passionate plea to the man she believes should be president: “The people want Ross Perot, not the politicians. Together we can fight the machine.”

When she tried to fax her message to Perot’s Dallas headquarters, however, she was rebuffed by an ever-busy telephone line.

In this Lawndale storefront, the Perot campaign’s South Los Angeles County headquarters, volunteers reacted with disbelief, sadness and even subdued anger to the Texas billionaire’s surprise announcement that he would not seek the nation’s highest office.

Since the spring, the office had engineered the collection of about 55,000 signatures for Perot--more than one-third of the total needed to put him on the California ballot. It rallied an estimated 2,500 volunteers who also were launching a voter registration drive.

And on Thursday, the day Perot pulled out, the volunteers were still coming through the door, the phones still ringing.

“We have a lot of people who don’t want to stop. All this energy, it’s not going to go by the wayside,” said Nancy Morgan, South Los Angeles County coordinator, as she sat at her desk ruminating about Perot over a half-eaten sandwich.

The campaign got people “off their couches and taking an active role,” Morgan said. In fact, she said, 10% to 15% of those who registered to vote at the Lawndale office said they had never registered before.

This was the first political campaign for Morgan, 39, of Manhattan Beach.

“Perot awakened me to a lot of things I should have known, but didn’t know,” she said soberly. “Something about him touched me, or maybe it’s something about the times.”

And now, even in the face of Perot ending his bid, Morgan is not ready to say it is over.

“We’re going to see how the dust settles,” she said, simply.

Some, however, admitted to feeling abandoned, let down.

“He said going in that he would stick with the people, he’d stick with the volunteers,” said Bob Eckerd, 41, of Hawthorne. “I think he should have at least stayed in until after the Republican convention.”

Perhaps Perot did not realize how viciously the press would attack him, Eckerd speculated. And perhaps he hurt himself because of his independent streak. “Maybe he should have trusted more in the professional handlers that he had.”

Few of the volunteers believed the whole story had been told as to why Perot bowed out.

“I think he owes us the truth,” said Dolores Pitts, 49, of Manhattan Beach, who has spent 35 to 40 hours a week coordinating volunteers--and watching the office’s volunteer list grow from a handful of names to 2,500.

Perhaps volunteers’ lobbying could propel Perot back into the race, speculated Joe Stimac, 74, of Torrance. Stimac was accompanied by his dog, Josie, who was wearing a sash emblazoned with Perot’s name.

None of nine Perot supporters interviewed at the Lawndale office was ready to support either President Bush or Democratic nominee Bill Clinton. Most said they would vote for Perot or no one at all.

“I think voter turnout just went down,” said volunteer Laura Stevens, 26, of Hermosa Beach, who had stayed up late producing this week’s campaign newsletter.

“I wouldn’t consider voting for Bush,” Stevens said. “I wish there was a different person on the Democratic ticket. I wish Jerry Brown were running, or Mario Cuomo.”

Others described a deep-felt sense of being disenfranchised.

Mary Stuntz, 63, of Rancho Palos Verdes, became a volunteer 2 1/2 months ago in the wake of the Los Angeles riots, which she believes were caused by feelings of futility and hopelessness. In Perot, she said, “I saw hope.”

But then Stuntz heard the breakfast-hour radio reports that Perot was pulling out. She sat down and composed a kind of epilogue to his--and her--quest.

“I can’t stop crying,” it read. “I believe this campaign was the last hope for my Country, and now it is over.”

Hours later at the Lawndale office, Stuntz’s eyes were still wet with tears. She said she will not vote for Clinton or Bush--and doesn’t know what she will do next.

“Once I stop crying,” Stuntz said, “I’m going to try to figure it out.”