92 Democratic Convention : Delegate Reactions : Area Representatives’ Opinions Vary on Appeal of Ticket and High Points of Convention

For Carol Blad, a city attorney’s investigator from Van Nuys and a delegate for Bill Clinton, it was the Arkansas governor’s appearance in Madison Square Garden after he was nominated that brought tears to her eyes.

For Ed Burke, a high school government teacher from Chatsworth and a delegate for former California Gov. Edmund G. (Jerry) Brown Jr., it was hearing Sen. Edward M. Kennedy, Jesse Jackson and Brown himself dish up the old liberal religion that got him fired up.

And for Jean O’Leary, who was the first openly lesbian delegate at a Democratic convention in 1976 and is a Clinton delegate from North Hollywood, it was seeing a gay man with AIDS and a woman who had contracted the virus from a blood transfusion, speak from the podium.

After four days amid the large, loud, diverse and divisive California delegation, San Fernando Valley activists had little trouble recalling highlights during interviews on the convention floor Thursday evening. The Valley provided about 35 delegates and alternates.

Not surprisingly, they differed sharply in their feelings about the party ticket of Clinton and Tennessee Sen. Al Gore. Clinton delegates generally registered great enthusiasm; Brown backers’ sentiments ranged from grudging acceptance to a refusal to support the nominee.

Brown’s backers had accused the party leaders of trying to gag their candidate because he refused to endorse Clinton before he addressed the convention; some of the Clinton delegates, meanwhile, were still smarting over the unruly, pugnacious behavior of the Brown insurgents.

“We have been obnoxious,” acknowledged Donna Schoenkopf, a schoolteacher from Thousand Oaks and one of the rowdier Brown delegates. “It’s our job. If we had not been obnoxious, nobody would have noticed that Jerry had his rights to speak at this convention eliminated.”

Brown did finally speak, but only when his name was put in nomination Wednesday; he was not given a formal role in the program like the other major presidential candidates.

Schoenkopf nonetheless found her first convention an uplifting experience. She described the feeling of unity among the self-described “Brownies” as “almost rapture.”

Most delegates’ moods tended to be a little more down to earth. Generally, their attitude toward the fall campaign varied from cautious optimism to confidence to seeming indifference. They had seen Clinton’s support in the polls skyrocket during the convention, but Texas billionaire Ross Perot’s announcement Thursday that he would not make it a three-way race created an air of uncertainty.

And some recalled Michael Dukakis’ 17-point lead when he left Atlanta four years ago as the party’s nominee--a prelude to a disaster. This year, Clinton delegates vowed determinedly, will be different.

“The difference now is that we’re coming out of the Democratic convention with two men who appear to be good nominees at a time when the majority of people in the country see a future where they are far less hopeful than they were four years ago,” said Rep. Anthony C. Beilenson (D-Los Angeles), a so-called “super-delegate” chosen by the party leaders who was in Atlanta in 1988.

“The country was coming off eight years of having Mr. Reagan as President and people were confident about the future and the economy.”

Ellen Bruck, an airline maintenance worker and union representative from Woodland Hills, said she felt that, unlike Dukakis, Clinton will be able to withstand the Republican negative campaign that is expected to come his way.

“He’s taken a lot of hits before, but he’s come back,” said Bruck, who held a hand-lettered sign welcoming Perot backers to the Clinton-Gore fold on one side and declaring on the other: “San Fernando Valley for Clinton-Gore.”

“He’s tenacious. He’s resilient. He’s a fighter.”

The Brown delegates were less certain.

“I’m not convinced,” said Sharon Molander, a Burbank teacher who estimates that she did 2,000 hours of volunteer work for Brown’s campaign during the past year. “I’ll vote for Clinton and Gore, but I’m not going to work for them.”

Referring to the party’s nominee and his wife, Hillary, she added: “I feel like he and his wife are Ken and Barbie dolls. I don’t see anything real there.”

When a Brown enthusiast from Oregon produced a “Brown in ‘96” button, Molander groaned: “I don’t think I can take another year of this.”

Burke, a party veteran attending his fourth convention since he was a Brown delegate in 1976, predicted that most of his colleagues would eventually return to the ranks.

“Ninety percent will join the fold and the other 10% will take a little longer,” Burke said. Although Brown did not endorse Clinton, Burke noted that he urged supporters to work through the Democratic Party.

For O’Leary, her joy over Clinton’s nomination was intertwined with the acceptance given the gay and lesbian agenda at the convention. At Clinton’s behest, the movement’s priorities were adopted in the party platform, AIDS was given special prominence and the Gay and Lesbian Delegates Caucus reached a record of 108 members here.

“It makes me feel elated,” said O’Leary, the former executive director of National Gay Rights Advocates. “It’s been a long hard struggle for 20 years. I always knew it would happen.”

For one delegate, meanwhile, history was being made on another front--and it could not wait. As Los Angeles school board member Julie Korenstein, a Brown delegate from Northridge, arrived here, her daughter back in North Hollywood was due to give birth any day to Korenstein’s first grandchild.

“I’m going to have a very high phone bill,” Korenstein said earlier in the week. “I told her that the baby had to wait until Saturday.”

But when the Valley delegates took to the convention floor for Thursday’s acceptance speeches, Korenstein was not among them. She had flown back to Los Angeles early that morning.

At press time, those returns were still not in.

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