Lompoc Is Abloom in Politics as Neighbors Size Up GOP Field

The Little Congress has just convened at the Hi! Let’s Eat restaurant--a revolving group of largely Republican regulars who gather to chew the fat and “support the Brazilian economy.” (Translation: talk politics and drink coffee.)

The California’s March 26 primary is approaching, and these longtime pillars of the community would likely say, if pressed, that they will cast their ballots for the man with the most experience, Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole.

But they’d rather not be pressed. And they’d rather not say. Because it’s early yet, and they’d love a better candidate and there’s still Steve Forbes to think about.

“Forbes has a few good ideas,” grants one.

“I like his flat tax,” chimes in another.

Four months ago, when The Times interviewed voters here in the Valley of the Flowers as the election year was just beginning, Lompoc residents were clear about the problems weighing heaviest on their hearts: welfare reform, race relations, a future fraught with economic uncertainty. The thornier question of who could solve these dilemmas and, really, who was even interested in trying, seemed a bit distant.

Today, the presidential candidates’ silhouettes have sharpened some. The early races have come and gone, small victories been declared, debates moderated.

To voters in the verdant Lompoc Valley, the Republican presidential race is now a brutal three-for-all among Dole, Forbes and upstart conservative Patrick J. Buchanan. Lamar Alexander has largely been reduced to a life as “the one with the funny name.”

Dozens of interviews with voters here last week suggest that more people know more about Buchanan and his often edge-of-the party ideas than perhaps about any of the GOP candidates. But that is not always a good thing.

“I think he’s scary, a kind of a radical,” said Chuck Walker, the temperate one at Hi! Let’s Eat.

“You’re talking about Buchanan and his gunboat diplomacy? That went out with Abraham Lincoln,” said Warren Culberson, the definite one. “We’re not a new nation. We don’t need protectionism.”

Still, parts of Buchanan’s economic message--preserving U.S. jobs, improving our standard of living--hit home on the Central Coast, where nature is kind, but the economy is not. Lompoc is not quaint; in certain neighborhoods it works hard at being pretty. The region boasts great natural beauty, but it is tugged at by an undertow of harshness.

The vacant Vons supermarket across from Hi! Let’s Eat is a longtime sore spot on the landscape; the shuttered Kmart, closed five weeks ago, is a large wound: 90,000 square feet of air, 130 jobs gone walking. This working-class city is a pretty good reflection of California as a whole, but one difference stands out: an unemployment rate that has often been as much as a full percentage point higher than the whole state’s.

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So when Dole told the world on the eve of the New Hampshire primary that he “didn’t realize that jobs and trade and what makes America work would become a big issue” in the election, some voters here took note.

“What the hell’s he running for if he don’t know what’s going on?” fumed Frank Luis, 75, a Republican turned Democrat who said he will vote for President Clinton. “He don’t even know about all these people laid off. And if he knew, why the hell did he shoot his mouth off? He hurt a lot of people.”

Sitting at the counter at Hi! Let’s Eat, Luis turns to his coffee buddy two stools up and shakes his head, incredulous. “He got more sense, Buchanan does. It don’t take much to beat Dole. Hey, Paul, [Dole] didn’t know about the layoffs!”

Dole might be out of touch with economic worries, but Robert Cuthbert isn’t. A firsthand student of the welfare system, Cuthbert, 39, and his wife, Ursula, 30, are raising three daughters on government assistance augmented by the small salary the former electrician gets from his part-time job at a gas station while he goes to school to improve his lot in life.

When interviewed in late October, Cuthbert, a Republican, said he was “more apathetic than I’ve ever been” about politics. “After working in what anyone would call a good line of work . . . and being reduced to poverty [following an illness and the downturn in the construction industry], I have a unique perspective on what the Republicans are all about. They cater to the upper half.”

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Today he says he has likely found a candidate, a politician who speaks directly to his troubled life: Buchanan. “He’s a populist,” he said, praising “his message of a national economy taking care of the whole people, not just the Wall Streeters and super-wealthy.”

Buchanan’s power is measurable here, but not solely by the number of people who say they’ll support him. For every Robert Cuthbert, there is a Boyd Larson, a loyal Republican and retired engineer from nearby Vandenberg Air Force Base who calls Buchanan “the evilest of the bunch” and contends that Buchanan’s ardent followers “live on a flat Earth, hangin’ over the starboard side.”

Unquestionably, Buchanan has changed the public discourse here, injecting issues such as immigration and abortion into a debate that rarely included them before. Not that everyone agrees with him, but they are talking about his message.

“I like his stance on immigration,” said Bruno Bornino, 49, proud owner of Lompoc Lanes bowling alley. “Lock those borders down. When you have a third of the kids in the L.A. city schools illegal aliens, you have a society that can’t mesh. They don’t speak the same language.”

At the Farm House Bingo Hall on North I Street, the senior lunch program is in full swing, and Elaine Leahy, 78, eating a deli sandwich and navy bean soup, is indignant. Buchanan “is going to build a wall to keep the Mexicans out,” she said, amazed at the sheer affront. “I don’t mind immigration. California was founded by Mexicans. And now he’s going to build a wall.”

Immigration policy is not all that bothers this newly registered Republican about Buchanan. There’s abortion too. “I’ve always felt that women should have abortions if they need them,” said this avid voter who’s leaning toward Forbes. “That abortion fight is nasty. It’s too bad it’s an issue.”

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Interviewed at his home, third-generation farmer Steve Jordan, who calls himself “mostly pro-life,” agrees that abortion has no place in politics or the Republican Party platform. As a grower of artichokes, lettuce, celery and cauliflower, Jordan also takes issue with Buchanan’s protectionist stand on trade.

“In our part of the world, [the North American Free Trade Agreement] may actually help farmers,” said this 47-year-old Dole supporter. “We export food. Mexico can’t grow lettuce in the summer. It’s too hot. There are some people who sell upwards of 40% of their total sales to Mexico.”

Along with the gnashing of teeth over the GOP candidates--the questions about Forbes’ money, Dole’s age, Buchanan’s ideas--there is strong support for Clinton here; many feel he has done as good a job as a president can.

Clinton has “done what he can, done pretty good so far,” said Rosalie Terrones, 48, who lost her job when the Kmart closed. As she waited at the Lompoc Lanes, she said: “I wouldn’t vouch for his background, but as far as being president, he’s done pretty well.”

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And then there are the nonvoters. Lucille Johnson, fearful of the future but too disenchanted to vote, comes from the politicians-are-all-alike school of thought.

“You just don’t know who you’re voting for,” said this wary woman as she waited at a street corner for her granddaughter at the end of a school day. “When you do vote for them, it just doesn’t turn out right. So I ignore it.”

Kind of. Johnson recently moved back to Lompoc, where she lived 20 years ago. Now she shares a home with her mechanic son, unemployed since November; her daughter; son-in-law, and Ashley, 10.

She rues the lack of jobs and the empty storefronts, she fears the crime and resents those on government assistance. But for a studied nonvoter, she is an informed citizen.

From what she knows about Alexander, “he seems OK,” she said. “Forbes, I think, would just be for the rich people.”

But the bottom line for Johnson, 68: “I’m for anybody who’ll put us all to work.”