When in California, a Day at the Beach Is Part of GOP Agenda

Forget the puffed-up speeches about the nation’s future and the raging fights over some obscure and not-so-obscure points in the party platform. Led by the Californians, 8,000 Republicans did what most self-respecting natives do on a sunny Sunday afternoon here--they headed to the beach.

It was all part of a California Republican Party fund-raiser and a perfect California welcome for the out-of-towners. There were sandcastles, beefcakes pumping iron and models playing the part of lifeguards, selected, said one, because they looked like a TV version of “Californians.”

Delegates paid $96 each to attend, and more than 8,000 showed up at Mariner’s Point in San Diego’s Mission Bay. Behind barricades several hundred yards away, several dozen Democrats showed up to protest what they called the Republican “war on the poor.”

But this being a balmy Sunday afternoon, the Democrats soon lost interest in their demonstration.

In planning their party for the non-Californians, the state’s Republicans went all out--with classic cars, all Woodies, and surf music by Frankie Avalon and Jan & Dean.

Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-Huntington Beach), a surfer, delivered a speech about freedom, then did a dance with his board to a tune by Jan & Dean.

The invitation from the California Republicans urged their fellow delegates to “join the other Hodaddies and Moondoggies and be a part of our endless summer,” which prompted one reporter from the East to ask what or who Hodaddies and Moondoggies were.

The probing question caused no small amount of debate among the California GOP leaders, most of whom, judging from their pallor, probably spend far more time in back rooms than in the sun.

“No one can say I’ve been spending my days at the beach,” Secretary of State Bill Jones said, sheepishly trying to come up with a politically acceptable spin for his notably pale legs.

Just steps away, in his blue shorts and flip-flops, Atty. Gen. Dan Lungren, co-chairman of the platform committee, was talking to a CBS news crew, trying to explain the fine points of the party’s positions.

“This notion that we’re a party of extremism is nonsense,” Lungren told the TV news crew.

The event was sponsored by GOP donors whose names were written on surfboards stuck in the sand--such as the Jose Cuervo tequila company, the state’s prison guard union and Philip Morris Cos. Inc.

The largest backer was United Airlines, which gave $75,000 and handed out visors and flip-flops.

“This is a business decision,” said Alan Wayne, a United corporate spokesman. But he added that the airline is not playing favorites: It also plans to put on a big event for the Democrats later this month in Chicago.

As fine as that event might be, however, it probably won’t include beach volleyball or the other sandy competitions that made the day in San Diego.

In the fierce sandcastle-building competition, most teams played it safe, building around a theme of elephants.

Colorado’s entry, however, was a sandy replica of Denver’s Coors Field, set against a backdrop of the Rocky Mountains, all capped with “snow.”

“It’s all real California snow--flocking,” said Rob Fairbank, the Colorado state party political director.

Some of the castles were more patriotic, like the entry from Maryland--a replica of Ft. McHenry, where Americans withstood an assault by the British in 1814, a battle that inspired the national anthem.

Of course, few out-of-towners could match the Californians in terms of skill and experience.

The three young children of Assemblyman Jim Battin (R-Palm Springs) and wife Mary took the lead in building . . . something.

Although their efforts were hampered when Ethan Russo, the 20-month-old son of a Battin political consultant, began eating the sand, they pressed ahead.

“They like to build sand ‘habitats,’ ” Mary Battin said.