With Discourse Like This, Who Needs Debates?

I’d just topped Donner Summit in my pickup, pulling a 2-ton boat back from Lake Tahoe, where for three weeks I’d thought about little except fish, water and golf. Old haunts and grandkids. And, frankly, I wasn’t in any mood for political bull, which, of course, is how most people feel all the time.

But I soon encountered a real load after my radio scan stopped on a familiar voice admonishing, ironically as it turned out: “Let’s require adults to act like adults.”

It was Atty. Gen. Dan Lungren talking about how to prod legislators into passing a timely budget. He and Lt. Gov. Gray Davis were cranking up their first debate of the fall gubernatorial race.

You probably missed the debate last Friday evening, so let me tell you about it: It stunk. It was insulting to anybody seriously concerned about California. By not tuning in, you did the candidates a favor. Both lost. They too often sounded like C-grade junior high debaters, arguing just for the sake of argument.

Nyah nyah. So’s your old man.

The low points were supposed to have been the high points: the candidates directly questioning each other. The moderator should have intervened to save the candidates from themselves--and listeners from excessive tedium.

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The debate hit bottom when the candidates wasted more than four minutes of their valuable hour arguing about who had--or had not--been to Mexico.

Lungren scolded Davis for not traipsing along with the powerless California World Trade Commission on a meaningless junket to Mexico City. Davis is a nonvoting member of the advisory body. Lungren accused him of going on a New York fund-raising trip instead. Actually, Davis also had stayed home to attend a UC regents meeting and a family wedding, but we didn’t hear that during the debate. We heard this sort of silliness:

Davis: “I have been to Mexico. Have you been to Mexico?”

Lungren: “Yes, I have been to Mexico.”

Davis: “How recently?”

And:

Lungren: “We could have used your help in Mexico City.”

Davis: “Well, we could have used your help in. . . .”

But the cheapest shots came from Lungren on capital punishment, when he accused Davis of twice voting against the death penalty as an assemblyman. Davis acted confused and for good reason: Lungren was blatantly distorting his record.

In 1984, Davis voted with other Democrats against a Republican motion to withdraw a death penalty bill from a hostile committee where it was blocked. Withdrawal motions never, ever are adopted. They are mischievous game-playing by the minority party to force embarrassing votes. Majority members vote with their leaders to preserve the committee system and house discipline, as Davis did.

In 1985, on another death penalty bill, all Davis did was vote with moderate Democrats and practically every Republican to reject Senate amendments and send the measure off for more negotiation.

In all this, Lungren was trying to portray Davis as a politician with few core beliefs, somebody who will say one thing and do another. Only Lungren, he’ll tell you, has true convictions. But those convictions, Davis tried to counter--too subtly--are extremist, especially on guns and abortion.

Davis’ problem is that he suffers from Jerry Brown syndrome. Like his old boss, Davis can’t seem to give simple, straight answers. Ask him anything and he’s liable to remind you of his Vietnam War record or his support from police unions or spew a classic mind-boggler: “I think Singapore is a good starting point in terms of law and order.”

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So this will become known as the Singapore Debate. I’m listening to it while bouncing down a rutted interstate in my truck and wondering why these guys aren’t talking about a real problem: the 12,000 miles of state highway lanes that need to be repaved.

Or, here’s another frustration for us vacationers: A $74-million backlog in deferred maintenance at state parks. The day before, I had found an abysmal state dock with dangerously protruding nails in Emerald Bay.

Once home, I watched the debate on tape. It looked worse on TV than it sounded on radio.

Davis occasionally cracked an annoying plastic smile at Lungren. Perhaps he was smiling at all the distracting sweat rolling from his opponent’s forehead, into his sideburns, down his cheeks and into his collar. Lungren, I’m told, didn’t want to wipe his brow for fear that some news photographer would snap the picture. Finally, a Kleenex was mercifully forced into his hand by a crawling debate staffer.

Four more debates are planned, and the candidates are seeking prime time. They’re hardly ready.