Davis’ Drive for Governor Threatens to Stall En Route

When things are going right, there is an unfathomable aura around a winning campaign, a mystic brew of momentum and vigor that can propel a candidate to victory. Little of that surrounds Gray Davis, not on this day, when several hundred union workers gather in San Bernardino to hear the lieutenant governor ask for a promotion.

His campaign for governor has shed its cloak of inevitability and has begun to fray around the edges. His dream of 20 years threatened, Davis even sounds a little poignant, if that is possible for this tenacious political veteran.

“With your help I have been a tried and true elected official and I have won elections,” he declares, honing a contrast with multimillionaire businessman and political novice Al Checchi, another Democrat running for governor.

“You know, people say to me, Davis, you’re not too exciting. . . . But I’m telling you, Deukmejian and Wilson were not the most exciting candidates.”

Strange that it has come to this, Gray Davis arguing that he deserves the governorship because he is experienced and dull like the last two governors, Republicans Pete Wilson and George Deukmejian. And ironic--given that Davis’ gubernatorial dreams were born during his service to Edmund G. “Jerry” Brown Jr., arguably the least dull governor in memory. And that is not the end of the ironies.

This man who has inched ever closer to his ultimate goal on the strength of an unrelenting fund-raising machine is now being pummeled financially by Checchi, a candidate with an unlimited fund-raising machine in his wallet.

A man who prides himself on opening the doors of government to women and minorities is being overshadowed by a not-yet-announced female candidate--U.S. Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who if the past is precedent would command the loyalties of the predominantly female Democratic Party.

Not that Davis is conceding any ground. After all, he says, it is still early. Feinstein could stay out of the race, Checchi’s bid could collapse--or they could stay in and he would trample them both. Nothing disturbs his blinders-on optimism.

“I believe strongly that leadership is always seeing the glass half full, offering hope and opportunity,” he says in a lengthy interview. “I am on target, and I predict that by February or March . . . people will realize that the early bird does get the worm.”

Meanwhile, there are some difficulties to endure. Rumors are flying that Davis’ fund-raising--crucial to him as the only major Democrat without personal millions--is slowing as donors eyeing Feinstein sit on the sidelines. And privately, Democratic activists worry about his lack of pizazz, what one called the “unbelievable lack of enthusiasm” attendant to his campaign.

Talk has even begun of him possibly shifting to another race.

Davis, 54, says he is “absolutely” in the governor contest to stay. He professes not to be bothered by negative nattering. Pizazz and passion, he says, are overrated.

“I tell people that voters are not looking for an entertainer or someone wildly charismatic to be their governor,” he says. “I’ve studied this clearly. . . . I’ve concluded dull is in. Dull wins.” He cracks a studied smile.

Goal Is Clear; Path Isn’t

Davis is hardly dull, althoughhis formal public persona and his nickname--his given name is Joseph Graham Davis--lend him a certain sense of blandness. A man with a behind-the-scenes reputation for temperamental behavior, he is, more to the point, relentlessly single-minded. If longevity were the sole mark of a winner, Davis would have the race in a walk.

He started public life with an ill-timed run for state treasurer in 1974--when he lost to fellow Democrat Jess Unruh--and then signed on as Brown’s chief of staff.

He is credited with some of the bold imagery of the Brown years, such as ditching the traditional governor’s limousine for a blue Plymouth out of the state pool. Those years whetted his desire for bigger things, like moving his own furniture into the governor’s office.

“There’s no job that better prepares you for governor than to sit at the center of decision-making,” he says.

From there, it was on to the state Assembly, two terms as state controller and, four years ago, election as lieutenant governor. His ambitions were clear.

Less clear are the shifting parameters of this governor’s race. Campaign finance restrictions approved by voters in 1996 sharply curtailed the ability of politicians to raise large chunks of money, stripping Davis of the one advantage he had always held over his adversaries.

Donations are now limited to $1,000, but a candidate can pour unlimited personal cash into his or her own campaign--a strong advantage for wealthy people such as Checchi and, to a lesser extent, Feinstein. Checchi, for example, expected to spend as much as $6.2 million of his own money by Dec. 31--as much as Davis may spend for the entire June primary.

Absent his traditional strength, Davis has plied the other tried and true path to elective politics: securing the endorsements of the mostly liberal constituent groups that make up the Democratic Party--such as organized labor. That has blurred Davis’ position as a moderate who can appeal to people of all political persuasions.

An example of how he is toeing the endorsement line came with Davis’ September speech on education, one intended to show his commitment to reforming and reinvesting in the public schools system. But in the lengthy address, there was hardly a reference to California’s teachers--a fact that to many in the political world showed an unwillingness to take on teachers while seeking their support.

“People are skeptical that he has an ideology,” says political scientist Sherry Bebitch Jeffe.

Davis’ campaign message is fairly general at this point, as are those of most of the candidates. He, along with every other Democratic gubernatorial candidate, emphasizes education and improving the state’s economy. But much of his pitch right now is more ethereal, as he cites his desire to return to the dreamy California that lured so many generations of optimists.

Always, he tells supporters some form of his life story: He has worked in the hallways and negotiating rooms of state bureaucracy for decades now, knows the players and, in effect, is owed some consideration for his years of service.

At a recent appearance in East Los Angeles, Davis’ sentimental journey formed the bulk of his pitch to Democratic activists. He spoke of encouraging Brown to appoint more Latinos to state government. He claimed at least partial credit for persuading UC Regent Ward Connerly, leader of the 1996 campaign against affirmative action, not to seek the chairmanship of the UC board.

In the end, he told the Democrats that they need a governor who is “upbeat and forward-looking,” even as he left them with very little idea of what he would do as chief executive.

Alvin Parra, head of the Democratic club that Davis addressed, said afterward that the lieutenant governor “needs to talk about what his passions and concerns are.”

“Mr. Davis still needs to articulate his vision,” Parra said. “He was dwelling a little bit in the past.”

When Demographics and Reality Collide

The past, however, gives Gray Davis and his campaign team sustenance. Like no other recent political campaign--except perhaps Kathleen Brown’s ill-fated gubernatorial effort of 1994--the Davis machine cranks out all manner of demographic studies to enforce the view that he will emerge triumphant.

On paper, it can make a case: Davis has traditionally been a strong vote-getter. In 1994, for example, he won almost 900,000 more votes than Kathleen Brown, the Democrat at the top of the ticket.

And his votes have come from places normally unfriendly to Democrats, such as inland California. In 1994, he won more than 55% of the vote in bellwether Sacramento County, while Feinstein, running for reelection to the Senate, won only 48% and Brown garnered 41%.

His campaign strategists see Davis as a strong contender in a general election race against likely Republican nominee Dan Lungren, able to hold onto men and fellow death penalty advocates who might otherwise defect from the Democratic Party.

Such demographic arguments ignore the flesh-and-blood reality of political campaigns, however. And for all his paper strengths, Davis flopped in the single high-profile race he has run, in 1992 for the U.S. Senate against Feinstein.

She won the race with a massive 58%-33% margin, powered at least in part by women voters enraged over a Davis commercial that compared Feinstein with convicted hotelier Leona Helmsley--an ad that was seen as both anti-woman and anti-Semitic.

Davis now says that he has “a great deal of respect and admiration” for Feinstein. “I think most people, be they male or female, are willing to judge me on the totality of my service, not just one mistake,” he added.

In his campaign for governor, Davis never compares himself to Feinstein, on the grounds that she is not a declared candidate. His public utterances against Checchi have been fairly mild.

A rare outspoken gesture by Davis came recently, when he sent a letter to Checchi. In it, Davis argued that Checchi will thwart the desires of voters who approved campaign reform by spending more than the new $6-million voluntary spending cap in the primary.

Checchi’s campaign strategist, Darry Sragow, immediately fired back at what he termed Davis’ “transparent political ploy.” He noted that Davis transferred almost $4 million in banked donations to his 1998 campaign after campaign reform went into effect--money donated in excess of the new limitations. Davis also raised more than $600,000 in the six weeks between the time voters approved campaign reform and the day it went into effect.

Among many Democratic activists, fear of a repeat of Davis’ weak 1992 showing--and concern over whether Checchi will find his political footing in his first try for election--have left Feinstein as an attractive option.

William Wardlaw, a politically well-connected Los Angeles lawyer, has encouraged Feinstein to enter the race. In so many words, he says that Davis simply cannot win.

“I believe she’s the only one who can win,” he says, “and I think there are others who agree with me.”

Single-Minded Pursuit of Gubernatorial Prize

Davis has pursued the governorship relentlessly, like a running back content to grind out the distance to the goal line a few muddy, messy yards at a time. He is a rarity among politicians, who tend to surround themselves with veteran devotees who, year in and year out, offer advice and counsel. For Davis, the pursuit is far more solitary.

Asked who, among his personal friends or professional contacts, makes up his kitchen cabinet, Davis pauses, finally mentioning one old friend he talks to “occasionally.” Then he names his campaign consultants and, after another long pause, two other acquaintances. Finally, he turns to his chief consultant, Garry South.

“Who else comes to mind, Garry?” he asks.

The old friend was Tom Quinn, head of the state Air Resources Board during the Brown administration, who firmly believes that Davis is in the race to stay.

He says that Davis is propelled by a desire to serve people, not the personal ambition that many in the political world assume is Davis’ driving force.

“Gray wants to be governor,” says Quinn, who now heads a Los Angeles media firm. “You don’t get there without running. You don’t get there without drive and commitment, and he has that. You don’t always win with those qualities, but you’re not in the game without them. He’s in this game.”