State Tobacco Tax Ignites an Unlikely Political Fire

Ned Roscoe and his dad, John, are discount cigarette store mavericks leading the effort to repeal the new tobacco tax earmarked for childhood development programs.

But come March 7, John may not be voting for the repeal, and if Ned does it will be the first vote he’s ever cast.

The two are so politics-averse that Ned only registered to vote this year so he could get the repeal effort, Proposition 28, on the March ballot, making front-page news in his hometown of Napa. John, 69, calls himself “a libertarian with a small L” and hasn’t voted since Nixon.

It’s not their only paradox.

They own 523-and-counting discount Cigarettes Cheaper! stores across the nation, but they don’t smoke--though Ned, 39, allows that he’s had five or six cigarettes in social situations.

They rejoice in tweaking government officials, tipping their heads back to laugh heartily at one prank in which they airlifted a 68-foot-tall fiberglass brachiosaurus by helicopter to their corporate headquarters in Benicia, east of the Bay Area. They took out no city permits--they don’t believe in city government--touching off a flurry of phone calls, memos and hearings at Benicia City Hall.

Now, they are participating in the political system they hate by launching the campaign to repeal 1998’s Children and Family Initiative, which passed by about 80,000 votes--less than 1 percentage point. Their initiative also would prevent any future tobacco taxes without legislative approval.

The Roscoes’ anti-government bent is at the core of their opposition to the 50-cent-per-pack cigarette tax spearheaded last November by actor and director Rob Reiner. It creates more government, they say, and in the world of the Roscoes, more is less.

“We think people ought to be able to run their own lives,” said John, whom Ned has called by his first name since middle school.

In the Roscoes’ convenience store chain, which predated the cigarette stores, the two became famous for their “bagatorials”--opinions, rants and raves printed on grocery bags. A collection was released as a book by Simon & Schuster in 1996.

One brown bag campaign was, “Don’t Vote! It Only Encourages Them.” Reasons cited: “You think all candidates are lying” and “You think the government has your name on enough pieces of paper.”

Other bagatorials say taxation is theft, drugs should be decriminalized, timber is a crop, the health care system is working just fine without government intervention and reading is so important that their employees get a bonus if they read six books a year.

Bag No. 66, printed in September 1993, described smokers as America’s most despised minority, yet also a sleeping giant. “Warning: 51,605,900 adult Americans smoke,” it reads. “That’s 7,877,525 more people . . . than voted for Clinton in . . . 1992.”

Examples of what’s wrong with America, from the Roscoe perspective, can be found in the statewide Children and Families Commission and the 58 county commissions set up to distribute the about $680 million in annual cigarette tax proceeds.

Counties have been slow to spend the money, which the Roscoes have pointed out in their repeal campaign, though they acknowledge that they are conflicted. Once spending starts, it could create what Ned calls “a powerful government that can’t be taken apart.”

Backers of the cigarette tax say the Roscoes are wrong to criticize the pace of spending, which they maintain has been slow because the initiative forced decision-making panels to be creative rather than proceed on government autopilot.

Spending the money “was not set up to be a sprint, it was set up to be a marathon,” Reiner said.

Reiner and others consider the timing of the repeal opportunistic, falling just as the first counties begin to approve spending plans.

The Roscoes have a lawsuit pending in San Diego County Superior Court that alleges that the Reiner initiative is unconstitutional, a de facto state agency lacking state oversight.

They also object to government involvement in family concerns, the theme of last year’s conservative opposition to the Reiner initiative. Parents must be responsible for raising their own children, they say. (Ned has three young children and his wife is in graduate school. They hire a baby-sitter.)

The Roscoes’ position also has to do with the tax on their customers, though it has been good for their business. The new tax sent consumers shopping for deals--right to their discount stores. And as licensed distributors, they are paid 0.5% of any tobacco tax for putting the government tax stamp on cigarettes--netting them about $10,000 a week, they say.

Running a political campaign runs counter to the Roscoes’ philosophy, leading them to disagree about things as simple as how much money to spend on it.

Ned thinks the $1 million they spent to gain 420,000 signatures to qualify the initiative for the ballot is quite enough. From now on, he believes, they should rely on media interviews and an in-store voter registration drive to get their message out.

John says he knows more money will be needed, though he declines to estimate how much.

They agree on a general approach: Tell the truth--and scam-weary voters might respond--the truth as they see it, that is--and scam-weary voters might respond.

From the start of the Roscoes’ repeal campaign, dating to the days after the new tax passed, questions have been raised about when--not if--the tobacco industry would jump in. Early on, the Roscoes were among the curious, meeting with Philip Morris USA representatives to ask for support.

Philip Morris had spent $21 million trying to defeat the Reiner initiative last year.

The ballot argument against Proposition 28 says it too is financed by tobacco giants.

So far, the Roscoes say they have received no outside help. And, in an unsuccessful effort to get the No on 28 ballot argument changed, Ned filed court papers last week vowing not to take any industry contributions.