Debate Pits Contrasts in Style

One candidate follows his political script religiously and glad-hands with robotic efficiency; the other blurts out bromides and exudes gee-whiz enthusiasm.

In a state of almost 35 million people, a place brimming with camera-ready charisma, it comes down to this: The two men running for governor just aren’t naturals.

As Gov. Gray Davis and Republican gubernatorial nominee Bill Simon Jr. face off today in a debate sponsored by The Times, voters will get their first sustained look this season at the candidates’ personas. With no other face-to-face meetings scheduled between Davis and Simon, the debate may be the last event where voters can examine at length the two major candidates for governor.

“As public speakers and communicators, they are both a little wooden,” said Joseph Tuman, professor of political and legal communication at San Francisco State. “If ‘Saturday Night Live’ was in the position of caricaturing California politicians,” they would have a field day, he said.

At the least, today’s debate should give voters a sense of where Davis and Simon stand. And while the candidates’ lack of polish may strip the event of some of its theater, it also may give voters an easier chance to size up what Simon and Davis stand for.

“It’s a more honest race when you have two guys, neither of whom was president of their high school drama club, who are fairly mundane public speakers,” said Eli Attie, a former speech writer for Al Gore who now writes for NBC’s “The West Wing.” “You strip away those levels of performance and artifice, and you really get to focus on the race.”

“If you really want a spellbinding, charismatic entertainer,” he added, “go to the movies.”

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Davis certainly has never been accused of being spellbinding.

Take his appearance at an early September labor rally. Hundreds of nurses and janitors had gathered at a Los Angeles union hall to kick off the Democratic governor’s fall reelection campaign. Clad in purple T-shirts, the union members whooped and hollered as an array of labor leaders, their faces reddened by the effort, exhorted them to get out the vote. “Si se puede!” the workers chanted, jumping up and down, pumping their fists in the air.

The governor--dressed neatly in a dark blue suit and light blue shirt, his hair perfectly coiffed--carefully raised and lowered his fist mechanically, an even smile plastered on his face.

“Davis, I’m afraid to say, comes across as a bloodless technocrat,” said Thomas Hollihan, an associate dean at USC’s Annenberg School for Communication. “There’s not a lot of warmth there. Even when he tries to be passionate, his [mannerisms] seem to undercut what he’s saying.”

At every appearance, the governor studiously follows his talking points, thanking the requisite elected officials and supporters. He never fails to smile for the camera. But rarely does Davis ad-lib or offer personal details about his life.

During a speech to the AARP in San Diego last month, press secretary Steve Maviglio was startled when Davis departed from his prepared remarks and told a story about his mother-in-law’s struggle with Alzheimer’s.

It was a rare moment of openness. For the most part, when the governor does talk about his life, the anecdotes read like marketable snapshots: his years in Vietnam, his 1,000-square-foot West Hollywood condominium, the scolding he got from a flight attendant--his future wife--for delaying a plane.

“I married a Teamster,” he tells union audiences with pride.

When he is challenged, however, Davis’ careful delivery can give way to sharp flashes of anger.

Last month, as Simon repeatedly accused Davis of selling state policy to his campaign donors, the governor lost patience.

“Bill Simon has no business lecturing me,” a furious Davis said during a news conference in Oakland, jabbing his finger just inches from a reporter’s chest.

But the governor does not often have public outbursts. Everything about Davis, down to his daily routine, speaks to his discipline: the perennial French blue dress shirt, the turkey sandwich on wheat (sans mayo) and steamed broccoli he has for lunch every day.

And then there is “the Hair.” Davis’ seemingly immutable cap of gray hair is so much a part of his image that longtime state politicos claim that no one has ever seen a strand out of place. Republicans say voters in focus groups bring up the governor’s perfectly combed hair as an example of how overly contained Davis appears.

“You get the impression you could touch the hair and it would hurt your hand,” said Tuman of San Francisco State.

The governor is not unaware of his bland image, occasionally poking fun at his predictable mannerisms and staid style.

When Gore would visit California, Davis used to introduce the famously stiff vice president as his “charisma coach.”

“I was too dull and boring to be governor, but I worked hard,” Davis told a Latino voting organization in July. “And I went on Jay Leno, not once, but twice.”

During a September bill signing ceremony on the banks of the San Diego River, Republican Mayor Dick Murphy told the crowd that despite their political differences, the two men share a common bond.

“People accuse me of being boring,” Murphy said with a smile.

The governor punched his fist in the air as he said quietly: “Here’s to boring!”

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If Davis’ sense of humor is understated, his opponent’s borders on cornball.

When a state judge threw out a fraud verdict against Simon’s family investment firm in mid-September, the relieved candidate jumped into action, conferring with advisors and doing back-to-back interviews to exult about the decision as he campaigned through Southern California.

As he left the San Diego Convention Center that day, Simon was chatting with a New York Times reporter on the phone. Then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of someone outside.

“It’s Willard Scott!” exclaimed the multimillionaire, gesturing to his wife Cindy as he tossed the phone to an aide. “Oh, we have to go talk to Willard--he’s right outside!”

Simon dashed outside and grabbed Scott as he approached a black luxury car. Before the bewildered weatherman knew what was happening, the beaming GOP candidate was pumping his hand.

The burst of enthusiasm was typical of Simon, whose stern criticism of Davis on the campaign trail regularly gives way to boyish exclamations.

In person, the Republican nominee comes across as affable, even overly earnest, eagerly querying reporters about their taste in sports and music, and punctuating his sentences with words one wouldn’t expect from a New Jersey-raised investment manager: “m’self,” “buddy,” and “golly.” He’s constantly asking his driver to pull into McDonald’s for his favorite food: cheeseburgers.

Simon appears unfazed, especially for a neophyte politician, by the oddities of campaign life. He manages to maintain a broad grin in strange situations, like the time a vendor at the state fair dragged Simon and his family inside a booth to pose for a photo with several large parrots.

“Bill Simon in a small group comes across as very warm,” Tuman said. But as a speaker, “what comes across is a wooden delivery and someone who doesn’t seem that in touch.”

After 18 months of campaigning, Simon’s initial awkwardness on the stump has given way to a more confident manner. But his speeches, riddled with platitudes, tend to sound canned, and sometimes he seems oblivious of his audience.

Last month, he spoke to a gathering of California fire chiefs whose annual meeting in Ontario happened to be just miles from a raging wildfire. The air outside the hotel was thick with ash and smoke. Simon spoke to the chiefs for about 20 minutes, never mentioning the fire.

When Simon does break from his prepared remarks and try to engage with an audience, he speaks fervently.

“Please know this one thing,” he recently told several hundred seniors at Leisure World, his brow furrowing with sincerity. “The Simon family loves California. We want to make a difference. Our hearts are in the right place, just as I know all of your hearts are in the right place.”

During a Labor Day visit to President Nixon’s childhood home in Yorba Linda, Simon knelt down to talk to Aimee Sanchez, 7, and her sister Andrea, 5.

“Do you know whose house this was?” Simon asked. Shyly, the girls shook their heads.

“A fellow named Nixon. He was the president,” he told the sisters reverentially. “Someday, maybe, you’ll be president of the United States. You can be anybody you want to be, if you work hard.” The girls stared at him blankly.

Later, he stopped by a group of square-dancers circling around the foyer of the Nixon Library.

“Do si do!” he called out. “Honey, I told them you can square-dance,” he said, turning to Cindy.

“You dance like a square,” she retorted.

But the candidate decided they should give it a try. Grinning widely, he shuffled awkwardly among the dancers, occasionally bumping into his wife.

Their daughter Lulu watched from the sidelines, shaking her head.

“Oh my God,” she said, with the embarrassment only a 12-year-old can muster.

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

Gubernatorial Debate Live on TV

The Times today will host the only scheduled debate between the two major candidates for governor, Democrat Gray Davis and Republican Bill Simon Jr. The one-hour debate will air live at noon on KTLA-Channel 5 in Los Angeles, KTXL in Sacramento, KSWB in San Diego and KTVU in San Francisco. Other stations may air all or part of the event later in the day. The debate will be held in The Times building downtown.