Pat Brown's body is a "mouldering in his Grave." Richard Riordan, the ex Mayor of LA, is the best bet. But he is 72 now, and showing it. Here is a good runup on Davis finally figuring out that he was in trouble.
Fighting back
Davis arrives late at idea the recall drive is serious
By Margaret Talev -- Bee Capitol Bureau
Published 2:15 a.m. PDT Sunday, August 3, 2003
SAN FRANCISCO -- An unusually effusive Gov. Gray Davis dropped in last week on a center for abused women and needy children.
Without a trace of irony, he grinned and clapped along as the children at the Cameron House in Chinatown practiced their performance for a talent show that evening:
"I know sometimes it seems as if it's never gonna end.
"But you'll get through it. Just don't give in."
It had been a week since California Secretary of State Kevin Shelley certified a historic election, set for Oct. 7, that could make Davis the first governor to be recalled in this state and only the second ever in the nation. Davis faces a backlash because of the poor economy and voters' sense that state government has run amok.
On this day, though, he seemed giddy, his spirits spiked by the sudden resolution of a state budget stalemate, premature assurances from advisers that a California congresswoman would retract her call for a stronger Democrat to replace him, and rumors that Republican movie star Arnold Schwarzenegger likely wouldn't run on the recall ballot after all.
In the six months since Davis' opponents launched their campaign to oust him, the 60-year-old Democrat has generally maintained the controlled veneer that's been as much a part of his political armor over the years as his helmet of silver hair. He articulates little about his emotions to anyone -- his political advisers, his few friends or even his wife.
"He has been stoic," said Sharon Davis.
Every now and then, though, Davis' veneer cracks, revealing the fear, anger, hope, euphoria, gratitude, ego, denial and humor coursing through him during the most humiliating stretch of his three decades in politics.
Through interviews with the Davises, confidants and political colleagues, what emerges is a picture of a governor who from the start has felt indignation toward the Republicans pushing for his removal but seems only recently to have come to terms with the depths of the public's fickleness and discontent with him, the potential for disloyalty within his own party and the fact that a recall election ever would come to pass.
"Occasionally Sharon and I go off in a corner, and sometimes we pray and sometimes we yell," Davis said in an interview last week. "But we try and understand. We try and ask for guidance and that our emotions work for us and not against us."
As his strategist over the past decade, Garry South knows the governor better than most. South said it's not in Davis' nature to expose his emotions or indulge in self-pity. "His basic demeanor doesn't vary much whether it's a glorious day or a gory day," he said.
Still, it's obvious to South and others in the inner circle how the governor views the recall's backers, including its lead financier, gubernatorial hopeful Darrell Issa.
A conservative Republican congressman from San Diego County, Issa had a short political résumé, little statewide name recognition and a juvenile arrest record. But he had tens of millions of dollars at his disposal from a fortune made in the car alarm business and, in that sense, reminded Davis of other wealthy businessmen with minimal political experience who had challenged him before, including Democrat Al Checchi in 1998 and Republican Bill Simon in last year's general election.
"It's a sense of 'Who the (expletive) does this guy think he is?' " South said.
Issa's checkbook enabled paid petition circulators to gather the number of voter signatures needed to trigger a recall election. Before Issa's involvement in April, the recall campaign was led by anti-tax activists who lacked the money to propel their efforts. Nevertheless, South prepared the governor for the potential that his own party might turn on him.
"I told him back in February when this thing reared its head ... that even though it would be highly desirable to keep all Democrats out of the race, that I just didn't think there was any way it could be done," South said.
After his first election as governor in 1998, Davis was asked by his transition team director for a list of his closest advisers and supporters. "There's nobody," the governor responded.
In five years, little had changed. Davis counted a handful of friendships among staff and campaign donors but his failure to bond over the years with other constitutional officers, lawmakers or congressional representatives left him alone and open to challenges from within his own party.
It was months before the governor faced the music. Attorney General Bill Lockyer, a fellow Democrat, recalls a conversation he had with Davis in late May at a memorial service for fallen firefighters. "I told him then, 'I'm really worried about this. I think it's going to qualify. I think it's going to be a difficult season,' " Lockyer said.
He remembers Davis' response: "You're wrong. It's not going to happen."
The turning point for Davis seemed to come in June, during a telephone conversation with U.S. Sen. Dianne Feinstein, a California Democrat who polls show is the most popular elected official in the state.
Feinstein had been deeply insulted by Davis more than 10 years ago, during the 1992 Democratic primary for the U.S. Senate, when he compared her to convicted tax evader Leona Hemsley.
By late spring some Democratic donors, sensing Davis' weakness, began urging Feinstein to run on a recall ballot.
Instead, Feinstein decided to come to Davis' defense. She had once been the subject of a recall effort and although it had failed, she remembered how painful the experience was at the time.
Feinstein urged fellow Democrats to pledge that they would not run to replace Davis if an election were held. Polls suggested many Californians would vote against a recall if they couldn't choose another Democrat.
But she also told Davis that he must accept that an election was inevitable and begin to fight for his survival.
Until that point, Davis' advisers had been urging him in vain to arrange more public events across the state, be it to promote a budget resolution in the Legislature or simply see more constituents. "After that phone call (with Feinstein), the schedule starting picking up," said his deputy chief of staff, Nancy McFadden.
By early July, Davis was trying to come to terms with his potential field of Republican challengers, including Issa, Simon, former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan and the Austrian-born and heavily accented Schwarzenegger.
Making jokes seemed to help. On Independence Day, Davis' advisers prepped him for a radio interview. What if he was asked to react to polling that showed voters had doubts about a Schwarzenegger administration? "Dat makes me feel goot," he deadpanned.
Humor hasn't toughened him against everything, however. Recall pressures come atop his private anguish at his mother's failing health, and that combination of stresses has made him more vulnerable than he would like.
At least twice this summer, he has nearly broken down in public. Honoring unsung Hmong veterans who aided the United States during the Vietnam War, Davis choked up and had to cut off his remarks in midsentence.
"He knows what it's like to be underestimated and put down," said Davis' Cabinet secretary, Daniel Zingale. "He had to stop himself, because he was almost overcome by the emotions. In a way, I wish he hadn't. I think most people who haven't had the opportunity to know him don't see enough of his humanity."
Another episode came at Feinstein's 70th birthday party in June. Davis was sitting beside the senator as her daughter paid her tribute, and when Feinstein teared up, so did he.
Feinstein has been "extraordinarily helpful to me," Davis said. "I like her a lot as a human being. And I'm grateful for her assistance in this recall effort."
"First we're human beings," he said, "and then we do what we do."
With everything temporarily looking up, last week's stop in San Francisco had Davis feeling less serious and more in command. From his 14th-floor office suite in the city, he joked about how Mayor Willie Brown didn't have nearly as good a view. At one point, he suggested having some role in the picturesque afternoon, as the sun poked through the cool fog.
"By the way, could I please have credit?" he said. "I get blamed for everything, but today was a pretty nice day. Could they say, 'Davis, good day today'?"
And he took a shot at Howard Kaloogian, a former lawmaker with little power who nonetheless has been a spokesman for the recall.
"Someone ought to put him out of his misery," the governor said. "Aren't there minimal standards to get on CNN? Or can anyone walking down the street say, 'Hey I want to say something negative about Davis. Put me on the TV.'?"
Asked whether he felt the worst was behind him, though, Davis quickly reeled himself in. He recalled his failed run for state treasurer, back in 1974. "There was nobody in the race. On the last possible day, (veteran politician) Jess Unruh withdrew his candidacy for the Assembly and decided he wanted to run for treasurer. And with that one act, my campaign was destroyed.
"I have to stay focused," Davis said. "Believe me, I do not like this. But that and a dollar will get me a cup of coffee." |
