*OT* Since there were a bunch of posts in the recent past concerning wrestling, this front page NY Times article may interest some. First Hartford goes through the stadium fiasco, now they might elect Bob Backlund??? <ggg>
Regards,
John
Men Who Put Foes in Headlocks Now
Try to Get a Grip on Politics
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Issue in Depth: Campaigns
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Join a Discussion on Election 2000
By MIKE ALLEN
LASTONBURY, Conn. -- When Bob Backlund hits the
campaign trail as a Republican congressional candidate
in greater Hartford, he isn't asked about school vouchers or
abortion or Kosovo, but about the "cross-face chicken wing."
Other politicians can only dream of leaping from behind the
lectern, throwing a noisy audience member into a hammerlock
and then twisting his arm behind his back. Backlund actually
does it -- and the crowds bark and clap.
Backlund, two-time champion of the World Wrestling
Federation, is leading a parade of professional wrestlers who
hope to duplicate last fall's upset victory by Jesse Ventura,
formerly "the Body" of the WWF and now the governor of
Minnesota. With huge built-in followings and a sweaty instinct for
pleasing the masses, these candidates hope to tap voters'
disgust with the same old political faces.
"There's a lot of people that watch wrestling that don't give a
hoot about voting," Backlund said. "But because of who's
running, they're going to vote. And when the people vote for me,
they're votin' for America."
Rep. Tom Davis, R-Va., chairman of the National Republican
Congressional Committee, said Backlund was part of a national
effort by the party to appeal to nontraditional voters. He said the
party also expected Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, former guitarist for
Steely Dan and the Doobie Brothers, to challenge Rep. Brad
Sherman, D-Calif., in the San Fernando Valley.
"We see 2000 as a great year for outsiders," Davis said.
"People may be tired of what's happening in Washington and
want to get some new blood in there."
Other wrestlers-turned-politicians include Jerry Lawler, a current
WWF star, who is pondering an independent bid for mayor of
Memphis, Tenn., in October; John DeFazio, once the WWF's
"Jumpin' Johnny," who has the endorsement of the Allegheny
County, Pa., Democratic Party in Tuesday's primary for a seat
on the County Council, and Harry Venis, a Democrat who
wrestles as "Dirty Harry" and was elected mayor of Davie, Fla.,
in 1996 and now says he aspires to a statewide office.
Backlund, a strawberry blond who played the good guy for most
of his career in the ring, said he could relate to disaffected
voters since he did not cast his first ballot until three years ago,
when he did volunteer work for the Bob Dole campaign.
"I can show 'em, 'Hey, I didn't vote either, but I made a big
mistake. You can't complain if your taxes go up, because you're
not part of the system.' " Plus, he said, he has the simple tastes
of the common man.
This is not a candidate who simply shakes hands. At a recent
stop at Hooker Elementary School in Hartford, he was
introduced to Donna Liebman, a librarian who said she was a
longtime fan. He grabbed her in an airborne bear hug, then
twirled her around as she cooed with delight. In a list of
accomplishments, his campaign biography notes that he "once
lifted Hulk Hogan (302 pounds) over his head with one arm."
Backlund is 49 but stays in chest-baring shape by starting each
day at 6 a.m. with a punishing regimen at his home in this
woodsy suburb of Hartford. His basement has a rowing
machine, monkey bars, a rack of barbells and tumbling mats.
As he exercises, he listens to memory- and vocabulary-building
tapes.
After an hour of Marine pushups, bench presses and hanging
upside down in "gravity boots," Backlund bounded over to an
electric juicer and started pulverizing a dozen carrots, with a few
apple slices thrown in for variety.
"Breakfast," he said.
Despite spending most of his adult life in tights, Backlund has
flirted with politics before. As the WWF candidate for president
in 1996, "Hail to the Chief" blared when he entered the ring.
But the Connecticut candidacy is no joke. Backlund, 49, has the
support of top party leaders and is expected to win the
Republican nomination next year. He has retired from wrestling
in this country (he still performs in Japan, where he has a big
following), and has set out to raise $1 million for the 1st District
race against Rep. John Larson, a first-term Democrat. Backlund
said he may stage a celebrity wrestling match as a fund-raiser.
He is printing up T-shirts touting "The Wrestling Republican,"
and may bring back his action figure.
Backlund, who grew up in rural Minnesota, said his candidacy is
possible only because of Ventura. (In tribute, Backlund has
deleted a line from his resume that bragged about beating "The
Body" 10 times.) Backlund said the Ventura victory allowed him
to skip at least two years of groundwork that otherwise would
have been required to have his candidacy taken seriously by
party officials and contributors.
Several political analysts said that Ventura's election
demonstrates an opportunity for quirky candidates, but that it
was largely a product of local factors and would be difficult to
duplicate.
"People are willing to take a chance if they hear straight talk
instead of flim-flam," said Peter Fenn, a Democratic media
consultant. "We have to realize as politicians and consultants
that if we show ads of guys walking on the beach in suits, voters
are going to shake their heads."
Stuart Rothenberg, a nonpartisan analyst who closely tracks
races around the country, said that candidates who were
famous in other fields could help Republicans loosen up their
image as a "blue-suit, button-down party." He said that although
polls did not indicate an anti-establishment mood, "Under this
rather slim veneer of satisfaction, you find a longstanding
American skepticism about special interests and professional
politicians."
Vincent McMahon, owner of the WWF, said his wrestlers were
in the same business as career politicians, but were just more
honest about it. "Given the choice, Americans know they can
trust an entertainer as politician more than a politician as
entertainer," McMahon said.
Lawler, the wrestler who is toying with running for mayor of
Memphis, said that wrestlers had an obvious advantage when
entering politics.
"Political races in general have become either beauty contests
or popularity contests," he said. "When you're talking about
wresting, you're talking about people who have made a living in
front of crowds and on TV."
DeFazio, the candidate for the Allegheny County Council,
remarked, "When people see you in tights every Saturday, they
really know you."
The ex-grapplers open a whole new frontier for the political
consultants who specialize in opposition research. Backlund, for
instance, acknowledges he has slapped wrestling rivals, and
chased others into the dressing room. He even admits
involvement in table- and chair-throwing episodes. But he
showed a budding pol's caution when asked if he had ever
pulled a rival's hair.
"Not that I recall," he said.
Backlund, who held the WWF champion belt from 1978 to 1983,
once replied when asked if professional wrestling matches were
staged, "They're on the level." He stands by that today, but again
showed his nascent political instincts as a visitor took notes
from a huge stack of scrapbooks.
"Those quotes in wrestling magazines -- they aren't quotes," he
warned.
Even before he was a candidate, Backlund made regular stops
at YMCAs, hospitals and senior citizens' homes in the cities
where he performed, promoting physical, nutritional and mental
fitness as the keys to happiness.
Backlund, the celebrity spokesman for Gov. John Rowland's
Committee on Physical Fitness, now dons a red bow tie and red
suspenders for visits to public schools, where he leads students
in calisthenics, then lectures them about the evils of sloth and
drugs.
He hands out cards showing himself topless and glistening, but
will give his autograph only to pupils who can name all the
presidents. "For the last one, it's OK to say Hillary," he says.
Backlund's wife, Corki, is a high-school physical education
teacher. They have been married 25 years and met while they
were attending South Dakota State University. They have a
21-year-old daughter, Carrie, who is a junior at the University of
Rhode Island, studying marine biology.
His platform is conservative but otherwise vague. "I want
America strong, and to do things with people," Backlund said.
Larson, Backlund's prospective opponent, said that Backlund
was a nice guy and seemed well-intentioned, but that he was
ready to take him on. "God bless him," he said, "but I'm
wrestling with Social Security, Medicare and saving the public
education system." |
