TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/082090/0820107.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.6 KB | 118 lines

                                                                                NATION, Page 46

Here Comes Talkin' Lawton


A legendary figure seeks Florida's statehouse with a message so
quaint no other candidate would try it. He might make it work.

By JAMES CARNEY/MIAMI


    In his loose madras shirt, khaki pants and soft-soled
walking shoes, Lawton Chiles looks more like a vacationing
tourist than a candidate for Governor of Florida. His campaign
speeches are rambling mixtures of anecdote and issue, delivered
in the disarmingly earnest tone of an idealistic outsider. And
like an outsider he rails against the corrupting influence of
big money on politics. "We have a chance to show that a
campaign doesn't have to be about who can put $15 million in
the bank and who can hire the best negative advertising firm,"
he declares. "We want to show that people count more than
money."

    Chiles, 60, is no outsider: his folksy, populist style and
low-budget campaigns are hallmarks of a career in politics that
ranks as one of the most successful in Sunshine State history.
A former three-term U.S. Senator, the Democrat has come out of
retirement to try to oust incumbent Republican Governor Bob
Martinez. In an era when massive campaign war chests, 30-second
television spots and hired image makers define and often decide
elections, Chiles is banking on the strength of his own
reputation to carry him to the statehouse.

    Chiles' message is so quaintly populist that few other
politicians could sell it to a cynical electorate. But as he
has done since his first statewide race 20 years ago, Chiles
set a limit on individual contributions to his campaign, this
time at just $100. It is a risky tradition that lends
immeasurably to his appeal. "Lawton Chiles is no put-on," said
Dorothy Weinzirl, 63, who listened to the candidate in Fort
Pierce. "He's for the people, always has been."

    Chiles began earning that kind of goodwill back in 1970,
when he campaigned for the U.S. Senate by walking the length
of Florida, shaking hands and swapping stories for more than
1,000 miles on his way to victory. Citing "burnout," Chiles
retired from the Senate and politics in 1988. Yet when he
quick-started his campaign for Governor in April, Chiles'
enduring popularity made him the instant favorite to clobber
Congressman Bill Nelson in the Sept. 4 Democratic primary, and
to oust Martinez in November.

    But the initial hoopla surrounding his surprise candidacy
has since died down, and Nelson, who began running TV ads this
spring, has sliced Chiles' early 34-point lead in the polls to
just 12 points. In April Chiles defused a crisis by dealing
openly with a disclosure that he had taken the common
antidepressant drug Prozac for four months to combat moods he
called the "blacks." But last week Chiles confirmed that he has
resumed taking the drug, leading Nelson's running mate for
lieutenant governor to suggest publicly that Chiles might be
a "suicide" risk as Governor.

    Equally troubling for Chiles has been Nelson's suggestion
that he benefited from a series of "sweetheart" business deals
while a Senator, including loans and real estate investments
that went unreported on his financial-disclosure forms. Thus
far there is no evidence that Chiles is guilty of anything more
than sloppy recordkeeping. But Nelson is trying to sow doubt
in voters' minds about his opponent's integrity, the linchpin
of Chiles' campaign. In response, Chiles crashed a Nelson press
conference in Tallahassee last month and angrily accused his
opponent of smear tactics. "If you've decided you want to be
Governor so bad you've got to destroy my character, then I feel
sorry for you," Chiles said, at one point jabbing his finger
toward Nelson.

    Hamstrung by his own contribution limit, Chiles had hoped
to save his money to battle Martinez in the general election.
Instead, he had to rush his first major campaign ad onto the
air last week. Even with his $100 limit, Chiles has raised more
than $1.7 million, but Nelson's receipts total $5.2 million and
Martinez's are expected to top $12 million. "If Chiles wins the
primary, he may be broke against Martinez in November," says
political analyst Robert Joffee. "And then his noble crusade
could be doomed."

    Martinez will need his war chest to help him overcome an
unfavorable performance rating among voters that peaked at 62%
in June. Hobbling the Governor are two well-publicized gaffes,
a flip-flop on a controversial tax in 1986 and a resounding
defeat in the legislature when he tried to push through new
restrictions on abortion rights last fall. But Republicans,
including George Bush, have stuck by Martinez, largely because
Florida is too important to the G.O.P.'s goal of capturing the
South to risk abandoning an incumbent Governor. Last year the
G.O.P. gained a majority in Florida's congressional delegation
for the first time since Reconstruction. In the reapportionment
that will follow this fall's elections, Florida stands to gain
four more seats, and the party controlling the statehouse will
hold a distinct advantage when new district lines are drawn.


    Many Florida Democrats believe Chiles is the party's only
hope of stemming the G.O.P. tide. For Chiles, the greater
challenge is proving he can win a modern election without the
tools of a modern campaign. "If we win with our $100 limit,
we'll be free to look at all the problems Florida's been
sweeping under the rug," Chiles says, "because we won't owe
anybody anything." In 1990 that's a message so old-fashioned
it's almost revolutionary.