TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=90TT2205> <title> Aug. 20, 1990: Here Comes Talkin' Lawton </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990 Aug. 20, 1990 Showdown </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> NATION, Page 46 Here Comes Talkin' Lawton </hdr> <body> 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. </body> </article> </text>