Opportunity didn't even knock

[AP photo] Working the media proved to be one of Janet Reno’s weak spots in an era when a successful campaign seems to require getting on television as much as possible.

By STEVE BOUSQUET, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published September 19, 2002

Janet Reno's campaign inadvertently kept dodging chances to get out its message to voters. Its last days provided many examples.

FORT LAUDERDALE -- The chants grew louder and louder, picking up the rhythm of an unstoppable political force. "Re-NO! Re-NO! Re-NO! Re-NO!"

About 200 Broward County Democrats, many wearing red "Reno for Governor" T-shirts, had waited an hour for this moment at Signature Grand, a cavernous banquet hall in Davie. The kosher hot dogs were practically gone by the time Janet Reno arrived, flashing two thumbs up in a gesture of imminent victory.

In the back of the ballroom, a more prosaic scene served as a metaphor for Reno's campaign for governor.

TV cameramen were packing up tripods and disconnecting cables. Reporter Nick Bogert of Miami's NBC affiliate shook his head in disappointment. Miami stations had been set to introduce Reno live at the top of the 6 o'clock news, which would have given her a much-needed dose of free media exposure on primary election eve.

By the time Reno started talking, it was 6:18 p.m. -- an eternity in the life span of a TV newscast. The anchors had moved on to Doppler radar and the Dolphins' defense.

Though not Reno's fault, the blown live shot was just another missed opportunity in a campaign full of them. Little things matter, especially in a close race. Reno supporters, oblivious to the clock, took turns at the mike and delayed their candidate's speech until it was too late to get on TV in the state's biggest media market.

"She was ready. We just had to have everybody here," explained Jack Shifrel, the Reno volunteer organizing the chaos. "Remember, we're Democrats."

Reno gave a good speech, hitting her main issues: a lack of water, the need for affordable health care and less expensive medications, and better planning "so we don't lose the Florida we love."

Better planning would have helped Reno, too. The world outside Signature Grand did not hear her speech, giving new meaning to her campaign theme song: You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet.

No one knew it at the time, but this was Janet Reno's last dance.

True to herself -- at a cost

The quirks in Reno's retro campaign might have been considered quaint if her rival for the Democratic nomination had been as scattershot in looking for votes. But Bill McBride ran a disciplined operation. He was on TV constantly in the final weeks of the race, and Gov. Jeb Bush was aiming ads at him, enabling McBride to gain strength and wipe out Reno's 30-point advantage in the polls.

An effective statewide political campaign requires being on TV as much as possible, even when you're as well-known as Janet Reno. That was perhaps especially so for Reno, to calm fears about her perceived liberalism or her health, or to reassure those who see her as a one-dimensional cartoon figure raiding Elian's closet or shuffling across a dance floor.

But Reno stayed true to herself, to a fault. A slick campaign run by consultants and pitchmen might have produced a different result, but it would not have been the real Reno. This is a woman who repeatedly told voters that she does what she thinks is right, regardless of political consequences.

The four-legged vote?

In the final weekend of her 60,000-mile journey across the state she loves, as thousands of Democrats quietly made up their minds, Reno ventured out in her red Ford Ranger XLT pickup one last time.

Trailed by a half-dozen print reporters in a Dodge van with a bug-splattered windshield, Reno rambled from Tallahassee to Gainesville, back to Tallahassee, to Tampa, Orlando, West Palm Beach, Boynton Beach, Delray Beach, Boca Raton and Fort Lauderdale, ending in Miami, her hometown, all in about 72 hours.

Following her, one imagined that this is what it might have been like covering Claude Pepper or George Smathers in Florida's most famous U.S. Senate campaign, back in 1950.

In Alachua, the former chief legal officer of the United States briefly traded her pickup for an even slower conveyance: a golf cart. She visited a haven for old and abused horses run by family friends Mary and Pete Gregory. Reporters joked about Reno chasing the "senior vote," and Reno talked baby talk to Bandit, a horse donated by her cousin.

"You're just as good as they say you are. Yes, you are," Reno told Bandit.

Reno spent an hour on the verdant pastures of Mill Creek Farm. It was a beautiful respite from the monotony of the campaign trail, and Reno was in her natural habitat, the real Florida.

But a question nagged: How was spending time with old horses going to help Reno win?

A missed shot

Gainesville was jumping on the day of the first football game between the Gators and the Miami Hurricanes in 17 years. More than 80,000 fans were heading for "the Swamp," Ben Hill Griffin Stadium.

As Reno and her entourage arrived, signs were everywhere. Not campaign signs, but signs that read "I need tickets." Reno offered T-shirts and Frisbees.

Some students stood at a distance, gawking, the way people do when they recognize an actor or an athlete. Many others were eager to shake Reno's hand or have their picture taken with the country's first female U.S. attorney general.

UF law school students Dean Thompson and Nick Palmer posed with Reno. "She kind of reminds me of my grandma, in a good way," said Thompson, wearing a Gators hard hat.

Bryan Hahn was there, too. A "one-man band" who shoots pictures and does interviews for Gainesville TV station WCJB, he needed a shot of that red truck. He found Reno easily enough, but the truck was out on an errand and Hahn had one less visual element for his story.

"I was going to write to it, but I couldn't," Hahn said. "Oh well."

A prediction of defeat

Back in Tallahassee on Saturday night, Reno hoped to be introduced over the public-address system to 45,000 Florida A&M University football fans. Then another Democratic candidate, Daryl Jones, showed up, and FAMU decided not to mention either one's presence. There were endless plugs for a Chevy dealer and a $3.99 all-you-can-eat buffet, but no mention of Reno.

The 64-year-old Reno showed plenty of stamina. Though she began the day at a diner at 8 a.m., she worked the crowd at FAMU's Bragg Stadium for an hour. "It's a good way to let people know that I care about the whole community," Reno said.

The day finally done, she drove back to Gainesville to stay at a friend's house. The press van went to the Best Western in Chiefland, as close to the middle of nowhere as you can get in Florida.

Most reporters were asleep as the van cruised silently along U.S. 19, past roadside churches and signs for Textile Town and its "ugly Florida beach towels." Behind the wheel was James Yearwood, a nurse at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami and a member of the Service Employees International Union, one of the few pro-Reno labor groups assisting her campaign.

At 1 a.m. Sunday, a Best Western TV flickered to life, and a rerun of Fox News's The Beltway Boys came on. Commentator Morton Kondracke's prediction in the marquee Florida race: McBride by 3 points.

No fear

For Reno, things looked brighter on the Sunday before election day. Her voice was stronger and her phrasing sharper. The crowds were bigger, and victory seemed within reach.

At New Hope Missionary Baptist Church in Tampa, Reno sat in the first pew and was introduced as "Sister Reno" by the Rev. T.W. Jenkins. After services, worshipers waited in line for handshakes or hugs, and 12-year-old Ashley Morrow, a Burns Middle School student, had Reno autograph her Bible.

Another big crowd greeted Reno at the University of South Florida and another at a community center in Orlando. On Monday, the last day of the campaign, Reno hopscotched from condo to condo.

After addressing an adoring crowd at Century Village in West Palm Beach, Reno was asked if she worried about losing. She noted that she lost her first election, for a Miami-Dade House seat in 1972, and recalled the advice of an old friend, Jack Orr, who in 1956 was the only member of Florida's Legislature who opposed segregation.

"He told me to keep on saying and doing what I believed to be right. And I did," Reno said. "It's not the end of the world when you lose. What is most important is that, because of a fear of losing, you don't try to succeed."

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