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Candidate's flames of idealism still unsnuffed
By KATHRYN WEXLER, Times Staff Writer
TAMPA -- Kelly Benjamin wasn't naive when he challenged incumbent Rose Ferlita for a seat on Tampa's City Council. But he wasn't hard-bitten, either. There were things the 27-year-old union stagehand from Seminole Heights wanted Tampa's voters to think hard about, such as America's car culture at the expense of effective mass transportation. Things like urban sprawl and gentrification. And war. "I'm doing this from the heart," he said, seeming genuine, if a touch idealistic. He didn't like the way taxpayer money was spent on costly, flamboyant items like the Channelside development, Raymond James Stadium and the trolley car, things he said did little to better the lives of most residents. His catalyst for seeking office was Michael Moore, a documentary maker who criticized President Bush at the Academy Awards this week. At a lecture in Tampa last year, Moore urged disaffected young people to run for office themselves. So Kelly Benjamin, who wore an Abe Lincoln beard and corduroy pants, became a politician. It was perhaps inevitable that he would lose. But could he remain, as he might put it, uncorrupted as he fought his way through his first race for office? From the beginning, Benjamin searched himself for signs that he was becoming the very things he despised: slick and detached. "I'm aware and scared of becoming this sterile, political monster that slips sleek brochures into your hand and doesn't let you say a word," he said. He was a sixth-generation Tampa native, raised modestly by his mother after his father died in a forklift accident. He had just earned his degree at the University of South Florida. He wasn't privileged, he had no connections and was never more than a few paychecks from from bankruptcy. That, Benjamin felt, made him average. And average people weren't represented in local government, he said. "If we have millionaires calling all the shots at City Hall, it's not a true democracy," he said one day in February while standing on Rome Avenue, where his 1991 Nissan pickup had just expired yet again. But in a couple of ways, Benjamin wasn't average at all. A few years back, he had illegally set up a low-frequency radio station and broadcast music as Kombat Kelly until a raid by federal agents shut him down. He'd been to Europe on a grant to work with refugees from the Serbo-Croatian war. He was, to some extent, a bohemian. The Ybor Heights house he shared with his fiancee had lavender walls, hundreds of records and charming, if oddball, furniture. He was usually a bit unkempt. From the beginning of his campaign, he kept an online journal of his experiences. On Aug. 16, he introduced his readers to his opponent for the District 2 citywide seat, Rose Ferlita: "According to the web research I've done on her, she has fairly conservative views on many of the issues that concern me. A perfect opponent!" He knew Ferlita would have a considerable war chest. That, he figured, could work to his advantage, as voters might consider him the underdog candidate, one "with more conviction than money." Ferlita had her own working class beginnings, but had become a pharmacist and successful business owner with a house in Hyde Park. Benjamin was invited to debates, and serious candidates wear suits. So Benjamin hit the thrift stores, finding a formal black jacket on one rack and black suit pants on another. The face-offs took him to places like the Wyndham Harbour Island Hotel and DoubleTree Hotel. And he suddenly found himself wrestling with questions about his image, of all things. Someone called and offered to give him a makeover, at a price. Benjamin wasn't interested. Over the weeks, he did wrestle with whether he should shave off his beard. Ultimately, he rejected that, too. "I just think that what I say should be more important than how I dress," he said. He insisted he would not go negative against Ferlita. "People have told me to attack Rose," he said, "but I'm not going to do that." They were already butting heads, however. At an appearance before the Tampa Bay Tiger Bay Club, Benjamin jokingly called Ferlita a "drug dealer," instead of a pharmacist. Ferlita, Benjamin complained, kept refering to him as "that young man," or confusing his given name with his surname. If anything surprised Benjamin about politics, he said in the weeks leading up to the election, it was an undercurrent of ill will he felt at some public appearances. "You're sitting at those tables at these debates and there's someone in the audience who is intent on making you look like a fool or making you look bad," Benjamin said. "This is politics and sometimes it's a dirty game." He grew critical of the daily newspapers, whose editorial pages had endorsed Ferlita. He said the newspapers trivialized and objectified him by describing his beard and second-hand clothes. His ideas, he said, weren't getting the same attention. "I've been dealing with a lot of bias from the media," he said. He also complained that he wasn't reaching voters because he couldn't afford to mail out fliers or buy billboards. "I think money has way too much sway in the way politics works," he said. As Election Day drew closer, he seemed more inclined to criticize his opponent. He didn't mention Ferlita without noting her hefty campaign contributions and family connections. The final entry about her in his online diary, on Feb. 6, struck a harsher tone: "Come hear me indict her for being guilty of racial profiling, and not being capable of serving the diverse needs of the people of this city, as well as having no vision and being an incompetent leader. Should be fun! I'm expecting free food! GO BUCS!" The so-called "racial profiling" Benjamin refered to occurred two years ago when Ferlita trailed a stranger she saw taking bags from a Davis Islands home. The man was black, Ferlita is white. Just before the March 4 election, Benjamin promised to produce a "black box" containing damaging information about Ferlita. Afterward, he acknowledged it was merely a publicity stunt. "It was nothing, just media clippings," he said. "It didn't get any press." On Election Day, he got 13,955 votes. Ferlita got 30,080. Ferlita had raised $113,865. Benjamin had $4,339. "She bought and paid for this election," he said. "I don't think that's democracy at work." Benjamin's fiancee, Kathy Morris, said the loss was no surprise. "We were realistic through the whole thing," said Morris, 30, a receptionist and art teacher. Looking back, Benjamin said his campaign had been a success. He felt that he had managed to raise important issues that weren't being discussed. On a personal level, he said the race had enriched him, even if it had lightened his wallet, already featherweight. He was more politically savvy, he said, but not quite disillusioned. "I think that idealism's still prevalent," Benjamin said, after some hesitation. This week, his usual vigor seemed to have returned. He fired off e-mails to the press in support of a peace rally at MacDill Air Force Base. He signed them Kombat Kelly. Benjamin does not know if he will run again for office. He is trying to get a government job to satisfy the requirements of the grant that enabled him to go to Europe and work with refugees. Now he has time once again to do some of the smaller things that are personally meaningful to him. He has one immediate plan: to nurture a summer garden in his back yard. -- Kathryn Wexler can be reached at wexler@sptimes.com or 226-3383.
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