Getting Down and Dirty

By Laurence I. Barrett

Five months ago, Clayton Williams, Republican candidate for Governor of Texas, took a pledge: "No more mud." His Democratic rival, state treasurer Ann Richards, said amen to the goal of a clean campaign. Those good intentions lasted no longer than a firefly's twinkle. No sooner had the vows been made than both candidates began hurling misleading accusations, tossing insults and making absurd pledges of no new taxes in a state facing a budget deficit of at least $3 billion.

Instead of suggesting how Texas can devise a court-ordered overhaul of its school-financing system, Williams' forces have bombarded the electorate with commercials linking Richards to lesbianism and liberalism. In lieu of proposing ways for the state to close the budget deficit, Richards blasted the airwaves with poorly substantiated spots suggesting that Williams is a "deadbeat" guilty of shady business deals. With feigned humor, Williams wondered aloud whether Richards, who was a problem drinker until 10 years ago, is tippling again. Then, playing the injured party, Williams two weeks ago told her during a joint appearance in Dallas, "I'm here to call you a liar today."

Whether amused or appalled by the name calling, Texans are not surprised. "Dirtiness has been a Texas tradition," says Republican consultant John Weaver. "It's a blood sport." While the candidates have been slashing with equal vigor, Williams' ads have had far more visibility because he has outspent Richards $17 million to $11 million. A self-made success in oil and ranching, Williams threw $6.5 million of his own into the pot. Yet last week a Gallup poll showed that his lead of 10 points had diminished to 5 since September. The survey indicated that Williams has slipped to 45% while Richards was holding steady at 40%.

Though the unedifying Williams-Richards race has set this year's standard for low-blow electioneering, questioning an opponent's honesty is a favorite tactic in states far more genteel. One reason: knocking a rival's character is easier -- and more fun -- than taking stands on complex issues that might alienate some voters. Another: it can differentiate a candidate from a foe in races where there are few significant policy disagreements. Says Bob Stein, a Rice University political scientist: "Who can explain school finance to voters in a TV ad or even a special program? The issues have become too complex to resolve in a campaign. Voters are looking for the best person and the best mind to do the job."

Thus character has become the central issue in Minnesota, where Republican Jon Grunseth is trying to unseat Democratic Governor Rudy Perpich. Earlier this month, two women came forth with affidavits charging that Grunseth had encouraged them to remove their bathing suits and skinny-dip with him at his backyard pool at a July Fourth party in 1981. The women were 13 and 14 at the time. Insisting that the event never occurred, Grunseth called Perpich a "supreme liar" for denying that he had put the women up to making the charge.

Even in states where candidates have so far declined to attack each other personally, they are hurling the dishonesty charge at other targets. In Massachusetts Democrat John Silber and Republican William Weld have actually been arguing over issues of substance. Weld favors, and Silber opposes, a referendum that would force deep cuts in state spending. But while forgoing the opportunity to question Weld's integrity, Silber has turned his rhetorical guns on Governor Michael Dukakis, a fellow Democrat. "He lied to the voters" about the declining health of the state's economy, says Silber.

In a few states candidates have backed away from attack politics after their assaults backfired. Floridians had every reason to expect a barrage of negative campaigning between Republican Governor Bob Martinez and his Democratic challenger, Lawton Chiles. But when the Martinez camp aired TV spots misrepresenting Chiles' U.S. Senate record on Social Security increases, voters reacted angrily. Says Martinez's adviser, David Hill: "We were trying to tiptoe into the waters of negative advertising, and the shark swam up and bit us." The result: a relatively serene campaign focusing on the candidates' records.

A degree of civility has also returned to California's gubernatorial battle. Early in the race, former San Francisco Mayor Dianne Feinstein tarred her Republican opponent, Senator Pete Wilson, as a captive of the S&L industry. Wilson responded in kind, accusing Feinstein and her wealthy husband of profiteering from his part ownership of an Oregon S&L. When neither volley had much impact, the recriminations subsided. Feinstein and Wilson are essentially centrists, though they disagree on a state referendum that would limit the number of terms legislators could serve (he's pro, she's anti). Feinstein supports a sweeping environmental ballot initiative, while Wilson opposes it.

Still, Feinstein prefers snide references to Wilson as just another boring male pol ("Change is more than exchanging one pinstripe suit for another in Sacramento"). Though sartorial satire by a man about a woman candidate would be regarded as sexist, Feinstein is getting away with it. The latest distracting dustup started two weeks ago, when Feinstein heckled Wilson about his poor Senate attendance record. Go back to Washington to help out in the government budget wrangle, she taunted him, and I'll suspend campaigning. Last week Wilson returned to the capital because of the deficit showdown. Feinstein cheerfully continued campaigning. State G.O.P. chairman Frank Visco accused Feinstein of breaking her word. "All bets are off," she responded, because Wilson had tarried too long in California.

The tenor of this year's races could lead to the conclusion that candidates have reached the nadir of negative campaigning. In fact, the quantity of rough material hasn't changed that much. But the chorus of slurs, half-truths and unsubstantiated allegations is all too often drowning out debate about education reform, fiscal problems and other issues that voters have every right to expect. It is scant consolation that in many states the campaigns might have been worse.

With reporting by Jordan Bonfante/Los Angeles and Richard Woodbury/Houston