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Unfortunately for Wise, it hasn't worked out that way. Just a little over a month later, an overwhelmingly negative public reaction has already led to serious political consequences. As Democrats who had all but abandoned a primary challenge reignite their campaigns (one, secretary of state Joe Manchin, is officially in; more are expected to follow), Wise seems in danger of a critical pre-election loss. The state's largest teachers union, already bellyaching about — surprise! — not having gotten big enough raises on Wise's watch, has begun cozying up to its new Democratic suitors. Meanwhile, lawmakers from the governor's own party are backing away — and fast. In a particularly ominous sign, the state senate majority leader suggested that Wise might want to collect his gold watch and pension, and forget about running again. "When he looks back on this in a few years, I'm not sure it's worth it," Sen. Truman Chafin told the Charleston Daily Mail. Surprising? Hardly. Wise and his backers are confronted with a lesson Al Gore learned too late in 2000: Reading your own political fortune with Clinton's used tea bags can be a terrible, and possibly fatal, mistake in a state like West Virginia. Even before Mountaineers
bucked history and handed George W. Bush a crucial five electoral votes
in 2000, West Virginia was a "red state" to the core. Coal and
a violent, tragic past may have helped residents accept certain big-government
trappings, but this is still a place where most households own at least
one gun, where abortion is frowned upon while the death penalty and school
prayer are not, and where traditional values matter. Wise should know
— that last phrase was a centerpiece of his successful gubernatorial
campaign in 2000. The fall of 1998 saw this red state's moral tolerance stretched to its breaking point. But unlike Clinton, who kept jawing about the meaning of "is" until he was disgustedly waved on, Wise probably lacks the oiliness and economic dumb luck needed to make it through. Granted, he's shown a gift for Clintonesque triangulation. As a U.S. Representative for eleven terms, he typically had a good sense of how often he could get away with flipping his own party the bird. As governor, Wise has spurned his Democratic base by cutting deals with both doctors (he averted a walkout earlier this year by agreeing to caps on "pain and suffering" awards) and the coal industry (he has backed higher weight limits on coal trucks). What's saved Wise from more criticism over such cynical moves has always been his image as a homespun family man. There is still no better political armor in a red state than being a devoted husband and father — and he's now cast that armor aside. Of course, Wise is a political survivor above all else, and it's as difficult to imagine him giving up as it would have been with Clinton. But the early returns are already suggesting that it takes a Clinton to fool a village. — Dan LeRoy is a freelance writer whose work appears in Vibe, the Hartford Courant, Alternative Press, and Gene Simmons Tongue. |
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f you know much about West Virginia — and given its perpetual 49th-place
showings in a variety of national rankings, it's doubtful you'd have reason
to — you might conclude it would be the perfect place for a Democratic
politician to get caught with his pants down.
