Democrat Napolitano and Republican McGovern Are Running Close In A Cordial Race For Attorney General.
By Amy Silverman
JANET NAPOLITANO plays it straight.
While her opponent, Republican Tom McGovern, is chasing down
the soccer moms and dads with boomer-ready buzz words, the Democratic
candidate for attorney general stumps on her legal and managerial
experience as a U.S. attorney and a private lawyer, and on her
vision for the role of Arizona's AG. She answers questions head
on. She minimizes talk about herself.
McGovern employs the traditional abstractions you expect from
a candidate. He reminds voters he grew up on the rough streets
of Philadelphia, the eighth of nine children. The first to get
a college degree. He stresses he's a devoted son, a loving husband,
the father of three. He doesn't talk much about his legal and
managerial experience.
Napolitano and McGovern share like opinions on almost all of
the issues that could come up in the AG's Office. Both promise
to focus on prosecuting civil-rights cases, to make telemarketing
fraud a priority and to find better ways to reduce the backlog
of Child Protective Services cases. Both oppose the idea of a
Constitutional Defense Council, say they'll improve relations
between law-enforcement agencies and follow incumbent Grant Woods'
lead on anti-tobacco litigation.
Aside from some quiet, behind-the-scenes grousing, these two
are running a shockingly civilized campaign. Unless you vote strictly
on abortion--he's pro-life, she's pro-choice--the race between
the two boils down to a question of style.
When content becomes moot, style takes the stage. In this case,
their styles--her focus on officialdom, his focus on popular symbols--are
so highly contrasted that there may be a message in that.
Sensible from her single strand of pearls and low navy pumps
to her moderate, pro-choice Republican campaign strategist, Napolitano
is all C-SPAN, the essential academic.
With his good hair, Jerry Garcia tie and band of hip, young campaignsters,
McGovern is straight off the set of Ally McBeal--the ultimate
'90s media populist, a man recruited and groomed for the job by
another telegenic fellow, retiring AG Grant Woods.
IF YOU FOLLOWED the GOP primary at all, you already know
McGovern. His history already has been documented in detail in
this publication ("Juveniles For Justice," September
3). Born and raised in Philadelphia, McGovern graduated from Duquesne
University and the University of Delaware Law School. He moved
to Arizona in 1983 to take a job with the firm Black, Robertshaw
and Copple. He focused on insurance defense litigation. In 1989,
he started his own firm, winning a number of lucrative cases,
including a $16 million judgment in 1993 against Samaritan Health
Systems.
Woods was looking to anoint a replacement, someone to run against
John Kaites. McGovern, who had schmoozed Woods on the basketball
court--acknowledged by many politicos as Woods' golf course--seemed
a good fit. But he lacked government and prosecutorial experience,
so Woods hired him to be his third in command in 1996. McGovern
argued the state's partial-birth-abortion and parental-consent
cases--he lost both; they're on appeal--and handled two death-row
appeals that resulted in executions.
With 13 months' experience, a handful of high-profile cases under
his belt and his third kid on the way, McGovern quit to run for
AG.
NAPOLITANO HAS NO problem talking about herself, but you
have to ask.
Napolitano (sounds like "piano") was born in New York
City and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She graduated from
the University of Santa Clara. After graduation she snagged a
postcollege job on Capitol Hill as an analyst for the Senate Budget
Committee. After a year of calculating the revenue impact of legislation
like the Chrysler bailout, Napolitano entered law school at the
University of Virginia (UVA) in Charlottesville.
Her introduction to Phoenix came in 1983, when she moved here
to clerk for Judge Mary Schroeder of the Ninth Circuit Court of
Appeals. From there she was recruited by Lewis and Roca, a large
local firm that also has offices in Tucson.
During her first year with the firm, Napolitano was given a plum
assignment: She worked for John P. Frank, the venerable Supreme
Court scholar, who thought so much of her work, he chose her as
his co-counsel in representing Oklahoma law-school professor Anita
Hill during the Clarence Thomas Supreme Court nomination hearing
in 1991.
Days after Bill Clinton's election, then-senator Dennis DeConcini
called and asked Napolitano if she'd like to be U.S. attorney
for the District of Arizona.
Her nomination process dragged on for nearly a year. When Napolitano's
nomination finally reached the Senate, conservative senators like
Wyoming's Alan Simpson tried to block it by claiming Napolitano
had acted inappropriately during the Hill/Thomas hearings. The
conservatives had a field day. But in the end, after lobbying
by DeConcini and others, her nomination received unanimous approval
by the Senate.
As U.S. attorney, Napolitano supervised a staff of 90 lawyers
and managed a $15 million annual budget. She gets rave reviews
from numerous former underlings, who say she is hands-on without
being bossy and accessible without being overbearing.
The low point of her tenure as U.S. attorney came when Napolitano
was accused on national television of being lax on child pornographers.
A U.S. postal investigator told ABC's 20/20 that Napolitano
refused to issue a search warrant in a kiddie porn case because
she believed the probe unfairly targeted homosexual men. Napolitano
vehemently denied the charge, claiming the facts of the case didn't
provide sufficient grounds for issuing the search warrant.
She emerged from the kiddie-porn scandal virtually unscathed,
and by 1997 Napolitano's name was still being floated as a candidate
for Congress, governor or whatever position happened to be open
at the time. Last November she resigned from the U.S. Attorney's
Office, and this spring announced her candidacy for attorney general.
TO PREPARE TO run for elected office, Napolitano traded
her gray and blue pinstripes for purple and red silk suits and
got some professional tips on TV appearances. And she let a bad
perm grow out. Otherwise, what you see is the same Napolitano
as last year's model.
Is it really a tactic, just being herself? In any event, the
straight-arrow strategy plays nicely against the folksy McGovern
campaign. Usually. McGovern, who emerged a victim from the GOP
primary, battered by Kaites' ads depicting him as a pot-smoking,
gun-toting criminal, literally, in prison togs with a 5 o'clock
shadow and bars over his face, has sworn to run a clean campaign.
But McGovern occasionally reaches below the belt.
He juxtaposes regular mentions of his kids with odd digs, seemingly
at Napolitano's sexual identity. The night of his primary win,
McGovern--pledging to keep his campaign clean--repeatedly told
reporters, ""Neither she [Napolitano] nor I will put
a beard on the other person."
Long before he won the primary, McGovern was taking shots at
Napolitano, dubbing her "Napoli-Reno" and telling voters
they don't want an attorney general like that liberal, East Coast,
Bill Clinton-appointed U.S. Attorney General.
McGovern's hands weren't totally clean in his primary against
Kaites--he tried to accuse Kaites of opposing juvenile-justice
initiatives the Senator championed--but he emerged the victorious
victim after Kaites overplayed his hand.
Napolitano won't likely repeat Kaites' mistake.
THINGS YOU LEARN about Napolitano, during a day on the
campaign trail: She likes a good game of poker. She once climbed
Mount Kilimanjaro. She occasionally uses the f-word. She drives
a four-door, maroon Acura nicknamed "Shep." Her cat
peed all over her application to the University of Virginia law
school, and it was too late to retype it, so she dried it off
with a hair drier and sent it, anyway, and still got in. She's
a lifetime member of the Girl Scouts of America. She injured her
right pinky finger this summer, shaking too many hands in a Port-o-Potty
line at the Fourth of July picnic in Prescott. She hated the movie
Slums of Beverly Hills, loved Sliding Doors. Her
cold medication of choice is Sudafed, and she's a Pepper, although
she'll take a Coca-Cola if that's all you've got. She giggles.
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