Strange things happen when veterans of political trench warfare call a truce

02/15/2007

Strange things happen when veterans of political trench warfare call a truce


By Katherine Kersten,
Star Tribune
Last update: February 14, 2007


Kelly Doran was a political novice when he launched his bid to become the DFL's 2006 candidate for governor of Minnesota in 2005. Maybe that's why Doran, a real estate developer from Eden Prairie, did something that no seasoned pol in his right mind would have done.

That summer, Doran sent out a mailing to a broad spectrum of business leaders, making his pitch and inviting them to call if they wanted to discuss the issues. A short time later, he picked up his phone and found the last person he expected on the other end of the line: Bill Cooper, the high-profile former chairman of the Minnesota Republican Party, and the devil incarnate to many DFL faithful.

Cooper accepted Doran's invitation.

Doran's staff was appalled. "They said, 'You can't meet with him,' " recalls Doran. "I said, 'That's nuts. We might learn something.' " John Wodele, his campaign manager, agreed. "The rest of my staff all wanted me to go in a trench coat and dark glasses," Doran says.

But the hourlong meeting was cordial. "I was fascinated at how the two of them enjoyed the debate," says Wodele, who was present. "They had more in common than they expected."

Doran and Cooper learned, for example, that they both were deeply frustrated with Minnesota's electoral system. They agreed that the September date of the primary election, which determines the parties' final nominees, allows too little time to run an effective campaign before the general election in November.

They agreed that the state's campaign finance rules need revision, and that the system favors incumbents in too many ways.

Nine months later, Doran dropped out of the governor's race after getting shellacked in a straw poll during DFL precinct caucuses. As he and Wodele packed up their campaign office, they bemoaned declining citizen participation in caucuses and the way the process is slanted toward incumbents. Then Doran remembered his chat with Bill Cooper. "If we want to change the system, we've got to get together," he said.

Wodele jumped at the suggestion, and started doing research. Shortly before the election in November, he called Annette Meeks, a longtime Republican operative, who eagerly offered her help. Cooper signed on, too. Calls to players across the political spectrum followed. The Council for Electoral Leadership was born, with Doran on the board of directors and several policy committees.

"At the first meeting in January 2007, we had Vance Opperman" -- high-test DFL operative and fundraiser -- "sitting next to Bill Cooper," marvels Wodele. "In the same room, we had Ray Waldron of the AFL-CIO, Mark Rotenberg of the University of Minnesota, Chuck Slocum [former GOP state chairman] and longtime DFL activist Koryne Horbal. Everyone was there in a private capacity."It was like getting Coke and Pepsi to sit down together," agrees Meeks. "The biggest surprise is how much fun it is."

Eventually, the council may take positions on campaign finance reform, judicial elections and the possibility of a Minnesota presidential primary. "If reform happens, it will happen in small steps," says Doran.

Right now, however, the council has a single focus: moving Minnesota's primary elections, whose date is set by statute, from September to June. The group sees the "seven-week sprint" as a major cause of the mud-slinging campaigns that anger and alienate voters.

"It's such a short time to get your message out," says Meeks. "You end up saying. 'I've got to define my opponent before he defines me, and I'm going to define him as unacceptable to the voters.' "

Today, the council is holding a news conference to announce the introduction of bills in both the Minnesota House and Senate to move up the primary date. The Republican and DFL party chairs, as well as Independence Party leaders, will be there to lend support.

Maybe an earlier primary election isn't on your list of Minnesota's top 10 burning issues. But there's an important side effect of all this wonkery.

"As campaign professionals, most of us have been involved in elections for 20 years, never knowing who the man on the other side of the dark curtain is," Meeks says. "Now suddenly, we're co-conspirators - we've got shared ideals. It's a lot harder to demonize someone you've sat across the table from and worked with."