Kevin P. Casey
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Last month, Democrats statewide had a collective "oh, shit" moment. The panic, which heretofore had been at a slow burn, was stoked by a Sept. 10 Rasmussen poll that showed gubernatorial challenger Dino Rossi leading incumbent Gov. Christine Gregoire by six points.
According to Rasmussen, a national polling firm based in New Jersey, it marked the first time in this election season that the former state senator from Issaquah had broken the critical 50 percent threshold. (Gregoire hit 50 percent in June and has been falling ever since: 49 percent in July, 47 percent in August, and 46 percent in September, according to Rasmussen.) By comparison, a poll commissioned in late September 2004 by the Tacoma News Tribune showed Gregoire up 49 to 43 percent. She went on to beat Rossi that November by a mere 133 votes.
But it's more than just a poll or two that's causing anxiety among Democrats. It's the feeling that the incumbent is underperforming as a candidate. "She's had three effective legislative sessions, run a corruption-free administration, and has a ton of money," says David Olson, professor emeritus of political science at the University of Washington. "All of that, as well as [Barack] Obama at the head of the ticket, should lead to a comfy re-election drive. But that's not what has happened."
The first real indication that things weren't going as smoothly as desired was the Aug. 19 primary, when Gregoire only pulled 48 percent to Rossi's 46 percent of the statewide vote. Since then, Democratic fear that this election is up for grabs has only intensified.
But Chris Vance, a political consultant and former state Republican Party chairman, says nobody should be surprised that this is a dogfight. "I don't understand the complacency of the liberal intelligentsia in this state who don't believe a Republican can win," he says. "Dino nearly won last time, and he came out of the experience as a very compelling, sympathetic figure."
Some Democrats agree. "We always knew this was going to be a close race," says Democratic consultant Christian Sinderman, who worked on Gregoire's 2004 campaign. "Traditionally, Washington is a swing state at the statewide level and driven largely by a vital number of independent voters who will switch their mind a number of times through the campaign cycle."
However, party identification has been trending Democratic for the past six to eight years, according to pollster Stuart Elway, who says the current breakdown in the state is 39 percent Democratic, 29 percent Republican, and 32 percent Independent. Also, contrary to local lore, Washington voters rarely split their tickets. The most recent time the state elected both a Democrat and a Republican to high office was 1984, when Ronald Reagan won the state and Booth Gardner was voted governor. And Washington has not elected a Republican governor since John Spellman in 1980.
So why is an incumbent Democrat with a laundry list of accomplishments in Olympia, in a Democratic state, in a Democratic year, neck-and-neck with a guy who's arguably done nothing but beat the same conservative drum? The answer is part strategy and part personality—but the bottom line is that Gregoire, even after four years in the governor's mansion, is still not connecting with the people she needs to keep her there.
Gregoire's not known for being a natural campaigner; she's sharp one-on-one or in small groups, but often comes across stiff on the stump. This summer, during one of her larger events, a fundraiser at Seattle's WaMu Theater with Michelle Obama, Gregoire seemed to clumsily waffle between a forced casualness and a fighter persona.
She started the speech by awkwardly proclaiming that her daughter Michelle was "her best friend," then she talked about her other daughter Courtney's upcoming marriage at the governor's mansion. Gregoire also spoke about a "very private moment" where she got to know Barack Obama—and added that she knows he loves his wife, Michelle, "very much." Gregoire, perhaps trying too hard to be casual, sounded downright creepy.
Later, during her speech's crescendo, instead of hammering home what she's accomplished over the past four years, Gregoire reminded people just how close the election was last time, striking a strange, discordant tone: "I know better than any governor in the U.S. that every vote counts," she said. "This race must be called at 8:10 election night."
The response, from the 1,600 in attendance who paid $200 each for a seat, some salad, and strawberry parfait, was tepid applause.
"She's much more comfortable in negotiations and providing organizational leadership than she is glad-handing in a political sense," explains Paul Berendt, the former state Democratic Party chairman. "She's always been a much stronger governor than a politician."
"I think it's a personality question with Chris. She's a policy wonk," says public affairs consultant Mark Funk, who served as press secretary for Republican Rep. Sid Morrison's 1992 gubernatorial bid. "Perhaps she needs to pull her hair back in a Palin-type bun."
A former Gregoire insider, who would only speak anonymously, says Gregoire, as a smart and commanding female figure, faces a conundrum similar to Hillary Clinton's: "Do we make her more of a commander-in-chief? Or humanize her? Hillary started winning in the end when she started drinking with people. I think the best thing for [Gregoire] would be to stress her family. People don't see her as a mother. I think people need to see her in that light to break through this. People understand that she is a good governor and has done a good job, [but] I don't think they're voting on that. The campaign needs to get across who she is."
