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For Davis, it's difficult to count allies


July 20, 2003

The most memorable quote of the past week in California politics came from Sharon Davis, the wife of embattled Gov. Gray Davis. Comparing the flak her husband has taken to the applause for President George Bush -- deficit for deficit -- she said of Bush, ``When somebody has a little bit more charisma, a little more pizazz, they let him get away with a little more.''

How can I say this politely? Dubya doesn't have a little more charisma, a little more pizazz. He's got more charisma in a wink than Davis has shown in his career. And he can command loyalty that California's governor can't begin to match.

In the midst of a recall attempt that counts as the worst crisis of his political career, Davis can't summon a fraction of the support that Bill Clinton received even at the nadir of the Monica Lewinsky affair.

Legislators from his own party -- among them, Assemblyman Joe Canciamilla, D-Martinez -- openly criticize his handling of the budget. Other Democratic officeholders -- Treasurer Phil Angelides or Attorney General Bill Lockyer -- say they don't ``intend'' to run for governor. But it's almost as if they're waiting for Davis to stumble. At heart, they don't oppose recall because they love the governor. They oppose recall because a revolt would brand them as traitors and a Republican victory would stymie their own ambitions.

``He is not a warm, fuzzy individual, and people have trouble relating to him,'' Santa Clara County Assessor Larry Stone, a Democrat, said of Davis. ``They elect him. But he doesn't inspire people.''

Two questions

That raises two questions: Just why is Davis unpopular among Democratic insiders? And does that lack of popularity affect the course of a recall?

Let's take the last question first. Davis' lack of ability to cement loyalty does matter. Yes, I know that anybody with a couple of million dollars -- say, Vista Republican Darrell Issa -- could qualify a Purple People Eaters' Protection Act for the ballot. A recall is almost as ridiculous.

And I know, too, that Davis has become a convenient scapegoat for everything wrong with California's economy.

But personal loyalties can create a bulwark against the worst political scourges. When things get tough, a chorus of support from high-ranking officials can help a politician. And it can disarm an enemy. Ronald Reagan got a pass in the Iran-Contra scandal 15 years ago partly because the man was so difficult to dislike.

So why doesn't Davis have any of the same insulation? I'd argue that it's the downside of his ambition. In his 30-year quest to reach the top, Davis has become known as a transactional leader, a man who deals with people in the quid pro quo of the moment, a governor who measures his success by his campaign kitty.

Allergies

He seems to have a complete allergy to the little gestures that make Sacramento life more bearable and help cement relationships: He doesn't go to social events with legislators. He doesn't invite them over for drinks. He rarely calls for advice.

For most of his first two years as governor, one of his closest political allies was former U.S. Rep. Gary Condit. But after Condit got into trouble amid the disappearance of Chandra Levy, Davis dropped him abruptly, accusing his ally of a lack of candor.

Finally, he's known as a difficult taskmaster with his staff. You can find fierce personal loyalty among ex-staffers for politicians such as Willie Brown or George Deukmejian. You almost never find that among ex-staffers for Gray Davis.

What Davis is known for is the ruthless political shot: When he compared Dianne Feinstein to tax-evading hotel executive Leona Helmsley in

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