Don't Overrate Election's Culinary, Gaming Losses

6 September 2000

An election day such as this is not likely to be repeated again in Nevada. No, not simply because Clark County Commissioner Lance Malone proved that all of the money ($650,000), all of the consultants (is there any penalty for spinmeister malpractice?) and all of the incumbency advantages (not to mention a deceptive smile and pretty facade) can't surmount egregious behavior and phony apologies.

No, not because state Sen. Joe Neal, below the required 50 percent all night long, surged at the end to get six more votes than he needed to obviate a general election. And, no, not because Clark County Commissioner Mary Kincaid showed what Malone could not -- the power of money and incumbency can defeat grass roots.

No, this was that rare day when the state's most potent special interest -- the gaming industry -- and the county's most powerful political entity -- the Culinary Union -- poured all of their resources into electoral efforts and came up short.

For the gamers, who turbocharged Uri Clinton's challenge to Neal by injecting most of his financial fuel, and the Culinary, which devoted all of its resources to giving Stephanie Smith a chance against Kincaid, public (or at least semi-public) declarations of war climaxed with white flags flying.

But let us be cautious as lessons are extracted from these results. Gleaning insight from elections in which the countywide turnout was just over 18 percent is foolhardy -- it was only marginally higher in Neal's race (22 percent) or Kincaid's (26 percent).

The perception -- amplified by Neal and Kincaid -- will be that these special interests are not so omnipotent, that sometimes right beats might. But consider this: What elected official who watched what Neal and Kincaid endured would now blithely defy the gamers or the Culinary?

The casino corps barely failed to oust a 28-year incumbent by loading up on an admittedly promising but totally untested contender in Clinton. And the gamers, who mainly wanted to divert Neal from his signature-gathering for his petition drive to raise the casinos' taxes, probably aren't done yet, perhaps raising questions about the election's validity.

The Culinary may not have had the emotional fire that it once stoked to defeat sworn enemy Sue Lowden, the ex-state senator. But the union used every technique at its disposal -- brutal mail pieces produced by its California maven Richie Ross, an unprecedented Hispanic outreach campaign and as many field operatives as it could put in Kincaid's district.

Any politician who concludes that the union is now a paper tiger because it failed to defeat Kincaid is likely to find this is an exception to the rule, not a new rule.

That doesn't mean that veteran and embattled pols Kincaid and Neal shouldn't bask in the glory of victories over these groups that set out to destroy them. But for those who would divine inspiration from their exploits, for those who would believe a new day has dawned in Nevada politics, I repeat: This is a day that is not likely to ever be repeated.

Fessing up: One of three may be fine in baseball, but in the punditry game, that's the kind of average that, as Brill's Content would point out, can be beaten by a chimp. But in the three key primary races I forecast on Sunday, that was my result -- although, as the sports cliche goes, it was closer than the score indicates.

I not only correctly foretold Kincaid's victory; I had the margin almost dead-on. In the Neal-Clinton clash, I predicted the incumbent would get 49 percent, Clinton would garner 46 percent and Chris Montanez would snare 5 percent. How close was I there? I was off by 1 percent on both Neal and Clinton -- but as the gamers know, that 1 percent meant everything.

Finally, I, like everybody I know, was wrong on the Malone-Maxfield race. I predicted Malone would eke out a 2 percentage point victory. Instead, he lost in a double landslide. That is the same in baseball and punditry -- a strikeout.