cannabisnews.com: What Makes Harry--and Others--Run What Makes Harry--and Others--Run Posted by FoM on September 29, 2000 at 12:06:26 PT By Eric Bailey, Times Staff Writer Source: Los Angeles Times It's not a good night on the stump for Harry Browne, Libertarian for president. A late summer lightning storm crackles outside. But inside this dairy-land town's biggest hotel, the air lacks electricity. The 100 folks assembled to hear Browne seem sleepy, bludgeoned by a blue-collar workday. They yawn at punch lines, clap sporadically, shrink when asked to feed the campaign kitty. A big group hogging the front rows slinks out before Browne even opens for questions. Turns out they're college kids fulfilling a class assignment. "Tough crowd," a Browne aide laments afterward, as busboys cart off picked-over platters of fruit and Wisconsin cheese. "Bunch of looky-loos." "Weirdest event we've had," Browne agrees. "They didn't get the jokes. And our fund-raising was the lowest yet. A thousand dollars." Greetings from the political ramparts, the unglamorous edge of the presidential campaign trail. Out here on the road with Browne and his like--the longshots, the third-party hopefuls--respect often is earned one voter at a time. In election 2000, the Democrats and Republicans, as always, have the money and media attention. Candidates like Browne hope you've just heard the name, wandered onto the campaign Web site, maybe caught the ideological riff on C-SPAN. "What we have is a marketing problem," Browne concedes. "We have a product that will improve people's lives markedly, but it's hard to get their ear." Each time a presidential election rolls around, scores of Americans file petitions with the Federal Election Commission to run. Some are kooks, some are silly. One guy campaigns as leader of the "Lettuce Party." Another is a Los Angeles comedian using his presidential Web site to crack jokes. His solution for the health care crisis? "Dress warm, wear a coat, don't get sick." But many others earnestly hit the hustings nationwide with unshrinking ideas on their lips and democracy in the soul. John Hagelin bears the Natural Law Party's holistic banner of preventive health care, innovative education and renewable energy. Across the rift, conservative Howard Phillips leads the Constitution Party toward election day. Browne and his laissez-faire Libertarians, founded in 1971 on the belief that government should offer a limited national defense and not much else, have done well enough to qualify for federal matching funds--tax dollars they studiously refuse to accept. Very few have star power, and even those who can snag a headline often fail to rise very far. Ralph Nader of the Green Party and Pat Buchanan of the Reform Party are recognizable figures, men of conviction following the third-party path Ross Perot blazed in 1992 and 1996. Nader is drawing big crowds, but both register only a blip in presidential polls, well behind George W. Bush and Al Gore. Most third-party candidates like Browne languish in front of crowds a tenth or a hundredth the size that Bush and Gore draw. Their campaign budgets would scarcely cover what the major parties spend on balloons and bumper stickers. Theirs is a life of stewing for half a day at the airport to catch the cheapest flight. Denny's has become the official late-night restaurant of the Browne campaign. There are no media throngs on their campaign bus, mostly because there generally is no campaign bus. Yet they keep chugging, fueled by thimbles full of success. In an online campaign journal he keeps, Browne notes when he rises half a percentage point in some presidential poll. For the hordes of anonymous campers trudging up the steep hill that leads to the Oval Office, this is a fight to finish third, to build a political party in a nation with an MTV attention span and a growing distaste for politics. And therein lie the hopes of Harry Browne. A Salesman Hawking Change: You have almost certainly never heard of him. But he is a salesman to the core, this politician named Harry. And has he got something to sell. We'll call him Harry, because just about everyone eventually calls him that, as if this man running for president is a favorite uncle. So we find Harry standing, all 6 feet, 4 inches of him, a youngish 67 and Jimmy Stewart skinny, with his arms crossed meeting folks assembling this midweek evening in La Crosse. A tidy city of 51,000 cuddled next to the Mississippi's upper reaches, La Crosse is dominated by a couple of colleges, a few manufacturing plants, a brewery and, as one local puts it, "a lot of stubborn Germans." Harry wants to change that, to sell the crowd on the Libertarian philosophy of super small government and unassailable personal freedom. The white-haired presidential candidate in the coal black suit seems subdued tonight, but a Cheshire cat grin creases his pallid face whenever a supporter approaches. Ritch Charles, a 49-year-old shipping clerk from nearby Onalaska, is meeting Harry for the first time. Still, it's as if they're best pals. It's hello Harry, some small talk, then over to the food platters inside the matchbox-size meeting room. "The Democrats and Republicans just pander," says Charles, a serious man with a close-shaven head. "They don't represent the people anymore." Charles figures he'd be throwing away his vote on Bush or Gore, but his view is hardly typical. Third-party candidates like Browne fight what they call "wasted vote syndrome"--folks fearful of squandering their ballot on a no-hope candidate. In another corner, the local Libertarian running for Wisconsin's U.S. Senate seat, Tim Peterson, is ignoring his drink and bemoaning the fate of White House hopefuls like Harry. He grumbles that next month's big debates only include presidential candidates scoring 15% or more in national polls, that landing a spot on the ballot in many states is a daunting and costly task for the little guy. "The odds," Peterson says, "are stacked hard against third-party candidates." Now folks are settling into seats. Master of ceremonies Michael Cloud, a freelance corporate speech writer helping Browne, tries to whip up the crowd with some jokes. We want government so small they put its picture on the back of milk cartons! You have a cat? Your cat's a Libertarian! Everyone seems puzzled by this politico Jim Carrey. Few laugh. Now it's Harry's turn onstage. Hands clasped, he looks professorial up there. The voice is calm, soothing. But the words pour forth, a torrent of unwavering ideology. He vows to kill the federal income tax. Ditto Social Security. Forget about legislating morality: He rails against the "insane" war on drugs. He'll bring the troops home from foreign lands. He declares his intent to yank out the big, oily engine of government. "We Libertarians don't believe anyone is qualified to run your life except you," Harry says, sketching an America with "250 million leaders; 250 million people in charge of their own lives." A few heads nod. But one who doesn't, a thin and bushy-bearded guy wearing a ponytail and camouflage hunting cap, raises his hand for a question. He may look counterculture, but this tuba-voiced father of two named Russ Shore comes on like a G-man during Prohibition. Shore wants a war on drugs. He talks fearfully of some junkie on heroin running down his wife and kids. Browne tries to sway him: How is that any different from a drunk driver? Do you want to outlaw alcohol? Shore won't budge. Harry concedes that he expects no one to change an opinion overnight on so profound an issue. Try, he asks Shore, to give the concept some more thought. "Sir, I disagree with you," Shore bellows, like a foghorn. "You know, I've thought about joining the Libertarian Party. You have some good ideas. But to me it's a scary party, because it's an anything-goes party." Later, outside the room, Shore says he's made up his mind: He'll vote for George W. Bush. In a big rented Buick stuffed with luggage, Harry and two aides dash east across Wisconsin, past rolling fields of hay and corn and apple-red barns with silos. This is a new day, Milwaukee the destination. A fresh campaign stop beckons with the promise of redemption after last night. It is far from a lost cause, Harry insists. Though not three decades old, the Libertarian Party is lurching toward national legitimacy. It claims 200,000 registered voters, threefold growth since 1996. Libertarians are running in half of this year's congressional races, the biggest third-party showing in a century. There are 170 Libertarians holding elected office, mostly municipal posts. Harry and friends make Milwaukee just in time to feast on a Bavarian lunch. Then it's onward to the hotel. As always, he's almost instantly on the phone with some radio talk show. His tone is earnest but insistent, vigorously explaining the Libertarian philosophy. He's done scores of these interviews but still feels slighted by the media. During campaign stops Cloud hands out donation cards chiding big media for the "Browne Out" on Harry. To overcome the brushoff, the campaign airs nightly commercials on CNN and other national cable channels. Subtle, they're not. One features the shadow-cast figure of a woman complaining of abuse; she suffered "battered voter syndrome" at the hands of the major parties. In another, a wrecking ball demolishes the IRS building, followed by Harry's sunny mug promising to abolish taxes. His radio interviews ended, Harry gazes out the window as gulls wheel in a rain squall off the Great Lakes. This underdog run was never his life's mission. Harry, a second-string center at Van Nuys High School, didn't excel at homework and never went to college. Instead, Harry read endlessly while battened down in an Army cryptography bunker in the postwar central Pacific. He went into advertising, worked with a group trying to repeal the federal income tax and sold silver through Swiss banks. He later turned to writing, produced 12 self-help and financial books, including "You Can Profit From a Monetary Crisis" in 1974. He was an expatriate, living in Vancouver, Canada, and then Zurich, Switzerland. Home now is a Nashville suburb. Harry had spent much of his adult life scrupulously distancing himself from the political process. He joined the party just six years ago. He didn't even vote for 30 years. The turning point came when his wife, Pamela, found him griping at some candidate on the TV screen. Why, she suggested, don't you run for president? A self-admitted couch potato devoted to classical music and good fiction, Harry threw himself into the political grind. His raw honesty and salesmanship played well in this party of blunt thinkers, earning him the nod at the 1996 Libertarian convention. The political tenderfoot's inaugural run garnered nearly 500,000 votes, the second-best showing by a Libertarian. Four years wiser, Harry now hopes for six or eight times that but would settle for 1 million. But first he needs to conquer this Milwaukee campaign stop. The fates are grinning, right from the moment Harry and his two-man road team drive into the parking lot outside the American Serbian Hall. A curly haired fellow in yellow sunglasses and driving a faded red Ford Fiesta, his blond wife and 10-year-old son along, waves to the candidate. "Harry Browne!" yelps Jeff Manke, 31. Harry walks over to smile and shake hands. "We came all the way down from Neenah!" Manke tells the candidate. "Brought the wife and kid!" Inside, the crowd is buzzing. "Harry Browne" buttons adorn lapels. By show time, more than 200 people have crowded in. It is a good evening. They guffaw at Cloud's jokes. When Harry hits the stage they cheer his calls for personal freedom and diminutive government. They crow at the campaign commercials on a big-screen TV. They open wallets and purses. The take is more than $12,000. Harry and his squad head into the night, to Denny's for turkey clubs and chicken-fried steaks. The next morning will bring a rush-hour drive to Chicago's O'Hare Airport for a cheap flight back East. In Boston, they will unfurl the Libertarian version of the big tent, spending the morning with gun aficionados at the Woburn Sportsman's Assn. and the afternoon at the Massachusetts Cannabis Freedom Rally. On and on it will go, for days and weeks ahead, to Norfolk, Va., and Detroit and Rockford, Ill., up until election day. Harry is in this to the end, like the rest, fighting to finish third. Note: In a system that stacks the odds against them, third- party hopefuls struggle to build a political presence. Source: Los Angeles Times (CA)Author: Eric Bailey, Times Staff WriterCopyright: 2000 Los Angeles TimesPublished: Friday, September 29, 2000Contact: letters latimes.comAddress: Times Mirror SquareLos Angeles, CA 90053Fax: (213) 237-4712Website: http://www.latimes.com/ Related Articles & Web Sites:The Libertarian Partyhttp://www.lp.org/Harry Browne For Presidenthttp://www.harrybrowne2000.org/CPD Ignores Voters' Wishes http://cannabisnews.com/news/thread7194.shtmlCannabisNews Articles - Harry Brownehttp://cannabisnews.com/thcgi/search.pl?K=browne END SNIP --> Snipped Home Comment Email Register Recent Comments Help Comment #3 posted by FoM on September 29, 2000 at 21:41:48 PT Related Article Minor Party Candidates Square Off in Presidential Debate PATRICK HOWE, Associated Staff WriterThursday, September 28, 2000 ©2000 Associated Press URL: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/news/archive/2000/09/28/politics1753EDT0704.DTL(09-28) 20:50 PDT ST. PAUL, Minn. (AP) -- They may be battling for fourth or fifth place in the presidential race, but the three candidates who showed up for the season's first debate focused on winning. John Hagelin, the Natural Law Party candidate, Harry Browne of the Libertarian Party and Howard Phillips of the Constitution Party were the only candidates to participate in Thursday's two-hour debate. Minnesota's Independence Party Gov. Jesse Ventura played host. Ventura told the 150 audience members he would not have been elected if not for the exposure he gained from debates. host ``The more parties, the more candidates, the more you have people involved,'' he said. Phillips opened by blasting the Food and Drug Administration's approval Thursday of the abortion pill RU-486 and demanded that GOP presidential candidate George W. Bush and other Republicans ``get to work'' to overturn the decision. Browne pushed for smaller government. ``I want you to be free to live your life as you think best,'' he said. Hagelin said his top priority is to remove the influence of special interests from government. ``Our democracy is under siege,'' he said. The candidates gave their most passionate answers in response to a question from a student in the audience who asked why they were running. All three said no vote is a wasted vote. ``There are two ways of winning,'' Hagelin answered. ``One is in the marketplace of ideas.'' Asked the first thing they would do if elected, Hagelin said he would ban unlimited campaign contributions. Browne said he would issue unconditional pardons for all federal prisoners serving time for nonviolent drug offenses. Phillips said he would strip members of Congress of their ability to set their own pay. The three men ran for president in 1996 and debated each other several times then. None received more than 1 percent of the vote. Getting out a message -- Browne's is based on shrinking government -- is the reason they gave for showing up when bigger names, such as Ralph Nader of the Green Party and Pat Buchanan of the Reform Party, declined. Bush and Democrat Al Gore also declined to attend. Television coverage was limited to C-SPAN, but the candidates were excited nonetheless. ``Not only are C-SPAN viewers likely voters, they're likely Hagelin voters,'' Hagelin said. ``The television time is very, very valuable,'' Browne agreed. Lack of network coverage wasn't the only humbling feature. Instead of a high-profile broadcaster, the moderator was a little-known editor of a local Internet site. Even Ventura would not commit to staying for the whole two hours; he left after the first hour. On issues, Hagelin, Browne and Phillips share a sense that the system is skewed against third-party candidates, and all oppose trade deals such as NAFTA to some degree. Browne would eliminate the income tax -- he says tariffs and excise taxes would provide plenty of money to pay for a small list of essential government services. Hagelin wants to decrease defense spending, but increase funding for environmental programs and health care. He would legalize marijuana for medical use and put a national moratorium on genetically engineered foods. Phillips says America has forgotten the laws of God. He calls for ending AIDS prevention education and says he would close agencies such as the Department of Education and cut government spending sharply. ©2000 Associated Press [ Post Comment ] Comment #2 posted by nl5x on September 29, 2000 at 17:37:00 PT go harry go good find fom, harry seems to be wining the poll by 56%+ last time i checked. [ Post Comment ] Comment #1 posted by FoM on September 29, 2000 at 15:57:48 PT: WorldNetDaily Poll! Hi Everyone! I just found this WorldNetDaily Poll! Hope you take a minute and vote!WND POLLCan we talk here? Weigh in on who should be permitted into presidential debates --WND DEBATES DEBATE Which minor candidates should be permitted into presidential debates? None Buchanan Browne Hagelin Nader Phillips Buchanan and Nader All Other http://www.wnd.com/resources/poll.shtml [ Post Comment ] Post Comment Name: Optional Password: E-Mail: Subject: Comment: [Please refrain from using profanity in your message] Link URL: Link Title: