Sam Meas (pictured) was hardly a household name, even when he was running for the United States Congress seat in Massachusetts's Fifth District — and he's even less of one now that he lost. Meas is a Cambodian refugee, and his bid to be the Republican challenger to Democratic incumbent Niki Tsongas may have been a long shot. But it was a noble effort, a classic tale right out of a civics book — or maybe a sitcom. Politics, at this level, is nothing like the way it's portrayed on television or in the newspapers. From the inside, on the ground, in the back rooms, it's a pulsating ball of emotion, crisis, and inadvertent comedy. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
This past August, I was hired by Meas to be his media-slash-PR director. I find this funny simply because Meas is so "right" his GPS won't even let him make a left turn, whereas I make George McGovern look like Sarah Palin. That being said, Meas is a great guy and a true hero. He survived Pol Pot's killing fields and three years in a refugee camp before making it to America. My toughest dose of human punishment was probably that 8 am class I had freshman year at Penn State.
I was coming on board late in the campaign, along with two others. Mike Sullivan, former mayor of Lawrence, joined as chief campaign strategist. The other newcomer was our behind-the-scenes operative, an anonymous fellow who I will refer to as "Sore Throat," to protect his identity. I assumed I'd write a couple of press releases, get Meas a few interviews, and meet all kinds of interesting people. But within minutes of agreeing to join Meas' campaign, I realized I'd been swindled into becoming his de facto co-campaign manager. Quickly, I learned the chief job of a campaign manager is to tell the candidate he's great, all day long, no matter what the situation.
Meas: "People threw things at me during a campaign stop in Concord."
Me: "Don't worry, you're great."
Meas: "We have no money."
Me: "Don't worry, you're great."
Meas: "We lost the race."
Me: "Don't worry, you're great."
Buddhists and mullets
Many of Meas's volunteers were Cambodians living in the Lowell area. They were understandably proud that one of their own was running for a congressional seat, and determined to help him. These volunteers were literally pulling Cambodian Democrats out of Buddhist temples and re-registering them as Republican or Independent voters. No separation of church and state here!
Our anonymous operative, Sore Throat, was not always present in the flesh, but maintained a strong influence on the campaign via e-mails and the like. Many of Sore Throat's directives would come via late night/early-morning text messages. He had an uncanny knack for knowing everything moments before it happened.
The front-runner in our primary race was a candidate named Jon Golnik. Golnik is your generic 2010 Republican candidate: cutting taxes will create jobs, pay down the deficit, and probably find a cure for cancer. Early one morning, I received a text message from Sore Throat alerting me that Golnik's campaign headquarters in Westford had been destroyed by fire. Upon further investigation, officials determined the source of the fire to be "suspicious." Now, when there's a suspicious fire at a campaign headquarters, suddenly everyone is looking for G. Gordon Liddy. Within a day, Sore Throat tipped me off that there was an Internet rumor saying an Asian gang was responsible for the blaze. Now, I'm no superhero, but my spider sense immediately began to tingle as I quickly inventoried the other candidates. Tom Weaver: not Asian. Bob Shapiro: not Asian. Sam Meas: Asian! Wonder which candidate this rumor targeted?
Another big challenge we faced was money — the campaign had none. We knew Meas had put some of his own money into the campaign while managing to raise a little bit of dough on the side. Most of our strategy involved doing things that cost little to nothing.
In the last three weeks of the campaign — the most frenetic three weeks of my life, and I'm including the lead-up to my wedding — all hell broke loose. For example, we found out that Golnik had been arrested for a DUI in 2001. Following an AC/DC concert, he was pulled over and found to be shirtless, driving on a flat tire. Look, if you ask me, that's pretty much how you should be leaving an AC/DC concert. I mean, have you ever been to an AC/DC concert? I love AC/DC, but the crowd there is, shall we say, eclectic:
* Lacking in teeth and general dental hygiene.
* Most likely drunk.
* Filled with people limping. I assume this large amount of limpers is as a result of being in a car accident and unable to afford medical care.
* Fighting to keep the mullet alive. There is nothing sadder than seeing a dad with a mullet bringing his kids who have mullets. Child services should be called immediately on this matter.
Hurdles and rumors
Near the end of the campaign, local news outlets reported about a woman in Lawrence who fought off a rapist in her own home until the cops came and arrested him.
Meas called me and said, "This girl is awesome, we need to reach out to her."
I agreed.
"Why don't I buy her a gun and personally deliver it to her house?" Meas asked.
"Sam," I said, "I don't think it would be in your best interest if the press decided to take some pics of a congressional candidate buying weapons for voters." Maybe he's not quite a politician yet, but I love the guy's sprit.
Our biggest hurdle as we rolled into the final weekend before the primary was getting Cambodian voters to the polls. As we mapped out the schedule, I saw a call coming in from Sore Throat and decided to take it. "We may have a real problem," he said. I asked what's going on. "I just got an e-mail."
There it is, those awful five words that provoke fear, horror, and dread for any campaign operative. And the words that followed it weren't any better: Sore Throat said there would be story coming out on Monday, the day before the election, claiming that Meas had another wife and two illegitimate children living in California. I immediately ran into the office, threw Meas in the back room, and said, "You better not have another wife and two kids living in California!" He laughed and told me not to worry: it wasn't true, and this rumor had surfaced before. I'm sure Bill reassured Hillary, Eliot reassured Mrs. Spitzer, Mark Sanford — actually, I don't think Sanford was too reassuring to his wife. Luckily, this time the candidate was actually telling the truth.
Epilogue
September 14 — Primary Day. Despite all the odds, the lack of money, a two-percent name recognition, and a first-time candidate who was an immigrant and at times hard to understand, Sam Meas finished second. And as I look back on my six incredible weeks on the campaign trail, working with a great candidate and some wonderful people, I want to say this: hey, it wasn't my fault. It's politics . . . always blame someone else.
Lawrence "Huggy" Bergman is co-host of the Joe and Huggy radio show on WTKK. He can be reached at joeandhuggy@969bostontalks.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment