Why her honor took a pass on race for governor

Wednesday, Oct. 11, 2000 | 11:13 a.m.

Editor's note: This is the fourth in a series of six excerpts from the new book, "The Anointed One," by Sun political columnist Jon Ralston. This series, exclusive to the Sun, will run daily through Friday.

After Attorney General Frankie Sue Del Papa dropped out of the governor's race in late 1997, all eyes turned to Las Vegas Mayor Jan Jones. She was the only Democrat left who had any chance to challenge the Kenny Guinn juggernaut. The mayor, however, was not so quick to bite. The following, is an excerpt from Chapter 5, 'Her Honor Takes a Pass.' *

Jan Jones was relaxing at Harvey's resort near Lake Tahoe when Del Papa called her one Friday in late October 1997 to tell her she was quitting the race for governor. She seemed very sad to Jones, wistful about her personal life, saying she was tired of being alone. "I'm not up to this," she told Jones. "But if you decide to run, I'll be with you."

In fact, it would be as if Guinn had two opponents, Del Papa told her, because she would do all she could for the Las Vegas mayor, especially in her home base of Northern Nevada.

The entire fate of the Democratic party's chances of defeating Guinn now rested with her, Jones realized. If she didn't announce her candidacy -- and quickly -- the race for governor would be over a full year before the election.

The timing for Jones could have been better. She had recently become involved with Richard Schuetz, a former executive of the ailing Stratosphere Tower and now a gaming-industry consultant, and the relationship was headed toward the altar. And, as she later remembered, "I was finally in a position where no one was mad at me. Why did I need to go piss off Billy (Vassiliadis) and Sig (Rogich)?" But the flip side was that Del Papa's departure had reignited Jones' passion to be governor. She really wanted it.

Rogich, though, was certain Jones would not run. He assured Vassiliadis, Ernaut, and others that she would not take on Guinn. They were friends; he had talked to her; she was out. Still, Rogich didn't want to leave anything to chance. He met with Jones and a mutual friend, Amy Ayoub, a financial consultant and sometime fund-raiser, shortly after Del Papa announced her withdrawal.

They sat down at Keuken Dutch, a restaurant not far from Rogich's house in the affluent Spanish Trail development in southwest Las Vegas. Rogich had a pitch to make to the mayor: Jones was so talented that Guinn would want her to be a part of his administration. She could, if she so desired, have the chairmanship of the state Gaming Commission. It was a clear quid pro quo -- stay out and we'll take care of you. Rogich was offering Jones what may have been the state's most important appointed position. It was understood that he was speaking for Guinn, although Rogich had not cleared the appointment with the candidate.

"I didn't think Kenny would say no," Rogich said later. Jones, though, recalled thinking that Rogich probably couldn't deliver on the promise. "I didn't think I'd ever get it," she said.

Unlike Rogich, Vassiliadis thought Jones might run. He knew how much she salivated at the thought of being governor. And he was concerned, too. He and Jones had worked since 1994 to heal the wounds inflicted by the gubernatorial primary campaign that Vassiliadis had orchestrated against her. They'd collaborated on an eminent-domain bill in Carson City that the city of Las Vegas and the gaming industry were behind. Their personal relationship had progressed to the point where they were friendly again -- he had never had much of a relationship with Del Papa. And, in his heart, Vassiliadis was still a Democrat.

After Del Papa got out, Vassiliadis called Jones to see where her head was. She told him that she wasn't really looking at the race. But he knew her well enough that without a statement akin to William Tecumseh Sherman's famous definitive denial -- "If nominated I will not run; if elected I will not serve" -- the door was still open. So Vassiliadis called Ernaut and told him that if Jones did decide to get into the contest, it would be problematic for him. He'd probably have to step back from the Guinn campaign and be neutral. He was hoping, however, that he wouldn't have to make the choice.

Jones remained torn. She canceled a scheduled fund-raiser designed to restock her mayoral piggybank, saying she didn't want to mislead donors. That was taken as a sign that she might actually get into the race. One Democratic consultant who met with her in late October 1997 said he thought she really wanted to run, but that the countervailing force was her impending marriage to Schuetz.

Pressure began to rain down on Jones from Democrats in Nevada and from Washington, including a conversation with Vice President Al Gore. Gore and Jones discussed that Gov. Miller was being floated as a possible ambassador to Mexico at that time -- a job Miller had always coveted.

If Miller received the appointment, mercurial Lt. Gov. Lonnie Hammargren would become acting governor. Jones and others believed that would hurt Guinn because Hammargren, his ample political baggage notwithstanding, would have the advantage of incumbency. She told Gore as much, but he rejoined that she should run whether or not Miller left.

Sure, Hammargren would eventually lose to Guinn, but he could force the GOP favorite to deplete his war chest, making him potentially vulnerable in the general election. Just before Del Papa receded, the Review-Journal ran a large spread on Hammargren, portraying him as an oddball and fueling Democratic hopes of a Miller-goes-south, Hammargren-goes-north scenario.

Everyone Jones talked to had an opinion, and many had an agenda, too. But one conversation had a greater impact on her than any other during this time.

In late October, she chatted with D. Taylor, the political director for the Culinary Union. Jones figured that while the Culinary leaders would never have supported Del Papa because of their long-held animosity toward the attorney general, she had a decent chance of securing the backing of the state's largest union. She had quietly tried to negotiate an end to the Frontier strike, briefly acting as an intermediary between the union and her friend, Frontier matriarch Margaret Elardi.

Taylor gave it to her straight: "He said, 'Look, if you run, you'll just be the sacrificial lamb,' " Jones later recalled. " 'Kenny has set himself up to take the middle ground. You'll end up on the liberal side. A moderate Republican running statewide in a changing Nevada, with registration tilting toward the GOP, will be very difficult to beat.' "

He was giving her the unvarnished truth, also knowing that elements of the union movement were already in the Guinn camp. Even though she had never been seen as someone labor would die for, Jones would be a complication. As the mayor of Las Vegas, she couldn't have much effect on the union either way. "If anyone had the most impact on me, made me realize I was going to get skewered, it was D.," Jones said later.

Jones was almost certain by late October that she wouldn't run when Guinn called and asked if she wanted to sit down and talk. Why not? Jones thought.

So on the night of Oct. 29, she agreed to meet Guinn at the coffee shop at the Desert Inn Country Club. The locale was convenient, because Jones had to be there later for a fund-raiser to help legislative Democrats. They conversed for about an hour, with their later recollections having a Rashomon-like quality.

Guinn told people that he thought Jones was angling for an appointment to his administration; the mayor saw Guinn as trying to offer her something to cement her decision to stay out of the race.

As Jones and Guinn talked inside the first-floor coffee shop, Democrats on their way to the fund-raiser upstairs did double takes as they passed by. Jones, their last hope in the governor's race, was breaking bread with Guinn. It was a signal that she wouldn't run, most of them felt. The shocking sighting was the talk of the fund-raiser. There were grumbles, resigned sighs, and chatter about whether the party might avert an implosion if Jones indeed declined to run.

Two days later, on Oct. 31, two weeks and a day after Del Papa withdrew, Jones announced she would not run for governor. She lamented that Guinn would not be challenged on issues, but insisted she was refusing to run for family reasons: She wanted to spend more time with her fiance and her three children. She told the Associated Press it was "the hardest call I've ever had to make." She was truly in agony.

That same day, Halloween and Nevada Day, the anniversary of the state's entrance into the Union, Guinn rode in a parade in Carson City with his wife, Dema. Gov. Bob Miller was in the procession, too, and the symbolism was unmistakable: The lame duck governor in front, his heir apparent in the back. The last obstacle had been removed to Guinn moving to the front seat in a little more than a year. Or so it seemed.

Thursday: Russo Rises -- Ex-Hollywood producer Aaron Russo weighs in with a flamboyant and surprising campaign.

"The Anointed One," by Jon Ralston, is available for $17.95 from all major bookstores in the greater Las Vegas area; it's also available directly from the Las Vegas-based publisher, Huntington Press, at 252-0655.

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