Columnist Jon Ralston: Ailing Pollyanna eyes vultures

Friday, Jan. 9, 2004 | 5:28 a.m.

Jon Ralston hosts the news discussion program Face to Face on Las Vegas ONE and publishes the Ralston Report. He can be reached at (702) 870-7997 or at ralston@vegas.com.

WEEKEND EDITION

January 10 - 11, 2004

THE SUN BARELY had risen Wednesday as the first event of Campaign '04 began at Dona Maria's restaurant near downtown Las Vegas. But the question of the day was whether the sun was setting on Clark County Commissioner Mary Kincaid-Chauncey's quarter-century in public life.

The occasion was a joint appearance by the candidates for Kincaid-Chauncey's seat at a breakfast sponsored by Hispanics in Politics. Assemblyman Tom Collins and Assemblywoman Vonne Chowning arrived early -- North Las Vegas Councilwoman Shari Buck was not there.

But as the clock ticked past the appointed start time, no sign of Kincaid-Chauncey. Maybe she would not come because of her Operation G-Sting indictment, fearful of having to face a fusillade.

But arrive she did a few moments later. And what played out during the next half-hour was a telling tableau, revealing the confluence of the political and the personal -- a pair of political vultures insisting they are longtime friends of a Dead Woman Walking, who continues to appear blithely unaware of political realities or preternaturally determined to accomplish the impossibility of re-election under the weight of a criminal indictment.

Kincaid-Chauncey hopes to survive on her good (until recently) name -- and the more vultures, she figures, the more chance they might devour each other instead of her.

Her opponents hope to win by pandering (including to the state's fast-growing Hispanic minority) while letting the elephant in the race (Kincaid-Chauncey's indictment) trumpet without their help.

Chowning and Collins spoke first. Both talked about how they had been longtime friends of Kincaid-Chauncey's. "Every day of this campaign, we'll stay friends," Collins said.

A strange definition of friendship, only applicable in the political world. Not only is Collins trying to knock his friend out of office, he also was quoted in the Review-Journal last month as saying of the commissioner: "Grandma's history." It doesn't get much friendlier than that.

Both Assembly folks made rather ham-handed attempts to pander to the Hispanic group. Chowning, who speaks considerable Spanish, began by speaking the language. Then she told the assemblage that she has a real estate license, "which helps Hispanic homeowners." And, she reminded the crowd, her Assembly district is the "Hispanic seat" and she rattled off the names of three Hispanics vying to replace her. (What she somehow failed to mention was that the reason a Hispanic has not been in the seat, specially created for the minority during the 1991 reapportionment, was because of her.)

Collins was even more obvious. "Specifically with Hispanics," he nonsequitered, "I can name Victor and Hector." These apparently surname-less fellows were helped by the assemblyman's good works at one time, he said.

Kincaid-Chauncey then greeted the crowd with a hearty "Buenos dias." Next came a few more words of halting, mangled Spanish before she surrendered and acknowledged that was it for her on the bilingual front.

"I intend to win this election," she stated matter-of-factly. And for Collins, she offered, "Don't count Grandma out yet."

For a Dead Woman Walking, she sounded as if she has a lot of life, even if she does seem a bit delusional. Or, she said, as her attorney, Richard Wright, prefers to call her, Pollyanna.

Kincaid-Chauncey continued: "I intend to run a campaign based on the issues."

If I had a dime for every candidate who began a campaign by saying he or she would run on the issues, I wouldn't have to worry about my daughter's college education.

But this is one case where that is the candidate's only choice. If the race is about Kincaid-Chauncey and her indictment in the political corruption scandal, she has no chance. But if it is about knowledge of water, planning and county budget issues, she has a shot. And the chances of that happening are about the same as Commissioner Mark James receiving the Station Casinos Man of the Year award.

Kincaid-Chauncey then addressed the elephant. "I cannot discuss the case that is going on now," she began. "But I am the same Mary Kincaid-Chauncey that I have been for the last 40 or 50 years. I have not changed my values."

That, of course, is what the indictment suggests, accusing her of taking money for strip club boss Mike Galardi to pay for favors for her son (lap dances) and grandson (ski school tuition). Grandma Mary is portrayed more like Ma Barker.

As she moved to her peroration, Kincaid-Chauncey nearly became emotional: "I, personally, would never believe that something like this could happen to me -- it's kind of like losing someone you love." Or, it may turn out, an elected job you love.

In a way, it is excruciating to watch the slow death of a longtime elected official. You can believe she has been quietly effective or quietly ineffectual, or even quietly corrupt. But to watch this play out will be somewhere between sad and pathetic.

As Kincaid-Chauncey bade farewell with a "vaya con dios" to the audience, it's clear she will need divine intervention to resurrect her career from the political cross she has to bear.