Tuesday, April 17, 2007 | 7:03 a.m.
The next president of the United States, Charles "Bud" Railey, doesn't want the job.
"I have no desire to be president," says the man who is running for president.
Yes, the 83-year-old West Virginia town house developer and World War II veteran understands that when elected he will become president. But Bud sees himself more as a Ronald Reagan type. First, fire all the bums. Then just hire the right people and step back.
(Full disclosure: I have been offered the position of chief of staff in the Railey administration.)
For Nevada Republicans, the best news about soon-to-be-President Bud is that he's thinking about moving his campaign headquarters here. Bud's thinking about making the Tropicana his headquarters, if he can get his wife to agree.
"I don't know where the money is going to come from, but if I make my headquarters here, I'll be able to talk to people from all over the world," Bud says. When he took a trip to visit the Grand Canyon last week, he met five Chinese tourists who, despite not speaking much English, seemed very interested in what Bud had to say. He gave them all campaign buttons.
Plus he has already attracted two English-speaking American voters, including Amos Spencer, an Ohio retiree. "It doesn't make any difference . I'm an old man," Spencer said. "But I'd vote for him just to have a change."
The other recruit was Shella Taylor, whom Bud met when she was selling bottles of water on the Strip and he stopped to haggle. She thinks he will eliminate government corruption.
These are Bud's people - the 60 percent of the electorate that doesn't vote. "I go to the people who they think don't count," Bud says. "I've always learned more from the custodian and the elevator operator than anyone else."
There are a few seeming roadblocks along the path to victory and the Bud Era.
Like money (he doesn't plan to raise any). Famous backers (zip). Media coverage (the Sun has the worldwide exclusive on the Bud candidacy - we were the only ones to return his calls). And also the fact that he's counting on people who don't vote to go out and vote.
But Bud does have one cherished advantage: momentum.
Observe: In the 2004 West Virginia Republican gubernatorial primary, he only got 2.1 percent of the vote. In 2006, when a more seasoned Railey ran for senator, he got 5.4 percent. The Bud vote more than doubled. A juggernaut.
Also, he has a full head of hair, silver and wise.
And for those who say Bud lacks the experience necessary, let us point out that he was president of the Bridgeport, W.Va., planning commission in the late 1970s. More important, he knows his way around the White House. He once was a construction supervisor for the federal government and once did some work on the White House. He claims he snuck into the Oval Office and put his feet on the desk.
On the major issues of the day Bud has something for every kind of Republican.
He's got John McCain's Iraq strategy (support the troops). He's nearly got President Bush's immigration strategy (loyalty tests for those already here ; let them work). He can appeal to libertarians with his health care policy (pay for it yourself). And he's adopted the Gov. Jim Gibbons' global warming plank (maybe there's something to it, but let's not do anything too expensive).
Bud's campaign literature is a bagful of photocopied collages of newspaper headlines, copies of letters to politicians and a 1934 Reader's Digest excerpt about early Mormon church secret assassins.
Bud is in favor of missile defense, prison chain gangs and teaching creationism.
Bud is against closed union shops, same sex marriage, abortion , teachers unions and the Republican National Committee, whose various sins include a poor record of returning his phone calls.
Bud has problems with churches. They all need to be audited. Also, there are too many denominations. The Bible says there's only one true church so how come there are so many? They need to sort that out.
More and more, as the interview goes on, Bud talks about Bud. He tells stories about his four daughters and three sons. He recalls a condo project he once inspected in Florida, the boat he bought and how it sank in a hurricane.
When I try to wrap things up, Bud resists. He asks me about my family. He asks if I'd like to get lunch, or coffee, even, or a soda. As we part, he walks me out, slowly, he seems older than he did a couple of hours ago and his sharp eyes convey a little worry. He's got eight hours until he has to be at the airport and he's already checked out of his room.
When we get to the door, Bud makes a little joke out of offering me chief of staff in his administration.
I tell him to call when he comes back to Nevada. He shakes my hand for the third goodbye.
As I walk away, the man who doesn't want to be president shuffles in a small circle and stares out, looking for his constituency.
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