Finding the will to make another name for himself

By Joe Schoenmann

Monday, Dec. 20, 2010 | 2:01 a.m.

Little more than a month after losing the governor’s race, Rory Reid can’t stop smiling.

Sitting in the Beat coffeehouse on East Fremont Street, Reid was reminded of a recent news story about 40 community leaders who studied the local economy. It appeared under the headline: “To Diversify, Nevada Must Better Educate.”

Reid’s campaign mantra was to move the state forward through better education, K-12 and higher.

“Sounded like a familiar theme to me,” Reid says of the newspaper article.

His smile disappears quickly as talk turns to the Clark County Commission chairman’s future. Having lost his bid for higher office, Reid has to, as he puts it, “figure out what to do when I grow up.”

After Jan. 4, Reid will no longer be a Clark County commissioner, a seat he has held for eight years.

Reid’s day job is partner at the law firm of Lionel Sawyer & Collins. A partner has a responsibility to attract clients, compile billable hours.

Before he became a commissioner, Reid’s legal focus was on licensing, gaming and zoning, “but then I couldn’t really do that when I was on the commission,” because commissioners deal with those issues at every meeting. The potential conflicts of interest forced him to focus on advising clients on environmental and energy issues.

“I hope to expand that area of my practice,” Reid says. “I have also started to develop a wills, trust and estates practice ... (I have to) pay some bills. I’ve got kids in college, a mortgage to pay.”

Not that anyone should feel sorry for him, he adds quickly.

“A lot of Nevadans are doing the same thing. I’m a partner in a law firm, though, and one of the things I’m supposed to do is go out and find business. I’m trying to do that. But it’s still a work in progress.”

That doesn’t mean he is through with politics. His father, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., was also a lawyer when he suffered a high-profile political defeat, losing a bid for Las Vegas mayor in 1975.

“I love public service, and I want to help,” Rory Reid says. “I think it’s what I’m good at.”

But he’s unsure how that desire will manifest itself down the road.

“Right now, I’m glad to just be home every night with my wife and kids, and I’m focused more on what to get my wife for Christmas than future elections,” he said. “And while I clearly don’t feel like I’m done, does that mean I’ll run for something? I don’t know.”

Reid lost to Republican Brian Sandoval by 12 percentage points. Sandoval looked and sounded like a politician from Central Casting: big smile, not one shiny hair out of place and an oft-repeated pledge of “no new taxes.”

Much like his father, Reid doesn’t possess stereotypical political charisma. Like his father, he’s understated. Some might call him quiet.

But those who have watched him at public meetings — where he typically ends up being the voice of reason in the center, tempering the back-and-forth bantering among other commissioners — also know he has a keen ability to analyze complex issues.

He is rarely at a loss for a witty retort and has a humorous way with words, although rarely at anyone’s expense.

During the campaign, for instance, Reid and Sandoval were to give separate speeches to the Nevada Subcontractors Association. Reid, instead, challenged Sandoval to an impromptu debate: “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to have a dress rehearsal?”

Those qualities weren’t exactly captured in Reid’s campaign ads.

“The ads were painful,” said one political adviser in Las Vegas, who did not want to be identified, adding that it “seemed like no one knew how to package him.”

Does Reid think his campaign was poorly run?

“I’ve thought about all of that and considered what happened and I probably learned a lot of lessons,” he said. “I’m living in a ‘no-regret zone.’ ”

When told that sounds like the title of a self-help book, he chuckles.

“Or a great movie,” he adds. “I just won’t blame anybody but myself. I’m going to be magnanimous and wish (Sandoval) well, because I care about this state and if he does a good job, it’ll be a better place for my kids.”

Theories abound as to why Reid lost: too many advisers; he wasn’t himself; he didn’t take into account a Sandoval candidacy.

The reason most often cited, though, is his last name and all the freight that carries because of his father.

Harry Reid’s re-election race against Republican Sharron Angle was the focus in Nevada. The elder Reid spent $25 million to win. He was on the radio and television constantly.

It made Rory Reid and the race for governor an afterthought, and a target for Republican voters.

“I don’t think anyone was even listening to him because of his name,” another political adviser said of Rory.

Did he and his father talk about that dynamic?

He pauses a long time before answering.

“I’ve talked to (Harry) a lot since, and a lot of those conversations are better left between father and son,” he said, adding, “you’ve got to fill me with something better than herbal tea to get that out of me.”

Can Reid even contemplate a political future while his dad is a U.S. senator?

“I have no idea. I actually thought it wouldn’t be an issue. I thought people would consider my family tree irrelevant. But it was a factor,” Reid said.

The 47-year-old watches young people stream into the coffeehouse. Artists. Lawyers like himself. Businesspeople. A slice of Las Vegas.

“This is the coolest place,” he says.

But he has to go. Back to the office. Make calls. Drum up some business.

And, perhaps, ponder what’s to come.

“My approach to life is: You try to learn from whatever has happened to you,” he says. “There’s a reason for what happened. I just have to figure out what that is.”