Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, October 16, 1993 TAG: 9310160181
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DWAYNE YANCEY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Salem is a close-knit place where football is king and political dissent is about as welcome as a penalty flag.
"Salem has always had a habit of not airing dirty laundry in public," says City Councilman Alex Brown.
That's what makes the House of Delegates contest between two hometown candidates - Morgan Griffith and Howard Packett - to succeed retiring Del. Steve Agee so unusual.
Salem itself is an issue.
Or, more precisely, the way Salem's municipal government operates.
Perhaps the public back-and-forth between the Republican, Griffith, and the Democrat, Packett, over how Salem is run was inevitable.
Part of Packett's claim to fame is his nine years on Salem City Council, an experience he says qualifies him to move up to the General Assembly. In fact, he's said that the legislature could take a few lessons from the way Salem is run.
So Griffith's top researcher - his mother, that's how close-knit things are in Salem - spent much of the summer listening to nine years' worth of audiotapes of council meetings, searching for anything incriminating that Packett might have said or done.
Still, Griffith's line of attack against Packett is unusual enough that it's raised eyebrows - and some voices - around Salem.
Last month, when the two candidates debated for the first time before the Salem-Roanoke County Chamber of Commerce, Griffith produced what he considers the incriminating evidence:
In the last four years, every vote on Salem City Council - except one - has been unanimous.
"Somebody must be calling the shots," Griffith charged.
"I think that's what makes Salem different," Packett countered. "We don't scream and holler. We do things right."
At their second debate, Griffith kept up the zingers about council's unusual degree of unanimity.
"When there's only one vote where not all the councilmen voted together, it's clear you don't have different ideas coming up," Griffith said.
Griffith's needling of council unanimity hasn't been without some political risk in a city that, to judge by recent election returns, is quite satisfied with its municipal government.
"I got mad as hell at Morgan the first time he did it," Councilman Brown says. "I said, `Morgan, that reflects badly on me.' I told him the issues aren't that serious here. If you want an issue for this campaign, search someplace else. I told him that in front of a crowd. I think he was embarrassed."
Brown says he felt the sting harder than most: Griffith had managed his campaign for council.
But Brown and other Salem leaders also figure that Griffith's jabs are simply political posturing in a closely contested campaign.
"Morgan is just saying that, because he's got to have something to jump on Howard about," says Salem lawyer Charles Phillips, a Packett supporter and Griffith's former boss. "I eat lunch with Morgan every Wednesday, all the lawyers get together, and Morgan has never been an `anti.' I've never heard Morgan express any dissatisfaction with the way government operates. Now, there are four or five people in town who are anti-establishment."
Nevertheless, Griffith's swipes at Packett's council service go to the heart of what most concede is a factor in the campaign: what kind of delegate each would be.
The low-key Packett, who runs an ad agency, says he'd work quietly, behind the scenes, just as he has on council. "I'm not getting up there screaming and hollering, but in my heart I know I'm getting things done for Salem," Packett says.
By contrast, the gung-ho Griffith is more willing to speak up - and speak out.
Packett, he claims, has been a go-along-to-get-along councilman under the thumb of a strong-willed mayor. "His experience has not prepared him for the rough-and-tumble of the General Assembly," Griffith charged at one debate. "You've got to have some disagreements, you've got to step on some toes, in the General Assembly."
But talk to Griffith more, and there are hints that his focus on Salem City Council's unanimity isn't just a convenient issue for this campaign.
"I learned at an early age when you do things behind closed doors, even if it's the right thing, it leaves a bad taste in people's mouths," Griffith says.
His first foray into Salem politics came when he was student body president at Andrew Lewis High School in 1975-76. Salem was building a new high school, which the School Board quietly decided to name Salem High School.
Griffith and many of his classmates were outraged at the name change - and he led a famous but ultimately unsuccessful protest.
"At age 17, I took on the Salem political establishment," is how Griffith remembers the experience. "For the next six months, I waged a campaign to have the school's name changed. It was probably the last time there was any major upheaval in Salem politics."
That experience is more than just a colorful story from his youth; it's almost a touchstone for his House of Delegates campaign.
Griffith's campaign literature proudly includes his presidency of the student body as one of his qualifications; Packett doesn't miss an opportunity to make fun of the line.
"The choice is clear," Packett told one debate audience. "We can send a proven leader, or a former student body president. What has Morgan Griffith done for you?"
But Roanoke College political scientist Bill Hill says the whole exchange is more than a squabble over the strength of a candidate's resume; it's an echo from Salem's past that may yet resonate with voters today.
Salem politics weren't always as somnolent as today's council makes them appear, Hill points out. There was much controversy in the late 1960s, when Salem abruptly seceded from Roanoke County and declared itself a city.
"Generally speaking, the Republicans tended to be critical of how that was handled," Hill says, because it was the city's Democratic stalwarts who did the deed.
Later, in the early 1970s, there was another roiling debate in Salem over whether the young city should continue to contract with Roanoke County to provide school services or set up its own school system.
It was the partial resolution of that debate - Salem eventually went its own way - that led to the construction of the new high school and the new name that so inflamed young Griffith and his classmates.
"Around the edges, there's something left over of that very bruising fight," Hill says. "There was definitely a concerted authority that made itself felt. That's part of the iceberg that's not showing" when Griffith claims "somebody must be calling the shots today."
Hill suggests that Griffith's distancing himself from what he calls "the Salem political establishment" also may be a wise move to win votes elsewhere in the 8th District.
After all, Hill points out, Salem constitutes only about one-third of the district. Griffith doesn't have to win Salem; he just has to come close there, then try to make up the difference with votes from Republican-leaning precincts in Roanoke County and Montgomery County.
And in Roanoke County, Hill says, some folks can't stand Salem. To them, Salem is seen as a "rival" - and a smug one, at that.
Indeed, some of Griffith's supporters were delighted when Packett, in one of their debates before a Roanoke County audience, declared that "the only special interest I have is to the people of Salem."
He meant, of course, his obligation as a city councilman, but Griffith seemed only too happy to hang the Salem label, with a capital "S," around Packett's neck.
"Morgan is positioning himself in the eyes of county voters as not owned body and soul by Salem," Hill says.
Nevertheless, "it's a delicate and greasy rail he's riding," Hill warns. "There is an unusual amount of civic consensus in Salem. He can't be seen to be unraveling that consensus and challenging the integrity of the very existence of Salem. He'll get punished for that."
by CNB