THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, November 10, 1994 TAG: 9411100625
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A12 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Real Politik
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 89 lines
An incredible thing happened in the final weeks of the Virginia Senate race.
The press ran out of questions. The campaigns ran out of lies.
``I hope we don't get any time with the candidate,'' was the whispered refrain heard round the campaign in the final weeks. ``I don't have anything left to ask.''
The press horde had gotten unwieldy, dozens of reporters at every Robb rally and every North whistlestop. With nothing to say.
``Hmmm, I don't know what I'm going to ask him,'' worried WVEC-13's Cynthia Lima on Sunday morning outside a Virginia Beach church. As we waited for the senator, Lima laughed about how crazy the campaign had become. Just a few days earlier Linda Byrd Robb had mistaken her for a coat-check girl, asking Lima to take her wrap.
The Virginian-Pilot's own Warren Fiske - never at a loss for words - laughed as he emerged Saturday from the coveted press seat on Ollie's airplane at Norfolk's Piedmont Aviation. Most reporters would push their mother down a flight of stairs on roller skates for such an opportunity.
``I didn't have anything left to ask him,'' he moaned. ``I wound up asking Ollie stuff like `So how's the family holding up during the campaign?' ''
It was understandable. After five months of intense media scrutiny, reporters knew where the candidates stood on abortion, adultery and lying to Congress. We knew what they liked to eat, what they liked to wear. Realpolitik had even broken the story that Ollie only has one of those blue checked shirts.
In the waning days we were left to make small talk with the three candidates, hoping that something - anything - would happen.
Last Sunday morning, a gaggle of reporters found themselves trailing Robb to African-American churches. At the Faith Deliverance Church in Norfolk, Bishop Barbara Amos ordered the congregation to hold hands with the person next to him or her and pray for each other - a bizarre scene when you visualize the press engaging in public prayer.
After the service, Robb asked The Washington Post's scribe what he prayed for.
``We prayed the Media Prayer, Senator,'' replied Don Baker. ``One more gaffe, Lord, one more gaffe.''
On Election Night, after the returns were in and the stories were filed, one newspaper reporter sighed loudly: ``I'm glad this is over,'' he said, rubbing his eyes. ``I'm tired of being lied to.''
No truer words were ever spoken.
Then there were Wilder's whoppers. Like vowing he was in the race until the bitter end - two days before he dropped out.
There was a memorable encounter in Farmville when a woman walked up to Wilder and said she'd had it ``with that Chuck Robb. I'll never vote for him again.''
Wilder beamed.
When it was pointed out that she never said she was going to vote for him, Wilder smiled wickedly: She couldn't stand Robb, that was enough.
Five weeks later, he was campaigning for the man.
Even Marshall Coleman kept a straight face while insisting that he would win and that internal polls showed a surge of support coming his way. But you could excuse Marshall's fibs because of his wacky sense of humor.
One newspaper photographer found himself standing shoulder to shoulder with Coleman at a urinal several weeks ago.
``I should have brought my camera,'' Kevin Elliott joked.
``Then you could have shown your readers my wife really did marry me for my money,'' Coleman retorted.
You gotta love him.
On Election Night, after the returns were in and stories filed, exhausted media types drifted over to Richmond's Penny Lane Tavern where Ollie's boys were knocking back shots of tequila and drowning their sorrows.
At last, a chance for a moment of unvarnished truth.
When, exactly, did the North campaign realize it would lose?
``Not until the returns were coming in,'' insisted North spokesman Dan McLagan, who couldn't stop spinning even though he was no longer being paid to do it. ``There was only ever one speech - a victory speech.''
We'll never know. But at about 4 o'clock on Election Day, North aides - including Ollie's driver and personal secretary - were gathered in the lobby of the Jefferson Hotel somberly sipping what appeared to be sherry.
The men were in dark suits and looked like they were headed to a funeral. One smiled and gamely pulled out a piece of paper showing Republicans leading in exit polls across the country.
He didn't want to talk about North's race.
And we were out of questions. by CNB