Battle of the white hats: two campaign finance reform groups fight the good fight - with each other

Washington Monthly, Dec, 1996 by Steve Scott

Common Cause and its allies immediately began working the media with tales of the cozy connection between CalPIRG and CTA. They denounced CalPIRG's proposal as a "Trojan horse" and made hay out of the citizen contribution committee as a potential loophole through which single-issue groups like the National Rifle Association and the Christian Coalition could walk. Then the state's Fair Political Practices Commission analyzed what had now become Proposition 212 and discovered the initiative would repeal a 1991 statute that placed specific dollar limits on gifts to legislators. The repeal of the gift limits would by most independent accounts, open the prospect of large indirect cash contributions to legislators, none of which would, fall under state campaign reporting guidelines. Phelps and his group insisted the provision had been included as a means of forcing the legislature to impose stricter limits, but to most ears, the explanation had a "the dog ate my homework" ring to it. "It was either a drafting error or one of the stupidest things a campaign has ever done," says Schultz.

The discovery of the loophole was a godsend to the Prop. 208 coalition. Most members of the group conceded privately that the CalPIRG measure seemed far more appealing on paper than their more measured approach. By pointing out the gift-limit repeal, Prop. 208's campaign could present voters with a reason to vote no on the rival measure. It proved a powerful argument, and nearly every newspaper editorial board in the state eventually recommended a "yes" vote on Prop. 208 and a "no" on 212, including the San Francisco alternative weekly Bay Guardian. Another blow to 212 was the conspicuous silence of PIRG's most notable founding father, Ralph Nader. Nader, who was running for president, weighed in on several California ballot measures, but he never endorsed either 208 or 212, even though his campaign centered around the corrupting influence of political money.

Stunned by the attacks, CalPIRG spent much of the summer playing defense. In September, however, Phelps and his group decided to directly engage Prop. 208 in battle. A blizzard of faxes, news conferences, and ginned-up reports called attention to the provisions 208 lacked. They paid particular attention to 208's lack of any kind of ban on corporate contributions. With the gloves off on both sides, the final month of the campaign was a good old-fashioned political mudbath. Each camp made sure it had a representative at the other camp's news conferences, and these conferences often ended up with the advocates engaged in sharptongued colloquy.

Although it continued to boast of comfortable support, CalPIRG felt compelled to play its financial hole card. A few weeks before the election, they launched a TV ad campaign that eventually approached $3 million, aided by $600,000 from the CTA. The tortured illogic of campaigning for reform with special-interest money was quickly seized upon by 208's spinmasters, but their glee was short-lived. Not a week after the CTA contribution was revealed, Prop. 208's forces disclosed they'd gotten $100,000 from a pro-school voucher PAC headed by John Walton, the conservative heir to the Wal-Mart fortune. That contribution was used to help 208 proponents buy a smattering of television time around the state, though they ultimately spent only about a tenth of what was spent on 212. The commercials these donations bought were right out of the attack-ad manual. CalPIRG's ad showed a lobbyist celebrating 208's provisions and panicking at 212's. Common Cause's spot showed two shady characters with stacks of cash, the supposed effect of 212's repeal of the gift restrictions. For organizations that view themselves as occupying the moral high ground, both made ads that were decidedly unseemly.