Audio By Carbonatix
Children don’t dream of growing up to be Arizona Secretary of State.
In fact, you expect those who seek the job to be the kind who, as kids, were beaten up by the schoolyard bully for their lunch money: low-key, studious types who can find happiness in bureaucratic tasks that induce catatonic stupor in the population at large.
To voters, the job remains one of those elected offices, like county recorder or mine inspector, where the sound of coin-flipping is audible in the voting booth. So no one should be shocked to notice that while the high-profile races for governor and attorney general steam on toward the September 11 primary, the race for secretary of state has been all but ignored by Valley newspapers and political prognosticators. The action is elsewhere, and so is the public eye.
That’s not suprising.
What is suprising is that two apparently rational men, incumbent Jim Shumway and challenger Richard Mahoney, actually are fighting a bitter primary battle for the job, each saying he’s the Democrat to face off against Republican Ray Rottas in the November general election. It’s easy to see why Shumway fits the mold for chief paper shuffler. Mature, friendly, respected clerk, a college dropout and lifelong professional bureaucrat–he actually enjoys discussing computer software and information retrieval.
But Dick Mahoney? A spit-polished, young, upwardly mobile Democrat and son of privilege, who has published a respected book on John F. Kennedy’s African foreign policy, written speeches for presidential candidates and engaged in a highly publicized marriage–and an equally public divorce–with local TV news starlet Mary Jo West? That Dick Mahoney desperately desires to be the king of mundane tasks? What’s the attraction?
His detractors–and a considerable number of Democrats fall into that category–sum it up in two words: Governor Mahoney.
Because as obscure as the job may be to voters, it’s still the job that’s just “one heartbeat away” from the governor’s chair. Twice in the last fifteen years, Arizona has inherited a new governor because of this line of succession, including the woman now sitting in the chief executive’s office. While Mahoney is busy trying to convince people that’s the farthest thing from his mind, Shumway is studiously reminding everyone that Arizona needs someone to take care of business, not build a cozy political nest.
“The candidates are thought to have very different images,” concluded a recent poll by O’Neil Associates that showed Shumway leading Mahoney two to one–albeit with 52 percent undecided.
“Shumway’s strength is likely to be an image as a competent administrator, someone with great experience in the Secretary of State’s Office, but who might be seen as out of his depth should he be required to assume the office of governor,” the poll noted.
“Mahoney, on the other hand, may have difficulty convincing the voters that he is interested in this position apart from its value as a stepping stone to higher office.”
It boils down to this: Do we want a secretary of state who wants to be a clerk or one who secretly desires to be governor?
Do we really want either?
JIM SHUMWAY IS an imposing presence sitting behind his desk in the Secretary of State’s Office. He is a stocky, hulking man, a former Brigham Young tackle whose face is naturally locked in dour expression. But when he extends his big hand in greeting, a huge smile cracks his threatening exterior, revealing a gentle, soft-spoken nature that belies appearances.
Although viewed by some as introverted and colorless, Shumway, 51, will chat amiably about his family’s past–he was born and raised in Tempe–and seems comfortable in the office that he inherited from Mofford in 1988. It is here the man who has been called the state’s consummate clerk wonders at the notion that his job is considered unexciting.
“I think what we do is important, and while our duties may not be the most thrilling in the world, I don’t think they’re exactly boring, either,” Shumway says. “If this is boring, then I guess I would have to say I like being boring.”
By all accounts, he’s good at the job. Even Republicans seem to have nothing but nice things to say about the incumbent Democrat. Senate President Bob Usdane, a Rottas supporter, says Shumway has done a “good job” since taking over for Mofford. “I would definitely say he is respected in the legislature.”
Senator Jeff Hill, another Republican, agrees. “You have to admit that the guy has done pretty well at his tasks,” he says, adding that Shumway’s only apparent weakness is his political inexperience. “The thing about him putting out a campaign letter linked to the Secretary of State’s Office wasn’t devious,” Hill says, “it was just that he isn’t overly political.”
The letter, which listed Shumway’s phone number at the Secretary of State’s Office, was denounced by Mahoney in May as being “old-fashioned sloppy politics” and an abuse of his office. The attorney general ruled that Shumway had not broken the law by including the number.
“It wasn’t a big deal, but you wonder if he is aware enough of the political angle of things to be governor,” Hill says.
Maybe Shumway isn’t naturally politically savvy. But there are signs he is learning fast. He fired a broadside of his own at Mahoney during a joint appearance in early summer when he charged his challenger with taking illegal campaign contributions by accepting free office space. The attorney general later cleared Mahoney of the charge.
Still, this one outburst was an isolated ripple in an otherwise placid Shumway campaign. He is not a wave maker; he cannot be described as an aggressive campaigner. He is visibly uncomfortable in the public eye and seems a bit put out that he must endure the scrutiny of a campaign. He tells voters about what he knows best–running the office. “Most people don’t realize the impact we have,” he says. “Take our work with the Uniform Commercial Code.”
Every day, Arizona businesses make up to 500 requests to lending institutions for commercial loans. Before any business gets its money, however, the banks check out its current financial picture, including a record of all outstanding liens against the company, with the secretary of state. It makes for a daunting amount of paperwork.
“Sure, that’s not glamorous,” Shumway says, “but it is a crucial part of the business community.”
It is this technical side of the secretary of state’s job that is clearly Shumway’s forte. Appointed to be the first statewide elections director by Mofford ten years ago, after serving as elections director of Pima County and as assistant director in Maricopa County, Shumway has thrown himself into spreadsheets and data bases with almost unnatural exuberance.
“What most people don’t know is that [Mofford] gave me a lot more responsibilities than elections,” Shumway says. He is credited with setting up the department that records all limited partnerships in Arizona, developing a new election-night return tabulating system and installing the first word-processing system in the office.
Shumway says his goal is to make the department financially self-supporting by the end of his next term. To help save money, he has added desktop publishing to the publications department of the office. “By doing that,” he says, “we should save, oh, golly, maybe $100,000 a year in the future.”
The normally sedate Shumway looks excited at this. His eyes sparkle as he delves into the technical capabilities of his office.
“I would like to continue on so that we can look at additional ways for us to improve in this area,” he says. “Right now we are looking at a laser-optic storage system, which is the leading edge of technology and data processing. That would expedite filing and retrieval of data and make the office even more efficient.”
Shumway is obviously conversant with the pros and cons of magnetic storage techniques versus laser optics. But what about deciding when to call out the National Guard? Is Jim Shumway, technical manuals in hand, ready to be governor if forced into the office?
Shumway insists there is more to him than hard drives and floppy disks. He says that if called upon, he is ready to make the jump to the ninth floor.
“I am hesitant, as I think any sane person would be, to be governor,” he says. “I don’t think anybody is ever ready to be governor. But I take time to acquaint myself with functions of state government.”
He taps his head. “That information is something that is parked back there if I ever need it. I owe that to the public.”
Shumway warns that calamity can result from a secretary of state who lacks experience, or doesn’t pay enough attention to technical duties. He points to a series of gaffes last year by a novice California secretary of state that caused the department to fall so far behind in paperwork that the state was forced to place a moratorium on commercial loans for several days, causing howls of protest from the business community.
“Were something like that to happen in Arizona,” Shumway says, “you can bet the Secretary of State’s Office would take on new importance to people.”
It’s obvious, Shumway says, that proficiency in management and clerical duties is the most important requirement for a secretary of state. He believes lack of devotion to technical matters is enough to disqualify a candidate for the office.
“If one’s interests do not lie in those areas, I don’t know why you would want to be secretary of state. Unless you were just interested in political advancement,” he says.
So why does Richard Mahoney want to be secretary of state?
Shumway smiles. “You would have to ask Mr. Mahoney that question.”
RICHARD MAHONEY SAYS he is running his campaign the “old-fashioned way,” meaning “on the cheap.” To compensate for an anemic bank account, sometimes a candidate has to improvise.
“I was doing a campaign appearance and one of the women’s bathrooms ran out of toilet paper,” Mahoney says, “so I stood outside the entrance, handing out fliers and introducing myself as the clean government candidate.”
“I guarantee you they’ll remember me.”
He is ignoring television advertising completely, and is instead strapping campaign workers into walking “Vote Mahoney” billboards and setting up Burma Shave signs on the interstates for the viewing pleasure of motorists as they zoom by:
Tired of government for sale?
Want good government?
Try Mahoney!
The fact that the 39-year-old Mahoney, a self-described “involvement junkie,” is willing to stand out in the desert on the bubbling asphalt in the middle of the torrid Arizona summer, holding a sign asking drivers to “try him,” answers the question of how badly he wants to be secretary of state. Answering the question of why takes a little longer.
Mahoney admits he can preach on the subject all day. He takes a breath, and the sermon begins.
“We need to change the way we elect people in this state,” he says, “because the way it stands right now, the elections system is for sale; it’s closed and it isn’t democratic.
“We need limited terms for public officials and campaign finance reform. The secretary of state can have an impact on all that but . . . we’ve seen minimal involvement by Shumway. What if we had a secretary who was an advocate for these things, so that people wouldn’t be beholden to inside traders when they got to elected office? They might actually govern and operate independently. Imagine that.
“We must have same-day registration. If we did, we would have 500,000 new Arizonans voting, and that would make this a whole different electoral habitat. The necessary condition for a phenomenon like Evan Mecham is a small electorate. Basically, if we do something about these small special interests . . . you can change things.
“It’s not that I am uninterested in the nuts and bolts of the job,” he says. “It’s just that the job can be so much more.”
How much more? Well, as Jim Shumway is focused on the intricacy of running a government bureaucracy, Richard Mahoney is focused on everything but.
In conversation, it is easy to forget that he is running for secretary of state. When Mahoney says he wants to be an active state leader, including making a mark at the legislature, where he plans to “push and pull” to achieve his complete legislative agenda, he sounds much like any of the seven candidates for governor.
To Mahoney, the secretary of state is a strong political player whose muscle has been allowed to atrophy. He wants to pump up the office, calling for a program of vigorous activity, both within the secretary’s department and on the legislative level. Bringing about change isn’t complicated, he says. All it takes, in the get-fit parlance of the 1990s, is the will to “Just Do It.”
He believes that he can convince lawmakers to limit all state officials to two consecutive four-year terms, monitor and restrict political action committees that he says have put “candidates up for sale,” and serve as a watchdog for the people against the corrupting threat of “special interests.” It is clear this is not the same old quiet, domesticated secretary of state that Arizonans have become accustomed to. The kind of activist secretary of state Mahoney describes would be an entirely new animal in the Arizona political zoo, and many are skeptical of the beast–fearing, perhaps, its long, sharp teeth.
In fact, Mahoney’s activist goals are the subject of ridicule from members of both parties, who are taking a cynical view of his proclaimed desire to use the Secretary of State’s Office as his political gym. Accusations that Mahoney is simply a political opportunist, hoping for a vacancy in the governor’s office or, at least, a publicity platform to aid him in a later run for the top job, have dogged his campaign.
Extensively educated, with degrees from Princeton, Johns Hopkins, and Arizona State, Mahoney has followed a traditional path toward public life. The son of William Mahoney, who was an influence in Arizona politics for decades and a former ambassador to the African nation of Ghana, the younger Mahoney was born and bred to run for office. From serving on the Central Arizona Project board, to campaigning for the implementation of the district system in Phoenix, to launching the election watchdog group Arizonans for Campaign Ethics, Mahoney has been busily preparing himself for a run for office, preparations disturbed only by his divorce from former Valley anchorwoman Mary Jo West. Even his scholarly career had a political bent.
He is a self-styled expert on John F. Kennedy, beginning his studies of JFK while his father served as a Kennedy ambassador. Mahoney did a stint as a Kennedy Scholar at the JFK Library in Boston and authored a book, JFK: Ordeal in Africa, on foreign policy. He clearly relishes the connection to the assassinated president, patterning himself after the youthful, energetic Kennedy model. “When you find someone who you are interested in and relate to, you follow them by instinct,” he says. He indulged that instinct to the point of idolatry by writing and starring in a locally produced stage play about JFK.
In fact, like fallen presidential hopeful Gary Hart, for whom Mahoney once wrote campaign speeches, his attempts to appear Kennedyesque are overt. Mahoney is meticulously image-conscious, always careful to project an image of an upwardly mobile young Democrat, and even his humor betrays an attempt to associate himself with a successful political ideal.
Mahoney does an uncanny imitation of Bruce Babbitt, mimicking the former governor and presidential candidate’s facial and voice patterns with precision. “I was laughing with Bruce,” Mahoney says, “asking if maybe I could do him on the radio. That would help the campaign.”
He has played Kennedy, he has played Babbitt. Now, the strongest opposition to his campaign comes from those who claim he has plans to keep imitating them, using the Secretary of State’s Office as nothing more than a springboard for higher aspirations. The question persists–is the Secretary of State’s Office merely a bus stop on the way to Camelot?
Mahoney, a professor at the American Graduate School of International management, dismisses the charge and downplays his political plans, pointing out that if advancement is his goal, he has chosen an improbable path to the top. “As far as inheriting the job goes, I think we are probably going to elect a governor of great vigor and relative youth, and I think it’s going to be Goddard,” he says. “If I were scheming to succeed him, I could be in a sixteen-year holding operation.”
In any event, Republicans continue to fear his vision for an activist secretary, pointing to former California Lieutenant Governor Mike Curb as an example of how ambition in a second-in-command can run amok. Party officials have quietly drawn comparisons between Mahoney and Curb, and have attempted to paint a picture of Mahoney as an Al Haig in liberal’s clothing, waiting anxiously for the first gubernatorial vacation to assert that he is “in control.”
In the early 1980s, Curb, a Republican, served as lieutenant to Democratic Governor Jerry Brown, then engaged in a campaign for the presidency that kept him traveling out of state several weeks per month. In Brown’s absence, Curb began to exert his authority as technical acting governor, signing bills and even appointing an appellate judge whose nomination Brown opposed. The “Sacramento Showdown” between the two officials drew national attention, and caused considerable consternation in the Golden State.
The Arizona Secretary of State, acting in place of a traveling governor, has similar constitutional powers. It is only through a long-standing “gentleman’s agreement” between the secretary and governor that such abuses do not occur. One high-ranking state Republican frets that Mahoney, brimming with reforms he wants to implement and seeking to further his political future, wouldn’t honor such a deal with a GOP governor.
“Unlike Shumway,” the official says, “Mahoney might start running the show on his own.”
This brings laughter from Mahoney. “Tell the Republicans that I have no immediate intention of mobilizing the National Guard,” he says.
Even if Arizona may not have to fear a Mahoney coup, some legislators still view his planned involvement at the statehouse with a dim eye. Always an independent lot, they seldom tolerate interference by a governor, and they certainly don’t expect any from a secretary of state.
“I don’t think the legislature will look with favor on a lot of pushing from the Secretary of State’s Office,” Hill says. “That really isn’t his role.”
Senate Minority Leader Alan Stephens says that “some of the things Mahoney’s talking about, like limiting terms, would require constitutional changes, and some might argue that the secretary of state doesn’t really have a role in that.”
But Mahoney is adamant. “The secretary of state has been portrayed as a glorified clerk,” he says. “But it is really the No. 2 position in the state!~ The secretary should act like it.”
Mahoney says that if the secretary was meant to remain in the office all day acting as a file clerk, the position should be appointed, not elected. “If all you want is a technocrat, well, that’s fine,” he says. “What I want to do is try to help bridge the crisis of faith in government–and it damn well is a crisis of faith. People have deep reservations about the system. We need to address that, it’s important.”
Mahoney thinks it’s important enough to take risks, even the risk of violating a Democratic maxim and challenging a sitting incumbent in the primary, a move that has won him some dirty looks from the party faithful.
“Jim and Dick are both excellent candidates, and both are my friends,” Stephens says. “But I think a lot are wondering why [Mahoney] chose to challenge a sitting incumbent. That’s not always good politics.”
But Mahoney may have a better handle on what makes for good politics than Stephens thinks. “Look,” Mahoney says. “I see the possibilities that this office has, from the Secretary of State’s Office to the possibility of being governor. Whatever it takes to get to those possibilities, it’s worth it.”
“If this is boring, then I guess I would have to say I like being boring,” Shumway says.
Shumway insists there is more to him than hard drives and floppy disks.
As Jim Shumway is focused on the intricacy of running a government bureaucracy, Richard Mahoney is focused on everything but.
The kind of activist secretary of state Mahoney describes is an entirely new animal in Arizona’s political zoo, and many are skeptical of the beast.
