In January, the insider newsletter Politics in Minnesota reported on Georgacas's project, noting that because of its tax status, the center "can't and doesn't admit out loud that the whole exercise is designed specifically to be given to Norm Coleman upon his expected ascension to the governorship. But... it's a bit difficult to dodge the obvious." Soon afterward the newsletter printed a clarification ("Dear Tax Man--Don't Take Us Too Literally") emphasizing that the center was not "committed to a particular candidate."
Tax consequences aside, the episode signaled the extent to which insiders believe Coleman has become the GOP elite's favorite son. And on that score, there is more concrete evidence as well.
Ken Avidor
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The day after the mayor's re-election in November, a group of the party's most powerful playmakers announced the formation of a draft-Coleman effort called "The Committee for Minnesota's Future." Co-chaired by Meeks and Georgacas, the committee was supported by Marsie Leier, who helped orchestrate a conservative takeover of the Republican Party in the 1980s; former Hennepin County Commissioner Tad Jude, another ex-DFLer; conservative writer and commentator Peter Bell; and Republican National Committee member Evie Axdahl.
Last Friday, members of the committee presented Coleman with more than 4,500 signatures on petitions urging him to run. According to Georgacas, most of those autographs belonged to party activists likely to be delegates at the GOP's state convention in June. Meeks says the committee's chief purpose was to round up delegates for Coleman in the March caucuses--a job less-fortunate candidates must accomplish themselves through endless road trips and bottomless cups of coffee at VFW meetings. On Monday, the committee announced it was ceasing operations; if Coleman begins his official campaign this weekend, chances are his supporters' efforts will be funneled through his official campaign committee.
Financially, Coleman is blessed with similarly stellar connections. According to a report filed last week with the Ramsey County elections office, contributions to Coleman's mayoral campaign committee since 1989 total $1.3 million. Of that money, $960,000 was raised for his re-election effort. Since nowhere near that amount was necessary to defeat Pappas, who spent less than $250,000, Coleman was able to run TV ads and billboards to give him statewide exposure.
Given where the money originated, that made perfect sense. Last summer, the advocacy group Minnesota ACORN found that two-thirds of Coleman contributors lived in the suburbs. They also concluded that more than 60 percent of the contributions came from business interests, which out-contributed labor 42 to 1. Marcia Erickson, ACORN's board chair, says the group believes Coleman was using his mayoral campaigns to set up a fundraising machine. "We believe he is pandering to the monied, and that he will rely heavily on these sources for his gubernatorial bid," she says.
In the gubernatorial campaign, Coleman--having yet to announce his candidacy--so far has raised no money directly. But the Committee for Minnesota's Future, unaffiliated with him and operating by different fundraising rules, has been able to raise $112,767 in just two months. That's about half as much as Benson's committee was able to pull in over an entire year.
What sets the committee's hurry-up efforts apart from other caucus organizing efforts is that it has relied on a small cadre of big-money interests. Declared candidates, like Benson, Quist, and moderate Roy Terwilliger, were limited to donations of less than $500 in 1997 and less than $2,000 in 1998. The Committee for Minnesota's Future, however, was defined as an independent political committee, with free rein to collect any amount from any individual.
As a result, while Benson's campaign took in an average of $70 per donor, Coleman's draft committee averaged $400 a donor. The largest contributors were Twin Cities businessmen Ron Eibensteiner and Ben Whitney, who each gave $10,000.
The growing public support for Coleman from the GOP's good old boys has some supporters of other candidates, and of Benson in particular, furious. "Look at the history of this party," says Koblick. "Look at the women, like [former Lt. Gov.] Joanell Dyrstad, who work hard and then when it comes time for a gubernatorial race the party just drops them. I think that's a gender issue."
Benson, whom even adversary Jack Meeks describes as "one of the nicest people in politics," refuses to criticize GOP higher-ups who've jumped on the Coleman bandwagon. She's also loyal to her boss, Gov. Carlson, despite his penchant for advertising Coleman's accomplishments in St. Paul. But, she asks rhetorically: "Am I surprised certain people in the party aren't supporting me? Yes. Am I disappointed? Yes. Everyone has the right to support who they want. But these are the same people who begged me to run against Paul Wellstone. These are the same people who asked me to run with Governor Carlson."
For now, Benson's supporters are working hard to keep up the appearance of a front-runner. Money and big-shot support may matter later on, they insist, but the caucuses are different. There, what counts is personal, face-to-face campaigning and old-fashioned envelope-stuffing credentials. "This is grassroots stuff," Weinholzer argues. "Norm knows the process, but he doesn't know the people. He can't just walk up to someone and start a conversation like Allen or Joanne."
But Weinholzer may be underestimating her opponent. Political consultant Janecek, for one, suggests that Coleman's heavy-hitting supporters will not only make up for his lack of interpersonal contact, but turn it into an advantage. After all, the GOP's future delegates know all they need to about Norm Coleman. He's pro-life, pro-gun, and pro-hockey. The Democrats hate him. And Jack Meeks thinks he's the next Ronald Reagan.
