Honolulu Lite
For this candidate, it’s an
identity of a mistaken CaseWe had heard tales of a mysterious political creature, sort of like the elusive Bigfoot, hanging around Honolulu. There had been several unconfirmed sightings at Rotary Clubs and along the roadways of this mystical "candidate for governor."
Finally, the ethereal figure revealed himself last week at a press conference. It turns out that his name is Ed Case, and he is not such an exotic creature after all. He's a member of that well-known species of politician (Democratus-lawyerous-ubiquitous) that inhabits that curious habitat called the "State Legislature."
And it turns out that Mr. Case wasn't in hiding at all. In fact, he's been trying to get people to notice him for ages, waving his arms and everything. Unfortunately, he suffers from those nearly always politically fatal characteristics of being level-headed, soft-spoken, considerate of others and amiable to a degree that assures invisibility.
With other candidates, like his fellow Democrats Andy Anderson and Mazie Hirono and Republican Linda Lingle, grabbing the faint and meager spotlight that shines upon an underfinanced and anemic primary election race, Ed Case has existed in the background, like a well-mannered potted shrub. Not that he hasn't been trying. But after the excitement of the ultimately doomed will-he-or-won't-he gubernatorial campaign of Mayor Jeremy Harris and the subsequent serial ship-jumping antics of Lt. Gov. Hirono ("I'm running for governor. Governor of the city of Honolulu. I mean, I'm mayor of Honolulu. I'll be the best mayor this city has ever had. And as mayor, I mean, governor, of the great state of Hawaii, because I am running for governor, not mayor, I'll be the best governor this state has ever had, unless I run for U.S. senator, which ... no ... I'm pretty sure I'm sticking with governor, but, you know, that Kauai Council race looks pretty sweet ...), Ed Case couldn't get airtime on a public-access channel at midnight. Then, just when it looked like Case might grab a little tube time, millionaire banker Walter Dods blustered his way onto the political stage, chewed up the scenery for a few weeks and then exited mumbling something like "Governor? I thought they said supreme ruler."
Part of Ed Case's problem is that his name is "Ed Case," which doesn't exactly cause goose bumps to rise on the skin. Had I been in charge of his campaign, the first thing I would have done is gotten a legal name change. Not to something radical, like, say, Phineas Watanabe Blodget, but something with a little pizazz. If he would just change his first name from Ed to Justin, he'd at least give the people who write his campaign commercials a chance. ("Hi. If you're worried about the future of Hawaii, then vote for me, Justin Case. If you aren't sure you can trust anyone else, then vote for me, Justin Case.") OK. Maybe not.
Ed Case held a press conference last week laying out his agenda, and it received several intense seconds of television coverage. His plans sounded pretty level-headed and amiable, which caused everybody but Gov. Ben Cayetano to drift off to sleep. Cayetano, as he had with Lingle, savagely ripped apart Case's agenda, which had the unintended though lucky effect of suddenly making Ed Case seem interesting.
Charles Memminger, winner of National Society of Newspaper Columnists awards, appears Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. E-mail cmemminger@starbulletin.com