Hirono's and Lingle's
campaign styles offer hints
on how they might govern
LINGLE | HIRONO
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COURTESY RALPH SMITH
Republican gubernatorial candidate Linda Lingle addressed a crowd Saturday at a community center in Hawaiian Paradise Park.
HILO >> Under a darkening sky threatening rain, Linda Lingle, nearly 14 hours after leaving her one-bedroom Makiki apartment at 5:30 a.m., exits the cheering political rally at Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium for the day's fifth and last event, a $500-a-person fund-raising dinner at the Hilo Yacht Club. Lingle courts voters in
Hirono
a busy Big Island jauntBy Tim Ryan
tryan@starbulletin.comWearing the same black skirt, turquoise jacket, dark stockings and black pumps that she began the day in, Lingle, the Republican candidate for governor, climbs onto the van's front seat, cleans her oval glasses, then applies for the last time this Saturday the rich red lipstick that has become sort of a trademark.
Deron Akiona, Lingle's state political director, steers the van along a rarely used path while Lingle tries to steady the lipstick.
"This exit is only used for rock stars," he jokes.
"Being a rock star is not what I'm after," Lingle says, struggling in the dim light to see her reflection in the vanity mirror. "I was at a dinner once with (Kauai) Mayor (Maryanne) Kusaka and watched her put lipstick on in three strokes with no mirror. I said, 'How did you do that? I need to know.'"
Since arriving in Hilo about 9 a.m., Lingle and running mate James "Duke" Aiona have visited a Puna community center, a small church, a youth basketball tournament, an orchid growers' business luncheon and the just-completed tennis stadium pep talk. The 49-year-old Lingle has shaken hundreds of hands, kissed nearly as many cheeks, signed autographs and had pictures taken with business owners, the homeless, disgruntled Democrats and Republicans, unwed teenage mothers, longtime supporters and even a cockfighting proponent.
There's no mistaking that Lingle is driven, determined, focused, independent, insistent, and can be a bit intimidating though she insists no one on her campaign feels threatened by her, "and certainly not the men." During this neighbor island junket 10 days before the election, she passionately drives home her political ideals to every crowd in speeches she makes without notes.
COURTESY RALPH SMITH
Lingle hugged a supporter later that day at a campaign stop at the Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium in Hilo.
At a Hawaiian Paradise Park community center where glazed doughnuts cut in half and papaya with sliced limes are free for the taking, a middle-age woman asks how she can get back a foreclosed family cemetery plot for a dying sister. When the woman finishes, Lingle says she doesn't have a solution but thanks the woman "for sharing."
"Some people just want to be heard," she later tells an aide.
When Lingle, who graduated from California State University at Northridge with a degree in journalism, moved to Honolulu in 1975, she worked for Art and Tony Rutledge at the Hawaii Teamsters & Hotel Workers Union in Honolulu for a year as public information officer and editor of the monthly newspaper that went to the union's 20,000 members. She moved to Molokai in 1976 where she was the founder, owner and publisher until 1980 of the monthly Molokai Free Press.
This is where Lingle says she realized she could make a difference through her stories. When she became disgruntled with Maui County politics or, more accurately, politicians, she decided to run for the County Council.
"I thought to myself, 'I know I could do what they do and probably better,'" she said.
She served on the Maui Council for 10 years and was mayor for eight.
COURTESY RALPH SMITH
Lingle shook hands with a supporter in Hilo on Saturday during a rally.
Lingle is a commanding figure, broad in the shoulders, strong hands and a solid gait. She says that most mornings she swims 3,000 yards at the Nuuanu YMCA. She was an Amateur Athletic Union swimmer as a teenager in Southern California, and though she didn't play other sports, she looks like she has the physique to excel in several.
Lingle was born in St. Louis, where she lived until she was 12 years old. She remembers vividly her first visit to Busch Stadium with her dad.
She knows a lot about Los Angeles Dodger pitcher Sandy Koufax because "like me, he's Jewish," Lingle said. "He wouldn't pitch on Yom Kippur," Lingle says.
Lingle lives with an 8-year-old cat named Snooze on the 12th floor of a high-rise hear the Honolulu Academy of Arts. The apartment is functional, not luxurious, with "comfortable" furniture, she says. Her computer, fax machine and television are there, too.
Lingle doesn't avoid answering questions about her personal life. She's been married and divorced twice; the last marriage lasted 10 years. "I don't do it too well," she says.
As for a third marriage, Lingle thinks it might be "impossible with my lifestyle."
"It's hectic and busy, pretty much nonstop," she said.
Instead, she has friends she meets for dinner often at a sushi restaurant, though she also likes pizza. She and her friends also go to movies or just talk politics.
"It's always about politics; my friends are all involved in my campaigns," Lingle said.
She doesn't drink coffee anymore, says she's never had a beer and has given up the occasional glass of wine or cocktail. She's attracted to men who are "smart and have character." She likes "films that take a risk" and "challenge" her like "Memento," though she "loved" "Moulin Rouge" and "Evita." Her favorite actor is Sean Connery.
Lingle likes to keep her life uncomplicated, illustrated by a story about a Maui woman who told Lingle that her running mate Duke Aiona is "better looking and skinnier than you."
"True on both counts," says Lingle, laughing. "He's both those things. It's a fact, nothing personal. My obligation is to look my best, but I'm not good at it."
"They (salons) want me to dye and pluck," she says. "Not going to happen. This is who I am. You get what you see."
Lingle avoids jewelry except for a watch. Her ears aren't pieced, though on some occasions she will wear clip-on earrings.
"My grandmother told me if God intended us to have pierced ears, then we would have been born that way," she said.
At Waiakea Gym for a youth basketball game, Lingle and Aiona sit in the bleachers waiting to present the trophies they donated to the winning teams.
During halftime a man assails the two politicians for "taking advantage of the kids" for political purposes. Lingle's facial expression never changes. She says something in a low, calm tone, and the man walks away.
An aide mentions the incident later, but Lingle is quiet, reading notes for her meeting with editors at the Hawaii Tribune-Herald, where she arrives seven minutes early because she skips lunch.
Ninety minutes later, the editorial meeting is over, and Lingle is back in the van. She mentions that the editors will make their governor endorsement Thursday (today).
Lingle has an hour to rest at the Hawaii Naniloa Resort during which time she signs thank-you notes to donors, reads Hawaii newspapers about the previous night's debate with opponent Lt. Gov. Mazie Hirono and turns the World Series on but keeps the sound muted.
At 5 p.m. Lingle fast walks through the lobby telling Akiona, "Let's get back to it," then, "It's 5-nothing, Giants in the seventh."
There are about 1,000 people at the stadium rally waiting in loge seats or lined up at three food tables for the $5 dinner: beef stew, white rice, chili, hot dogs, corn chowder, pork ribs, salad and rolls.
She's greeted by applause, shakes a few hands, then makes her way to the stage to give a pep talk. She returns to the floor to shake more hands.
"That's my favorite T-shirt," Lingle tells a man wearing a shirt reading, "Haoles for Lingle."
Three hours later, after the high-end fund-raising dinner, a kitten has crawled into a car's engine space at the Naniloa's parking lot. When Lingle tries to reach it, the feline darts under the car, then into the wheel well.
After an aide pulls the cat out, the man and Lingle comfort the animal, which urinates on them. Lingle decrees that she's adopting the cat and its name is Naniloa.
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TIM RYAN / TRYAN@STARBULLETIN.COM
Hirono met for 30 minutes Tuesday with sixth-graders from Kamehameha Schools to discuss politics and her philosophies.
Mazie Hirono is sitting alone in the middle seat of a Chevy passenger van, her lap stacked with folders, faxes, the day's schedule, and her right hand held high with the index finger extended and slowly moving several times side to side. Hirono works long days
Lingle
to get message outBy Tim Ryan
tryan@starbulletin.com"You are a bad man, a velly, velly bad man," the Democratic candidate for governor says in her best Pakistani impression of Babu from the "Seinfeld" television show.
Hirono -- after meetings, interviews, an official proclamation, dedication, campaigning and a chicken Caesar salad lunch all by 2 p.m. this Tuesday -- is playful out of public view.
"Remember when Babu kept asking Jerry (Seinfeld) about the status of his immigration papers, and Jerry kept saying, 'It's in the works'?" she says about her favorite television show.
It's a week until election day, and Hirono is working 17-hour days to get her political message out and hoping to change some misperceptions about her.
She's "disappointed when people misjudge me on superficial qualities," though Hirono doesn't say which ones. The candidate quickly corrects a reporter who describes her reported aloofness as "shyness."
"I'm not shy; I'm reserved," she says, eyes narrowing, a sort of trademark when Hirono gets impatient. "I'm very focused. My brain is connected directly to my mouth, so I always say what I mean, which means I think before I talk, and sometimes that isn't spontaneous.
"People may misjudge that hesitancy as something else."
The barefoot lieutenant governor meets her security/driver in the garage exactly at the appointed time, 7 a.m. Her mother hands her a grilled cheese sandwich -- "my favorite breakfast" -- in a plastic baggy.
TIM RYAN / TRYAN@STARBULLETIN.COM
At an afternoon dedication of a Samoan Fale at Kuhio Park Terrace, Hirono and U.S. Sen. Daniel Inouye wore leis as guests of honor for having helped secure state and federal funding for the community meeting place.
On the way to the Gas Co. offices in Kakaako, Hirono eats all of her sandwich. Today's "speeches" are pretty much the same: brief and to the point of her political agenda.
The 5-foot-2 Hirono stands up straight, shoulders back, and tries to make eye contact with all 50 employees in the room. She sips coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Her expression is stern but not threatening, the smiles sweet and brief, the stare piercing.
"I don't like wasting time with BS and want to get to the point as quickly as possible," she says. "I suppose that comes across as intimidating."
Hirono is wearing a lavender skirt and jacket with an off-white, long-sleeve silk blouse, hose and tan pumps. She has a darker, lavender-colored Asian design pendant on the jacket, pearl earrings, a thin silver watch, and wedding and diamond rings on her left hand.
Hirono suggests her being reserved is also a product of growing up poor and a Japanese cultural background.
"I wasn't taught to rant and rave about myself; I don't toot my own horn," she says. But she does admit to swearing "a lot."
She doesn't swear this day.
To escape an abusive marriage in Japan, Mazie's mother brought her and her older brother to Hawaii in 1955, traveling steerage on the President Cleveland. Mazie was 8. They shared a single room in a Makiki boardinghouse, and her mother worked two jobs to support them.
TIM RYAN / TRYAN@STARBULLETIN.COM
After a 7:30 a.m. meeting Tuesday at the Gas Co., Lt. Gov. Mazie Hirono arrived at her headquarters at Kalakaua Avenue to do interviews and start strategy talks.
As a baby boomer she was ripe to engage in the social activism of the '60s. She involved herself in several causes and still considers herself "an idealist."
Hirono and her husband dated in their 20s, then "went our separate ways," Hirono said. Leighton Oshima married and divorced and had a daughter, Malia, an attorney living in San Francisco.
Hirono said she was too busy working as an attorney -- first in private practice, then for the state -- to get married. But at 40, Hirono announced she was going to get married and have a child. "Someone reminded me that I had to have a man first," Hirono said.
Oshima reconnected with Hirono when she had just turned 42, and eight months later the couple married.
"I vowed never to nag or try to change him," she said.
The question of children is a nagging one.
"I had a miscarriage the first year we were married," she says. "After that, well, it was not possible. I don't dwell on it."
After meeting with Kamehameha Schools students, Hirono says a child would have added "a new dimension to her life, but I'll never know, will I?"
The three-bedroom home where the couple have lived for eight years with Hirono's mother has a commanding view of Diamond Head and East Oahu. The large front door has a sculpted, inlaid copper panel with an Asian theme.
The living room contains Swedish-style furniture of light wood. Hirono chose the fabrics. The 8-foot dining room table has a glass inset and six chairs. The couple collects original artwork, mostly paintings, including Japanese watercolors.
When Hirono arrives at her campaign headquarters about 8 a.m., she hurries into an office cluttered with newspapers, changes of clothing and bottled water. She discusses the day's events with staffers then does two radio interviews by telephone. The last one annoys her a bit because the on-air host hasn't done his homework. Hirono displays that angry stare even in the empty room.
Then it's off to meet at Democratic Party headquarters with sixth-graders from Kamehameha Schools, the state Capitol to present awards to children who won an essay contest on how to improve Hawaii, and a private luncheon at the Pacific Club with U.S. Sen. Dan Inouye and Jewish community leaders from whom Hirono hopes to win support and donations.
Hirono is a self-described voracious reader of fiction and nonfiction and enjoys mysteries by Elmore Leonard, Michael Connolly, Walter Mosley and those based in England. She's also read all the Harry Potter books.
Most of the films she sees now are on airplanes. Her favorite actor is Harrison Ford.
Hirono used to jog five miles a few times a week through Kapiolani Park and around Diamond Head, but the campaign has short-circuited that. Three months ago, she got a personal trainer to work with three times a week.
"Within two weeks I could see and feel the difference," said Hirono, who declined saying how much she weighs or pounds she lost.
This will be an unusual early night for Hirono. She'll end it at a Koreans for Mazie dinner at Wisteria restaurant and be home before 10 p.m. Tomorrow is a whirlwind island tour with former President Bill Clinton.
When she's finished at the dinner, Hirono, wearing a striking red dress, gathers up her husband, mother and mother-in-law and directs them to the door.
On the way out, Hirono can't pass up the chance to introduce herself and shake hands with the two dozen customers scattered in the restaurant's booths.
In the parking lot, she panics because she can't find her purse.
Someone tells her she's holding it.
"You've got a big day tomorrow," someone says.
"I do?" Hirono says.
"Uh, Bill Clinton."
Hirono is surprised by her mental lapse.
Would she not have run for office if her husband had asked?
"Leighton is my biggest supporter and knows what I want to do," Hirono says. "I wouldn't have chosen someone who would short-circuit my dreams."
When he finally joins her standing in the middle of the restaurant parking lot, Hirono gives him a peck on the lips.
"I chose the right guy," she says.
