MDE FROM THE ARCHIVES: CIRESI: "…I HAVE A BIAS AGAINST PEOPLE WHO CONTINUALLY RUN."
From a victory fantasy to this morning's news; Ciresi, a guy who never loses, reflects on campaign - and what might have been
It was Monday night and his DFL Senate primary campaign was all but over. The polls were forecasting a dismal defeat for Mike Ciresi.
But Ciresi, a guy who never loses, wasn't ready to yield just yet. On the drive home to the Twin Cities area from final campaign stops in Duluth, a giddy discussion broke out among Ciresi and his closest loyalists. Wouldn't it be something, they all agreed, if Ciresi could get a copy of the 1948 Chicago Tribune, the one with the banner headline: Dewey Defeats Truman.
And then, at his stunning victory celebration Tuesday night, a smiling Ciresi could wave that newspaper in front of the cameras.
This political fantasy about a dramatic victory over Mark Dayton and the others in the DFL field was so much more pleasant than political realities that it continued on and on. A debate even broke out about whether it would be poor sportsmanship for Ciresi to wave the famous newspaper. Wouldn't it make the losers feel bad? But Ciresi got the last word. He said it would be a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate his triumph.
Cut to reality.
The questions for Ciresi on Tuesday morning were about how he'd cope with defeat and what he might try next. The trial lawyer who always wins was on the verge of losing _ to Dayton, a candidate who seemed to wander into the primary last winter because he had nothing else to do.
(On Tuesday, Dayton laughed at the idea that he appeared to get into the Senate campaign to fill his lonely hours. "I'm not a frivolous person," Dayton said. "I didn't get into this to be laughed at. I got into this because it appeared to be my last, best chance to win."
Ciresi admitted he found it difficult to take Dayton seriously in the early stages of the race.
But Ciresi said it quickly became apparent that, for all of Dayton's quirks and previous losses, Dayton was the candidate to beat. And, Ciresi said, he never considered himself a favorite.
"I'm no dummy," Ciresi said. "I got into this knowing I could lose."
"He understands losing," said his wife, Ann. "He's always losing his keys. He's losing his hair . . . ."
They both laughed. They were trying to keep it light, rehashing stories of the campaign. "Our neighbor went out with a bunch of Republicans the other night," said Ann, who wears her hair in spiked fashion. "They told us one of the Republicans said, 'That Ciresi's got good things to say, but what's the deal with his wife's hair? She must be some sort of radical.' "
The Ciresis laughed some more. They talked about getting involved in "something that makes a difference" in the future and comforted themselves by saying how the stakes in a trial are much greater than in a political campaign. "Losing for a client is much worse than this," she said.
"I'll tell you what pressure is," he said. "Pressure's when you've got someone's whole future in your hands. Because what you do [in a trial] will impact that person who's trusted you for the rest of his life. That's gut-wrenching. That's pressure to me. This? If we don't win, there will be a sense of disappointment, but what could we have done differently?"
Would he run again?
"Never say never," Ciresi said, "but I have a bias against people who continually run."
In most ways, Ciresi seemed to be the ideal DFL candidate for this race. Yes, he is a rich trial lawyer. But his riches weren't handed to him. He earned them with his head and his will. He had the moderate-to-liberal political philosophy that could have appealed to mainstream Minnesota. In debates, he was head and shoulders above the DFL field. He won the endorsements of most of the state's newspapers and such organizations as the Sierra Club. He seemed to be the party's best hope to defeat Republican Sen. Rod Grams in November.
"I could have done stuff," Ciresi said. "But I don't need to be there [in the Senate]. That's a difference between me and some of the others. I wanted to be there. Some of them need to be there."
Ciresi didn't want to be in the Senate just a little. He wanted to be there so badly he spent nearly $5 million in his primary run, much of it his own money. Some of that money was poorly invested in the ads of Bill Hillsman, who has received so much credit for creating ads that helped upstarts such as Paul Wellstone and Jesse Ventura. Hillsman created duds for Ciresi.
But, Ciresi said, his big problem wasn't his ads. It was the size of the DFL field and the narrow base of primary voters. Young voters stay home in primaries, allowing old voters to have a huge voice.
Whatever it was, by the end of the campaign, the guy who never loses was left talking about Harry Truman. Source: Star Tribune, September 13, 2000
It was Monday night and his DFL Senate primary campaign was all but over. The polls were forecasting a dismal defeat for Mike Ciresi.
But Ciresi, a guy who never loses, wasn't ready to yield just yet. On the drive home to the Twin Cities area from final campaign stops in Duluth, a giddy discussion broke out among Ciresi and his closest loyalists. Wouldn't it be something, they all agreed, if Ciresi could get a copy of the 1948 Chicago Tribune, the one with the banner headline: Dewey Defeats Truman.
And then, at his stunning victory celebration Tuesday night, a smiling Ciresi could wave that newspaper in front of the cameras.
This political fantasy about a dramatic victory over Mark Dayton and the others in the DFL field was so much more pleasant than political realities that it continued on and on. A debate even broke out about whether it would be poor sportsmanship for Ciresi to wave the famous newspaper. Wouldn't it make the losers feel bad? But Ciresi got the last word. He said it would be a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate his triumph.
Cut to reality.
The questions for Ciresi on Tuesday morning were about how he'd cope with defeat and what he might try next. The trial lawyer who always wins was on the verge of losing _ to Dayton, a candidate who seemed to wander into the primary last winter because he had nothing else to do.
(On Tuesday, Dayton laughed at the idea that he appeared to get into the Senate campaign to fill his lonely hours. "I'm not a frivolous person," Dayton said. "I didn't get into this to be laughed at. I got into this because it appeared to be my last, best chance to win."
Ciresi admitted he found it difficult to take Dayton seriously in the early stages of the race.
But Ciresi said it quickly became apparent that, for all of Dayton's quirks and previous losses, Dayton was the candidate to beat. And, Ciresi said, he never considered himself a favorite.
"I'm no dummy," Ciresi said. "I got into this knowing I could lose."
"He understands losing," said his wife, Ann. "He's always losing his keys. He's losing his hair . . . ."
They both laughed. They were trying to keep it light, rehashing stories of the campaign. "Our neighbor went out with a bunch of Republicans the other night," said Ann, who wears her hair in spiked fashion. "They told us one of the Republicans said, 'That Ciresi's got good things to say, but what's the deal with his wife's hair? She must be some sort of radical.' "
The Ciresis laughed some more. They talked about getting involved in "something that makes a difference" in the future and comforted themselves by saying how the stakes in a trial are much greater than in a political campaign. "Losing for a client is much worse than this," she said.
"I'll tell you what pressure is," he said. "Pressure's when you've got someone's whole future in your hands. Because what you do [in a trial] will impact that person who's trusted you for the rest of his life. That's gut-wrenching. That's pressure to me. This? If we don't win, there will be a sense of disappointment, but what could we have done differently?"
Would he run again?
"Never say never," Ciresi said, "but I have a bias against people who continually run."
In most ways, Ciresi seemed to be the ideal DFL candidate for this race. Yes, he is a rich trial lawyer. But his riches weren't handed to him. He earned them with his head and his will. He had the moderate-to-liberal political philosophy that could have appealed to mainstream Minnesota. In debates, he was head and shoulders above the DFL field. He won the endorsements of most of the state's newspapers and such organizations as the Sierra Club. He seemed to be the party's best hope to defeat Republican Sen. Rod Grams in November.
"I could have done stuff," Ciresi said. "But I don't need to be there [in the Senate]. That's a difference between me and some of the others. I wanted to be there. Some of them need to be there."
Ciresi didn't want to be in the Senate just a little. He wanted to be there so badly he spent nearly $5 million in his primary run, much of it his own money. Some of that money was poorly invested in the ads of Bill Hillsman, who has received so much credit for creating ads that helped upstarts such as Paul Wellstone and Jesse Ventura. Hillsman created duds for Ciresi.
But, Ciresi said, his big problem wasn't his ads. It was the size of the DFL field and the narrow base of primary voters. Young voters stay home in primaries, allowing old voters to have a huge voice.
Whatever it was, by the end of the campaign, the guy who never loses was left talking about Harry Truman. Source: Star Tribune, September 13, 2000
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