When California voters turn out on Oct. 7 to decide whether or
not to recall Gov. Gray Davis, they might face a list of would-be
Republican successors that include Darrell Issa, Bill Simon and …
Michael Jackson. No, that’s not the king of pop trying to get
on the ballot. He’s a UCLA alumnus and Long Beach resident
looking to make a run at the state Capitol. Jackson, 39, joins a
burgeoning list of over 100 Los Angeles County residents who have
checked out papers to file for candidacy. And while political
experts are wagering on big-name, big-wallet candidates like Issa
and Simon, this has not kept dozens of no-namers like Jackson from
hoping they can ride the momentum of the recall to the
governorship. But while many armchair candidates will likely get
swamped in the tangle of getting signatures, filing forms and
shaking hands, Jackson hopes that his name ““ and the fact
that he is dead serious about running ““ will separate him
from the crowd. “If elected, I will do a better job than Gray
Davis,” he said. “Unless someone starts taking a stand
and bringing the power to the people … things are going to get
even worse than they are right now.” Though acknowledging
that he might have little chance of getting elected, Jackson said
if Davis is recalled, almost anything can happen. “Once Gray
Davis is out of there, then, needless to say, I might have a very
small chance, but there’s still a chance I could slide
in,” he said.
On the campaign trail Jackson drove out to Glendora Saturday to
gather signatures for his petition, but quickly found that rallying
local support could be a challenge. At one point, Jackson
approached a table of four at a restaurant and, after introducing
himself, asked if any of the diners were registered Republicans.
“Not in this state,” one of them quipped. It turned out
Jackson had prodded a table full of Democrats. Sometimes, it even
proved tough to get Republicans on his side. “How do you feel
about abortion?” one elderly lady asked. When Jackson said he
was moderately pro-choice, the lady declined to sign for him.
“The thing about this,” Jackson said, “is that
you have to learn to take rejections.” After walking up and
down Glendale’s main street, Jackson only had three
signatures. Still, he remained undaunted. He planned to spend the
rest of his Saturday afternoon petitioning shoppers at the local
Wal-Mart and Home Depot. Elissa, Jackson’s wife, said her
husband’s tenacity shows he isn’t just another
throw-away candidate. “I think he’s serious about
this,” she said.
One of many Though large numbers of otherwise average citizens
are getting caught up in the possibility of running for governor,
many political analysts are skeptical of their chances. Matthew
Baum, a political science professor at UCLA, said potential
candidates outside of the political mainstream won’t have
much of an impact on the election. “The things that matter
are people with a lot of money and a lot of name
recognition,” he said. “Some random (person) who
decides to run won’t have that much of an effect.”
Stephen Barnett, a law professor at UC Berkeley, said it was
unclear how easy the creators of the state’s recall clause
wanted to make it to get on the ballot, but, he added, “they
apparently wanted something of a free-for-all.” This
free-for-all political atmosphere that has seized the state is
something that not even recall proponents necessarily anticipated,
though it might not be such a bad thing, said Greg Hill, a
volunteer with the pro-recall organization Rescue California.
“It just illustrates this is really about the power of the
people to tell the government what they want it to do,” he
said.
“The average citizen” Jackson served in the U.S.
Navy for 10 years after he graduated from high school, working
aboard the USS San Francisco, a nuclear submarine. But, wanting
more than a military career, he decided to go to college. After
spending one-and-a-half years at Citrus Community College in
Glendora, Jackson transferred to the UCLA School of Engineering. He
recalled the rigorous repertoire of engineering, calculus and
physics courses he took in college, trying to complete a degree in
four years that usually takes five. “It was pretty rugged,
getting it done,” he said. He graduated from UCLA in December
1996 summa cum laude with an electrical engineering degree.
Currently, he works as a project manager at Northrop Grumman Space
Technologies. But his scientific background does not prevent
Jackson from speaking knowledgeably about politics. Billing himself
as an advocate for the average citizen, Jackson argues that
political experience is not a pre-requisite to being a good
politician. “If that was a qualification, then Davis would be
the best governor ever,” he laughed. But Jackson
doesn’t just pick on Davis. He has a disdain for all career
politicians, and said making a living out of politics goes against
the intentions of the original founding fathers. “I think
they’d be appalled to see what’s going on up there,
having professional politicians hopping from office to
office,” he said. “I’ve experienced a lot of
things many normal Californians see as having a regular life: a
job, a home, kids, school,” he added later. Jackson said he
originally intended to run for a state senate or assembly position
so he began researching the California Constitution and election
code a year ago. “But then (the recall) opportunity presented
itself, so I decided to try and make an attempt,” he said.
Though his campaigning drains time from his weekends and vacations,
Elissa and his two children, Michael, 3, and Emily, 5, stand behind
him. “I think it’s admirable. There’s a lot of
people that are always complaining about the government but not
doing anything,” Elissa said. Not all of his family is
optimistic, however. When asked if he thought Jackson had a chance
at winning the governorship, his brother Greg, said, “In all
honesty, probably not.” Undeterred, Jackson already has a
fledgling campaign platform: his top priorities are to fix
California’s economy and funnel more money into education.
How far along is Jackson toward his goal of candidacy? He plans on
submitting 65 signatures and paying the $3,500 filing fee, but with
the filing deadline of Aug. 9 looming, he only had 26 signatures as
of last weekend. “It makes it difficult when most of my
friends are independents and Democrats,” he said.