booth gardner - Washington Secretary of State

store, didn’t want to write big checks during March. Deep down, Dotzauer says, they didn’t
think Booth could really win. “I cut a deal with Barlow for the media buy: Whatever I raised
he had to match.”
The candidate and the campaign manager went to see Pete Taggares. A gradeschool
dropout with a salty vocabulary and genius for deal-making, Taggares was the son
of a Greek immigrant. He had parlayed a small farm at Othello in Eastern Washington into
an agricultural empire. He was worth half a billion bucks – which is a lot of french fries.
Everything he owned, including Spud One, his corporate jet, was painted white. He liked
good horses, tequila with the worm in the bottle and Mariachi bands. He contributed
widely to political candidates who struck his fancy. Pete, in short, was Ron Dotzauer’s kind
of guy. In fact, he had been one of Scoop Jackson’s biggest supporters.
Dotzauer called him to tell him there was someone he needed to meet –
Washington’s next governor. “Who the hell,” Taggares said, “is Booth Gardner?”
Pete sent his jet to pick them up for a getting-to-know-you overnighter. He met
them at his airstrip in his white Mercedes-Benz, his white poodle beside him. “Jump in,”
he declared, chewing on an
unlit cigar. “Then we went
to his huge house – a huge
house for a huge guy; Pete’s
6-4, 300 pounds,” Dotzauer
says, his voice bubbling with
excitement. “I remember
all this like it was yesterday.
We’re in the living room. I’m
sitting on a leather couch as
long as a wall. Pete is sitting
in a big leather chair. Booth
is sitting on the hearth in
front of the fireplace, and
they were having small talk
about Weyerhaeuser and business deals. Pete really liked the fact that Booth had a business
background and a Harvard MBA.” They’d been chatting for about 45 minutes when Taggares’
wife, Janet, came around the corner. Pete boomed out, “Ma, I like this guy!” Dotzauer says
he barely resisted the temptation to stand up and cheer. “Inside, I’m going YESSSSSS! Booth is
just sitting there on the hearth. He didn’t say anything.” Then Pete slapped his knees, leaned
forward and said, “Tell you what I’m going to do: I’m going to make my planes available. I’ll
help you with money. Anything I can to help. I’m on board a hundred percent! We’re going
to make this thing happen!” With that, the potato king stood up, said goodnight and went
to bed. Booth seemed dazed, finally asking, “Did he mean that?” Dotzauer laughed. “Booth,
Bill Wolf, left, a fan, wishes Booth well as he embarks on a seven-city campaign swing
in the fall of 1984. Looking on, at center, is John White, the AP correspondent in
Olympia. Over Booth’s left shoulder is Press Secretary Jim Kneeland. Bruce Larson
©The News Tribune (Tacoma, WA) 1984 Reprinted with permission.
79