The Gortons and Slades - Washington Secretary of State

2 slade gorton: a half century in politics
Which brings us to the paramount duty of every biographer: Answering
“What’s he really like?”
He’s complicated. There’s the man behind the coat, the boss who inspired
such loyalty, and he who does not suffer fools gladly; the nimble
hardball-player who elevated running against Greater Seattle to an art form.
If they got this far, his old enemies are still gagging over the coat story.
it Was ed donohoe, the acerbic Teamsters union columnist, who hung
“slippery” on Slade Gorton 50 years ago. Donohoe had a nickname for
everyone. Governor Dan Evans, the Eagle Scout who led Gorton into politics,
was “Straight Arrow.” A. Ludlow Kramer, the secretary of state, was
“Lud the Dud.” Watching Gorton at work as Evans’ legislative tactician in
the 1960s, helping engineer a coup that overthrew the speaker of the
House, Donohoe said the Democrats were left to grouse about how hard
it was to win an argument with someone “so goddamn smart.” Gorton’s
redistricting battles with Bob Greive, the Senate majority leader, were a
high-stakes political chess match the likes of which the State Legislature
has seldom seen.
As Washington’s attorney general, Gorton was one of the first major
Republican officials to call for Nixon’s resignation. He was also a farsighted
consumer protection activist. As a U.S. senator, his insistence on
deficit reduction infuriated Ronald Reagan. His support for the National
Endowment for the Arts left Jesse Helms sputtering. He outraged Native
Americans. Environmentalists intent on curtailing logging and breaching
dams elevated him to their “Dirty Dozen” even while he was preserving
vast tracts of scenic land and pressuring Detroit to adopt higher mileage
standards. He was 6–2 in statewide races, defeating a legend to get to
the U.S. Senate. The two he lost were remarkably close.
One of Gorton’s heroes, Teddy Roosevelt, always said the spotlight
comes with the territory when you’re “the man in the arena,” living the
strenuous life, doing things. Gorton has been in the arena without interruption
since 1956 and shows no signs of slowing down.
the alarM is set for 6:45. It rarely goes off. At 83, he’s clear-eyed at
dawn, checking the Weather Channel to see if he should wear tights under
his running shorts. Then he’s out the door, rain or shine, for a twomile
jog with Trip, his faithful Yellow Lab. When they return some 30
minutes later, he shaves and showers before breakfast. When it’s chilly,
he wants oatmeal. Usually, though, it’s the same concoction he learned to
love at Boy Scout camp—shredded wheat, corn flakes, Rice Krispies and