Curling up with Dr. No.

[November 13th, 2002] The atmosphere outside the Hilton Hotel last Tuesday night was one part desperation and three parts resignation. The early news reports showed a national landscape littered with bloodied donkeys: decorated Vietnam vet Sen. Max Cleland blown out of the water in Georgia. Sen. Jean Carnahan, knocked out in Missouri. Fritz Mondale, losing Minnesota.

Here in Portland, as the Nose descended on the hotel ballroom to check out the Democrats' party, a gang of smokers congregated outside the Broadway doorway to commiserate. "Don't even bother going in," a defense lawyer muttered. "Turn around, go home, shoot some heroin and wake up in two years' time. It's that bad."

Inside, the mood was pretty grim. Bill Bradbury's early waving of the white flag at Gordon Smith set the mood for what would be a long night. While GOP governor-hopeful Kevin Mannix's ever-widening smile flashed on the TV monitors, the Dems' main man, Ted Kulongoski, was huddled in an upstairs suite.

Still, the Nose had to admire the fact that most of the Democratic troops stood tall. Fueled by MacTarnahan's and optimism, they rallied around their party's leaders--people like state Treasurer Randall Edwards, U.S. Rep. David Wu, state Senate Majority Leader Kate Brown, former Gov. Barbara Roberts....

Then, it dawned on the Nose. Something was missing. More accurately, someone was missing. "Hey," he asked a passing party flunky. "Where's the governor?"

The woman shrugged. "Good question," she replied, not bothering to hide her exasperation. "We got word this afternoon that he couldn't make it."

A couple of days later, the Nose learned that Kitzhaber told staffers he'd spent Tuesday evening watching a video, though he didn't disclose what he watched.

The Nose wasn't sure what to make of this news. There's something refreshing about a high-ranking politician tuning out the traditional election-night hype and circumstance. At the same time, on the biggest night of the year for Democratic officials, staffers, volunteers and voters, the figurative head of their party skipped the party. He wasn't there to console Bradbury, Oregon's Happy Warrior, who waged the good fight when Kitz decided not to challenge Smith. And he wasn't there when his pal, Ted, finally closed the gap and was projected the winner.

"Look," said one Kulongoski aide, "we learned not to assume anything when it comes to the governor."

Actually, the image of Kitzhaber, sitting alone in the flickering light of a TV screen, cuddled up to a solitary bowl of popcorn, is completely in character with his eight years in office. He's a smart, talented man who'd rather analyze policies than socialize with people. He can negotiate party politics but can't handle the politics of partying.

If, as Woody Allen said, 80 percent of success is just showing up, it's a wonder Gov. Kitzhaber did as well as he did.

What was Gov. John Kitzhaber watching election night? The Nose has no idea, but here are a few possibilities:

I Spit on Your Caucus (1977)--A gubernatorial candidate, vacationing along the Rogue River, is attacked and left for dead by the opposition party. He recovers, wins and takes revenge by spending eight years not talking to anyone.

Salem's Plot (1979)--A brainy, denim-clad ER doc fails to save a state from an evil legislature intent on sucking the life-blood from his beloved state health plan.

Dr. Terror's House of Representatives (1965)--An odd MD-turned-governor spends five special sessions looking into a crystal ball while his arch-rival learns to count to 31.

A Fistful of Vetoes (1964)--A reclusive, pen-slinging governor in a small western state sits back and watches after stirring up a feud between two rival parties.

The Fisher Guv (1991)-- A suave, self-centered politician battling a recession teams up with a dysfunctional legislature in a bizarre drama with unintended comic moments.