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By Tom Brennan There have been quite a few disappointments this year. One for sure was having Sen. Ted Stevens snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in his criminal trial and — as a direct result — his re-election bid. A juror confirmed the other day that Stevens had the jury panel's sympathy until he testified in his own behalf. Instead of being the kindly elder statesman his lawyers were portraying, the senator donned his Hulk persona and turned the jurors against him.
Not being on the inside, we have to guess what happened on the defense strategy team, but that seems easy. The senator was in a campaign as well as a trial, and wanted to handle both at the same time. The defense lawyers presumably had reservations, but were never in the same situation before.
They kept their fingers crossed and hoped Stevens wouldn't do things the way he did, so they let him have his head. They probably didn't have any choice. His decades in the U.S. Senate - and time years before as a prosecutor - overcame good sense and he was adversarial with the prosecutor. Out the courtroom window went the jury's hard-won sympathy. Stevens has presented two sides to the world for years, the hugely skillful senior senator from Alaska and the prickly green warrior portrayed on his Hulk necktie. One thing is sure, you can't get ahead in politics just by being cranky. That can be a useful mode when the time is right, but it's also vital to be able to convince fellow senators of the merits of your arguments or win their support with friendly persuasion. Just rank or seniority won't do it, because if you're actually mean to colleagues, too many enemies would be waiting for your first misstep. (Some were but that's another story.) Actually, the atmosphere in the Senate for most of Ted's career was very collegial. Members got along and worked together, including those on the opposite side of the aisle. Some of Stevens' best friends were Democrats like Scoop Jackson and Daniel Inouye, people with whom he had philosophical differences but great mutual respect. In the last 10 or 12 years, partisanship has been the norm in the Senate as new members were elected who preferred to breath fire at each other. But Stevens did well even in that caustic climate. He knew how to win friends and find measures they could agree on to mutual benefit. Once supporters were lined up, then it could be OK to bring out the daggers and take on the diehard enemies — if there were any. A lot of that was illusory and aimed at getting headlines and publicity for his causes. In real-time politics, the fewer enemies you have, the longer your career is likely to last — and his was one of the longest in the Senate. Being prickly is OK, but you've got to be likable. And the farewell ovation he got after his last floor speech — to a small audience; most of his colleagues chickened out — suggested a lot of good feeling toward the Hulk. Stevens' staffers also saw the better side of him. Among the hundreds who worked for him over the years, you would be hard-pressed to find one who wouldn't testify their boss was privately warm, thoughtful and kind. If the jury had found Stevens not guilty, Alaska voters would almost certainly have swept him back into office. Mark Begich was an attractive candidate — for a Democrat, and despite some sleazy TV commercials in his support — but many people felt the feds were unfairly persecuting Stevens. And the election was close enough that a favorable verdict would have clinched the deal for him. The trial itself was an oddball event. Just a few items: one key prosecution witness was sent home to Alaska from Washington (without testifying) because of illness, widely believed to be Jack Daniels fever. A juror told the judge her father died and was excused to tend to family business. She was actually lying; Dad was in good health and the juror skipped out because she had tickets to a horse race in California. And another prosecution witness now appears to be recanting his story. The chances seem reasonable that Stevens could win a new trial. And if he restrains his feisty superhero impulses next time, he might eventually be found not guilty. But his Senate career is over. The best he can hope now is to patch up his reputation and perhaps keep his name on International Airport. By the way, this business about voters calling him "Uncle Ted" is a bunch of hooey dreamed up by media people. Until the last few years, they were the only ones who ever used the term, and then just when they were being sarcastic. At one point an Alaska businessman decided to capitalize on the publicity and open an eatery called "Uncle Ted's," but his better sense prevailed. Other disappointments this year: I found out that the Target stores, despite their name, won't sell guns. And Mr. Prime Beef doesn't sell prime beef; too pricey. Next they'll tell me that those places with signs advertising "Girls, Girls, Girls" are gay bars. You can't trust a name anymore. Nothing against gay bars, but whatever happened to truth in advertising? Tom Brennan is an author and former editor of The Anchorage Times.
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