There was a cute shot in the Times last week of now-gubernatorial candidate Dick Riordan doing a Chaplinesque shuffle in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Earlier in the day, he had stopped at a Krispy Kreme near Santa Barbara Plaza where, according to the Times, “he slipped the manager a $20 bill as he grabbed a pumpkin doughnut and coffee and high-fived his way out the door.”
Goofy yet somehow endearing we’ll be seeing lots of those moments during his long-shot campaign, moments that say a lot about the former mayor of Los Angeles.
Not that Jimmy Hahn wouldn’t try to stumble through those stunts. The difference is that Riordan is enjoying himself. He always seems to be having a good time making big money as a venture capitalist, sailing the Greek islands with his buddy Eli Broad, having a belt with the press boys on Friday afternoon, kibitzing with working class types at his downtown Pantry greasy spoon, and now running for governor of California (after earlier insisting he had no plans to seek higher office).
On entertainment value alone, we can only hope that he gets by the early nomination process and ends up facing Gov. Gray Davis. Can’t you see him on the campaign trail, shirttail hanging out, as he fumbles through talking points and confuses Harry with Larry at the Kiwanis Club? (My favorite miscue remains his introduction of the actress Tyne Daly as “Tiny Daly.”)
People like Dick Riordan, almost in spite of themselves, and I suspect it has a lot to do with him being the least calculated politician on earth. When I first met him in the late-80s at a Daily News economic roundtable, he was just another big-time bizboy. The future mayor? It wasn’t even on anyone’s radar.
Upon taking office a few years later, he acknowledged feeling ticked off at having to satisfy council members and department heads on whatever silly agendas they happened to be pushing. He promised that things would change under his watch, but they really didn’t. Like most things in life, a lot of it came down to personality and style. Riordan fancied himself a CEO and council members weren’t about to be relegated to senior vice presidents.
That’s why he had only mixed success. For all the high-profile accomplishments getting the Democratic convention, spurring development of Staples Center and Disney Concert Hall he rarely could get past a City Council that went gunning for him. He won a few, lost a lot.
Gov. Riordan won’t have to deal with a hallucinogenic council, but overall, trying to run the state of California as it brings itself back from recession will make his L.A. experience look sedate. Yet those who keep wondering why a 71-year-old guy could possibly want this headache of a job are missing the point about Riordan. He does things not because they’re expected of him or because they’ll lead to career advancement, but because, quite simply, he wants to do them not uncommon for someone with a nine-figure net worth. Think Steve Forbes and Michael Bloomberg.
Thing is, he could drop out of politics tomorrow without flinching. I picture Riordan being ambassador to someplace, just for the lark of it. Or maybe a professor. As long as he has a phone, a bike and a couple of thick books at the ready, Dick Riordan is determined to be that most happy fella.
Mark Lacter is editor of the Business Journal.
