St. Louis Post-Dispatch from St. Louis, Missouri • Page 23

ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH AM4LYSI EDITORIALS 2 COMMENTARY 3 OBITUARIES 4 GENERAL NEWS 4 SECTION THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1992 NEWS CAMPAIGN y9Z CHARLOTTE GRIMES WASHINGTON Carnahan Shoots For State's Top Job Supporter Calls Him 'Proven Leader'; Foes Find Little To Fault By Terry Ganey Post-Dispatch Jefferson City Bureau Chief ROLLA, Mo. ELVIN E. CARNAHAN, the Democratic candidate for governor, seems the prototype of a politician designed in the Wt mrTi Oil it i m3 SiTr I Vietnam Left No One Out FOR WEEKS NOW, much of the presidential campaign has seemed like a conversation to which many of us are merely eavesdroppers. President George Bush started it, attacking Bill Clinton for avoiding the draft during Vietnam.

He seemed to be implying that only someone who's been in the military could be president. He denied meaning exactly that. Then the commentators weighed in, with pained and often poignant recollections of their own experiences in that terrible time. In one of the most eloquent, The Atlantic magazine's editor, James Fallows, gently pleaded with Bush to stop picking at the wounds of Vietnam and then fell into the pit Bush had opened. "When I hear the Bush campaign strategist Mary Matalin call Clinton a draft dodger," Fallows wrote.

"I know how women must feel when men lecture them about abortion." So many voices are supposed to be silent about Important things like the presidency and war? Of course as a woman, think of our half the population. Matalin's behavior, and the whole campaign topic, may be wrong for many reasons, but not because she's a woman. And no, it's not the same as men lecturing women about abortion. A woman can have an abortion in lonely privacy. But it's very hard thank God for a young soldier to die without it touching, even devastating, others.

And by the only-those-who-were-at-risk standard, many others too would be silenced men the wrong age or too disabled to be drafted, men with small children, last surviving sons, men exempted by profession or conscience. We've been this route before. President Lyndon Johnson hoped to pursue the Vietnam War by avoiding too many people having a say. He didn't want to ask Congress for a vote. He didn't want to hear those angry and anguished nrotests at the Pentaenn.

at lf (ft ft Lieutenant Gov. Mel Carnahan announcing his candidacy for Missouri governor on April 2, 1991, at a magnet school in St. Louis. His wife, Jean, looks on. father in Ellsinore, Mo.

Carnahan sold his interest in the company to his brother in 1975. He was a school board president and worked in local bond issue elections to raise money for public schools there. In 1980, he jumped back into state politics. He went after an unglamorous post: state treasurer. Carnahan easily defeated Republican Gerald Winship of Independence.

The state treasurer invests state money, balances the books in hundreds of special funds and cuts thousands of state checks. In some states, the job is not an elective office. In Missouri, the post leaves little room for policy making. Carnahan offered the state's checking account to banks that wished to bid on it, rather than turning it over to Central Trust Bank in Jefferson City. Central Trust had had a lock on the account.

The account had been lucrative because it contained millions of dollars that banks could use to earn interest before the cash was drawn out in checks. "That was something that everyone said was impossible, but we did it and saved the state millions of dollars," Carnahan said of the bids. When Carnahan took office as treasurer in 1981, Missouri was in the middle of one of its biggest recessions in years. Then-Gov. Christopher S.

Bond was chopping millions of dollars in state expenditures to balance the budget. Carnahan proposed that he would join with Bond in pushing for a tax increase. "It's just as plain as day that the state tax base is not supporting our level of services," Carnahan said. Bond did not take Carnahan up immediately on his offer. But during Bond's term, several tax increases were approved by the Legislature and through public referendums.

In 1983, Carnahan solicited bankers and lawyers to go overseas with him. In the process, he and his wife, Jean, got a free trip. The trip was organized by People to People, a tax-exempt organization based in Kansas City. The group promoted world peace by encouraging contacts between Americans and people in other nations. If enough people signed up for the foreign trip, the head of the delegation went free of Carnahan signed up 58 people, and two tours to China and the Soviet Union were put together.

Mel and Jean Carnahan traveled free on the first trip, and their son, Roger, and daughter, Robin, traveled free on the second one. Carnahan said at the time that there were nothing improper about the trips and that no banker or lawyer was coerced into going. "I took this trip seriously, and certainly our delegation took it seriously," he said. Full Time, Part Time In 1983, Carnahan announced he would run for governor. His major opponents for the Democratic nomination were Lt.

Gov. Kenneth J. Rothman of Clayton and state Sen. Norman Mer-rell of Monticello. Carnahan went on record in 1984 as being opposed to the state lottery and pari-mutuel betting.

He was a member of a political action committee that opposed both amendments. At that time, Carnahan said that income from both proposals had been overestimated. "Neither Missourians nor Missouri will overcome financial hardships through get-rich-quick schemes," Carnahan said. (Voters adopted both proposals. But income from the lottery has not met expectations, and a horse-racing track has yet to be built in the state.) Rothman beat Carnahan and Merrell in the Democratic primary.

Rothman lost the general election to Gov. John Ashcroft, a Republican who still sits in the executive office. Sent home by voters once again, Carnahan returned to his law practice. He took on what turned out to be the biggest case of his career a bankruptcy proceeding involving the charcoal company owned by his brother. But he never got politics out of his system.

In 1988, he announced a bid for lieutenant governor, a post that exists on the sidelines of state government. The lieutenant governor has few statutory duties. Other than waiting in the wings for the governor to die or be removed from office, the lieutenant governor only presides over the Senate in a ceremonial capacity. But those who have held the post have tried to make something more of it, seemingly in an attempt to gain more public exposure in order to seek higher office. In 1972, Republican Bill Phelps, a House member when Carnahan was a member of the cham-See CARNAHAN, Page 4 early 1960s, hidden away in a museum and rolled out for one last big show.

The 1963 state manual shows a somber-looking Carnahan in a black and white photo. He then was a young state representative from Phelps County. His classmates from the 1963 House include many of the state's famous and a couple of the infamous. Four of Carnahan's fellow House members tried for governor and lost. Three, including him, became lieutenant governor.

One fellow representative went to prison on a federal conviction, and another still faces sentencing. Some are state senators, judges or lobbyists. Most are retired and many are dead. And a couple even have children now running for their parents' House seats. Then there's Mel Carnahan.

Now 58, he has staged two comebacks in his long political career. This year, he's running for governor against Attorney General Bill Webster, 39, a Republican. Missouri voters will decide Nov. 3 whether Carnahan gets to go to the Governor's Mansion or go home again. Rich Galen, the press aide for the Webster campaign, is having trouble taking aim at Carnahan's record of four years in the House, four years as state treasurer and four years as lieutenant governor.

Galen takes a sheet of clean paper and points to its razor-thin edge. "Trying to hit Carnahan on his record is like trying to hit the edge of this paper," he said. The Webster campaign has been limited to questioning the size of Carnahan's personal charitable contributions and whether he has served "full time" as lieutenant governor. Although Carnahan has held two statewide offices, the jobs were either ministerial (treasurer) or ceremonial (lieutenant governor), which left little chance for headline-grabbing accomplishments. At the same time, his record has been generally clear of controversy or scandal.

State Auditor Margaret B. Kelly, a Republican, said she believed the lieutenant governor's office under Carnahan had been used as a gubernatorial campaign headquarters. "The activities that he has been involved with most of the time I think he has been running for governor," Kelly said. "It's not fair for me to say that he was using state facilities. I'm not insinuating that.

He has not misused state monies." Democratic State Committee Chairman Eugene G. Bushmann said Carnahan is "a proven leader with undeniable integrity." "He has a vision and plan to get our state moving again," Bushmann said. Born To Politics There are similarities between Carnahan and Webster. Both are Ozarks-bred lawyers, the sons of public officeholders. Both entered the Missouri House in their late 20s.

One of the major differences is that while Webster has always been in public life, Carnahan has been in and out, either working for the state or working at his law practice in Rolla. "I enjoy both the private life and I enjoy political life," Carnahan said in an interview. "I don't consider that life ends if a political term ends. I have had a very satisfactory life when I have come back to my community." Melvin Eugene Carnahan was born in Birch Tree, a town of about 600 in Shannon County. During the Democratic gubernatorial primary this year, Mayor Vincent C.

Schoemehl Jr. referred to Carnahan as a "redneck from Rolla." But in fact, Carnahan spent some of his youth in Washington and graduated from high school and college there. His father was the late Rep. A.S.J. Carnahan, a public school superintendent who was elected to Congress in the mid-1 940s.

"He was a progressive from the country," Carnahan said of his father. Mel Carnahan has said one of his fondest memories was sitting in the U.S. House chamber to hear Gen. Douglas MacArthur give his "old soldiers never die, they just fade away" speech. troops rallied and we got him as floor leader.

"Mel Carnahan is too good to be true," Graham added. "He is a straight arrow. There is no question about that." While in the House, Carnahan was a member of the Judiciary Committee that approved one of the state's first conflict-of-interest bills. The measure, which became law, required the governor, lieutenant governor and any member of the Legislature who had an interest in a bill to report that information before acting on the legislation. The bill also required lobbyists to report their activities and interest in legislation.

Carnahan also used his power as majority leader to rescue a bill that prohibited racial discrimination in places of public accommodation. Eight days before the end of the session in 1965, the Senate-passed discrimination bill was 54 bills down on the'House calendar. The bill was in danger of dying for lack of time. Two years earlier, the bill had been defeated. With the encouragement of then-Gov.

Warren E. Hearnes, Carnahan successfully moved that the bill be advanced out of order. The bill was later approved and signed into law. The measure affected nearly all businesses in the state; it prohibited discrimination because of race, creed, color, religion, national origin or ancestry. Carnahan personally handled the bill on the House floor.

He said it would be a "fine mark of progress for Missouri." The bill put Missouri in compliance with the federal Civil Rights Act of 1964. The bill was one of 22 offered by Hearnes' administration and passed by the Legislature. Carnahan handled many of the bills. "We came out of the dark ages during that session," Carnahan said. A Political Reversal Carnahan's political career can be likened to a promising baseball pitcher who made it to the big leagues, only to find himself sent down to the minors.

In Carnahan's case, it happened twice. The first time was in 1966, when Carnahan ran for a state Senate seat. He lost to incumbent Don Owens, a Republican. "After that, I soon saw that they had dealt me a favor because I had not really established my law practice or any business or profession to support my family," Carnahan said. "I had three children and soon had a fourth." For the next 14 years, Carnahan sat out state politics.

He practiced civil law in Rolla and managed the books and payroll of Rozark Farms a lump charcoal company founded by his The elder Carnahan represented Missouri's 8th Congressional District from 1945 to 1946 and from 1949 to 1960. He died in 1968 at age 71. Mel Carnahan earned his bachelor's degree in business administration from George Washington University. He then served as an Air Force officer. Carnhan received a law degree from the University of Missouri at Columbia in 1959.

At age 26, Carnahan got his first political job: municipal judge in Rolla. A year later, in 1962, he was elected to represent Phelps County in the state House. A Death In The House When Carnahan was in the House, the Legislature met once every two years, rather than annually as it does now. The biggest issue of the 1963 session was a proposal to increase the state sales tax to 3 percent from 2 percent. The man who was then governor John M.

Dalton, a Democrat said the increase was required to generate money for needed state services. House records show that when the tax increase was approved April 4, 1963, on an 86-73 vote, Carnahan was among those voting "yes." He voted against a motion that would have required the tax increase to be submitted to a statewide public vote. The motion lost 99-53. This was before passage of the Hancock Amendment, which requires statewide public votes on major tax increases. When the tax increase became law, Dalton called it "the most important step the Legislature had taken in 20 years" to improve state services.

The increase meant another $94 million in revenue for the state every two years. Carnahan's political fortunes advanced quickly during his second term. On March 30, 1965, Majority Leader H.F. "Pat" Patterson, a Democrat from Columbia, died unexpectedly. "My floor leader dropped dead during the noon hour, and we had to have a replacement," said Thomas D.

Graham, a lawyer in Jefferson City who was House speaker at that time. Carnahan was a logical choice because he was assistant majority leader and was known as "the speaker's man." The majority leader, the second most powerful position in the House, schedules the daily activities, determines the order of business and the working hours. For a few days after Patterson's death, Carnahan, then. only 31, called the shots under Graham's watchful eye. "I learned there was a move afoot to put someone who wasn't agreeable to me into that spot," Graham recalled in a recent interview.

"I put it out that I wanted Mel Carnahan, and my draft boards. A lot of people agreed with him. It became part of the famous "generation gap," the notion of who's allowed to speak and who's not. We lowered the voting age from 21 to 1 8, to give the young a voice. And Vietnam didn't leave any of us out.

It was the mystery that determined what I'd do with my life, when Miss Seymour chalked up our eighth grade class's weekly essay question "Should the U.S. be involved militarily in Southeast Asia?" and I read newspapers for the first time and decided I'd become a reporter and go to Vietnam. As children we think the world will wait for us to grow up. With Vietnam, sadly, it was almost true. I was 14; it was 1 963; and only 1 5,000 American "advisers" were in South Vietnam.

The war was the harmless, now poignant, line from the young, lonely airmen from Eglin Air Force Base in Florida who flirted and fed coins to the juke box so we could dance to "Satisfaction" or "Wooly Bully" or, when they knew my name, "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte." They were all everyone 22 and going to Vietnam next month. That was the summer of 1965 and 200,000 troops were in Vietnam. The war was the suffocating dread when I married and couldn't sleep for thinking, better me to die than him, Lord. Almost almost every young man I knew was looking, desperately, for some way to escape the draft. And the war was Gerald Dunn, the one young man I knew who hadn't looked, whose face will always come to mind when anyone says Vietnam.

He was a handsome boy from my hometown, with Oxford-blue eyes and a Beatle's mop of hair the color of a Hershey's chocolate bar. That was the dead winter of early 1969; and 400,000 troops were in Vietnam. Gerald Dunn had died there, two days after Valentine's Day. In Washington, there is a symbol of all that. The Vietnam War Memorial is much like the war itself.

It starts small, as a thin slice of black granite set into a hillside. And as you walk down its sloping brick pathway, it quickly grows into an awesome, overwhelming wall. That's what it's called. The Wall. Almost everyone seems to touch it.

It's almost irresistible, the need to reach out your hand to the reflections and to the carved 58,183 names. One of them belongs to Gerald Dunn. And when I went there to think about what's being said in the presidential campaign, I looked it up, as I have several times. I ran my finger down the directory through the D's. There are 10 Darlings from Snow Hill, N.C.; Kill Buck, N.Y.; Saginaw, Mich.

And, as I always do, I missed Gerald because the Army has listed him by his first name, unused by anyone else. Ralph G. Dunn. Panel 32W. Line 43.

A few panels away an older man wiped his sleeve across his eyes and then walked away with his wife, hand in hand. In wars, usually more civilians women, children, the elderly die than combatants. Then there are those who survive, somehow. And at The Wall, it seemed painfully clearly that when the talk is about important things, like the presidency and war, none of us are merely eavesdroppers. Webster Accused Of Halting Inquiries Webster Aims At Law Firm Of Opponent ATTORNEY GENERAL William L.

Webster, the Republican candidate for governor, is criticizing his opponent's law firm, saying it has asked the Missouri Supreme Court "to have the state's consumer-fraud statutes declared unconstitutional." The firm of his opponent Lt. Gov. Mel Carnahan, a Democrat is defending a man convicted of operating a home repair scam that preyed on elderly homeowners. The defendant, David Shaw, has been convicted of consumer fraud in Illinois and Missouri. Webster contended that the firm, in defending Shaw, is "trying to strip away the layer of protection we have built around our parents and our aunts and uncles." Roy Temple, Carnahan's political director, noted that Shaw was represented by Russ Carnahan, the lieutenant governor's son.

Mel Carnahan knows nothing about the case or the legal arguments involved, Temple said. "This is ridiculous," Temple said. "If Bill Webster is interested in running against Mel Carnahan's sons, he should wait until they file for something. Next, he'll be putting out press releases attacking Beaumont, the Carnahan family dog." years under Webster in the St. Louis office's consumer fraud division.

Vieth said in an interview Wednesday that he was fired in July 1990 after he refused a transfer. The transfer came after he attempted to prosecute other cases involving campaign contributors of Webster, he said. Vieth made available copies of favorable evaluations from his supervisors before his dismissal. In his affidavit, Vieth contended that Peter Lumaghi, head of Webster's St. Louis office, had overseen the 1990 investigation of five local loan companies owned or controlled by Doehring.

An undercover investigator in the office had visited the companies, and found evidence that they were charging interest rates of as high as 206.33 percent; the legal limit at the time was 26.5 percent. Vieth said that Webster visited the St. Louis office in May 1990, questioned Lumaghi about the cases, and then called Henry Hershel, then head of Webster's trade offense division. "In Lumaghi's presence, Webster berated Herschel and demanded that Herschel close all of the investigations against Doehring's companies," Vieth said. Vieth acknowledged that he did not witness the phone call, but he said he was given a detailed account immediately afterward by Lumaghi and the office secretary.

"Lumaghi never issued the civil investigative demands. Lumaghi and Herschel followed Webster's direct order and closed the loan company investigations," he said. By Jo Mannies Post-Dispatch Political Correspondent FK FORMER ASSISTANT to Attorney Gen-flfl eral William L. Webster contends that Webster personally shut down the initial investigation of a St. Louis businessman who Webster acknowledges is a longtime friend and campaign contributor.

Former assistant attorney general Erich Vieth also alleges that Webster reopened the case only when disparaging press reports emerged about the friend, K. Christopher Doehring of St. Louis. Webster fired Vieth in 1990. Vieth's notarized statement outlining his accusations was released Wednesday by the campaign of Lt.

Gov. Mel Carnahan, Webster's Democratic opponent in the race for governor. The accusations were the latest salvo in a controversy that also involves the attorney general's race. A spokesman for Carnahan, Chris Sifford, contended, "The evidence is piling up; Bill Webster has abused his office and violated the public trust." Webster's office released statements from two other employees in his office who disputed Vieth's account. Webster's campaign press secretary, Rich Galen, accused Carnahan of trying to shift the campaign away from "jobs, taxes, transportation and desegregation.

If the debate shifts to what Carnahan stands for, he loses big." A spokeswoman for Webster's office, Mary Jenkins, described Vieth as "not credible" and "a disgruntled employee." Vieth, now in private practice, worked for four Lumaghi and Herschel disagreed with Vieth's account. Lumaghi said in a statement that Webster did indeed discuss the case with him and make a telephone call to Herschel, but "it is absolutely wrong to suggest that the attorney general demanded that Herschel close all investigations against Doehring's companies." Lumaghi also contended that the civil investigative demands were issued. Herschel said in his statement that Webster had merely inquired about which state agency had jurisdiction over the case and was informed that the case had been referred to the attorney general's office. Later, Herschel said, "We discovered that the owner of the various companies had contributed to Bill Webster's campaign. To avoid any appearance of a conflict of interest, we referred the case to outside counsel, the Steelman Berger law firm in Rolla." David Steelman is now the Republican candidate for attorney general.

Steelman arranged an out-of-court settlement that cost Doehring's firms a total of $8,000 in penalties. The Democratic candidate, Jay Nixon, has released documents showing that Steelman got $1,100 from Doehring's lawyers shortly after the settlement. Steelman has denied any link between the contributions and the settlement. Doehring personally has contributed $8,976 to Webster's campaign fund, including about $5,000 since the settlement, according to campaign finance reports released by Carnahan. Doehring contributed $1,300 while his case was pending.

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