Why I’m (not) running for office
I’ve been nominated for governor.
It’s not official. Danbury reader Michele Mattia launched my campaign in a letter to the editor. She was upset that a survey about her city was not conducted in advance of last November’s mayoral election.
“If it had come out during the summer, it might have given John Breunig, a Hearst editor and Sunday contributor but no political party hack, a chance to launch a campaign,” she wrote. “Sadly, his vision and forwardthinking in working to solve some of Danbury’s longstanding problems never saw the light of day . ... Reading Breunig’s Sunday columns gives rise to a hope he can launch a gubernatorial campaign. As a mayor, he would have been an enlightened problem-solver. As a governor, while it might be Danbury’s loss, it would be all of Connecticut’s gain.”
That never-ending sound you hear is my wife’s guffaw. But now I have a slogan: “No political hack.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been encouraged to run for office. “Beetle Bailey” creator Mort Walker once wrote to me suggesting a run for the U.S. Senate. But then, Mort never wrote anything that wasn’t a gag.
Michele followed up by pitching me to her state representative, Raghib Allie-Brennan. “Maybe work together?” she suggested.
And that’s where my campaign ends. You don’t see many journalists enter politics. We are perennially conditioned to follow the Society of Professional Journalists’ Code of Ethics advising avoidance of “political and other outside activities that may compromise integrity.”
The slope is less slippery when it comes to Opinion editors, where endorsing candidates is part of the job description. That became an issue for revered New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof when he pursued a run for governor of Oregon recently. That state’s Supreme Court ruled a few weeks ago that Kristof doesn’t qualify to appear on the ballot because he does not meet a three-year residency requirement. So now he’s out of politics, and out of a job at the Times after 37 years.
Kristof ’s heart was in the right place, as he just wanted to help his home state. Had my fan base had her way, I would have moved to Danbury to run for mayor. The rules are more looseygoosey in that race. Current Danbury Mayor Dean Esposito was living in Brookfield before moving back to govern his hometown.
For the most part, though, I just wouldn’t trust a journalist who runs for office. It’s like a diner trying to become a chef. Writing about the meal doesn’t mean we know our way around the kitchen.
Many journalists and politicians share a common thread of idealism. But politics is all about compromise, and journalists aren’t very good at that.
If there’s a journalist in Connecticut with the street cred to run for governor, it’s probably my Hearst colleague Dan Haar. Dan not only can stand the heat in the kitchen, but likes to turn it up.
Rather than pitch the notion to Dan, I asked his buddy and fellow columnist Colin McEnroe to play Fantasy Politics.
“There was a point in 2015-16 where Trump argued that his zig-zaggy nature would keep the world on its toes. I see Danny much the same way,” Colin jested. “I think his message would be, ‘You know how most politicians tell you what you want to hear? I’m different. If there’s any latitude, I will take the opposite position from yours, and I pledge to you that, if four hours later I am speaking to a group of people who believe the opposite of what you believe, I will represent your position to them as my own. I will curry favor zero percent of the time.’ ”
And that is the first and last time Dan Haar will ever be compared to Donald Trump.
Neither of us would be the first Hearst employee to run for office. That honor belongs to the man himself, William Randolph Hearst, who was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1902 and 1904.
Hearst set a record with a $2 million presidential campaign in 1904.
He didn’t make it on the ballot.
He downscaled and ran for mayor of New York. He lost. Twice.
He ran for governor of New York.
Nope.
Other journalists completed the transition. But then, we’d all have been better off had Benito Mussolini stuck with his editing gig at Avanti! (Their exclamation point, not mine.)
There have been other success stories, including the paths taken by former Vice President Al Gore and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill.
The current PM, Boris Johnson, was fired from his job with The Times after he was caught fabricating a quote. He moved onto politics, which is more forgiving about such trifles.
There are 50 U.S. governors, but I only know of one with ink in his blood. The rest of the list includes a bevy of lawyers, several teachers and farmers, nine who served in the military and one former motor vehicles clerk (Iowa’s Kim Reynolds).
Maine’s Janet Mills did deliver papers while she was in high school, but only one governor I know of once worked in a newsroom.
That would be Edward Miner Lamont Jr. You know him as Ned.
In 1977, Gov. Lamont took over as editor of the Black River Tribune, a weekly paper in Vermont.
Four years ago, I put a scorecard on my phone to keep track of all the gubernatorial candidates. Bob Stefanowski found a crafty way to fend off competition from his own Republican party this time: He never stopped running after losing to Lamont in 2018.
On more than one occasion, I wrapped up editorial board meetings with former Senate Minority Leader Len Fasano by asking why he never ran for governor. He was a lawyer, played football at Yale and had one of thickest skins in the General Assembly.
“My wife won’t let me,” he’d reply.
Which is not the same as saying he didn’t want to run.
It’s also not the same as my wife’s response. “But you don’t ...” Laughter.
“But you can’t ...” Laughter.
“How would you even ...?” Lisa clutched the counter as tears of laughter hit the kitchen floor. Some were from our dog.
So I lost the election in my own home.
It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be afraid of losing. I’d be afraid of winning.
As a journalist, I can at least continue to implore elected officials to stop hitting the same strident notes and strive toward something visionary for Connecticut. Stop telling us what we already know. Surprise us with possibilities.
I’d hate dealing with the press anyway.