There’s a well-worn idiom — first introduced by Charles Dickens in 1837 — that political types almost always follow.
Never say never.
But our own political candidate du jour — Craig Pridemore — isn’t one of them.
“I will NEVER run for public office or seek a public life again. You got that, right? I said NEVER.
“My public story is over.”
I received that proclamation from Pridemore shortly after he lost a county commissioner race last November to Jeanne Stewart. And — for those following the local political scene — that wasn’t his first political barn-raising.
He also ran for — and won — an earlier seat on the Board of County Commissioners. He abruptly quit that position and ran for — and won — a state Senate seat.
He at one time announced his intention to run — then withdrew — for the U.S. House.
And he ran for — and lost — the state auditor position.
The “never again” e-mail crossed my desk — as noted — after he lost to Stewart and we began pursuing a story about a new job he landed after the election. Pridemore wrote it — in part — to make a case that he was out of public life for good and wanted to be left alone. And his new job — in his opinion — was of no interest to anyone and therefore not newsworthy.
But that was silly talk, of course. Just because someone is out of public office doesn’t suddenly eliminate him from being a public figure. He is somebody of interest and — frankly — it’s Newspaper 101 to see what someone is doing after a defeat. By the way, Pridemore got the $100,000-a-year CEO position at Columbia River Mental Health Services.
We eventually did a short story on that job, and Pridemore — I think — eventually realized it was news. And the “never again” stuff? I wanted to respect his backing away from the spotlight and didn’t use it. If he truly was out of public life, well, let him settle in. Unless he dipped his toes back into the rough seas of the political arena, I considered his e-mail another one — among many — that landed in my drawer.
An odd duck
I like Pridemore. A lot. He’s way bright, thoughtful and quite knowledgable about all the topics that matter. But I always felt he was a bit of an odd duck as a politician. (BTW, I also consider myself a bit of an odd duck.) Pridemore is often introspective and moody. His knowledge of all things turns into a burden at times. He’ll overanalyze stuff. And that over-analysis appears to weigh heavily on him.
He’s also sensitive. A bit too sensitive, in my view. The temperature often gets hot around the political campfire. And he’ll sometimes react like corn kernels hitting oil. Popcorn, anyone?
A political opening?
Pridemore’s name surfaced a few days ago because of news coming out of Olympia.
Democratic State Auditor Troy X. Kelley has got himself into just a bit of a jam. It seems he’s been indicted for federal income tax evasion, lying to investigators, concealing millions of dollars and making repeated false statements.
Hey, it happens.
Everybody — including my roadside zucchini monger — has called for him to resign. But instead, Kelley did what any self-respecting guy drawing a big public paycheck would do. He said no way, and then took a leave of absence.
But let’s be honest here. Even though we’re all believers in innocent until proven guilty, make no mistake, our governor will soon be looking for a Democrat to appoint as state auditor.
Now, quick quiz. What other Democrat ran for the state auditor position?
Correct! Pridemore.
So, Columbian reporter Lauren Dake appropriately called Pridemore in case he might have just a smidgen of interest if the governor rang him up. And, I should add, we made that call after a well-placed local Democrat suggested to us that — indeed — Pridemore might be interested.
Pridemore’s interest didn’t add up to me. I had that “never again” e-mail in my drawer. Still, we needed to get in touch with him, so we did. I fully expected Pridemore to simply say “no.” But then a curious thing happened. He didn’t. Instead, he said:
“I haven’t had any conversations with any officials about it. I’m really enjoying what I’m doing now.”
This is what we call in the newspaper business … being coy.
The upside of being coy — at least in the brain of a politician — is you answer the question without really answering the question. The downside? You leave your answer open to interpretation. So when his answer was interpreted as he’s not interested, Pridemore wasn’t happy. He immediately got on the horn with some Democratic legislators to tell them what he meant.
“I … clarified that I hadn’t said I was not interested.”
In the newspaper business, this is called a double negative. Let me interpret: He just might be interested.
Look, I get it. Pridemore finds himself in a delicate situation. He doesn’t want to undermine the good gig he has going right now. If it looks like he’s pursuing this opening — which isn’t even open now — that’s a bit unbecoming. But if he shuts the door, he ends a chance at a job he has dreamed about for 25 years.
Of course, none of this angst would exist if Pridemore was being honest when he said back in January he was finished with public life. That January e-mail went on to say:
“All I want now is to serve in obscurity and, like Rhett Butler, try to find a place where decency and honor still exist.”
When I read that line, it sort of sealed it for me that he wanted no part of public life. He was looking for “a place where decency and honor still exist.” That sure sounds like he couldn’t find decency and honor on the public side. So why would he ever want back in? But maybe I’m interpreting it wrong.
Part of me feels like Pridemore finally will shut the door on this state auditor thing. And public life. Time eventually will tell. Whatever he decides, I just hope Pridemore finds peace in whatever he does. He deserves that.
Regardless, stay away from those campfires. Unless you like popcorn.
