The Senate historian says the last fight on the floor of the Senate occurred in 1902, when one South Carolina lawmaker punched another for insulting his dignity. Since then, the Senate has been a civil place as far as legislatures go -- which would make a Jerry Springer campaign for the U.S. Senate that much more intriguing. The idea of a Springer run for Senate has triggered a wealth of media coverage, most of it focusing on his talk show, currently in its 12th season, and its outrageous topics. (Tomorrow's episode, for instance, is titled "I'm Sleeping With My Uncle!") But Springer was once a serious politician and an Emmy-winning local news commentator, something the media has recently been glossing over in their coverage of him. In fact, Springer's political record shows that he is very much a candidate progressive Democrats could embrace. So while no one in the party (understandably) looks forward to clips of Springer's show turning up in his opponents' campaign ads, Democrats shouldn't dismiss a Springer challenge to Sen. George Voinovich (R-Ohio) next year. In fact, they should encourage it.
Jerry Springer's political career began in 1968, when he worked on Robert Kennedy's presidential campaign. When Kennedy was killed, Springer began practicing law in Cincinnati. But his love was politics, and he jumped back into the fray as a leader in the movement to lower the voting age (still 21 at the time). A state constitutional amendment on the voting age failed in Ohio, but Springer later testified before a U.S. Senate committee on the same topic, prior to the 1971 passage of the 26th Amendment, which changed the voting age to 18.
Springer ran for Congress on an anti-war platform in 1970, losing in a conservative district. He didn't give up, though, and by 1971, the English native -- he was born in London, where his parents arrived after fleeing the Holocaust, and came to the United States at age 5 -- was a member of the Cincinnati City Council. He was 27.
Springer's friend Tim Burke, now chairman of the Hamilton County Democratic Party in Cincinnati, worked for him on the council. "He was able to capture people's attention and get them to deal with things that needed to be addressed," Burke said. When an old jail was falling apart, Springer got himself locked in it for a night. His antics publicized the deplorable conditions of the jail and eventually helped lead to construction of a new facility. And he was not afraid to take on his colleagues, Democrats or Republicans. After Cincinnati publicly financed the construction of Riverfront Stadium, there was momentum to build a nearby basketball and hockey arena as well. According to Burke, Springer was the sole dissenting vote when the council began debating the issue. Eventually opponents of the plan, with Springer leading the way in city hall, forced the deal to be refinanced as a private endeavor -- a positive development, given that taxpayers all too often get left with the bill when stadiums are built for private sports franchises.
Of course, Springer's stint on the city council is now widely noted for one event, and one event only: In 1974, a raid on a Kentucky prostitution ring turned up a personal check with Springer's name on it. Soon after, he resigned from the council. But a year later, he returned. Without the Democratic Party's endorsement, Springer ran and won, demonstrating that while the prostitution scandal might be a big issue today, Cincinnati voters three decades ago weren't fixated on it above all else. In 1977, Springer won re-election with the most votes any candidate in the city had ever received. At the time, the council member with the most votes became mayor, and the job was his for a term.
In 1982, Springer ran for governor. In its coverage of the primary battle between him, former Lt. Gov Richard Celeste and state Attorney General William Brown, The New York Times wrote:
Only Mr. Springer, a former Cincinnati mayor and city councilman, departed from the pro-business, tough-on-crime positions taken by the others. He reminded his audiences of what he considered the Democratic Party's tradition of commitment to social programs for the poor, even if such programs meant higher taxes.
His campaign also produced the nation's most talked-about political ad of the year, in which Springer bluntly addressed his 1974 run-in with scandal. ("Some nine years ago, I spent time with a woman I shouldn't have. I paid her with a check," he said in the TV spot. "I wish I hadn't done that.") During the campaign, Springer told The Washington Post, "I'm not running for God. I'm running for governor." In 1982, Springer faced some of the same problems that he would face in 2004, namely attacks on his personal life. Twenty years ago, when he was a 38-year-old former mayor of Cincinnati going up against two Ohio Democratic powerhouses, he received 21 percent of the primary vote. Today his biggest liability, other than the prostitution scandal, is his television show. But though it may cloud his image, it has also provided him with two assets he did not have in his last statewide campaign: celebrity and cash. His name will be recognized by almost every voter, and his personal wealth could stock his campaign coffers.
Despite having to spend most of his time in Chicago, where his show is produced, Springer has never lost touch with his old network in Ohio. He has campaigned for several candidates, participated in Hamilton County get-out-the-vote efforts, and spoken at several universities and political events. He spoke recently to the county chairs of the Ohio Democratic Party. Burke, who introduced him, said many of the guests at the event looked skeptical at first. But by the end, they were impressed enough to surround Springer and request his presence in their counties for political events. Two Ohio political observers, one who saw Springer speak in 1982 and another who saw him last month, said he gave among the greatest speeches they had ever seen; one of the observers even invoked the names Kennedy and Cuomo in comparison.
There's no question that Jerry Springer is far from the ideal Democratic candidate. But the Ohio state party is having trouble. In the 1980s, Democrats such as Celeste and Sens. John Glenn and Howard Metzenbaum ran state politics. Now, Republicans hold every major statewide office. In last year's gubernatorial election, Democrat Tim Hagan never raised enough money to seriously threaten GOP Gov. Bob Taft. While the state's Democrats have pockets of strength -- the big cities all have Democratic mayors -- many of those potential senators and governors appear afraid to take on Voinovich, a popular former Cleveland mayor and governor. Springer might not win but he would not be afraid to lose. In his recent appearances on Hardball and Crossfire, he has already spoken out against war in Iraq, handled questions about his personal and professional life with ease and humor, and talked eloquently about providing health care for all Americans and ending tax breaks for the rich. And who knows, The Jerry Springer Show could turn into his greatest asset as a candidate. Millions of Republicans watch the show and, while they might not like to admit it, probably enjoy it. Millions of nonvoters also watch, and they might even be tempted to vote: Springer's lifelong passion has been increasing citizen participation in politics, and a Springer campaign would no doubt be centered around bringing new voters to the polls -- an admirable goal that should cross party lines.
Top Democrats in Washington do not sound enthusiastic about a Springer run. Senate Minority Leader Tom Daschle (D-S.D.) suggested that a better candidate could be found, something Springer concedes as well. Indeed, Springer recently said on Crossfire, "If we can find someone in Ohio in the Democratic Party that will espouse the point of view from millions of people that are not heard in government, then that's great." But unless that person steps forward soon -- and unless he or she has loads of name recognition and a pre-assembled war chest -- Springer may well be the best hope progressives in Ohio have. True, for a dozen years he has hosted a cynical show that displays a side of America most of us would rather forget. But that doesn't change who he once was -- a smart politician and an effective advocate for liberal causes -- or could be once again.
Michael Gerber is a staff writer at The Hill.
