Third and Long

A half-hour later, Swann was on the other end of town, inside a Holiday Inn ballroom, joining some 300 people at the 2006 Pennsylvania African-American Political Convention. Although the event was billed as nonpartisan, the majority of the crowd were card-carrying Democrats. No coincidence there: Black Democrats are exactly the people Republicans are hoping Lynn Swann can win over.

Ed Rendell, Pennsylvania’s incumbent governor, had just given a speech. He had emphasized the importance of voter participation and noted that he had killed legislation that would have required voters to show ID at the polls. He’d pointed to his accomplishments in minority contracts and education reform, and he had vowed to continue fighting the good fight.

Then, ten minutes after Rendell left, it happened again: Swann–Republican, self-proclaimed conservative–walked into the room and owned it. Only this time, the greeting he received was even bigger than what he had gotten in the rich, white, Republican neighborhood he’d just left.

Swann gave a speech, and it was terrific. There were no references to “back in the day” on the football field. Gone were the sports clichés from the early hours of his campaign. Goodbye Lynn Swann, onetime Pittsburgh Steeler, Super Bowl MVP, and football Hall of Famer. Hello Lynn Swann, candidate for governor.

“Imagine all the people who said ‘Well, Lynn, this is not going to happen for you,'” he declared. He encouraged the crowd to never give up, to continue to strive for political influence: “Nobody is going to give it to us. . . . We have a chance to go to the polls and make it happen.” After his speech, he did not head for the exit. He lingered, shook hands, and stayed until he was one of the last to leave.

It was a great night for Swann. He never looked better, never delivered better. And that is the problem. Four days later, sitting across from him in his campaign office, with press secretary Melissa Walters in attendance, I asked a series of simple policy questions, hoping to learn about his actual positions.

A half hour and over one hundred uses of the word “change” later, I left with a sinking feeling. On issues ranging from tort reform to education to property taxes, Swann had nothing specific to say. What kind of changes did he have in mind? He didn’t say. The only answer I ever really got was “change.”

I have been following the Swann phenomenon since its infancy nearly two years ago at the Pennsylvania Society political soirée. This annual must-be-seen-at event (held, oddly enough, at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York) is the party for Pennsylvania’s political “It” girls and guys, has-beens, and wannabes.

Swann knew he would have competition for the party’s endorsement from Bill Scranton, who was the lieutenant governor under Dick Thornburgh. The night before the revelry began, he called Scranton and advised him of his exploratory intentions.

Swann was fresh off the campaign circuit as a surrogate and opening act for none other than President Bush, and he was energized. The receiving line to greet him in New York was like that of a royal wedding. And he seemed to make a big impression on everyone there. From that moment on, the political whisper became, “What is up with Lynn Swann?”

No one knew where he stood on the issues, but no one, especially Team Scranton, was prepared for the Steeler effect. State committee members, who otherwise would have supported Scranton, began to hedge their bets, to see what would come of the Swann campaign.

Mike DeVanney, Scranton’s political director, says of Swann’s rapid rise in the endorsement process: “I think a lot of well-meaning people got caught up in the so-called star power of Lynn Swann.

“Many ardent Swann supporters maintained that Bill Scranton would be the better governor. . . . However, it was argued that Swann’s star power would guarantee him fundraising equality with Ed Rendell, secure a majority of inner-city Philadelphia votes, and bring throngs of new voters to the Republican party.”

And so it went. From political novice to clincher of the GOP endorsement, Lynn Swann had arrived, helped by some heavy-handed moves by the state party establishment and some campaign gaffes by Scranton. Still, the deck was cleared rather bloodlessly for Swann, well before a primary needed to take place.

Swann then went to Washington to hook up with the Republican Governors Association. He paid homage to the men who control the purse-strings, then slipped on the glass slippers and, once again, was the belle of the ball. Even Karl Rove had his picture taken with the brand new candidate.

In the polls, Swann has stayed within a few points of Rendell since the day he received the endorsement. Which is good news for the GOP: Having a Republican at the helm of electoral-vote-rich Pennsylvania just in time for the 2008 presidential election would be a juicy coup.

But there are serious gaps in Swann’s candidacy. First and foremost, he’s raised very little money. Second, and equally important, where’s the substance?

“This campaign is going to be like no other,” says Amber Wilkerson, Swann’s deputy communications director, “in terms of ideas and how they are presented. . . . You are not going to see us following the same old rules.”

“With Lynn Swann,” she insists, “you have a different kind of candidate,” one who is “basing his vision with the people of Pennsylvania . . . listening to what the people of the commonwealth are telling him . . . and that is revolutionary.”

Then one more time, in case I missed it: “Lynn Swann is about change.”

I TALKED TO KEN MEHLMAN, chairman of the Republican National Committee, a couple of days before state financial reports revealed that Swann had raised only $1.5 million. Mehlman said he believed that Swann has the right stuff to run a competitive race against Rendell, who, by the way, has raised $15.5 million.

“The Republican party is confident that Lynn Swann can deliver Pennsylvania. . . . He brings a freshness and energy that no one else can deliver,” Mehlman said. “Pennsylvania needs to come out from under the tax-heavy hands of the Rendell administration, and Swann is just the candidate to do that.”

But what about the money? Party sources say Swann will not be handed a check anytime soon; he must first prove he can raise money on his own, while staying competitive in the polls. The rule of thumb is that the party’s bank will not be tapped for any candidate who is 15 points ahead or behind in the polls. The decision whether to help with funding is typically made in July.

Mike DeVanney, Scranton’s man, sees it this way: “In order to defeat Ed Rendell, you need to raise a great deal of money, build a first-rate field organization, and articulate a clear message. The good news for the Swann campaign is that this election is still months away.”

Word got back to Swann’s campaign that I was not exactly blown away by the interview he gave me. A new communications director, Lenny Alcivar, had come on board, and he got in touch. Alcivar, who was deputy press secretary for both Rudy Giuliani and the 2004 Republican National Convention, offered me more time with Swann, though that never panned out because Swann was on the road quite a bit. At least the new communications team was returning phone calls and emails, a big improvement. But the message coming from Swann’s people was still far from illuminating: This is a campaign about change, they kept saying.

Republicans do well on issues. The strength of the conservative movement lies in offering clear choices on issues that affect people’s daily lives: homeownership, tax cuts, and core values.

Yes, the election is still far off, and Swann is competitive in the polls. But all Rendell would need to do is go on the air with negative ads about Swann’s lack of substance for a couple of weeks, and Swann’s goose would be cooked. He hasn’t even the money, let alone the substance, to counter such an attack. And unless he soon gets a lot of both, the novelty will wear off and reality will sink in.

Lynn Swann does have a lot of the right stuff. He’s energetic. He connects with people. He breaks the mold, being black and not a Democrat. And he could probably deliver a message, if only he had one.

Salena Zito is editorial page columnist and political reporter for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.