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 Editorials | Issues | October 2007 
Is Richardson 'Too Real?'
 Pauline Arrillaga – Associated Press
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| | New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson throws out the first pitch at Isotopes Park on opening day, Friday, April 11, 2003, in Albuquerque, N.M. At Middlesex School in Concord, Mass., an upper crust prep academy populated by rich, white Northeasterners, the13-year-old Richardson was a pitcher with a 'real good fastball and an effective curve,' as described in the autobiography 'Between Worlds.' He would later be scouted by the big leagues, and fantasized about playing professional ball, and made school history when he became the first eighth-grader named to the Middlesex varsity baseball team. (AP Photo/Jake Schoellkopf, File) |
You would have to look hard these days for signs of "the unmade bed," as Bill Richardson has been described time and again through the years.
The disheveled man who once removed his navy blazer and hung it carelessly over the back of a chair while interviewing a job candidate. The interview done, Richardson put on his coat and stalked out — oblivious to the dusty footprints he'd tracked on his sleeve while pacing.
Now he's hospital-cornered perfection. The shimmering tan. Carefully coifed hair. Thirty-pound-trimmer frame.
Richardson's political resume is impeccable: Fourteen years in Congress. U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. Secretary of energy. Now in his fifth year as governor of New Mexico. A hard-earned reputation as an international negotiator.
Behind the polished surface lies something more rumpled.
"Richardson is, frankly, too real," a Washington Post political blogger once wrote.
Or could it be that authenticity has been a key to Richardson's success from the very beginning?
The '50s: "Gringo"
Young Billy wasn't quite sure whom to root for. It was 1954, and his father had brought him to Mexico City's Arena Coliseo to watch the North American bantamweight title fight between American Nathan Brooks and Mexican Raul Macias.
Billy, born William Blaine Richardson seven years earlier in Pasadena, Calif., had lived in Mexico City all his life. His father, Bill, was American, a banker posted south of the border. His mother, Maria Luisa Lopez-Collada, had worked as a secretary at the bank. She was Mexican.
Young Billy was still figuring out who he was.
He spoke English but dreamed in Spanish. When Billy took up baseball at age 10, he understood he was just a "gringo" to some of the Mexican players. His family was wealthy by Mexico standards, complete with a chauffeur and cook, but lived in a poorer neighborhood.
He was caught between worlds, and had to learn early on how to maneuver.
Expectations of being generous, and successful, were hammered into the Richardson children daily by their father. "Failure is not an option" was ingrained — to fight to the end, like the memorable 12-round boxing match that day at Arena Coliseo, where Richardson cheered for the Mexican hero who prevailed.
The '60s: "The Mexican Star"
In the fall of 1960, Richardson — not yet 13 — found himself struggling to fit in once again. His father sent him to Middlesex School in Concord, Mass., and the gringo became the dark-skinned outsider at an upper crust prep academy.
What better way to find acceptance in America than to excel at America's pastime?
A pitcher with a "real good fastball and an effective curve," as described in his autobiography "Between Worlds," Richardson fantasized about playing professional ball.
His competitiveness and jocular sense of humor took shape at Middlesex. On the ballfield, when his friend Jack Perron would reach out to take the bat from him, Richardson would teasingly pull it back.
"Like (Lucy) would do to Charlie Brown with the football," Perron says.
These days, Richardson's been known to put everyone from world leaders to high school kids in headlocks. And in 2005, New Mexico Lt. Gov. Diane Denish was quoted in the Albuquerque Journal as saying, "He pinches my neck. He touches my hip, my thigh, sort of the side of my leg." Though explaining that it is done in jest, Denish deemed the behavior "irritating and annoying."
The '70s: "The Confident Carpetbagger"
Ed Romero was the Democratic Party chairman in New Mexico's largest county when Bill Richardson came calling in 1977, explaining that he intended to move there and run for office.
"I told him he was nuts," says Romero, "though I used an adjective in front of the word `nuts.'"
Richardson got his first taste of politics as president of his dad's old fraternity at Tufts University. His dreams of playing pro ball had faded, and his binational background spurred an interest in international affairs.
Then, in 1971, Richardson heard a passionate speech by Hubert Humphrey about combatting social ills through public service, and politics became a new dream to chase.
After working a few years in Washington, D.C., Richardson and his wife, high school sweetheart Barbara, headed West.
He got hired as executive director of the Democratic Party of Bernalillo County and wormed his way into the political establishment.
"I thought he was coming in as a carpetbagger," Romero says, conceding now that his assessment of "nuts" was wrong.
The '80s: "The Audacious Congressman"
"Bill Richardson is not short of guts, you know," says former New Mexico Gov. Jerry Apodaca.
He saw the audacity at work when Richardson, a mere two years after moving to New Mexico, lost his first race for Congress, by just 1 percent to political veteran Manuel Lujan. Two years after that, Richardson was elected to a new district.
Former congressional chief of staff Melanie Kenderdine can still see Richardson literally grabbing other lawmakers by the lapels to make a point, and says he frequently sidestepped seniority to get things done. His constituents rewarded him with seven re-elections.
The '90s: "The Nomadic Negotiator"
"Give me my cigar" is hardly the comment one expects to hear from a U.N. ambassador heading into a meeting with the Japanese foreign minister. But to David Goldwyn, it was quintessential Bill Richardson. Richardson, upon learning that the minister was a smoker, stuck the cigar in his suit pocket and then later asked him: "Mind if I smoke?"
"He's all about: What's going to help me win?" explains Goldwyn, former national security deputy at the United Nations.
Even before taking the U.N. assignment in 1997, Richardson was earning a reputation as an international negotiator. He mediated with North Korea over the downing of two U.S. Army helicopter pilots. Negotiated with Saddam Hussein for the release of two U.S. oil workers.
His success, says Goldwyn, stems from the many different facets of his personality — whether it's the athlete (he bonded with Fidel Castro over baseball) or the regular guy (the cigar).
"His personality gets him in the door," Goldwyn says, then "the other part of his personality comes in: his relentlessness."
2000 and beyond: "GovZilla"
Relentlessness, in part, drove Richardson to again seek office in 2002. New Mexicans elected him governor with 53 percent of the vote; he was re-elected last year with 68 percent. "GovZilla," the Albuquerque Journal has since christened him.
Longtime friend Bob Gallagher describes it this way: If Richardson wants something done, "expect him to have a shotgun at the end of the hallway. Or a ramrod." And if it doesn't get done, prepare yourself for the Richardson Dog House.
2007: "The `I'm Not Changing' Candidate"
"The American people ... don't want blow-dried candidates with perfection," Richardson said during the first Democratic presidential debate. No chance of that with Richardson.
"I'm not changing," he said in a recent interview. "Do I have faults? Yeah. Do I sometimes act a little quirky? Yeah."
As for whether all of that may be entirely "too real?"
Richardson flashed a dimpled smile. "We'll see." |
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