158 sLAde goRton: A hALf centuRy in poLitics
Gorton-Magnuson race was a watershed event in Washington State poli-
tics. The game would never be the same.
A spot the Magnuson campaign ran after the primary attempted to
blunt the age issue with droll humor. Magnuson, in fact, was making it
more of an issue than Gorton. An invisible announcer observes that the
senator had slowed up some in recent years. “Sure, I walk a little slower,”
Maggie says. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes and a craggy grin, he adds,
“But the meeting can’t start till I get there.”
Refusing to debate, Magnuson took the unusual step for an incum-
bent of running attack ads. He warned labor union members that “if
you elect Ronald Reagan and a Republican Congress, you can put the
Exxon sign on the White House.” As for being a “big spender,” the sena-
tor said he would plead guilty to being the guy who brought billions in
federal money to the state. “Would they send back the money for the
West Seattle and Hood Canal bridges? For the cruise missile? For Han-
ford and the Columbia Basin? How many Columbia River dams do they
want to tear down?”^11
cthee dMoRAts hAd thRee cRosses to bear—Iran, inflation and interest
rates. Still, a mid-October poll for The Seattle Times found Magnuson
with a 10-point lead. The Gorton camp was confident it was eroding. Jack-
son could sense it, too. He stumped the state tirelessly, declaring “We
need Maggie!” The Gorton campaign detected desperation when Magnu-
son reached back to the 1960s to blast Slade’s legislative record, claiming
he was a flip-flopping Scrooge who had even voted against funds for kin-
dergarten. Evans and Pritchard immediately cut radio spots saying it
wasn’t so.
The campaign coverage was also hurting Magnuson, who looked lum-
beringly ancient on the 6 o’clock news, especially when they cut to his
lean, athletic 52-year-old opponent. Magnuson’s statements were “gruff
homilies.” Gorton answered questions with rapid-fire details and bounded
confidently onto stages. New commercials softened Gorton’s reputation
for aloofness by showing him mingling tie-less in small groups of just-
folks admirers. At the Spokane Democrats’ Autumn Festival, two men
helped lift Magnuson, who “managed to ascend two stairs onto the plat-
form.” His legs seemed “barely able to support his chunky body” and his
hands often trembled.^12
Ron Dotzauer, who went on to become a sought-after political consul-
tant, was Clark County’s young auditor in 1980, running for secretary of
state against Ralph Munro. Twice during the campaign, he found himself