" OSAMA BIN LADEN is very unhappy that we Republicans are gathering here today," Rep. David Dreier told some 800 delegates attending the California Republican party convention on October 27, six weeks later than scheduled. Dreier attacked House Democrats, who again are showing that "the old partisanship is still alive and well in Washington," and he blasted Joe Biden for showing "his true colors" in criticizing the president's Afghanistan policies. Who says September 11 has toned down American politics? Dreier was at his most rousing at a small reception for $100 donors, where he defended his old friend Richard Riordan, who was under fire from Republicans unhappy that the former two-term L.A. mayor is back to his old trick of surrounding himself with Democrats. After greeting each other with a loud hand-slap, the two men stood arm in arm as Dreier began: "Dick Riordan offers the best hope for Republicans in California." By the time he was through, this had become, "Dick Riordan offers the best hope for the future of this state." California Republicans definitely want to have a future. The present is not kind. Three consecutive election disasters have left them holding only one statewide office and a weak minority in the state legislature. This year they underwent a controversial White House-backed restructuring, based on the premise that "professionalization" of the party would free them to do better things. More indicative of their current plight was the cheering at the convention for the "great job" GOP state legislative leaders had done in the recent redistricting to protect the 20 California congressional seats still held by Republicans (Democrats hold 32). Next year's gubernatorial race thus looms as the state GOP's path out of the political wilderness. Even conservatives who would otherwise eagerly support likable political rookie Bill Simon Jr. are saying they'll be more than happy to back Riordan, who presumably has a better shot at winning. Consequently, the villain of the moment was California secretary of state and fellow Republican gubernatorial hopeful Bill Jones, whose campaign had distributed anti-Riordan materials throughout the convention area. The most inflammatory item was headlined "Dick's Team." It picked up on recent reports that key GOP consultants Dan Schnur and Bill Whelan left Riordan's campaign after it signed on such Democratic operatives as Clint Reilly, Pat Caddell, and Susan Estrich. Under a photo of each, as well as one of Nancy Daly Riordan, identified as "Riordan's Wife," the item enumerated their various sins. Reilly, for example, "has an arrest record, a history of domestic violence and sexual harassment charges." Caddell advised Coca-Cola during its effort to market "new Coke." Estrich said in September that Republicans "stole Florida," and now she was expected to participate in a "Democrats for Riordan" effort. Mrs. Riordan, a Democrat, has contributed hundreds of thousands of dollars to people like Willie Brown, Bill Clinton, and Barbara Boxer. Another Jones flier predicted the Democratic makeup of a Riordan administration. It included past recipients of Riordan's support, like Bill Press as appointments secretary and Maxine Waters as secretary of health and welfare. There was more, lots more, but Riordan's people came armed with a single flier as deadly as all the Jones material combined. It was a reprint of a February 16, 2000, Los Angeles Times story, which reported that Bill Jones was switching his support from George W. Bush to John McCain in the GOP presidential race. Why? Jones explained he could no longer remain silent while yet another Republican doomed his campaign by refusing to reach out to Democrats and independents. During his duet with Riordan, Dreier noted that "it's no secret that President Bush encouraged Dick Riordan to run for governor." Just who sought out whom remains in dispute, but in late June Riordan met at the White House with Karl Rove and others to discuss a gubernatorial run. Earlier that month, he was endorsed by 16 of California's 20 Republican members of Congress, including Dreier, Chris Cox, Bill Thomas, and Dana Rohrabacher. Riordan has the air of an anointed nominee of a party desperate for a win. His prospects weren't hurt by a pre-September 11 Field poll that had him running ahead of mildly unpopular Democratic incumbent Gov. Gray Davis. It's only natural that California's Republicans want to tie themselves to Bush's now-surging numbers. Southern California investment banker Gerald Parsky has become the party's de facto head, because he is widely considered to be President Bush's man in the state. On October 17, Parsky introduced Bush at an appearance in Sacramento during the president's refueling stop en route to Shanghai. No thanks to Parsky, Bush today would carry a state he lost by 1.3 million votes last year -- a defeat that Parsky's critics contend he's never really answered for. He was chairman of a Bush California campaign that squandered millions that might have been better spent in battleground states Bush lost. But since Bush won the election anyway, there was nothing left for Parsky but to fail upward. Among numerous tasks he's undertaken for the Bush operation, earlier this year Parsky became chairman of the state party's Reform and Restructuring Committee, which was formed to professionalize the party's structure and expand its base by reaching out to new voter groups. On paper, the first aim was unremarkable, and the second consistent with a major Bush theme of 2000. But Bush's talent was to moderate his party's image without throwing conservatives overboard or otherwise humiliating them. In California, Parsky has proved less adept at working the same trick. Most of the state's dwindling corps of elected conservatives went along with Parsky's scheme, but the party's conservative volunteers were another matter. When Human Events reported in late July that Parsky's first proposed bylaws would have seriously curtailed conservative influence in party operations, a mini-tempest broke out. A major showdown seemed likely at the scheduled mid-September convention, but in a brokered meeting in late August, current state party chairman Shawn Steel and Parsky reached an agreement, and at the rescheduled convention all the reforms passed on a voice vote. At the convention, Parsky was not particularly conciliatory. "We're not an 'anti-' party," he declared, as if without him the GOP would be "anti-education, anti-immigration, and anti-minority." Unlike Riordan, Parsky couldn't let criticism slide. "In our society, there's no room for personal attacks," he announced. Yet in an unguarded moment, he dismissed opposition to his reforms as the work only of a "very extreme wing." That's a sure way to guarantee that what's left of the "anti-" party will remain anti-Parsky. In a stronger moment, Parsky introduced Leonard Rodriguez, an aide to Karl Rove who gave a detailed presentation on the critical importance of the fast-growing Hispanic vote. For once, Parsky's emphasis on changing the face of the state's GOP began to seem more than just a settling of scores with old-line conservatives. Everyone even enjoyed a laugh when Rodriguez predicted that a successor to Parsky would carry the name Gerry Parsky Perez. Caught up in the excitement, Parsky talked openly of wanting to match the 49 percent of the Hispanic vote that helped reelect Bush in Texas in 1998. Rodriguez's remarks could easily have been construed as an endorsement of Richard Riordan, who won Hispanic votes before it became fashionable to do so. But when asked if that's what Rodriguez had done, Parsky said no, "we're only interested in getting the strongest candidate who can beat Gray Davis." How long before Parsky declares the California GOP to be Riordan country? And will California as a whole follow? Wladyslaw Pleszczynski is a distinguished visiting fellow at the Hoover Institution. November 12, 2001 - Volume 7, Number 9