Al Cross: Beshear, Abramson Face Long Two Years.

[Steve] Beshear, [Jerry] Abramson face long two years

FRANKFORT, Ky. — For an event heralding a new beginning, Monday's announcement by Gov. Steve Beshear and Louisville Mayor Jerry Abramson that they would run as a slate in 2011 had pretty old ambience.

It was at Berry Hill, the stone Colonial Revival mansion that overlooks the Capitol, in a room dominated by dark, carved wood; a high, beamed ceiling; stained-glass windows, and a monster fireplace. As Beshear, Abramson and their wives came up the steps, the mansion door was opened by Fontaine Banks, the self-described political legend whose service to governors goes back to Bert Combs almost 50 years ago. (The house and the man still seem serviceable, but the formal announcement came 17 minutes late because the room's most modern piece of technology, the box that delivers multiple audio feeds, didn't work.)

And the candidates' ambience is old, too, or at least older than usual. Beshear will be 67 and Abramson 65 when they are on the ballot (barring an intraparty challenge from House Speaker Greg Stumbo, which seems very unlikely, despite blogosphere chatter about it) in November 2011.

Readers of this space may recall our subtle argument three weeks ago that if Beshear wants to leave a great legacy, as the one-term-limited Combs did with successor Ned Breathitt and other progressive Democrats, he should have picked state Auditor Crit Luallen, who is six years younger than Abramson, can't seek re-election in 2011 and would be better positioned to run for governor in 2015.

And in terms of short-term political needs, there was talk from other quarters that Beshear should shore himself up with a running mate from rural Kentucky, probably west of Interstate 65, where most big statewide elections are decided.

Rather than the short term or long term, Beshear seemed to base his decision largely on the intermediate concern — governing in a second term with a lieutenant governor he can trust. Like all primary slates formed since 1992, when they were mandated and gubernatorial succession was allowed, Beshear and Lt. Gov. Daniel Mongiardo of Hazard had a geographic marriage of convenience to win votes. When Mongiardo ran for the U.S. Senate, it gave Beshear a chance to make a choice from a position of strength.

In Abramson, Beshear has a friend of almost 30 years, going back to the days when Beshear was attorney general and Abramson was general counsel to Gov. John Y. Brown Jr. Those offices on the first floor of the Capitol are often occupied by rivals who must communicate well privately, and being in that small loop can build strong bonds. Latest example: Denis Fleming, who was Gov. Paul Patton's general counsel, is now chief of staff to U.S. Rep. Ben Chandler, who as attorney general got Patton aides and supporters indicted on campaign-finance charges.

Beshear and Abramson enjoy the added glue and gravitas of Larry Hayes, who was a top deputy to Abramson in Metro Hall and is now secretary of the Executive Cabinet. And because Hayes held that job under Gov. Martha Layne Collins in 1983-87, and is joined at the hip with Transportation Secretary Joe Prather, who seems to be cleaning up that troublesome shop, Beshear offers a strong team for a second term. For Louisville voters, he likened it to Combs' partnership with Lt. Gov. Wilson Wyatt, a former mayor. (Wyatt dropped out of the 1959 primary to create an unofficial slate with Combs, then ended his political career by losing the 1962 Senate race.)

But to get another term, Beshear must get elected, and that is in doubt. He was elected largely in reaction to the missteps of Republican Gov. Ernie Fletcher. He has no big scalps on the wall like Patton did when essentially unchallenged in 1999. He is operating under economic and budget woes that spell trouble for incumbents, and he's state leader of a party headed by a president who could be quite unpopular with Kentucky voters two years hence. He also has a running mate who has some pitfalls amid potential.

Abramson has long experience in public service and an effervescent personality, usually a powerful combination in politics. He has made friends on occasional forays around the state, but mainly among city officials and civic leaders. It remains to be seen how he will do with the courthouse crowds and rural voters, many of whom still carry a streak of skepticism about fast-talking city folks. Some might disqualify him because of his Jewish faith, but it seems that few of the voters with such attitudes would be inclined to vote for a Louisville Democrat anyway. Abramson told me, “I don't think the religious issue plays a role.”

Still, the Mayor for Life knows he has political fields to plow in a state that is still about 40 percent rural, and he will need to do it carefully, by doing more listening than talking.

State Republican Chairman Steve Robertson told C-J political writer Joe Gerth that “There is a growing divide in the state” between rural and urban voters, but Robertson seems to have been talking about last year's elections, and Abramson told me, “I see just the opposite. … We have far more that ties us together than separates us.”

The anti-Louisville sentiment that has largely barred residents of the city from the governorship has faded in recent years, but it could be revived by a Republican campaign. Don't look for any GOP slates until the party has sorted out next year's Senate primary, but operatives such as Robertson and Jefferson County Chairman Brad Cummings will keep picking at Abramson's foibles as mayor. They will have considerable time to cast him as a politician on the run from trouble, much more than in any previous slate's bid for re-election.

The slate was formed now because Abramson had to decide whether to seek re-election as mayor next year, but he says he will serve out the year and five months left in his term. Politically, that makes the mayor's office an extension of the governor's office, which for a statewide race probably has more pitfalls than promise.

If Abramson proves to be the right choice, Beshear will have hit the sweet spot: a good campaigner for the short term, a trusted lieutenant for the second term, and still the potential for a longer legacy. But more than two years is a long time to run a campaign.

Al Cross, former Courier-Journal political writer, is director of the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues in the School of Journalism and Telecommunications at the University of Kentucky. His e-mail address is al.cross@uky.edu. His views are his own, not those of the University of Kentucky.