by barbara

Know what? I've had it. And now I will speak of it. The letter Mike Hatch wrote to his "supporters" was the last straw. In my little quarter-acre of the world, that man is burned toast. Read on.

I was brow-beaten into voting for Hatch, who was running to unseat Minnesota's Republican governor. My political peers scolded me, loudly and often, saying that the alternative to voting for Hatch would be four more years of Tim "nowhere near as nice as he pretends to be" Pawlenty. They also told me that a vote for Peter "nicer but every bit as egocentric as Hatch" Hutchinson would translate into a vote for NNANAHPTB Pawlenty.

Reluctantly, I filled in the little oval by Hatch's name. Now I want my oval back. I want to leave all of the governor candidate ovals blank.

A little background for those of you new to Minnesota politics. Mike Hatch is a pol with a long history and deep roots in Minnesota's Democratic landscape. He is a prickly man who sometimes morphs into a bit of a bully, one might say. His long, unforgiving memory of political and personal slights is legendary.

That said, Hatch has been a good state attorney general. He has been a relentless advocate for the little people, i.e., the elderly, the poor, kids, and he went after the health care industry with a vengeance. His term ends in December.

This was his third run for governor. He tapped Judi Dutcher to be his running mate. A smart, savvy, popular woman with a big following, Dutcher seemed the perfect counter-balance for Hatch's heavy-handedness.

In the run-up to the election, polls indicated it was neck-and-neck between Hatch and Pawlenty (Hutchinson was just a spoiler). Smart money said Hatch might pull off a victory. Then twin occurrences with a half-twist undermined the carefully constructed candidacy of Hatch, who had worked so hard to convince us that he had become a far more mellow man (not to be confused with Maureen Dowd's marshmallow men).

First, in an unfortunate and highly publicized lapse, Dutcher was unable to respond to questions about E85 (that 85% ethanol/15% gasoline thing), and blanked so completely, she couldn't even summon up what E85 was about. This in a state where the tall corn grows. Uffdah. The press (particularly conservative reporters) smelled blood, and swarmed her. Mike "Walter Raleigh" Hatch swooped in on her behalf, berating them for picking on a woman. Feminists and faux feminists barfed in unison.

On the heels of that, just days before the election, an allegedly pushy news reporter called Hatch to badger him about Dutcher's E85 gaffe. Though he later refused to release the tape of the call, the reporter claims that Hatch called him a "Republican whore" (this is a problem, how?) and hung up. Hatch insisted he said "Republican hack." Yeah, well, didn't much matter.

Right, wrong or otherwise, he'd been outed once again as the same old hothead everybody feared was lurking beneath his new, benign persona. And he lost the election. I say "he," because it clearly was all about him.

Late last week, folks received a letter from Hatch, ostensibly thanking them for their support. The letter was written on Hatch/Dutcher letterhead, but interestingly (and given the content, not surprisingly), Hatch was the only signer. The letter is filled with "I" and "me." No "we" concerning the candidate team.

In the letter, Hatch cited three reasons for "his" loss. He blamed Peter Hutchinson, a "shadow PAC," and, without mentioning her by name, Judi Dutcher, to wit:

"Second, I did terrible (sic) in those parts of rural Minnesota with E85 ethanol plants. Up until the last week, we were in a dead heat in the First and Seventh Congressional Districts. While we still won the northwestern counties (where there are no ethanol plants), we got killed in western and southern counties, where seventeen ethanol plants are located."

There you have it.

Here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that if people had respected and/or trusted Mike Hatch, those dustups would have been a mere hiccup in the grand scheme of things. But generally speaking, people don't much care for Hatch. The man with the baby-doll face has demonstrated time and again that he has pitbull tendencies. The outcome of this year's gubernatorial election was poised to turn on a dime if Hatch showed his true colors. He did. It did.

I probably will be pilloried for speaking plainly about this. (Why is that Democrats eat their own, someone will ask. What kind of team player is she, after all?)

This kind. The kind who, as a state convention delegate, experienced the full wrath of Hatch as he and his people rode roughshod over Steve Kelley in the endorsement process. The kind who was too silent, too long about my strong reservations concerning Hatch. The kind who caved in and voted against my personal principles for "strategic reasons." The kind who believes that if we don't say out loud, "Caveat emptor!", even when it's not popular, we are being hypocrites of the first water. That's not eating our own. That's expressing an opinion. It's telling our own truth.

The Minnesota endorsement process is severely flawed. Once in a while, the desires of the people and the wheeling and dealing of party hacks come together to produce a great candidate (think Amy Klobuchar and Tim Walz for starters). But much of the time, it's an old-timer, insider's game. And woe be to the candidate or supporter who has not girded their loins for bloody battle. Kelley found that out the hard way.

Hatch might have been a good governor. But we'll never know. His time has come and gone. I nurture the improbable hope that this time, this loss might bring him a modicum of insight and humility. But I'm not holding my breath.