No More Mr. Nice Chet

Fall campaign, Day 1.

It all started out so nicely.

Gov. Chet Culver and his wife Mari arrived around midday at Waypoint preschool in Cedar Rapids, just down the street from my home base.

The governor and the first lady took turns reading pages from one of Mari's favorite childhood books, "The King, the Mice and the Cheese."

I think Chet's favorite part might have been when the mice chased out the elephants. Political overtones.

And like every good story, there was a lesson learned.

"They learned that no matter how different we are, we can get along," Mari Culver told the kids seated on one of those stripped mats every elementary school's just gotta have.

Then, a few minutes later, with good feelings still hanging in the air, Gov. Culver showed a circle of journos that he does not intend to play nice with Republican gubernatorial nominee Terry Branstad.

There are differences, to be sure. And I didn't get the impression that getting along is part of his campaign strategy.

During an uninterrupted 10-minute monologue, Culver heaped, piled and stacked criticism on his freshly christened challenger.

Culver accused Branstad of wanting to yank kids out of state-funded preschool programs and literally pry stem cells out of the hands of researchers at the University of Iowa before you can say "valuable lifesaving cures." 

Culver said Branstad is anti women's choice on abortion, "cooked the books" when he was governor, told a fib when he said Culver ate the surplus and never, ever earned a triple  A bond rating like we have today.

Branstad is from "the 20th Century" and Culver argued that the Republican would make us go back there. And did you know he "barely won a majority of the vote in his own party?"

"It gets worse," said Culver, gaining steam.

"Terry Branstad wants to repeal I-JOBS," Culver said, referring to his big old lightning rod of an infrastructure bonding program. 

"He wants to take the funding away from Paramount Theater, from the Czech museum, for every project. We've invested in 42 projects in Linn County alone, over $100 million f I-JOBS for flood recovery. Terry Branstad said that was a bad investment. He called it a folly.

"A folly? A mistake? A mistake to help pur second-largest city come back and recover from the worst natural disaster in our state's history?

"It's not a folly. That comment suggests he's out of touch. He represents the past, the 20th century. That is a statement that only someone who is disengaged would make," said Culver, who has been to Cedar Rapids "81 times."

I then engaged with Branstad by phone.

He took some issue, not surprisingly.

The former governor said that although he is highly, highly critical of I-JOBS, he can't and won't claw back money that's already been promised to projects. The Paramount Theater is safe.

"There's no turning back," Branstad said. "That's just a red herring."

If he had been in charge, Branstad said he 'd have considered some targeted bonding for flood-related projects, but not the $800 million pot Culver sold the General Assembly. In 1993, Branstad said his administration prudently filled in the "cracks" in flood relief where the feds wouldn't pony up.

Branstad also compared I-JOBS to the Greek debt crisis. The one that sent shockwaves through the global economy.

Hopes for subtlety in the fall campaign died at about 1:15 p.m.

"I relish a comparison of our records," said Branstad, who likes the word "mismanagement" almost as much as Culver likes "backward."

Perhaps the could collaborate on a good children's book. Maybe "The Relic, the Reckless and the 5 Months They Spent Not Getting Along." Nah.