Rauch has written a book, "Politicking," and he is now promoting the sale of that book. "Politicking" puts some flesh on many of the rumors that have swirled around politics and politicians in Beaufort County. It puts flesh, in particular, on the rumors that surrounded Billy Keyserling's departure from the mayoral contest in 1999.
The mayor says he got a collection of mysterious, unsolicited stuff about Keyserling's efforts in Port Royal. "I just put the stuff aside," he wrote.
But then he got a local lawyer, "who loves to yak about politics" to look at the unsolicited materials. The mayor again says, "I never looked at the stuff myself."
Although unread he says the stuff was probably harmless -- "my guess is there was nothing there that would have been of interest to local newspapers" -- "but the dossier rumor had begun to spread and the power of rumors in politics should never be discounted. Two weeks later, in his opening statement at the first mayoral candidates debate, Keyserling pulled out of the race."
Mayor Rauch also tells us how he outmaneuvered Henry Chambers, another mayoral candidate in 1999, by helping out with the last-minute letter that was critical of Chambers. Actually he says he was approached by a young man who was going to send out a letter and he simply gave this young man a list of the "undecideds." The mayor wrote, "If he wanted to send them a letter outlining Henry's transgressions, as he perceived them, that was his business."
There are other chapters -- "Spinning," "Leading" and "Creating Cover." We have clear, clinical, unapologetic lessons about how one gains and keeps power. The only problem with the mayor's book is that it lacks any ideological passion.
Lack of ideological passion is not a charge that be leveled at the mayor's brother-in-law, Gov. Mark Sanford.
Several weeks ago he stood outside the House chambers with a piglet under each arm. We all know that the piglets defecated on the governor and on the carpet. The governor said he was making a point, a lighthearted point, about the production of legislative pork.
"Pork won and the taxpayers lost," Sanford said.
We all know that Sanford came into office preaching a radical restructuring of government. He obviously thought he could convince his legislative kinsmen on a dramatic downsizing of state government. They were, after all, Republicans. But, according to Rep. Walton McLeod, the governor moved way beyond his fellow Republicans. "He went from Republican to Libertarian to Anarchist ..."
Perhaps Mayor Rauch should have included a chapter in his how-to book titled, "If you can't convince your colleagues; then take your message to the public." Because this is the only place that Sanford can go now. His convictions have left him with no legislative allies. His piglet posturing has freed-up our friend Tom Davis from his liaison duties in the House. There is nobody there, and few in the Senate, to "liaise" with.
Gov. Sanford will now carry his message around the state -- seeking a new constituency of true, small government disciples. And he will try to recruit candidates to run on that platform.
This is, of course, the nightmare that David Wilkins fears. He wonders if Sanford will tear down the house that was erected by Carroll Campbell, Lee Atwater and the Republican insurgents in the 1970s and 1980s.
Nobody, however, can say that this governor lacks passion.