Candidates Tout Recognition Factor; The Isaac Hayes Who Doesn't Sing
Isaac Hayes doesn't sing; he's running for Congress in Illinois.
It might come as no surprise in these tumultuous times that a Young Boozer is running for Alabama state treasurer. (more after the break)
Young Boozer introduces himself on the stump as, "Young Boozer and yes, that's my real name." He says each audience is made up of three parts. The first wonders, "Is that the guy's real name?" The second says, "'What's his father's name, Old Boozer?"' The rest already know him. Mr. Boozer, 61 years old, is the third consecutive Young Boozer in his family. He coined the motto, "funny name, serious leadership," after realizing on the campaign trail the political advantage the elder Young Boozers had passed along. Previously, the Boozers were associated mostly with sports. Mr. Boozer's father, Young Boozer, Jr., was a football star at the University of Alabama, where he faced off in the Rose Bowl against a Stanford player named Tom Collins. "I've always been a Boozer," jokes the candidate. The family name is so unusual that "once you hear it, you never forget it," he says. Still, "I didn't think it was funny when I was growing up because my dad was so well known." In a cacophonous campaign with fresh faces a dime a dozen, who can blame a newcomer for turning a lifelong albatross into a campaign asset? Isaac Hayes is a Republican minister and first-time candidate running for a congressional seat in Illinois. He's up against Jesse Jackson, Jr., the current Democratic congressman and son of the Rev. Jesse Jackson. Mr. Hayes, 36, is not the late singer-songwriter famed for the theme song from the 1970s cult film, "Shaft." The son of a minister, "my parents allegedly named me after Isaac in the Bible," he says. He didn't like that as a kid. Now, he says, "I think my mom and dad were geniuses." Mr. Hayes, who is black, has themed his campaign, "Let's give Jesse the SHAFT." He hasn't the money to conduct polls or use the Shaft riff for his radio advertisement, but Mr. Hayes says he is running a strong challenge to Mr. Jackson. The shared name, he believes, is an "icebreaker" among African-Americans suspicious of the politician's conservatism. Mr. Jackson's campaign says the congressman is still solidly in the lead. "I'm not the musician, but I do have hot-buttered soul," says Mr. Hayes, referring to the artist's 1969 album, "Hot Buttered Soul." President Barack Obama is perhaps the best-known politician to successfully capitalize on his status as a new guy "with a funny-sounding name," as he still says on the stump. Political history is studded with arguably odder monikers. The current Congress boasts Rep. John Spratt (D., S.C.), who is known as Jack. Rep. Jerry Lewis (R., Calif.) trains his staff to respond politely to the half-dozen people who burst into his office each day looking for the other, funnier one. Rep. Richard "Dick" Swett (D., N.H.) served in the House in the mid-1990s. The late mayor of Fort Wayne, Ind., Harry Baals, has a street named for him.
Krystal Ball, a 28-year old Democratic congressional candidate in Virginia, says her name is a "mixed bag" for a young woman hoping to be taken seriously. The alternative was her married name—Dariyanani—which she assumed wouldn't prove as catchy. College students routinely steal Ms. Ball's campaign signs, she says, each emblazoned with a cosmic-looking orb, from the front of her Williamsburg, Va., headquarters. "Which is fine," she says. Ms. Ball was named by her father, a physicist working with crystalline elements, when the third Ball daughter was born. The others go by the "normal, well, relatively normal" names of Heidi Ball and Holly Ball, Ms. Ball says. Ms. Ball was dealt a setback recently when racy photos of her appeared on the Internet. The photos of her in a revealing costume leading a former boyfriend around by a leash were taken at a party when she was just out of college and "acting like an idiot," she says. "It was extraordinarily hurtful...but the media attention we've gotten has been helpful," she says. "We don't have a huge amount of money" for advertising.Green Party candidate for Illinois governor Rich Whitney is fighting bizarre-name backlash after his surname was misspelled as "Whitey" on touch-screen voting machines in some mostly black wards. Mr. Whitney, who is white, has questioned whether "machine politics" was at work. Election officials say it was an honest mistake. Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R., Alaska) has a well-known political name. Her father, who formerly held the seat, appointed her to the job after winning the race for governor in 2002. After losing the primary to a tea-party candidate, she decided to continue her run as a write-in candidate. Since voters must write her name on the ballot, her campaign has prompted debates among campaign lawyers over what kind of misspellings would count. An early flub in an ad for her website, which directed voters to "LisaMurkwski.com," didn't help. In addition to candidates with strange names, the 2010 campaign has seen at least four candidates named Strange. Luther Strange is the Republican candidate for Alabama attorney general. Rodney Strange is the Republican candidate for the 15th district seat on the Chemung County legislature in New York. Back in Alabama, Young Boozer holds a solid lead over his challenger, a Democrat with the Dickensian-sounding name of Charley Grimsley. "Young Boozer is the Better Choice," crows the Birmingham News. Mr. Grimsley acknowledges that Mr. Boozer holds a big lead, saying it's because he's got an odd name—and lot more money to spend. "When you get somebody named Billy Bob or Young Boozer running for office it makes people around the world think Alabama is backward," Mr. Grimsley says. "It takes more than an odd name to be a good state treasurer." At one point in his race, Mr. Boozer received a cryptic email. "I predict you are going to win your election," it read. It was sent by Krystal Ball.
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