CLARKRANGE, Tenn. -- I'm here, high atop the beautiful Cumberland Plateau in central Tennessee, to look into an exciting new political trend pioneered here in recent years, one that may be particularly applicable in the already rough-and-tumble world of politics on the Niagara Frontier.
While the political process in our region has been dominated for years by dirty campaign money, outright bribery, physical intimidation and the ever-popular round of post-election indictments for voting fraud, the good people of Tennessee have found a simple and far more direct solution to the innate problems associated with representative democracy.
Here, in the state that produced such legendary mankillers as Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson and Sgt. Alvin York, politicians are taking to simply shooting one another. Because of the experimental nature of this radical new approach, it cannot be said with certainty whether it is as effective as it is intriguing, but for sheer entertainment value, I don't think it's too early to say we have a winner.
As with most brilliant ideas, the concept of simply shooting your political opponent was hatched in the mind of a brilliant if somewhat erratic visionary, Byron Looper. In 1996, Looper had his middle name legally changed to "Low Tax" and ran against the county assessor, who he claimed was illegally rigging assessments to favor his friends, a group Looper dubbed a "good ol' boys" network and which he said controlled the county and, indeed, the rest of the state.
Looper, a lifelong Democrat, switched parties shortly before the election when he discovered the Republicans didn't have a candidate running for the assessor's position. His opponent attempted to use this lack of political conviction as a campaign issue, but Looper argued that the change of party was motivated by conscience rather than opportunity.
Obviously, in Niagara County -- where closet Republicans routinely run as Democrats to gain advantage -- Looper's deception wouldn't seem out of the ordinary. And, as it has for many of our sitting county legislators, his plan worked.
His populist approach and new middle name convinced many here in the backwoods that the obviously deranged Looper might be just the man to clean up local government. He went on to win the election by 1,100 votes.
Looper promised voters that he would be a new kind of leader. Once in office, he remained true to his word.
He enrolled at John Marshall Law School in Georgia, and workers in the county assessor's office rarely saw him. When he did show up at work, he busied himself by firing nearly everyone there, claiming that they were members of the aforementioned "good ol' boys" network that was secretly running things and plotting his downfall.
This led to dozens of lawsuits for wrongful termination, harassment and other offenses, and Looper responded with litigation of his own, suing the county for the release of numerous documents he said would prove his wacky conspiracy theories. Apparently, he hadn't bothered looking for the paperwork in question, and when county attorneys told the judge that the documents were already public and available to anyone, Looper's suit was dismissed.
He also busied himself firing off letters to the editor -- of every newspaper in the state of Tennessee, in fact -- chockful of libelous accusations against the politicians he considered his enemies.
Fortunately, he had a large staff and "Low Tax" Looper kept them busy copying thousands of pages of old documents he claimed had a bearing on the trumped-up charges he was freely throwing around.
But his poor work ethic, as well as using his office to exact revenge on his enemies and forcing county workers to aid him in his political career, eventually caught up to him, and several investigations were launched into his increasingly erratic conduct.
Finally, Looper was indicted on eight charges, ranging from official misconduct to moral turpitude. To him, the indictment was a badge of honor, more proof that the corrupt machine that had governed the plateau for decades would go to any lengths to discredit him.
To many voters, however, his antics served only to prompt the question asked often by their counterparts on the Niagara Frontier. "What the hell were we thinking?"
By 1998, even Looper's strongest supporters were abandoning him, but in his disturbed mind, the county assessor's office was simply a stepping stone for a spectacular political career that would one day see him elected governor, or maybe even take him to Washington as a member of Congress. Like Joel Giambra entertaining the thought that he could take Rep. Louise Slaughter's seat away from her, or Gov. George Pataki thinking of himself as a legitimate presidential contender, "Low Tax" Looper's delusions of grandeur fueled his fantasies.
The next step on his climb to the top, he decided, would be the Tennessee State Senate. There was only one problem. The seat was then held by Tommy Burks, a wildly popular hog, pumpkin and tobacco farmer who served primarily as a form of public service, since his prosperous business provided him and his family with more than enough to enjoy the good life.
Burks had been elected to the state Assembly in 1971 and moved to the state Senate in 1979. His introduction of legislation to ban the teaching of evolution and to protect teachers who taught creationism in public schools put him in solid with his Red State constituency. Such laws had previously been on the books in Tennessee, and in fact the famed Scopes Monkey Trial -- in which a teacher was criminally prosecuted for even suggesting that man may have evolved from a lower order of animals -- occurred near here in 1925.
Looper needed an advantage in order to have any hope of unseating the incumbent, and his mind quickly turned to murder.
Like many mediocre politicians, Looper had made a prodigious study of the arcana contained in the state election laws. Despite the fact that early polling indicated Burks would put an end to Looper's dreams of glory, the challenger came across an obscure provision that stated, should a candidate die within 30 days of an election, his name would be removed from the ballot, and no replacement could be substituted.
Looper then contacted an old friend about getting a gun. The friend originally brought along a .22 pistol, but Looper fretted that the pea-shooter might lack the power for the job he had in mind. Finally, he settled on a Smith & Wesson 9mm automatic, a handgun popular with many in the law enforcement community.
And on a misty October morning, just under a month before the election, "Low Tax" Looper drove out to the Burks place, caught up with his rival along a farm lane and stopped as though he wanted to talk. Burks put his truck into park, and Looper pulled his pistol and shot his man once in the left temple.
Death was instantaneous.
A farmhand working nearby identified Looper when he saw his picture on the television news that night.
Looper himself left for Arkansas following the shooting and confessed what he'd done to the friend who'd supplied him with the gun. He then returned to Tennessee, where he was arrested without incident at his home.
From behind bars, Looper continued to direct his political campaign, placing ads in the local newspapers and claiming the murder charge against him was yet another attempt by the "good ol' boys" to derail his crusade for better government.
But even Tennessee voters aren't that dumb, and Tommy Burks' wife launched a write-in campaign for her husband's Senate seat. She outpolled Looper by a margin of 15-1.
The national media converged on Crossville, the Cumberland County seat, for Looper's trial. For a brief and shining moment, he found himself in the spotlight he'd craved, though not for the reasons he'd intended.
The jury deliberated just two-and-a-half hours before finding Looper guilty of first-degree murder and sentencing him to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He has since filed numerous appeals, though the overwhelming evidence in the case against him all but guarantees he'll spend the rest of his life working in the kitchen at Tennessee's Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary.
Still, although his plans had gone awry, "Low Tax" Looper seems to have provided something of an inspiration to others seeking to violently inject themselves into the political process here.
A couple of weeks ago, in neighboring Knox County, a mayoral candidate named Steve Hall was coming out of his business carrying political signs he planned on putting in the yards of his supporters. He¹d just walked out the door when a man shouted, "Mr. Mayor!"
As Hall turned to see who it was, two shots rang out. Fortunately, the gunman lacked Looper's marksmanship, and the rounds slammed harmlessly into the door. Hall said it was dark and he didn't see the shooter or hear a car driving away from the scene.
When asked if he felt lucky he wasn't hurt or killed, Hall responded, "Yeah, I do. Very lucky. Never being shot at before, I don't how you're supposed to feel, but I went through a whole spectrum of emotions."
There were no witnesses to the shooting. On the local political blogs, speculation has been ranging from the possibility Hall shot up his own door to gain sympathy to the likelihood that his opponent, incumbent Mike Ragsdale, or one of his supporters was involved. Given that fact that it was an attempted political assassination, local media coverage of the shooting has been sparse, and none of the local papers or TV stations has bothered to ask Ragsdale what he thinks of the possibility that someone tried to murder his opponent.
Back up in Niagara Falls, we've got the FBI and the U.S. Justice Department looking under every rock they can find for evidence that many of the criminals who run our government are, in fact, criminals. Down here in the Volunteer State, it's often just a matter of performing ballistics tests on a spent bullet.
All in all, the "Looper approach" -- as I've dubbed it -- seems like a very sensible way to go about the often dirty business of politics. The politician who is shot, obviously, can no longer pass laws making it illegal to smoke in saloons, for example, and with a little crackerjack police work, his opponent will be safely locked behind bars, also unable to bother people.
And with bullets costing around 35 cents apiece, think of all the special interest money that will no longer be needed to finance things like newspaper and television advertising, direct mail solicitations and highly paid campaign consultants.
Why, the politicians lucky enough to survive all the shooting will be beholden to no one, which could only be good for the people they've been elected to represent.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | May 9 2006 |