44th Congressional District : Bates, Mitchell Trade Gibes in Lopsided Race

"How do we know it's his?" Bill asked, questioning the authenticity of the test. The only way to settle this thing, Bill said, was to square off before a politically neutral doctor.

Jim kept things rolling by saying that Bill was distorting things so much that maybe he ought to take a lie-detector test whenever he talked.

Fine, let's have a debate while we're both hooked up to a lie detector and see who's telling the truth, Bill answered.

Well, maybe that's not such a good idea, after all, Jim allowed. Besides, Jim added, barely able to contain a chuckle, ol' Bill might not understand what he's talking about well enough to even know when he's lying.

San Diegans could be excused for thinking that the preceding is a comedy routine--sort of an '80s answer to Bob and Ray. In fact, it's a summary of the highlights (or lowlights) of the 44th Congressional District race between Rep. Jim Bates (D-San Diego) and his Republican challenger, former San Diego City Councilman Bill Mitchell--a contest that, to date, has seemed more in need of a laugh track than voting booths.

"It has been kind of a joke," admitted Bates, who is seeking his third two-year term in the heavily Democratic district. "He's turned this thing into a circus. After some of the crazy things he's done, it's hard to take the rest of what he's said very seriously."

Always quick with a comeback, Mitchell responded: "The biggest joke in this race is his record. . . Anyway, he was the one who first suggested the lie-detector thing. If he's going to point the finger at someone for gamesmanship, he should point it at himself."

Although there are considerable philosophical and personal contrasts between Bates and Mitchell, those differences have been obscured by the name-calling, gimmickry and rhetorical hyperbole--most of it initiated by Mitchell--that have dominated the campaign between two of San Diego's most colorful politicians.

Mitchell, for example, has called Bates "the enemy in the war on drugs," "a defense rapist," "soft on Communism," "Banzai Bates" and "a flip-flopping chameleon" at various times during the past six months. Bates has countered by describing Mitchell as "kind of a kooky guy," "not too tightly wound," "a Reagan clone" and "a flat-out liar."

That sampling of the campaign's dialogue appears to reinforce the evaluation of one local Democratic campaign consultant, who remarked, "Lincoln-Douglas it ain't."

Though it may not have raised political oratory to a higher level, the 44th District race clearly has been the most interesting and closely contested of the county's four congressional campaigns, largely because Mitchell's high name-identification makes him a more serious challenger than those found in the other contests.

The 44th District covers downtown and southern San Diego, extending from Linda Vista south to Otay, and also includes Lemon Grove, National City and Chula Vista. Expressly carved out to be a "safe" Democratic seat by Democratic officeholders who controlled the state's reapportionment process, the district includes heavy concentrations of blacks, Latinos and other minorities that have given the Democrats a commanding 56%-33% edge among registered voters.

A 45-year-old former San Diego city councilman and two-term San Diego County supervisor, Bates captured the district in 1982 with 65% of the vote and was reelected two years later with 70%, both times against minor opposition.

However, in Mitchell, a former two-term city councilman who narrowly lost his seat last year to Abbe Wolfsheimer, Bates faces his first "name" opponent. Bates, though, is confident that his year-round campaigning, combined with the Democrats' lopsided registration lead, makes his position all but impregnable--to Mitchell or \o7 any\f7 Republican.

Indeed, while the Republicans talk up the prospects for an upset, Bates views Mitchell's candidacy as essentially a GOP test run aimed at measuring just how "safe" his seat is. A 60%-plus showing on his part in the Nov. 4 election, Bates argues, should be sufficient to convince national Republicans not to waste their time or money in the district in the future, at least until the district's boundaries are redrawn in the 1990s.

Libertarian Dennis Thompson, the head of a local computer time-sharing service, and Shirley Isaacson, a Peace and Freedom Party candidate, also will appear on next month's ballot.