OCR Text |
Show Lawrence a hard man to categorize By BRYAN GRAY Clipper Correspondent EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is the second in a series of feature stories concerning con-cerning former Davis County elected officials. offi-cials. William J. "Dub Lawrence was always a difficult man to categorize. Over the years he's been a milkman, a police officer, a teacher and Peters increased, he says, finally J coming to a boil when Lawrence I defeated Harold Tippetts in 1988 to join Peters on the county commission. I The next two years would sec com- i mission meetings become a verbal battleground. Lawrence's accusations I of ''mismanagement" were met by taunts that he was stupid, and one shouting match with a newspaper I reporter nearly led to a fist fight. The commission controversies, he says, were "regrettable," but he maintains I that his "watch-dog" influence led to i the savings of several millions of dollars. ' With Republican challengers lining up to challenge Lawrence in the 1990 election, Dub surprisingly switched courses and prepared a run for U.S. Congress. ' People thought I was crazy again," says Lawrence. "But in hindsight, hind-sight, look what happened. Hansen, who everyone thought was unbeatable, barely pulled the victory off and lost the two largest counties in his election district. I could have beaten Jim Hansen if I could have got through the Republican convention. All the elements were there for an upset win." In 1992, Dub Lawrence will test the elements once again. and a Marine Corps weapons instructor. in-structor. ..He's made huge amounts of money in a landscaping business and lost large sums in the manufacture of satellite dishes.-.He's been t K J La b lege, married Nancy (then a View-mont View-mont High teacher living in Bountiful) Boun-tiful) and was hired by former Bountiful Boun-tiful Police Chief Gus Anderson in 1971. "He was a great boss," says Lawrence. But his relations with Anderson became strained three years later when Dub decided to run for Davis County Sheriff against one of Anderson's friends. Sheriff Bill Peters. "I just showed up at the county courthouse one day and found out that Sheriff Peters was running unopposed," unoppos-ed," says Lawrence. "In the South, we're not used to having people waltz into office without any opposition, and, since my family was Democratic, I paid the fee to run as a Democrat. No one gave me much of a chance, especially since there were no elective Democrats in office. But my underdog status was a help in the campaign. I walked through most of the county's neighborhoods and met the voters firsthand while Peters kind of took it easy." Lawrence shocked the political experts ex-perts by winning the 1974 election by some 2,000 votes. Peters never forgave him, he says, and the Republican commissioners attempted to ignore him. "I was pushing the 91 1 system, the paramedic program and an expanded public safety complex, all three of which have now been constructed or implemented," he says. "But because I was a Democrat, I got very little help from the commissioners. It was a frustrating experience." Four years later, he was defeated for reelection. "The Republican candidate died about one week before the election, so I cancelled all of my political advertising. That allowed the Republicans to select Brant Johnson, who took the ad space and beat me. He beat me fair and square." One year later, Lawrence re-emerged re-emerged as a Republican delegate. He voted in the county convention to support Bill Peters as a commissioner, commis-sioner, but later voted "as a private citizen" against Peters and for the Democrat, Harold Shatter. The antagonism between Lawrence ize the guides were all non-paid volunteers. vol-unteers. But I took the job anyway, and spent five years working for no pay." It was the first of many jobs for a man who admittedly "gets bored easily eas-ily and wants new challenges." One such challenge is to seek Jim Hansen's job as a U.S. Congressman. In the meantime, however, he's living off his retirement funds, considering an investment in the aircraft industry, and reviewing the potential of creating an oil services company in Kuwait. "I don't know where I'll be in several months," he jokes. "There's a lot of opportunity in this country and I've usually worked several different jobs at any one time. But one place I will be is on the ballot. I'd really like to be a U.S. congressman." congress-man." And, according to Dub, he's not a long-shot. "The hard part will be getting through the Republican convention," he says. "In the 1990 congressional campaign, I got 15 percent of the convention vote, and I thought I had the necessary 30 percent before the party apparatus started ganging up on me. If I can get through the convention, conven-tion, I can beat a Jim Hansen in a voter primary. Since the Democrats probably won't have a primary election, elec-tion, most of their voters will side with me against the incumbent. That's 35 percent of the vote right there -- and all I'd need to win is another an-other 16 percent of the vote from disgusted Republicans. After I get the Republican nomination, I'd easily beat someone like Kenley Brunsdale. "People may laugh, but it's pure mathematics." In the meantime, he says, a trek to Kuwait would prove valuable since future national issues may focus on concerns with the Arabic world. And if the Kuwait venture doesn't pan out, he has other concerns, most notably pruning the trees in the backyard of his one-acre Centerville home. The journey to Centerville was filled fill-ed with abrupt curves and turns. The son of a North Carolina tobacco farmer, Dub converted to the LDS Church at age 14 and later enrolled at Brigham Young University. After several years, he signed up for Marine Corps training and was stationed at Okinawa where he met his future wife Nancy, who was working for the Department of Defense. He returned to BYU, graduated with a police science degree at Weber State Col- a sheriff, a county OUB LAWRENCE commissioner and a candidate for the U.S. Congress. He's also been a political nomad, elected first as a Democrat and later as a Republican while at the same time appearing at Independent Party rallies and being touted by Libertarians. Liber-tarians. A party "black sheep" in establishment es-tablishment politics, he once suggested sug-gested that his fellow Davis County commissioners join him in worshiping worship-ing at the Salt Lake Temple - and was rebuffed, he says, when his two colleagues told him they wanted "no social contact" with him. "I don't like acrimony," he says, "but I do enjoy public debate. At least, people know where I stand and sometimes I stand against the flow." He stands now as a conservative Republican but one who claims that Democrat Jimmy Carter was more fiscally responsible than Ronald Reagan. Yes, he's a Republican but he admits to supporting a Democrat for the Davis County Commission. "I've got friends in all parties," he says. "There's no single political party par-ty that truly respects all of my views. Frankly, there's not too many political politi-cal figures on the current scene that genuinely earn my total respect." And there's not too many who have generated as much controversy as Dub, a man heralded as a constitutional constitu-tional leader by some and as a "dummy" by others. "I admit I've done some dumb things," he laughs. "One time I was looking for a paying job and I mistakenly applied as a visitors' guide at Temple Square. I didn't real- |