There was probably no moment in his political life when Blake Pearson was riding quite as high as that particular night in September 2004.
Pearson, a fixture at the Weekly Planet, was the toast of the 2004 Best of the Bay Party, with a full entourage of media consultants, spin doctors, security agents and other hangers-on as he greeted visitors and stumped for what appeared to be a cakewalk to another term in office. Several times, he was spotted holding a woman's hand and coyly saying, "I'm looking to corner the woman vote — one, sometimes two, women at a time. Can I, um, count on your vote?"
"Top of the world, ma!" he shouted to the adoring crowd of free-beer-swilling sycophants.
Pearson had skirted danger for years but seemed Teflon-coated. His campaign slogan, "Either you're with him, or you're a traitor," best articulated his self-centered philosophy that defied categorization as either left or right, liberal or democratic. His were the politics of "me." He often told reporters, for instance, that he judged pending legislation by "how much was my cut of the action."
Voters seemed not to care that he was a registered sex offender. His record 12 ethics complaints didn't bother the populace. He told a senior citizen at one of his campaign forums to "bugger off," and the crowd only laughed.
Shortly after the Planet party, however, Pearson found himself foundering, both politically and personally. His polling numbers began to slip without reason, as his challenger — a mosquito control district commissioner named Teodoro Sandstede — gained ground. Pearson's family life suffered from many long days on the campaign trail. At a rally of supporters, he was stunned when the crowd booed his proposal for "some-sex" marriage laws designed to guarantee that married men continue to "get some" years after taking their vows.
And then he disappeared completely.
The last two weeks of his campaign, befuddled Pearson-for-Senate staffers had no explanation of why the candidate was not in public. The truth is, they had no idea where he was. On Election Day, they shuttered his campaign office and watched the returns from the Friendly Tavern in Tampa as their man went down to an 82-18 percent defeat — in absentia.
A year went by.
I'd always admired Pearson's political skills, even though I'd never worked in his campaign during my decade as a political consultant. As the Planet prepared for its annual Best of the Bay issue, my thoughts returned to the greatest fake politician I'd ever known. Where was he? What happened?
One day, on a whim, I dialed Pearson's campaign cell phone number. It rang four times before he answered.
It turns out that Pearson, like so many in his lost generation, had snapped spiritually. He'd packed a few belongings and moved to Thailand, where he practices Zen Buddhism at a wat, or small temple, outside of Bangkok.
He agreed to a brief interview about what happened to his life:
WHORE: Why the abrupt departure from Florida politics?
PEARSON: The Buddha once said, "A good horse runs even at the shadow of the whip."WHORE: What does that mean?
PEARSON: A monk asked, "Before the lotus blossom has emerged from the water, what is it?" The student said, "A lotus blossom." The monk pursued, "After it has come out of the water, what is it?" the student replied, "Lotus leaves." WHORE: So, you're saying you "left" politics as a metaphor for emerging in life?
PEARSON: Not at all. A philosopher asked Buddha: "Without words, without silence, will you tell me the truth?" The Buddha sat quietly. WHORE: Well, that's the kind of guy he was. But I'm not sure I'm following you. Can you recall how you felt toward the end of your campaign?
PEARSON: A broken mirror never reflects again; fallen flowers never go back to the old branches.WHORE: You got that right. Do you follow events in America from your home in Thailand?
PEARSON: One day a monk was walking through a market. He overheard a customer say to the butcher, "Give me the best piece of meat you have." "Everything in my shop is the best," replied the butcher. "You can not find any piece of meat that is not the best." At these words, the monk was enlightened.WHORE: So you're saying you still like a good steak? The bartender at Charley's says business is down appreciably since you left town.
PEARSON: The pupil said, "Where is the source of all silence?" And his master replied, "Keep talking."WHORE: But your disappearance was one of the biggest stories in this town. How could you just walk away from it all?
PEARSON: The Zen Master said: "The world is vast and wide. Why do you put on your robes at the sound of a bell?"WHORE: You've renounced all worldly goods, yet I was able to reach you on your old cell phone. What gives?
PEARSON: I had a two-year contract. Fuckin' Cingular wouldn't let me out of it.
Political Whore disclosure: This story is not true. He can be reached by e-mail at wayne.garcia@weeklyplanet.com or by telephone at 813-739-4805.
This article appears in Sep 21-27, 2005.