I grew up listening to Jerry Springer do daily commentaries on a rock 'n' roll radio station in Cincinnati, a precursor to the final thoughts he now delivers on his daytime TV show. His writing was first-rate and his thinking was even better. I try to imagine how his commentaries would sound today if they were divorced from the rest of his show. It's illustrative to note a Chicago TV station wanted to try just that, and some politically correct anchor babe made such a stink -- guilt by association with yourself, Jerry -- that Springer said nevermind and walked away.

Most folks know very little of Springer except for his brawling show. Most folks don't know that when he's interviewed about his own show that he calls it a freak show, that he calls it terrible, and that he says he wouldn't even watch it. Most folks never saw his appearance on Roseanne's daytime TV show, where he interrupted her feature on female boxers to say please stop, you can't have fights on daytime television.

Most folks don't know Jerry Springer ran for the governor of Ohio in 1982. He lost in the primary, not because of an early scandal where he wrote a hooker a check while on the Cincinnati City Council. He lost because he was too liberal in a state that, at the time, was becoming chock full of blue-collar Democrats who were voting for Ronald Reagan.

Most folks don't know that Jerry Springer's childhood memories involve escaping the Holocaust, and that today he has a very simple starting point for racial healing. No more ethnic jokes. The jokes, he says, are the first step to dehumanization, and dehumanization is the first step to trouble. Trouble he has seen up close. Trouble he had to flee as a child.

So imagine his political placement now. He has the two things every politician needs -- name recognition and wads of cash. Can he use the cash to rework his image, and can he do it in a state that's elected a honorable yet boring geezer named John Glenn every year since '64?

The pundits, most recently the Chicago Sun-Times, say he won't run, that it's a publicity stunt.

God, am I glad pundits are so often wrong.

Remember what they said about Jesse, I'm sorry, Governor Ventura?

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The primary problem with modern politics is not the corruption of money (though that's a major cancer). The problem is not that government is now money versus votes and that money is winning. The problem with modern politcs is it's boring. To use Ventura's great soundbite, there's no such thing as a wasted vote -- use your vote to waste the system.

Ventura proved, hell, Bill Clinton proved, that somebody with a past can still get elected. George W. Bush is going to see plenty of that, too, but as a recovering alcoholic he can still satisfy the Religious Right on Moral Purity Grounds. Best story I've heard so far -- George W. is waiting for one of his opponents to run an ad showing a picture of George W. dancing naked on a bar, because at that point, George W. will run the same picture in one of his own ads and say -- "See why I quit drinking?"

When Jerry Springer was mayor, the Cincinnati Reds played the New York Yankees in the World Series. In an age where politicians make the playful wagers for media attention, Springer stuck to his guns. He grew up with the Yankees, loved the Yankees, and was going to root for the Yankees.

As Jay Leno said after Springer told this story: "Well, I can see why you're an EX-mayor!"

Thing is, I like that, and considering the "what do the polls tell me I believe today" state of politics, it speaks volumes about convictions. Convictions and standards are the last words that would come to mind about a trash TV show host, but then again, they said the same thing about Ventura, and all he did was win.

My hunch: Springer knew what he had to do to win in daytime TV: he had to pander, he had to sleaze, he had to be the ringmaster of a laughingstock. But the ringmaster generally isn't blamed for what he brings under the big top, and Springer suceeded -- and that, I suspect, was what he wanted to do. He wanted to show that if he put his energies into it, he could follow Phil Donahue's path and surge to the top. And he did.

The question with Springer is will he give up a lucrative TV contract -- several million dollars a year -- for a $130K year stint as a U.S. Senator. And I believe that Jerry Springer, as the leading edge of a generation second-guessing hedonism versus service, will say yes. I believe he is smart enough and crafty enough to turn a mea culpa into a better campaign platform than George W's compassionate conservatism (we love you sinners so much we'll pay you the least the law will allow) or Hillary's stupid village. You can say what you want about Springer's hate-every-stage career; lawyer, politician, journalist, TV host, but his powers of communication cannot be underestimated.

To my mind, the U.S. Senate is in far worse shape than the set of the Jerry Springer show. The folks on Springer's show know they are clowns; the clowns in the U.S. Senate still feel like they are important, and somehow connected to our lives. Yeah, right. Like rounding up $30,000 a week in donations gets my senators in touch with my daily life. To those folks, I don't exist until they need my vote; at least Springer knows I'm out there. The Nielsens tell him that much.

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