Dave Kranich Fighting The Fenty Juggernaut
GOP's Man Is an Optimist Unfazed by the Odds

By Nikita Stewart
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, October 20, 2006

Dave Kranich is a salesman. And he's pretty good at it.

Through the years, Kranich has sold sausages and cheese, Christmas trees and strawberry-orange-banana smoothies. At its peak, his former company, Kranich Consumer Products, boasted nearly $500,000 in annual sales.

But now that Kranich is trying to sell himself, nobody's listening.

Kranich, 34, is the Republican candidate for D.C. mayor against Democrat Adrian M. Fenty, a two-term council member considered a shoo-in in a city where 74 percent of registered voters are Democrats.

The sentiment for Fenty is so overwhelming that people call him "mayor" and "mayor-elect."

"No one's called me mayor-elect yet," Kranich said with a chuckle.

It's the kind of easygoing attitude that makes Kranich the guy you talk to at the party, the one who could have been a bartender. He always has a smile and just the right compliment.

At Pennsylvania State University, where Kranich majored in business, his nickname was "Daiquiri Dave." His photograph has appeared more than once on Washington's society pages because Kranich, who keeps his tuxedo at the ready, attends about eight black-tie events a year. Before he kicked off his campaign for mayor in April, Kranich was known for hosting a traveling happy hour dubbed "Martinis and Kamikazes."

But there is a serious side that counters his sometimes frat-boy/socialite lifestyle.

Kranich, who works as a real estate agent and had never run for public office, says he has a plan for the city: fixing the public schools, reducing taxes, improving neighborhoods and increasing the quality of life.

He would lobby the council to give the mayor the right to appoint all school board members and would create partnerships with developers to build affordable housing. On quality-of-life issues, Kranich wants to establish a program that would respond quickly to complaints about potholes, and he wants to add bike paths across the city.

This campaign is an opportunity for Republicans to let the public know that they can be competitive and can offer another perspective on how to improve the city, he said. "We need to focus on how to grow our party in urban areas," said Kranich, who lives in an apartment house behind the National Capital YMCA downtown.

He seems sincere when he says he can win against Fenty, a Goliath who won every precinct against well-funded council Chairman Linda W. Cropp in the Democratic primary last month. Kranich's campaign office is in a small rented space near the Farragut North Metro station, inside the Institute for Women's Policy Research.

Kranich has raised about $12,000, according to the most recent report available. Fenty has raised $3 million.

Does Kranich really think he can win?

"In all honesty, I do," he said after standing for a couple of hours at the Cleveland Park Metro station.

Unfortunately for him, some potential voters there thought Fenty had won or didn't think Kranich stood a chance.

"I don't even know who he is," said Michelle Richardson, 50, who lives in Ward 7. "I voted for Fenty."

Steven Kameny, a 32-year-old lawyer who recently moved from San Francisco, said: "I know theoretically Republicans exist in the District. . . . I know Fenty is a fait accompli."

Kranich uses an idealistic logic: There are 387,940 registered voters. Just 109,781 people voted in the primary last month. Fenty received 60,732 votes, or 57 percent of the Democratic vote. Kranich got 1,513 Republican votes, or 65 percent. So, he said, 200,000 votes are up for grabs to split between him, Fenty and Statehood Green Party candidate Chris Otten.

But with less than a month to go before the Nov. 7 election, it doesn't seem that Republicans will come out in droves for one of their own.

John Tobias, president of Log Cabin Republicans, which represents the gay GOP, introduced Kranich at a meeting one recent night as "kran-ich," just the way it looks.

It's kra-nik. "I always pronounce his name wrong," Tobias said.

Carol Schwartz (R-At Large) is the face of the local party as the only Republican on the D.C. Council and an unsuccessful four-time candidate for mayor. Even she's not supporting Kranich. She endorsed Cropp in the primary.

None of that seems to matter to Kranich, who has been a persistent salesman since he was a boy, said his parents, Lynne and George Kranich, who live in a Philadelphia suburb.

Lynne Kranich, 58, said she is not counting her son out. She told the story of his begging to go on a high school class trip to Europe although he was considered too young. The Kranichs tried to make the $1,000 cost an obstacle to discourage him. "We told him, 'You can earn your way there.' We thought, 'There's no way he can do this,' " she said.

Kranich sold $1,000 worth of sausages and cheese and went on the trip.

He continued to sell in college.

When he moved to the District about 12 years ago, he saw a newspaper ad about Christmas trees. He began knocking on doors and asking people whether they would buy Christmas trees from him. He found that a delivery and set-up business could be profitable. His high-powered Washington clients included Donna Shalala, former U.S. secretary of Health and Human Services.

At the same time, Kranich had another entrepreneurial idea: a bottled smoothie called "Kranich's Fruitful Daze." He said it took him nine months to come up with the perfect combination of strawberry juice from Mexico, banana puree from Central America and orange juice from Florida.

Both businesses succeeded. But the Christmas trees were a logistical nightmare -- harvesting in Pennsylvania and storage in Virginia. Then Sept. 11 cut into the smoothie venture: Many of his biggest customers were at Union Station and Pentagon City, he said.

Kranich decided to go into real estate, and to catch up on the District social scene that he missed during his 20s.

He rarely forgets a name, a talent he developed as early as nursery school, when he could name every child in his class and where to hang their coats, his mother said. The consummate nice guy. That's how most people know him.

At the Capitol Hill Club last week, Kranich mingled with young Republicans who drank beer and wine during their meeting in a basement room decorated to look like a den. As they sat on paisley and striped couches, a few talked about how having Fenty as mayor would be interesting.

The group voted to endorse Kranich and the rest of the Republican slate in the general election, a proposal by Kris Hammond, a Young Republicans national committeeman.

But Hammond seemed aware that few people were getting behind Kranich. Not even Republicans. Not even the loyal happy-hour crowd.

Hammond smiled bravely. "I only wish that all of the people who came to his happy hours worked on his campaign," he said.