Plugged In Nationally, Tuned Out Of the District

For example, although the D.C. delegates intend to hand out wooden nickels with the slogan "Taxation Without Representation," some of their brethren couldn't name the three historic city residents being considered by the Mint to grace the D.C. quarter.

"Frederick Douglass?" superdelegate Moses Mercado, 44, a former Dean aide at the DNC who has lived in the District since 1982, answered tentatively when asked by a reporter to name them. He drew a blank on the other two: Duke Ellington and Benjamin Banneker.

And don't assume that the superdelegates are familiar with the District's three-member shadow delegation on Capitol Hill, even though all three are delegates.

"Don't they have one named Michael Brown?" asked Minyon Moore, an aide in President Bill Clinton's administration who works in marketing and communications. She was right, but she couldn't name fellow shadow senator Paul Strauss or shadow representative Mike Panetta.

"Argh, I was going to stay Strauss," Moore said. "I couldn't remember if he was still there."

National party leaders emphasize that the at-large superdelegates do not reduce the number of the District's local seats. The party selects the superdelegates to represent groups that might otherwise be underrepresented, such as women, minorities and organized labor.

Even so, several of the D.C. superdelegates had trouble naming Fenty's two high-profile female deputies, Rhee and Police Chief Cathy L. Lanier, referred to by two superdelegates as "the blond lady." Ben Johnson, a former Clinton assistant, couldn't think of Rhee's name, even though he has a school-age granddaughter.

The unfamiliarity could make for awkward moments in Denver. Superdelegate Elizabeth M. Smith, political director for the American Federation of Teachers, couldn't name the D.C. Council chairman, a delegate.

"Oh, God, I'm failing," said Smith, a 40-year D.C. resident who has been a superdelegate since 1988. Smith put a reporter on hold for 30 seconds as she tried to come up with Vincent C. Gray's name. Her spokeswoman, Janet Bass, jumped in to try to end the interview: "How many more 'gotcha' questions do you have?"

A few more, actually. Such as: How much public money did the District spend to build the Nationals baseball stadium?

"Two-hundred-something million?" Mercado ventured. Swing and a miss. Correct answer: more than $600 million.

Not all the superdelegates had trouble. Christine Warnke, a lawyer at Hogan & Hartson who hosted a recent gathering for the D.C. Democratic Party, quickly named Rhee, Lanier, Strauss and Brown (although not Panetta). Similarly knowledgeable was superdelegate Mary Eva Candon, who got her start in politics stumping for D.C. home rule in the 1970s and then rose to national prominence as a fundraiser for Clinton and former presidential candidate Al Gore.

"If we're smart, we could use them better and get to know them better," Candon said of the D.C. contingent's relationship with her fellow superdelegates. "I do wish we worked together more closely."

For now, that may be wishful thinking. Asked whether he knew the name of the D.C. government building, superdelegate James Zogby, founder of the Arab American Institute, was stumped. "What is it?" he asked.

The John A. Wilson Building.

"Ahh, I knew John Wilson," Zogby said of the D.C. Council chairman who died in 1993.

"I don't want to answer any more questions," Zogby said with a sigh. "You're going to embarrass me."