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Even Tancredo's supporters make it clear they don't agree with everything he says and does. Jon Caldara, who took over from Tancredo as head of the Independence Institute, a Golden think tank that's been influencing Colorado politics in noteworthy ways since the mid-'80s (see sidebar), thinks the world of the congressman, whom he refers to as "an absolutely remarkable man and a good personal friend." Yet when Tancredo announced last year that his decision to run for re-election in 2004 won't be predicated on his very public pledge to step down after three terms, Caldara weighed in against this declaration in a column for the Boulder Daily Camera.
KHOW talk-show host Peter Boyles, the rare Tancredo fan with a media platform, has often found himself in the same position. "I love him 100 percent of the time," Boyles says, "but probably 70 percent of the time, I don't agree with him."
This may seem like a healthy degree of skepticism, but it wasn't enough to prevent Boyles from being censured by Rocky broadcasting critic Dusty Saunders for the way he deals with Tancredo when both are behind the microphone. In June, Saunders wrote that this "you're-my-pal, on-air relationship" diminishes Boyles's "credibility on issues involving the controversial politician's stands on immigration."
As it turns out, the very conversation Saunders dismissed as "dull talk radio" actually contained a telling anecdote. Tancredo was ostensibly on Boyles's program in May to discuss what was then his latest contretemps, which bubbled up following a news conference intended to highlight his opposition to matricula cards -- IDs issued by the Mexican government that can be used by undocumented workers. The gathering backfired when reporters largely ignored the main issue and concentrated instead on a prop -- an oversized matricula reproduction featuring Mexican President Vicente Fox that some saw as disrespectful or worse.
Boyles and Tancredo eventually got around to jawing about the matricula, but for whatever reason, they began by saluting John Wayne, who, predictably enough, is the congressman's celluloid hero. Tancredo revealed that he has a life-sized cardboard replica of the Duke and a poster saluting The Searchers, a 1956 Wayne classic he called his favorite, in his remodeled basement -- the most notorious room in his Governor's Ranch home, since, unbeknownst to him, illegal immigrants helped spruce up the space, according to an article published in the Post last year.
Granted, movie buffs of all stripes love The Searchers, but Tancredo's fondness for it is particularly intriguing given his anti-immigration jones. In the film, Wayne is Ethan Edwards, a man who overflows with prejudices. Ethan's niece Debbie, portrayed by Natalie Wood, has been captured by Indians, and Edwards sets off after the marauders in part because he wants to put the girl out of her misery; he figures she's gone native and would be better off dead than red. In the end, he resists the urge to kill Debbie, but only just.
So did Tancredo ever stop to think that his numero-uno Wayne flick finds the actor playing a protagonist whom some observers have called the same thing his enemies have labeled him: a racist? When asked, Tancredo says he never thought of it that way. What he likes about the movie is its darkness and realism compared to other films of the day, and he insists he never really identified with Wayne's often nasty, conflicted character.
"I've loved Westerns ever since I was a kid," Tancredo says. "But I always rooted for the Indians." Tancredo didn't just love Indians when they were getting hammered; a report he wrote as a student about Custer's Last Stand was penned from the perspective of the victorious tribes.
Guess Native Americans will get to park for free on Tancredo Day, too.
Pity poor Lara Kennedy. As Tancredo's spokeswoman, she spends most of her days being peppered by press inquiries, and since many of them have eventually blown up in the congressman's face, it's no wonder she treats each one like a potential pipe bomb. The Vicente Fox matricula-card fiasco certainly justifies such paranoia. The art was e-mailed to Tancredo's office by a person or persons unknown, but Kennedy was among those who thought that placing an oversized version of it behind the congressman during press conferences would be a clever idea -- which Tancredo, while taking ultimate responsibility for what he now concedes may not have been the most thoughtful judgment, will tell anyone who asks.
"I probably should pay a lot more attention to details than I do, and I know that's a shortcoming," he allows. "What happens, to a certain extent, is when you have great people, you begin to rely on them. That's a blessing, but it's also somewhat of a curse, because after a while, that's the way you do business."