DON'T START THE REVOLUTION WITHOUT ME

Nalitz, whose real job is hosting talk radio on the nationwide USA Patriot Network, was preaching to a group of ten people who were spending a beautiful Saturday afternoon in August indoors at a "Constitutional Seminar" at the Country Harvest Buffet Restaurant on West Alameda Avenue.

And his admiring analysis certainly didn't shock attendee Patricia Elaine Miller. A veteran of the Republican party's Christian-right wing, 47-year-old Pat Miller is the GOP candidate for Congress in Colorado's 2nd District. As the self-described "grassroots" opponent of incumbent Democrat David Skaggs, Miller shuns the usual crowds of party loyalists and goes to where "we the people" are--even if there are only ten of them.

That backdoor approach may not seem like sound strategy. But it has paid off for Miller, a former legislator from Arvada who has alienated some party regulars yet enjoys campaign contributions from ex-Senator Bill Armstrong, beer heir Jeffrey Coors and Colorado for Family Values leader Will Perkins. Last month she won a four-way GOP primary against better-financed candidates--and against the wishes of party officials.

Articulate and funny when speaking to friendly crowds, Miller is sympathetic to conspiracy theorists and fearful of the New World Order. She uses talk radio to speak with "Patriots" and other doomsayers who warn

about the "mark of the Beast" and attempts by the government to take away their guns. While they discuss how to defend the U.S. Constitution and Christian values and ruminate about conspiracies revolving around the Federal Reserve Bank and the Trilateral Commission, some of the Patriots--they range from mild-mannered libertarians to pistol-packing survivalists--keep a close watch for ominous black helicopters they say may be circling over their communities. The country, Miller herself says, is heading toward hell. Very soon. Unless people stand up for the Constitution. Now.

An Illinois farm girl raised as a Democrat--she once actually campaigned for liberal stalwart Tim Wirth--Pat Miller is a modern-day No-Nothing: No national health care, no national crime bill, no NAFTA, no GATT, no corporate income tax, no abortions, no U.S. Department of Education, no national educational standards, no gun control, no foreign aid, no United Nations, no nothing. Long after her fellow baby boomers gave up left-wing revolution, she's still trying to start one on the right.

A member of the National Rifle Association, Miller spent last Mother's Day at a gun show, and she'd rather commiserate with talk-show callers who hint at armed insurrection than hustle votes among moderates.

Miller leads a host of local GOP candidates, some of them in the Arvada area, who sometimes are billed as "strict constitutionalists." Her preferred campaign methods are meetings--unpublicized to the press--with small groups of ardent supporters, fliers in church parking lots, last-minute telephone blitzes and plenty of air time on right-wing radio. She likely will be outspent by Skaggs, who poured more than $600,000 into his 1992 campaign. How well she does depends upon how much disenchantment is brewing by early November.

The race for the 2nd District, which stretches from Boulder to Wheat Ridge, could be the perfect one for a "fed-up" person like Miller, an evangelical Christian who went to beauty school instead of college and became a sharp-witted enemy of abortion and teachers' unions. Like one of her heroes, Phyllis Schlafly, Pat Miller is an assertive woman who denounces the feminist movement.

She has little use for liberal Republicans and even less for liberal Democrats like Yale-educated lawyer Skaggs. He's a four-term congressman who's cruising along as if he could serve forty more. A self-effacing sort, he's not charismatic in either personality or religion (he sings in a Congregational church choir). Skaggs believes that the federal government can help solve problems. He's a pro-choice, gun-controlling environmentalist from Boulder who bounced 57 checks in the House banking scandal and is at least as liberal as Pat Schroeder. In the last election, he aligned himself closely to President Bill Clinton. Since then, he's been jogging with Clinton. And liked it.

Moderate Republicans believe that the 51-year-old Skaggs, whom they consider a classic liberal in an unpredictable district, is beatable. You'd think that Miller would want to take every opportunity to publicly grapple with him. Instead, it's Skaggs who's calling for debates, apparently convinced the outspoken Miller will hang herself.

Some people think Miller is shrewdly keeping her views to herself and her supporters in the hope that moderate Republicans won't get so scared by her that they cross over to vote for Skaggs. (In 1992 Skaggs trounced another opponent from the Christian right, anti-abortion preacher Bryan Day.) Miller denies that that's her strategy. But she does complain that after a decade of her involvement in abortion politics, the press and even moderates within her own party make her sound like a one-issue candidate and portray her church, Faith Bible Chapel in Arvada, as a sinister political machine that has taken over the local GOP.

"I never get good press," she told the tiny seminar at the Country Harvest Buffet when it finally was her turn to speak. "I'm not going to get fair treatment. I've done it all, and they just paint me as anti-abortion."

Pat Miller definitely is concerned about more than abortion. Extremely concerned. Convinced that she was among only friends, she told the group, "If I said, `Let's tear down the U.N.,' I'd be the laughingstock of the news world--even though it's true!"

Pat Miller and her husband, Lynn, have lived in the same house for more than two decades. Their only child, Eric, whom they adopted as a baby, is a 22-year-old ex-Marine. The three of them share the two-story ranch-style house off 72nd Avenue and Simms, a comfortably cluttered place with inspirational music on the piano--"Have Thine Own Way, Lord." On the coffee table are copies of David Skaggs's campaign-contribution list and a book called Rape of Justice.

It looks peaceful, but Pat Miller isn't. She holds strong beliefs and likes a good argument. "As a woman, you almost have to," she says, "because if you don't, then men think you're just a little milquetoast nothing. Bryan Day was too apologetic and too nice, and people want someone who wants to be aggressive."

She got into politics a decade ago pestering Jefferson County school officials about her son's progress and became a leader of the state chapter of Citizens for Excellence in Education, which rails against sex education and humanism. She and Lynn wound up pulling Eric out of public school in the sixth grade and home-schooling him, but not before they embarked on a campaign to get certain textbooks out of the classroom.

One book in particular set her off: Literature of the Supernatural. "I was totally depressed by the time I got done reading," she recalls. "I was biting my nails, which I never do. And I told the school board that I felt that if you're going to present this book, fine, but there is a light side of life, too. All you're presenting is the dark side of life. They were horrible, gruesome, bloody stories."

She remembers being "called a censor and told to move to Russia."
Teaching her son at home was depressing at first, says Miller. "The first year was hell, absolutely," she notes, "because my son was used to socializing in a classroom and I was used to being on my own pretty much, and it was one-on-one, the two of us.

"I'll never forget--one day, the bus came up, the kids got on the bus right out here at the corner, and the brakes were squeaking and the kids were yelling, and my son looked at me and he said, `Oh, I just wish I was getting on that bus.' I said, `Gee, I wish you were, too.'"

Miller says they both grew to like home schooling, although Eric wound up finishing high school at Maranatha, a Christian school in Arvada. But while she was teaching him at home, she took the opportunity to learn about such political intricacies as Colorado's caucus system of placing candidates on primary-election ballots. She says she wound up reading the platforms of both major parties and decided that she really was a Republican, not a Democrat.

Meanwhile, she and Lynn, an electrician/mechanic at Coors, had discovered Faith Bible Chapel, a sprawling evangelical church at 64th Avenue and Ward Road. Like many conservative churches, its attendees are increasingly politically active. Some people have charged that the Faith Bible flock controls much of the local GOP machinery. "You know," Miller says, "somebody said to me, `Your church is taking over the Republican party.' Oh, that that were true! It's not true at all. They're just common, ordinary people who go to a wonderful church. I've been happy there for fifteen years."

Miller sees red when people--especially fellow Republicans--accuse her church of machinations. But she acknowledges that she has politicked at local churches. "I went out to other churches," she said, "and they gave me the microphone and said, `Pat, why don't you talk to the congregation?' You know, thousands of people there. My own church, I just got to stand up and wave at people. They're scared to death. So to say we have this big power base is a rumor. It is an absolute rumor and it is not true."

Faith Bible does offer political reading material in its main foyer, including newsletters from Focus on the Family and the Rocky Mountain Family Council. "They have material out, but that does not mean the church is involved in politics," says Miller. "Quite frankly, I wish they wish they were more involved in politics. I wish more churches were involved in politics. You can't separate the two. If you're a Christian, you can't go out and be something else for six days a week and then just go to church and be a Christian on Sunday morning. It's impossible. I say anybody who has a left-wing ideology has a religion of their own, too. And, of course, it influences their lives. It has to, or what good is it?"

Miller doesn't shy away from the term "Christian right." However, she adds, "I don't like `extreme right-wing religious fanatic.' I certainly don't like that. I don't know why I have to be labeled anything. Why am I not a `Reagan Republican'?"

By the late Eighties Pat Miller had made a complete conversion from her Democratic youth. She was named a Homemaker of the Year by the local chapter of the Eagle Forum, Phyllis Schlafly's organization. Today she marvels at her former beliefs.

"I voted for the ERA!" she recalls. "I was far left, far left. But women have been lied to. Women can have it all, but they want it too soon. Raise your children. Then you can do anything you want to do."

But with her burgeoning political career have come brickbats. "Especially after the last election," she says. "It was awful, and I expect it's going to be much worse. I had a phone call, and this guy said, `We've got you,' and I know they were working on a flier--did you see that flier? They put a picture of Pat Robertson with me in his pocket and said I was leader of the extreme religious right. I wasn't even on Pat Robertson's mailing list."

Miller does acknowledge that some of her fans can be a little extreme. "Taking up arms is not my thing," she says, referring to a topic often discussed by Patriots who loathe the federal government. "I figure if I can be on the air and say, `Look, there's hope, we can still do this peacefully,' I feel like I can be an influence in that group, too. Am I pro-gun? You bet I am. You bet. And I don't like what the government's doing. They are hacking away at the Constitution. If that is extreme, I'm an extreme person when it comes to defending the Constitution. If people don't start getting extremist on that issue, we're not going to have one. If you don't know what your freedoms are, you'll easily give them away."

And, yes, she doesn't like the U.N.
"Maybe I'm too pro-American. Maybe that's the problem," she says. "Maybe I'm supposed to go along with this new philosophy that we're all one world, you know. There are so many so-called fanatics and extremists in [the Patriot] movement that you have to walk around on eggshells, because if you're seen talking to someone, `Oh! Okay, well she must be anti-Semitic, then, because I saw her talking to so-and-so and he's anti-Semitic.' So you walk around and you think, I'd better not be seen with this person or that person. And I'm sorry, I can't be that way. I'm a real person. I love people. And if you're going to be an influence in the world, you talk to all kinds of people. It doesn't mean I agree with them or that they agree with me. You talk about coalition building? And shouldn't I be broadening my base?"

That may depend on what potential voters think are her real views. Take, for instance, the book on her coffee table, Rape of Justice: America's Tribunals Exposed, a how-to book for people who want to take lawyering into their own hands. Its author, a self-described historian named Eustace Mullins, is known for propagating the idea, based on his study of the Bible, that the phrase "Have a nice day" is a code that warns of an imminent Zionist pogrom against Christians.

"I haven't even read that book," Miller says when asked about it. "Somebody at work gave it to my husband."

Lynn Miller walks into the room just about then. He too swears he has "no idea" what the book's about.

"Yeah," says Pat Miller, "we have some pretty radical stuff around this house, but I can't say I didn't know about that if somebody asks me. You know, the U.N. thing, that's a red flag, you're not supposed to talk about the U.N. thing, but people are talking about it. And the Republicans who ran in my race didn't have an iota about the Federal Reserve Bank thing and the U.N. problems. But at the grassroots--deep--those things are going on."

What may be a "little issue" to the press can be a big deal to "grassroots" people, she adds.

"I guess I could say I'm radical on some issues, but David Skaggs is, too," says Miller. "Why are we not calling him radical? He thinks that same-sex marriages are okay. That's pretty radical. And that they should be covered with insurance. That's pretty radical. But, you see, if you're radical on the so-called right, you're made a big deal out of that. But if you're on the left, nobody says how radical you are. I made a statement [at a debate] about the Department of Education, and one of my supporters said, `You'd better not say that anymore.' Well, Ronald Reagan said it, too.

"The Department of Eduction is unconstitutional. We're supposed to worship at the feet of education. And public education is destroying our country. And that's not a radical statement. That is the truth! I never made that up. That's something that I read in the papers. Every day there's something about how poorly our children are doing. I think that's pretty radical to keep pumping money into a failing system. So I guess it depends on how you're talking about defining `radical.'

"The issues that surround me, yes, are controversial," she continues. "That's just the kind of person I am. If you look back at the people who founded this country, by golly we wouldn't have had one if they weren't radical. I mean, they were all religious."

Miller laughs and adds, "I mean, I am left of the Founding Fathers!"

Colorado has a reputation for independent voters. It is, after all, a state that once was represented simultaneously by Senators Gary Hart and Bill Armstrong. And the state's 2nd Congressional District has a particularly rich mix. It elected George Bush and David Skaggs at the same time. The district encompasses liberal Boulder, home of the University of Colorado and the Naropa Institute, and conservative Denver suburbs in northern Jefferson and western Adams counties. Plus Clear Creek and Gilpin counties, including the gambling towns of Central City and Black Hawk. Plus the Rocky Flats nuclear weapons plant, home to 14 tons of plutonium. It's a perfect place for doomsday Republicans.

The conservative hot spot in the 2nd District is northern Jefferson County, which along with Colorado Springs has become a locus of the right wing in Colorado. The area is home to the libertarian-right Colorado Taxpayers Party and the religious-right Rocky Mountain Family Council. It's the headquarters of Citizens for Responsible Government (CRG), the foremost anti-abortion organization in the state. Miller is the former executive director of CRG.

Also within the 2nd District is Colorado House District 27, which Miller represented from 1990 to 1992. She was preceded by such notables as David Bath, a law-and-order lawmaker who later was disgraced by a personal appearance in a bisexual porn video. Another predecessor of Miller's was Tom Tancredo, who later became regional head of the U.S. Department of Education under Ronald Reagan and George Bush. Tancredo, who believes that the department--and many other federal agencies--shouldn't even exist, now is head of the Independence Institute, a Golden think tank set up with Coors money. He's also a strong supporter of Miller and other candidates from the party's conservative Christian wing.

For a one-term legislator, Miller has quite an active political network in the northern suburbs. To begin with, the GOP chairman of District 27 is her husband, Lynn. Her former intern at the State Capitol, Cindy Gustafson, quit her job as state coordinator for Pat Robertson's Christian Coalition to work on Miller's campaign. (The local arm of the Christian Coalition branded David Skaggs a "foe of the family" before the '92 election.) The current GOP candidate for the District 27 House seat is Jim Congrove, who served on Miller's "John Q. Citizen" legislation-review panel when she was a state lawmaker and worked on her unsuccessful re-election bid for the District 27 seat in '92. The GOP candidate for the adjacent District 29 House seat is Mark Paschall, treasurer of a political organization Miller set up called Grassroots Colorado. Like Miller, Paschall and Congrove were actively opposed in the August primaries by party leaders and big money but won anyway.

Miller's allies also include conservative Catholics like Congrove and evangelical Christians from other churches. She personally trained 500 petition carriers for a CRG ballot initiative that would have mandated parental notification for teens who want abortions. (Enough signatures were gathered, but Secretary of State Natalie Meyer voided the petitions on a technicality; CRG is appealing.) Current CRG director Leslie Hanks, a columnist for the Colorado Christian News, writes hosannas to Miller and, at a recent joint appearance by Skaggs and Miller, grilled Skaggs from the audience about his contributions from Planned Parenthood.

In addition, Miller is soulmates with state senator Jim Roberts of Loveland (a contributor to her campaign) and state representative Charlie Duke of Monument, two of the legislature's most militant conservatives. And constantly beating the drum for her are Tancredo and his pal Marty Nalitz, the ex-KNUS talk-show host who now beams across the country on shortwave via "right-minded" KHNC in Johnstown.

end of part 1