The Astroturf Movement

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When Ross Perot first floated the idea of running for the White House, he put his fate in the hands of anonymous "volunteers." Their success at getting him on all 50 state ballots, he said, would be the deciding factor. Now that he is moving to return to the race, the Texas billionaire is again posing as a selfless Cincinnatus, standing ready to do the people's bidding. His decision to become a candidate again, he said last week, would come "from the bottom up." He added, "This is not three or four guys in a smoke-filled room deciding what we ought to be told to do."

In fact, the grass-roots movement he invokes looks more like an Astroturf carpet, rolled out by a cadre of Dallas insiders and funded out of Perot's deep pockets. Since he pulled out of the race on July 16, Perot has pumped in more than $4 million to keep his candidacy alive, much of it to bankroll the petition drive that has put him on the ballot in all 50 states.

In New York State alone, Perot paid about $1 million to hire 80 temporary workers through employment agencies and newspaper advertisements. Earning from $8 to $10 an hour, they crisscrossed New York City beseeching passersby to sign up before the state's Aug. 27th filing deadline. Elsewhere, Perot's bounty has subsidized the remains of his political operation. The Florida campaign, which has shrunk from 38 to 10 outposts, solicits donations through a newsletter. In South Carolina and other states, workers are hawking Perot bumper stickers, baseball caps and T shirts. But none of these offices could stay open without the $7,500 monthly stipends from Dallas to pay for rent, phones, utilities and supplies.

One of the shrewdest ploys for keeping Perot's name in the news was the % publication in August of his book, United We Stand, whose title is also the name of his newly launched advocacy group. The book contains the drastic economic prescriptions that Perot made public only after withdrawing from the race. Perot has won the attention and credibility he craves by helping to keep the slim volume on the New York Times paperback best-seller list. Volunteers, using the author's own money, are urged to buy the plan, then distribute it free of charge at Perot field offices, to public libraries and to interested voters. Steve Fridrich, director of the Perot campaign in Tennessee, has bought 2,000 copies. "People who earlier thought he couldn't do any good now think he can," Fridrich says. "The phone's ringing like crazy; it's like old home week. They're all coming back."

Fridrich and some other state leaders serve at Perot's pleasure. Without the advice of local volunteers, Perot headquarters has handpicked representatives, who are flown to Dallas for high-level meetings. Some of these leaders owe their positions to the dedication they showed earlier in the campaign. Others, however, belong to the tycoon's large network of personal cronies.