I remember Aaron Russo

AARON RUSSO WAS A JOKE IN NEVADA IN 1998.

Of all the longtime Nevadans who have since been falsely libeled with the slur "carpetbagger," Russo was that rare thing: An actual carpetbagger. He'd just moved in, barely had a local phone number, and was often found back in his native California.

A Hollywood producer with a libertarian bent, he'd had a storied past producing movies and rock-and-roll.

But not Nevada politics. That was the province of the experts, the Sig Rogiches, the Pete Ernauts, the Billy Vassiliadises, the Terry Murphys. They had all lined up behind another guy who'd never run for office before, Kenny Guinn. He was the serious one, he was destined to be the next governor.

Russo was the joke.

Except that he wasn't.

Russo, who died Aug. 25 after a long battle with cancer, had the organizing chops to prevent Guinn from winning the endorsement of his own Clark County Republican Party, even after the primary, when Guinn's only opponent was Democrat Jan Jones.

They may have lacked the expertise, the deep Nevada roots and access to the even deeper Nevada pockets, but Russo's supporters were fanatical, devoted and energized. They wanted somebody who would shake things up, surely not Guinn, the darling of the political establishment who would go on to govern almost precisely as the establishment had ordained.

Russo lost, of course. But that didn't stop him.

He returned in 2002, with a kickoff announcement at McCormick & Schmick's, a venue later sullied by a less circumspect governor wannabe. On that day, however, Russo didn't shy away from his key themes. Sure, he'd legalize marijuana. Why not?

And hell, yeah, the IRS was out of control. Its agents should lay off Nevada's working people.

Guinn, who was running for re-election, didn't want to say that he was planning the largest tax increase in Nevada history. (It was also a long overdue tax increase, which Guinn wouldn't get enough credit for proposing.) But Russo, he didn't much care for taxes, and he said so.

"I think the people of Nevada truly deserve a choice. Last time, we did amazingly well," Russo told me in 2002. (He's not lying; he got 26 percent in the 1998 Republican primary, and beat former Lt. Gov. Lonnie Hammargren.)

To Guinn's people, most quotably Ernaut, Russo was "a certifiable, five-alarm nut job." To be sure, Russo's 1998 bid was undone with the discovery of a video of a long-haired Russo railing against the income tax.

Added the portly Ernaut: "I've got a better chance of winning the Olympic downhill in Salt Lake City than he has of winning the [governor's] race."

Russo didn't even compete when he found out he had cancer. He quit the race to fight the disease.

But two years later, he was back, running for an even higher office -- president -- gunning for the Libertarian nomination. He lost that race, and, three years later, his long battle with cancer.

Russo will go down in Nevada political history as one of the most successful carpetbaggers. Nevada political journalists who covered him will recall him as one of the zany characters they met, a story to tell over beers, a punchline or the answer to the ultimate political trivia quiz.

But we should also give Russo his due. He was a flawed messenger, to be sure, but he was right about one thing: Nevadans do deserve a choice. They shouldn't always have to pick from a list of candidates approved by the establishment, with everybody else shut out of the process. (In 2002, Guinn's eventual Democratic opponent -- Joe Neal -- didn't get much notice because he had the gall to suggest raising the gambling tax.)

So thank Aaron Russo, not just for the entertainment, but for the timely reminder: Politics is what we make of it.

Steve Sebelius is editor of CityLife. He can be reached at 871-6780, ext. 306 or Ssebelius@lvcitylife.com