Aaron Russo, RIP —
At the Libertarian Party convention during the summer of 2004, the presidential nomination was competitive. Aaron Russo drew the most votes on the first two ballots but lost on the third ballot, when his two main rivals combined their support.
That convention was the first time that many libertarians had heard of Russo. He was a "Hollywood guy" who struck a few as abrasive . . . but many more as passionate and direct.
Russo was a strong character. He was born in working-class Brooklyn but raised in the middle-class suburbs on Long Island; he had an intense personality and restless intelligence. While still a high school student, Russo started producing local rock and roll concerts. His intensity was a good fit for what could be a tough business.
In the late 1960s, the music business took Russo to Chicago. He owned a popular nightclub called Kinetic Playground; and "kinetic" was a good word for the man. He made a national reputation in the music industry during those years — working as a promoter or manager for acts like Led Zeppelin, the Who, the Grateful Dead, and Janis Joplin. While rock-and-roll paid the bills, Russo's musical interests were broad, including Chicago's jazz and blues scenes; and he developed an autodidact's interest in everything from art to history to politics.
In the early 1970s, he took over as business manager for the New York-based cabaret singer Bette Midler. Under Russo's management, Midler grew from a quirky singer on the fringes of the New York scene to a major recording artist. He booked Midler on Broadway, teaming her with jazz great Lionel Hampton in the extremely popular "Clams on the Half-Shell Revue."
When Hollywood called Midler, Russo followed. He was a driving force behind her first movie — a fictionalized version of Janis Joplin's life called "The Rose." Midler earned an Academy Award nomination for the part; Russo earned a producer credit and . . . entry. Through the 1970s and 1980s, he settled into a career as a Hollywood macher. His movies included "Trading Places," "Wise Guys," and "Rude Awakening."
In the early 1990s, Russo had some major tax disputes with the IRS and California state authorities and was inspired to get active in politics by Ross Perot's maverick presidential campaign. Russo formed the Constitution Party, which had a small-government platform similar to that of the Libertarian Party. Perhaps too similar. The new party failed to get off the ground.
In 1994, Russo created the pilot for a one-hour political TV show he called "Aaron Russo's Mad as Hell." The show, expanding on the style of political comedians like Dennis Miller and Bill Maher, highlighted libertarian views on the IRS, Social Security, and NAFTA. Unable to find a syndicator for the show, Russo sold the pilot as a video with some success.
Russo made his first formal bid for political office in 1998, when he sought the Republican nomination for governor of Nevada. He came in second in the primary, drawing over 25% of the vote in a four-way race.
The following year, Russo joined the Libertarian Party. In 2000, he delivered a fiery speech at its national convention, calling the LP the "last, best hope for freedom in America." He planned to run again for governor of Nevada in 2002; but, early that year, he was diagnosed with bladder cancer. He put politics on hold while getting treatment for the disease.
In January 2004, with his cancer apparently in remission, Russo announced that he would seek the LP's nomination to run for president. On the campaign trail, he hammered out a clear vision:
I will bring our troops home from every corner of the globe. I'll revoke the Patriot Act. I'll cut taxes, cut spending. I'll cut the size of government. I'll stop corporate welfare. I'll engage all nations in trade and commerce. I'll protect our air and water, and I'll protect our borders. But, most importantly, I will protect our Constitution and Bill of Rights.
After several close ballots, though, Russo fell short of the votes he needed.
Next, Russo turned his attention to the tax protest movement. He wrote, produced, directed, and starred in a documentary feature called "America: From Freedom to Fascism." The film positioned Russo as the Michael Moore of tax protest. Promoting the film, he said:
[T]he IRS is putting people in jail for no reason, no law. In 1894, the Congress tried to pass a law but the Supreme Court shot it down. In 1916, the Supreme Court . . . said that the U.S. government did not have the authority to tax the labor of the people. Income as a corporate gain is taxable; it doesn't mean your labor is taxable. Each person owns their own life and their own labor. . . . I will do everything in my power to shut down this system, this Federal Reserve system, and this takeover of our government by them. It's about freedom of the individual, not about institutions.
The tax protest movement is reviled by establishment media — and the response to Russo's film reflected this. A New York Times article made snide reference to the tax liens resulting from Russo's disputes with the IRS as the real reason for his political beliefs.
In the end, though, Russo's cancer was a far bigger problem than the bitchiness of the New York Times. Earlier this year, it returned and — on August 24 — prevailed.
Aaron Russo was 64. His children and his long-time girlfriend were with him at the end.
Russo generated lots of quotable soundbites during his several campaigns. One, from the 2004 presidential run, stands out: "I believe there are millions and millions of unheard voices in America who would come out and vote for someone they believed in."
Amen, brother.
— Jim Walsh
Well, no. But that's not what's going on. This kind of sex is clandestine, and it would remain so if the cops didn't show up to drag the participants out of the stalls. So spare me the business about the kids, and I won't be tempted to discuss the ugly images of sexuality to which children are exposed merely by flipping through the mainstream TV channels. The Victorians weren't the last people to be hypocrites about sex. Our culture is soaking in hypocrisy.