"I think the time is right," he said. "You've won every one of your past elections because you've been able to get good support from the different ethnic groups. In fact, you are one of the few (Filipino-American politicians) who's been able to get strong AJA support. That vote along with the Filipino vote will give you a good shot at winning the Democratic primary. Frankly, I think you should go for it. I don't think things will get any better for you," Seigle concluded.

As Seigle spoke, I recalled (Democratic party veteran) Mike Tokunaga's words after (John) Waihee and I won the 1986 election: "Ben, we AJAs had our chance with Ariyoshi, now it's the Hawaiians' turn with Waihee — you be patient ... the Filipinos will have their turn next time."

If I ran, I would have the best political analyst in Hawai'i. Seigle, a tall, urbane haole who always looked as if he could use a suntan, had been recommended to me by banker Walter Dods for the 1986 election. Seigle had established himself as the dean of Hawai'i's political consultants, working closely with the renowned national political consultant Joe Napolitan to strategize remarkable come-from-behind election victories for Jack Burns and George Ariyoshi. Seigle and Napolitan had never lost a governor's election in Hawai'i. In 1968, Napolitan had helped Hubert Humphrey erase a 17-point deficit, only to lose to Richard Nixon in the closest presidential election in American history. My win over Eileen Anderson in 1986 gave me a firsthand look at Seigle's political skills.

Looking over the potential Democratic competition, I felt I had a good shot at winning the primary. In 1992, I decided to run. My feelings had evolved to the point that I wanted to be governor. I remained as idealistic about my political beliefs as I had been when I was first elected in 1974, but it was more than that. Deep in my gut I did not think any other Democrat could beat either (Mayor) Frank Fasi or (former U.S. Rep.) Pat Saiki.

Charlie Toguchi had resigned as superintendent of education to be my campaign manager. He and I were close friends, and I knew from our days in the Senate that he had great political instincts, was tough in a fight-and, most important, was honest to the core. Toguchi hit it off well with Seigle and Napolitan, and a strong bond of trust and respect developed among them. The three would plan the strategy for our campaign.

A poll taken by Seigle in 1992 reinforced what the polls we took for the 1990 election had shown: I was rated high marks for independence and honesty, while on the other hand, I was seen by too many as arrogant and brash. In other words, although many voters did not like my style, the majority thought I was a man of good character. ...

"How much do we need to run a competitive campaign?" I asked.

"About 3 million," Seigle answered. "Fasi and Saiki will outspend you (they did). But we can even things by out-organizing them. The labor unions can help us make up the difference."

"It'll be tough to raise that kind of money," I said.

"Yeah, but if you win the Democratic Primary, the money will come," Seigle replied. "Try to get out front early in your fundraising. If you have a good-sized campaign kitty by 1994, you might scare off other Democrats."

"Right."

"How much will it cost?"

"To produce it, buy television time and bring in Harry Mulheim from San Francisco to help write the script — between $300,000 and $400,000."

"That's a lot of money," I said.

"Yes, but we know it works; it did for Burns and Ariyoshi. Joe and I think it's crucial for your campaign."

By the end of 1993, we had raised more than $750,000. It was a good start and a good sign that there was support for us out there.

At the time, no other Democrat seemed seriously interested in running. On the other side, the opposition seemed formidable: Frank Fasi, who served as Honolulu's mayor for more than 20 years, would run as an independent (Best Party), and Saiki would be the Republican nominee. The two were tough, experienced and smart. I was looking forward to the election.

Early polls showed Saiki holding a big lead. I was in second place, about 30 points behind her, and Fasi was in third, a few points behind me.

This election would not be about issues.

No one knew Frank Fasi better than Seigle and Napolitan. They had tangled with him several times in the past and beaten him each time.

"Focus on organizing, fundraising and getting your message out," Napolitan advised me. "At some point, Fasi will probably have to attack Saiki to move up from third place."

Meanwhile, they wanted me to stay away from getting into controversy and confrontation.

"Everyone knows you're a fighter, Ben, but we need to show them you are also a reasonable and compassionate man," Seigle said, grinning.

"Yeah, I don't know if that's possible," Napolitan joked.

We had hoped to get through the Democratic primary without opposition but in July 1994, Jack Lewin, who was Waihee's director of the Department of Health, entered the race. Lewin, I thought, had been one of Waihee's best Cabinet members. He was articulate, energetic and bright. I had a high regard for him.

There was talk that he had been urged to run by some of Waihee's close supporters, among them Warren Price and Sharon Himeno. Waihee himself stayed neutral.

It didn't matter. I knew Lewin would be a tough opponent, but I felt confident that I would beat him. I believed my time had come.

"Well, Ben, unless you do something crazy, you should beat him in the primary," Seigle said. "Just be careful what you say about him, because if we can't get him to help us in the general election, we need to at least keep him neutral."

That would be easy because I liked and had high respect for Lewin.

On September 20, 1994, I defeated Lewin and four others with 57 percent of the vote. With only six weeks between the primary and the November general election, our primary victory gave us much-needed momentum — a head start — over Fasi and Saiki. As they were mustering their campaign workers, our supporters hit the ground running. And Seigle was right — after winning the primary, the money came; we managed to raise the $3 million needed to run a strong campaign.

Mazie Hirono, a former state representative, had won the Democratic primary for lieutenant governor. Hirono had come to Hawai'i from Japan when she was 5. She was raised by her mother, attended public schools and graduated from the University of Hawai'i and Georgetown Law School. Ethnically, she was a perfect foil to Saiki.

Fasi's running mate was Danny Kaleikini, one of Hawai'i's most popular entertainers. Danny, who had never run for office before, had a great sense of humor. Once a reporter asked him if he and Fasi won the election, what would he do as lieutenant governor if Fasi had a heart attack? After a short pause, Danny said jokingly, "I'd call 911!" prompting laughter from the reporters.

Fred Hemmings was Saiki's running mate. It was an odd pairing. Saiki was a liberal-moderate Republican; Hemmings was a wannabe Newt Gingrich conservative. From our point of view, Hemmings was the perfect choice.

Just as Napolitan had predicted, Fasi ran a negative attack campaign against Saiki and me. Fasi always ran hard-hitting campaigns, but his 1994 campaign was particularly nasty. Perhaps it was because he realized that, at age 74, he was facing his last real chance to achieve his longtime dream of becoming Hawai'i's governor in the 1994 election. He was unpredictable. Once, he publicly challenged me to a push-up contest. Even at his age, Fasi had the physique of fitness guru Jack LaLanne. Naturally, I joked my way out of it.

Before resigning as mayor in July 1994, as he had to do in order to run for governor, Fasi decided to fire Jeremy Harris, the city managing director. By law, Harris, as managing director, would become acting mayor once Fasi resigned. Thereafter, a special election for a new mayor would be held during the September primary election.

Harris saw this as an opportunity to get back into politics. As acting mayor he would have an advantage over his opponents. But a problem arose that upset Fasi. Harris was trying to recruit city workers and others who had been part of Fasi's campaign organization and were needed for Fasi's gubernatorial campaign. Fasi warned Harris several times not to do it anymore. When Harris persisted, Fasi called him in to tell him he was fired.

A few years after I was elected, I asked Sam Callejo, who had joined my administration as the director of the Department of Accounting and General Services, about the story. Callejo had been Fasi's deputy managing director and had campaigned for Fasi against me. But he was highly respected for his honesty, loyalty and professionalism (Fasi had an excellent Cabinet), and I offered him a Cabinet post.

"Sam, is there any truth to the story?" I asked.

"Well, Harris did not get on his knees and wrap his arms around Fasi's legs," Callejo replied, grinning, "but he did cry and beg to keep his job."

"How do you know?"

"I was there," Callejo said.

"What did Harris say?"

"He went on and on about how if Frank fired him it would hurt his campaign for mayor in the special election and pleaded with Frank for another chance. It was embarrassing."

"What did Fasi say?"

"Well, Frank felt sorry for him and kept him on, which turned out to be a big mistake."

"Why?"

"The day Frank resigned as mayor, he met with the Cabinet and thanked us for our support, and then later the Cabinet walked over with him, Joyce (Mrs. Fasi) and their kids to your office (the Office of the Lieutenant Governor) to show our support as he signed his nomination papers."

"Yeah, I was there to greet him," I reminded Callejo.

"Well, while we were grouped around Frank and Joyce for photos, someone noticed that Jeremy was the only Cabinet member not there. When we got back to City Hall, we were shocked to find that Harris had already moved into Frank's old office and Frank's personal belongings had been put in cardboard boxes piled up in the hallway!"

"The body wasn't even cold and the guy moved in," I chuckled.

"I don't think Frank ever saw the inside of that office again," Callejo said.

Fasi had campaign ideas of his own. Using his daily radio program, he repeated unsubstantiated rumors about my personal life. These were cheap shots that even the news media ignored. On one broadcast, however, Fasi accused me of trying to bribe the owner of an Italian restaurant located in one of the Nauru Towers near Ala Moana Beach Park. This I could not ignore. We quickly called a press conference, and I challenged Fasi to join me in submitting to a lie-detector test given by the FBI. Whoever failed the test would promise to drop out of the governor's race. For once, Fasi was at a loss for words; the restaurant owner said Fasi had misunderstood him, and that ended the matter.

Fasi then turned on Pat Saiki. Using a technique called "morphing," Fasi produced a television spot that showed a photo of Saiki slowly evolving into a photo of Larry Mehau, a close friend and supporter of Saiki and Andy Anderson. Mehau had long been accused by malcontents like Charles Marsland and Rick Reed of being the "Godfather" of organized crime in Hawai'i. Fasi had no love for Mehau, who had helped Ariyoshi beat him in the 1974 election.

When Seigle and Napolitan saw Fasi's morphing ad, they both shook their heads. "The man has lost it," Seigle said. Napolitan, who looked as if he wanted to dance a little jig, chuckled, "Ben, stay out of it; don't get in a fight with either one; let them beat each other up."

On November 6, 1994, Hirono and I were elected with 35.8 percent of the vote; Fasi and Kaleikini finished second with 30 percent and Saiki and Hemmings came in third with 28.6 percent.