He's Back -- in Arizona

By MARGARET CARLSON

Arizona -- or "Seizure World," as Republican Senator John McCain once called its retirement communities -- is the state that said no to daylight saving time, turned its back on the Martin Luther King holiday and was the last to come around on Medicaid and the interstate highway system. It is home to two-fifths of the Keating Five (Senators Dennis DeConcini and John McCain), to Barry Goldwater (considered left of center by many natives), and to the nation's first impeached Governor in 59 years, Evan Mecham. It is not a place for the politically faint of heart.

Before the surprise announcement in January by platinum-haired Democratic Governor Rose Mofford that she would not seek re-election, it looked as if the Grand Canyon State would have a calm 1990 gubernatorial election. As the secretary of state who inherited the Governor's mansion in April 1988, Mofford, 67, was Arizona's Jerry Ford, healing the wounds inflicted by Mecham's impeachment for financial improprieties. She was ahead in the polls before she decided, "I want to start living for Rosie."

Now scrambling for her job are eight candidates -- and counting. Five are Republicans. Among them is Mecham, rising phoenix-like from the political dustheap just two years after he was thrown out of office. Says his button- down, blue-blood G.O.P. opponent, J. Fife Symington, "Tragically, Ev is the guy to beat in this primary."

Mecham's comeback began last winter when he and his supporters, known as "Evanistas," once again took control of the Republican Party, winning a resolution at the state convention declaring the U.S. a "Christian nation." The Republican speaker of the house and the leader of the senate, who had voted to impeach Mecham, were defeated in primaries. On the highways, EV WAS RIGHT bumper stickers began to outnumber EVAN THE TERRIBLE. It was a remarkable turnaround for a Governor who became a laughingstock for defending the use of the word pickaninny and swearing his office was bugged with lasers.

With a small but dedicated following, Mecham would benefit if Annetta Conant swells the G.O.P. field to six. She is a former Evanista who pushed the legalization of Laetrile, the crackpot cancer cure, and secured a letter from Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor (a fellow Arizonan) erroneously citing legal precedents for the Christian-nation resolution. The most recent entrant is ex-Congressman Sam Steiger, a rodeo bulldogger, airplane wing walker, horse-race broadcaster, rancher and now electronic-equipment entrepreneur. He was convicted of extortion when he was an aide to Mecham, but it was overturned.

Symington, with the looks of a golf pro and the bankroll of a developer, is the hope of the Republican middle. Sitting in his Ralph Laurenesque office, he - boasts of building the world's second largest indoor parking garage so that tenants of his Phoenix office complex never have to endure a moment without air conditioning -- an accomplishment that could comprise a political philosophy in a state where it's not the humidity but the egg-frying heat that dogs people. Symington was virtually unknown until he waged a state-of-the-art zoning fight, the first to use television ads. He may see the race as a grudge match against telegenic former Phoenix Mayor Terry Goddard, a Democratic candidate who fought his high-rise development. "Goddard is all glitzy veneer, all ambition, the John Lindsay of Arizona," says Symington. "Remember how New York went off the cliff."

Compared with the Republican primary, the Democratic race looks benign. The favorite is Goddard, a three-term mayor whose father Sam was once Governor. With his Jay Rockefeller looks, Jack Kennedy charm and squeaky-clean politics (he now refuses PAC money), Goddard has Democratic presidential hopeful written all over him. This being Arizona, the unmarried Goddard was forced to campaign for mayor by announcing, "I am not gay." A Phoenix newspaper ran a front-page interview with various former girlfriends attesting to his honesty on the point.

There are few second acts in American politics. Even in the anything-can- happen state, Mecham may be making only a cameo appearance. A Phoenix radio station ran a Mecham joke contest. One finalist: "What's a pickaninny?" "That's how Arizona elects a Governor."