More than a decade ago I sat in Jason Lewis' "Leave It to Beaver" living room for an interview with the talk radio host, who was probably near the height of his on-air popularity. It was a quiet, suburban morning. Sweatpants and slippers, a cup of coffee and a collection of daily newspapers. The wife doing laundry. The photogenic kids, the three-car garage.
Lewis, who had gotten clobbered in his only prior foray into electoral politics in 1990, admitted then that he could see himself running for office again someday because, like radio, politics "gets in your blood."
You might think a guy with a hunger for office might mind his rhetoric, might temper his words over the next decade or so. But the radio job called for bluster, for controversy and confrontation, and Lewis, "Mr. Right," delivered.
Some of the most egregious comments were about young women, whom he called "Stepford wives" because they wanted insurance to cover their birth control pills and who "couldn't explain to you what GDP was." He also had controversial comments about slavery ("If you don't want to own a slave, don't, but don't tell other people they can't"), which he later said were misunderstood or taken out of context.
Now he's the GOP nominee for the U.S. House of Representatives in Minnesota's Second District, and the DFL will certainly use some of his more contentious statements against him — just as his Republican opponents did in the primary.
Given the rise of Donald Trump — despite comments that would have derailed any previous candidate — does it even matter anymore?
My question for Lewis on Tuesday was: Did radio hosts like Jason Lewis make Donald Trump possible, or is Trump making Lewis possible?
Lewis laughed. "I was paid to be provocative, and I did my job well," he said, declining to take credit or blame for the tone of political discourse in 2016.