By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By Keegan Hamilton and Francisco Alvarado
By Jake Rossen
By Allie Conti
By Kyle Swenson
By Chris Joseph
By Michael E. Miller
Amid the glad-handing, backslapping, speechifying, and pamphleteering that is the monthly meeting of the Pembroke Pines Democratic Club sits Lionel Stewart, candidate for Broward County sheriff, muttering under his breath.
Every candidate who showed up tonight is allotted two minutes of podium time to preach to the choir about why he or she is the best man or woman for a particular office. Stewart is fidgeting, looking at his watch, waiting his turn.
"OK, OK, get it over with," he says out of the side of his mouth as David Brown, a candidate for supervisor of elections, runs well beyond 120 seconds. Miriam Oliphant, running for the same office, spends a good chunk of her time mentioning prominent Broward County politicos with whom it's been her honor to work.
"You hear a lot of people drop names," says Stewart sotto voce. "I don't drop names."
Finally it's his turn. He climbs the steps to the stage, pulls the microphone out of its stand, and steps in front of the podium. "I think the election for sheriff is about one issue," he says in a voice both clear and loud. "Qualifications. I've walked the walk and talked the talk. I've put people in jail." Then his elastic face wrinkles like a bulldog's, his eyebrows almost coming to a point directly above his nose as he ratchets his voice up a notch to deliver a favorite line: "No raids will be conducted in this county without my knowledge!"
Stewart is referring, of course, to the infamous swingers club busts in which sheriff's deputies arrested couples coupling at Trapeze II and Athena's Forum in February 1999. The arrests ultimately proved a colossal embarrassment to the sheriff's department.
Stewart's speech takes maybe a minute. "When you have something to say, say it and sit down," he says, doing just that.
What kind of politician would pass up an opportunity to bore a crowd senseless with self-aggrandizement? No kind. And therein lies the heart of the matter. Stewart is no politician. He's a career cop with 43 years of experience, many of those spent undercover busting foreign drug rings. He's worked in law-enforcement management positions overseeing hundreds of employees scattered around the state and around the country. He's an affable, self-described "common man" who likes to hang out in strip-mall cafés in western Broward.
But he's never held an elected office. And barring some unforeseen miracle, he'll lose again in his third bid to be the Broward County sheriff this September. That's because he's up against Ken Jenne, one of the slickest players Broward politics has ever produced. Jenne has an incumbent's name recognition, nearly ten times as much money, and friends in high places.
As Broward political wag Ron Gunzburger puts it, "Lionel is a sincere person who truly believes he would make a good sheriff. But he is so out of touch with the political reality of Broward County. He is the only person in the world who believes he could win."
Well, not quite the only person. Doris Barnett, a member of the Pembroke Pines Democratic Club, thinks Stewart can do it. "Until the fat lady sings, until I get up and sing, Lionel still has a chance," she says.
Stewart, 66 years old, was born and raised in Brooklyn. Though he was an only child, his parents couldn't afford to send him to college, so he joined the army at age 18. He was wounded while serving in the Korean War and received a Purple Heart and Bronze Star while overseas. But the experience taught him that the life of a military policeman might be safer than being on the frontline. "Off the record," he says, "MPs waved people toward the front. Shortly after I got wounded, I said, "I want to do that.'" In 1952 he did.
Six years later he joined the army's Criminal Investigation Division, or CID, and began his career as an investigator. The work eventually took him all over the world as an undercover agent. His specialty was breaking up drug rings within the army; he spent two years in Vietnam "busting opium dens and marijuana houses with the Vietnamese national police," a period of his life he remembers with a gleam in his eye. He earned a bachelor's degree in military science while in the service and retired in 1971. End of career number one.
Career number two began in 1971 when Stewart joined the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, known these days as the Drug Enforcement Administration, or DEA. In 20 years with the agency, he was stationed in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Indianapolis, Washington, Bangkok, Singapore, and points between. He worked undercover for more than nine years, and he was good at his job. In 1977 Asiaweek magazine wrote an article about Stewart, describing him this way: "At a crowded late-night bar where he kept bobbing up, then disappearing, with regular irregularity, he gained a circle of drinking acquaintances. When asked about his job the big muscular black American sidestepped."
From 1983 to 1988, Stewart was stationed in Washington, D.C., as the executive secretary to the career board, which was in charge of promotions and transfers for the entire DEA. It was just about impossible to please anyone at that job, he recalls. "I was hated equally by everybody. I don't like making deals, I don't like cliques. You'll see I don't hang around with a lot of people."