The worst candidate in Nevada

There are flawed candidates for public office. There are unqualified candidates. There are oddball candidates.

Then there's Greg Nance Dagani.

The Republican candidate for controller is all of the above and then some. Throw clueless and creepy onto the list of adjectives, and you're closer to describing the single worst candidate on June's ballot, a complete weirdo who wants to be in charge of cutting the state's checks.

"As the state controller, in my time off, I will work on getting prayer in public school because for the good of our country we need to return to our Christian values," Nance Dagani wrote on the Review-Journal's 2010 candidate information form. Does that sound like CFO material to you?

Nance Dagani is a walking, breathing reminder of why voters need to pay close attention to low-profile races, especially in low-turnout elections such as next month's primary, where the GOP contests for governor and U.S. Senate will command all the headlines.

Public ignorance has handed Dagani an election victory before. It could happen again.

I met Nance Dagani in 2006, when he was known as Greg Nyberg Nance and running for the District 5 seat on the State Board of Education. His endorsement interview with the Review-Journal's editorial board remains the most brutal one I've ever been a part of.

The Christian evangelist led a church that had its nonprofit status revoked. He knew nothing of the Board of Education's function (establishing policies governing public schools and setting graduation requirements), and he couldn't articulate a coherent thought about any major educational issues. He had never attended a Board of Education or School Board meeting.

Nance ran against Nevada Stupak, the son of gaming icon Bob Stupak. But Stupak did even less campaigning than Nance. He disappeared, refusing to acknowledge any interest in the office, hoping his last name would be enough to win election. Instead, Nance won.

The political newcomer missed a long stretch of meetings because of health problems and the death of his wife. He quickly remarried -- making a mockery of the board and himself in the process.

Nance had his blushing bride, Sharona Dagani, sit next to him throughout an August 2008 Board of Education meeting. They had met at a nursing home, where Nance, then 49, was recovering from multiple heart attacks, and Dagani, a 20-year-old quadriplegic with cerebral palsy and a $2 million trust fund, was being cared for.

When Nance wasn't wearing Elvis-style sunglasses or sleeping during the meeting -- he said "too much partying and rock 'n' roll" during a long honeymoon were the reasons for his fatigue -- he and his wife were giggling or making out.

Fellow board members expressed their objections to the distraction. The board's counsel asked Nance to show some decorum. Nance responded by saying it was perfectly legal for his wife to sit next to him, culminating his argument with, "Therefore, bite me!"

A few days after the spectacle, Nance resigned his seat. Elvis had left the building.

Nance later added his wife's last name to his own. Sharona Dagani's family is exhausting all legal options to get her away from Nance, with no success yet.

Last year, a Presbyterian church won a civil protection order against Nance Dagani, ordering him to stay away from the property, the pastor and the congregation. Now a roving missionary, Nance Dagani said the church is a cult that teaches young women to "let sexual pervs" touch them.

Pot, meet kettle?

The caressing cleric doesn't see his past behavior as a liability in next month's election.

"I did a rather good job as a member of the State Board of Education," Nance Dagani said Wednesday, completely missing the irony of him accusing other board members of "being asleep at meetings" on issues related to school choice.

I asked him if he married Sharona Dagani, a Democratic candidate for state Senate District 9, for her money. (Warning to readers: Shut down the part of your brain that creates images.)

"You take her away from that wheelchair, she's a fox," he said. "When she goes to bed, she's not in a wheelchair. When I crawl into bed with her, there's no money there.

"I mean, life's too short, you know ..."

"To be married to someone ugly?" I offered after a long pause.

"If you want to put it that way, yeah," Nance Dagani said.

All righty then! Good to know there's someone in Nevada politics besides Harry Reid who's missing a verbal filter.

Nance Dagani says managing his wife's wealth qualifies him to be controller: "I keep track of all the reports for her estate."

His GOP primary opponent is Barry Herr, president of the Las Vegas chapter of the Nevada Society of Certified Public Accountants. The winner of their race will challenge incumbent Democrat Kim Wallin in November. Herr, a UNLV graduate and 20-year resident of Las Vegas, said Thursday that an accounting and business background is a must for the controller's office.

Nance Dagani could only do so much damage as one of 10 voting members of the State Board of Education. Goodness knows he'd be a fit with the freak show that is the Assembly Democratic caucus.

But Nance Dagani isn't running for a single spot on a policymaking board. He wants one of six constitutional, executive branch positions, one with important fiscal responsibilities that puts him in charge of an entire office. It's this overreach, coupled with his, er, charms, that makes him the worst candidate in Nevada.

Glenn Cook (gcook@reviewjournal.com) is a Review-Journal editorial writer.