Rendezvous with Destiny: Ronald Reagan and the Campaign that Changed America

by Shirley, Craig

  Though struggling to survive, Bush, like Reagan, had utterly devoted young people working for him, most now without pay. Some, such as Ron Kaufman, traveled to Michigan on their own dime. “As hokey as it sounds, I think working for Bush is the best thing I can do for the country,” Kaufman said, and no one doubted his sincerity.19

  Bill Peterson, a thoughtful journalist for the Washington Post, summed up what working in a national campaign meant in 1980. No outsider would ever really understand it. Peterson did: “You have to remember the kind of people who go to work in political campaigns. They are young, ambitious, fascinated with the process. People with few enough attachments that they can afford to gamble. The Bush campaign was a big gamble for all of them from the beginning.”20

  Peterson's prose applied to all the campaigns and nearly all the workers in them. They were patriots, devoted to their candidates, believers in the rightness of their cause. They worked long hours for little or no pay. For most, it was not about money, power, or glory; they believed the man they worked for had the answers and was the leader America needed in the dark days of 1980. There was not one campaign in 1980 where devoted staffers did not, at some point, go without pay, and many were never reimbursed for lost wages.

  They were so emotionally invested in their candidate, their cause, and one another, that the thought of giving up and walking away was abhorrent. When they were paid, they worked for what UPI described as “coolie wages.”21

  On the Reagan campaign, one of the impressive young staffers was the conservative writer Anthony Dolan. Dolan had won a Pulitzer Prize for exposing local corruption in Connecticut, and he wrote occasionally for National Review.22 He was also a certified character. In an earlier incarnation, he composed and sang right-wing folk songs in Greenwich Village coffeehouses. Dolan got his opportunity with the Reagan campaign when one top aide, with the unlikely name of Anderson Carter, resigned after feuding with some on the campaign staff and went back to his New Mexico ranch.23 As longtime Reaganite Carter was walking out the door, in walked Dolan, becoming an aide to campaign chief Bill Casey.

  Another young operative in 1980 was Charlie Black, who reemerged after his dismissal from the Reagan campaign by busily organizing a political action committee for Congressman Jack Kemp.24 No one doubted for a moment that the real purpose of the group was to boost Kemp for the ticket with Reagan.

  Former American Conservative Union executive Jim Roberts and direct-mail strategist Bruce Eberle were busily organizing their own draft-Kemp organization called Republicans for Victory in 1980. Kemp aide Dave Smick did not discourage the effort for his boss, but he told them to be careful.25 Others championing Kemp as the vanguard of the Reagan future were Congressmen Trent Lott of Mississippi, David Stockman of Michigan, and Newt Gingrich of Georgia, along with neoconservative writer Irving Kristol.26 While one of Kemp's colleagues told the New York Times—on background of course—that he was a “light-weight,” in fact Kemp was exploding with ideas, mostly economic. From enterprise zones to incentives for individuals, schools, and small businesses, he loved the arcane world of economics. Woe to the young staffer who asked Kemp a question about some obscure economist; while the aide might receive an excellent lecture, it could go on for hours.27

  Kemp himself was intrigued with the idea of joining the ticket, but said nothing publicly.28

  ON THE DAY OF the primaries in Oregon and Michigan, Reagan stood at 939 delegates, according to the generous media accounts at UPI.29 The wins he expected in the two primaries would put him over the top at last.

  Reagan, however, clearly needed to take a break from his arduous schedule. Speaking at the University of Oregon, he was hissed and booed by some students, and his temper got the better of him. To one heckler who was especially boorish, Reagan bellowed, “You don't want to hear the truth! That's why you're stupid!” Reagan was trying to give a speech on how the Carter administration's tight credit policies were choking off small businesses, but instead it looked as if he might put his own fingers around the throat of the student. He cooled down … mostly. “I said ‘stupid.’ I shouldn't have said that. It was very impolite. He was just rude.”30

  The next day, Reagan got an even more unwelcomed retort from the people of Michigan: he was completely routed in the state's Republican primary. Bush won Michigan big, 57 percent to Reagan's 32 percent. Nobody saw it coming. The media hadn't bothered to do any polling, since they assumed that Reagan would win, and neither campaign had had the money to poll the state. The turnout in Michigan was paltry, only 13 percent, but it didn't matter. Bush had won big; it was his biggest win yet, in fact. Although Reagan won Oregon, most media organizations—and even his own campaign—showed him still short of the delegates needed for the nomination.31

  It was Bush's night, or at least he and his team thought it should have been. Bush had won Michigan on sheer grit. Reagan had seventeen primary wins to Bush's six, but the results in Michigan opened up questions anew about the Gipper's ability to carry big northern states in the fall. For a moment, Bush was exultant, his campaign reinflated.

  Yet at precisely the moment that Bush seemed to have again jump-started his campaign, ABC and CBS called the nomination for Reagan. ABC was the first to call it, at 11:30 P.M. eastern time, at the top of Nightline: “ABC News projects that Ronald Reagan has now gained enough delegates to clinch the Republican nomination for president.” CBS followed minutes later.32 Reagan appeared on both networks, where he was congratulated by reporters. Bush's men were galled when they later found out that the networks had told Reagan the day of the primaries, when votes were still being counted, that they would declare him the nominee of the Republican Party.33

  Frustrated and furious, Bush told reporters he “shouldn't be written off.”34 Jim Baker was as angry as Bush at the networks for prematurely calling the race. The normally calm Texan said raising money for the upcoming California contest in this environment would be “goddamn tough.”35

  Reagan said he wasn't going to argue with ABC and CBS, although he stopped short of actually claiming victory. He issued a statement saying, “The future looks very good,” but conceding that “we don't have the number needed for nomination.” Reagan was secluded at his ranch, but later went down the mountain to meet with reporters gathered in Santa Barbara.36

  Members of his staff spoke on background to Lou Cannon of the Washington Post and were far less gracious than Reagan was. “Within the Reagan camp, there are those who care less for Republican rival Bush than they do for Jimmy Carter, or maybe even the Ayatollah Khomeini,” Cannon wrote. “These Reaganites see Bush as a party wrecker whose persistence in a long-lost cause diminishes the chance for Republican Party unity in November. They would like to criticize their opponent in these terms.”37 No one need guess who these erupting Reaganites were. Lyn Nofziger and several others detested Bush. Reagan, though, was keeping his own counsel on Bush's departure from the race.

  Reagan's own ultracautious count showed him at 910 delegates.38 There was also the matter of technically uncommitted but in fact pro-Reagan delegates already selected. And in one week, on May 27, the primaries in Kentucky, Nevada, Arkansas, and Idaho would take place. No one thought for a moment that Reagan would not do well in each. Then one week after that, hundreds of delegates would be selected in not only California, Ohio, and New Jersey but also Montana, New Mexico, and South Dakota. Reagan had an 8–1 polling lead over Bush in his home state and strong delegate slates in the Buckeye State and the Garden State.39

  Even with Bush running out of time, money, and primaries, Ford publicly encouraged him to hang in there. Clearly, the Reagan staff's proffered olive branch of a Ford VP slot was not having the desired effect. By this point, it was the political equivalent of drawing to an inside straight for Bush.

  The Reagan operation leaked to reporters that if Bush got out now, Reagan just might consider him for the ticket. Few, if any, in the media or either camp believed that was based in reality. Bush obviously didn't believe it, be
cause he pushed on to New Jersey for a day of campaigning.

  Jim Baker and Dave Keene met on Capitol Hill to review the bleak situation with a couple of dozen Bush supporters, but the group of congressmen came out of the meeting declaring that Bush should get out and endorse Reagan for the sake of the party. The leader of Bush's supporters on Capitol Hill was Barber Conable, the venerable congressman from western New York. When reporters confronted Bush with his erstwhile supporters' statement, he was “visibly shaken,” according to the Washington Post.40

  Bush conceded to reporters that he did not believe he would have sufficient resources to contest California unless he went into debt for $250,000. His campaign, however, said money was budgeted and available for Ohio and New Jersey.41 A Potemkin Village–like office had been opened in San Francisco for Bush, manned by son Jeb Bush and Rich Bond, and then was just as quickly closed.42 Bond was sent back to Washington to wait for the final decision. He had organized Bush's big win in Iowa, and there was a poignant symmetry to his being in on the first victory for Bush and now the possible last defeat.43

  Ambassador Bush was sequestered in a reeking Holiday Inn located in a swamp just off the New Jersey Turnpike. The mangy hotel didn't even have a bar, just a corner where one could get a lukewarm beer.44 Bush was out of touch with his campaign team in Virginia. With his nerves frayed, he went on a local radio show, where a caller harassed him and told Bush he ought to get out of the race. Bush lost it. “I don't need a lecture from you on that,” he shot back.45 He also spoke in private with former president Ford, who was in New Jersey. Ford, the old Navy man, encouraged Bush, another old Navy man, once again not to give up the ship.46

  Incredibly, at the same time, Ford was talking to Reagan by phone, promising to campaign hard for him—if he was the nominee, and if Reagan made some concessions, including granting Ford veto power over the Gipper's running mate. Reagan went along with Ford's demands for the time being and told reporters that the former president would be part of his planning team.47

  Reagan still refused to say anything one way or the other about Bush's getting out except that “there is the smell of roses in the air.”48 He acknowledged that it was time for him to carefully consider a running mate, but he said that as long as Bush kept fighting, then he was going to keep on fighting.

  Of course, the question was not whether Reagan would go over 998 delegates, but when. Bush's dying campaign was now speaking in contradictory voices. One day, Baker was saying one thing, Keene something else, and Bush yet another thing. It was clear that it was the end of the line for Bush, but he was unwilling to withdraw formally. He'd invested two years of his life in the race and the final primaries were only two weeks away. Keene, too, was in favor of pressing on. By winning Ohio and New Jersey, Keene reasoned, Bush would increase his leveraging power at the convention and establish “a strong base for whatever he wanted to do in the future.”49

  Reporters rolled their eyes at Bush for refusing to withdraw. “There are dangers in any campaign,” wrote Judy Bachrach in the Washington Star, “one of the most subtle and nefarious being that when a guy is losing, and losing big, and accepting defeat with a modicum of grace and class (a talent Bush has only recently acquired), you start to like him. There is, after all, a fine line between pity and affection.”50

  Bush had read his political obituary before. He'd come back from New Hampshire to win in Massachusetts. He'd come back from Illinois to win in Pennsylvania. He'd almost won in Texas. He'd come back from Indiana to win in Michigan. He wanted to fight on. First, though, he would head home to Houston and reevaluate his situation. Bush canceled the rest of his schedule in New Jersey for the weekend of May 23 and hopped on a private jet back to Texas.

  Unbeknownst to Bush, once he was in the air his press aide Susan Morrison told reporters on the ground, “We're putting the campaign on hold.”51 And Jim Baker issued a statement—without Bush's approval—announcing that Bush was suspending his campaign. Bush learned of Baker's action only when he landed in Houston. Suffice it to say, he was not happy.52

  THE ALLEY FIGHT OVER Bill Brock's stewardship of the Republican National Committee spilled out into the streets. Brock and Reagan had met in early May, and Brock told people after the meeting that he had Reagan's blessings to stay on as party chairman through the fall election. Paul Laxalt challenged Brock's version, telling reporters that Reagan may have wanted Brock to continue only “through the convention,” at which point he might exercise his option as the nominee to pick his own man to run things at 310 First Street, SE.53 Laxalt hinted that Lyn Nofziger might go over to the RNC as Reagan's in-house man, which sent chills up the spines of the staffers, who knew of Nofziger's low opinion of them.54

  Reagan's men were anxious to dump others in the RNC also. Brock's key deputy, Ben Cotten, was a ringleader of the Reagan critics inside the RNC and was still feuding with Reagan's campaign, even on the eve of his nomination. Not normally interested in lower-level personnel matters, Reaganites took a special interest in seeing Cotten thrown out on his ear.55 The cochair of the RNC, Mary Dent Crisp, was likewise on double secret probation because of her accumulated four years of gossip and harsh criticism of Reagan. Rumors were going around that she was about to endorse Anderson but she denied them, telling the Washington Post, “I'm not a flake.” Many thought otherwise.56

  Brock had revolutionized the committee, creating a house file of 650,000 names whose average contribution was $26, thus lessening the dependence on fat cats. He developed a program to help local candidates, building a farm team for the future. His projected budget of $31 million for 1980 was twice that of four years earlier. The party's slogan was “Vote Republican—For a Change.”57

  Meanwhile, as Newsweek reported, Jerry Carmen from the Reagan headquarters was prowling the building on a daily basis, “frightening the help with asides about the high volume of 'deadwood' he has been finding.”58 Nancy Reagan had already made her displeasure with Brock known when someone alerted her to an RNC publication that extensively covered a speech by Gerald Ford but devoted not a drop of ink to her husband.59

  Things were no better between Reagan and Bush in the spring of 1980 than they'd been six months earlier. Reagan's inner circle was newly angry with Bush for a joke he was telling at Reagan's expense: “What's black, flat, and glows in the dark? Iran after Reagan bombs it.” They were also convinced that Bush did not want to be Reagan's running mate and that Bush was playing for the 1984 nomination because he assumed Reagan would lose in the fall to Carter.60

  TANNED, RESTED, AND REVIVED after a couple of days at his ranch, Reagan hit the road again, campaigning in California, Missouri, New Jersey, and Ohio. Missouri was a telling inclusion. Unlike the other states, it was not hosting an upcoming primary; in fact, its GOP caucus had already passed. Rather, Missouri would be an important state in the general election.

  Bush hadn't formally withdrawn from the race, but when he canceled his schedule and flew home to Texas, Reagan for the first time seemed to be claiming victory. Even then, it was a modest claim. “I guess I have to accept that I should start looking ahead to beyond the convention,” Reagan cautiously said to reporters.61 The long primary battle between Bush and Reagan seemed to be finally ending, but with a whimper and not a bang.

  Reagan threw out an enticing offer to Bush. If he quit, Reagan would help him eliminate whatever campaign debt he might have left. Jim Baker called Vic Gold and asked him to go to Houston and convince Bush that it was fruitless to continue. “Vic,” Baker pleaded, “he won't listen to me. You have got to go.” Gold reluctantly boarded a plane for Houston.62

  Bush was still telling crowds that his instinct was to “fight, fight, fight.”63 But Baker had been telling reporters for a few days that Bush was finally getting out—again without first telling the candidate or getting his approval. Baker was leading Bush to his own execution.

  At first Bush didn't want to listen to Gold's pleas, either. He couldn't drop out, the candidate said; people in Cali
fornia and New Jersey had been working for two years for him. So Gold laid it out for Bush: “George, if you carry this to the convention, you will end up like Nelson Rockefeller.… The party will hate you, so when are you going to concede?” At that, Bush finally gave in. Gold said, “Okay, I will write the goddamned statement.”64