The Battle for America 2008

by Haynes Johnson

  As the other candidates focused on each other, McCain bided his time. He used the debates to remind Republican voters that he not only was still in the race but that he remained the party’s strongest candidate against the likely candidate, Hillary Clinton. In Orlando on October 21, Chris Wallace of Fox News asked McCain whether he could defeat Clinton in a general election, given public opinion on the war. “Let me just say that I know and respect Senator Clinton,” McCain said, as he began to turn the question to his advantage. “The debate that I have between me and her will be based on national security, on fiscal conservatism, and on social conservatism. It will be a respectful debate. That’s what the American people want.” Then he began his pivot. “Now, one of them will be spending. I have fought against out-of-control, disgraceful spending that’s been going on, and I have saved the American people as much as two billion dollars at one stroke.” He looked down at his notes. “In case you missed it,” he continued, “a few days ago Senator Clinton tried to spend one million dollars on the Woodstock Concert Museum. Now, my friends, I wasn’t there. I’m sure it was a cultural and pharmaceutical event.” The audience laughed, as McCain went on. “I was tied up at the time.” More laughter, along with applause. Then, as the audience got the full impact of his words referring to his torture in Vietnam, they rose and gave him a sustained ovation. The other Republican candidates on the stage joined in the applause.

  Giuliani was expert at playing president. In the fall of 2007, he went to London, where he met with Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair, and Prime Minister Gordon Brown. After meeting with Brown, Giuliani said rather patronizingly that he was “very, very heartened by how seriously” the new prime minister saw the Iranian threat, as if he were on a trip to shore up an ally’s resolve. He portrayed himself as already a world leader. “I’m probably one of the four or five best-known Americans in the world,” he told reporters. But the images impressed Republicans back home. A Republican strategist marveled, saying Giuliani’s trip gave GOP voters the first image of “the post-Bush era with another Republican standing on the world stage.”

  Giuliani’s strategy for winning the nomination was the opposite of Romney’s. His was a late-state strategy. He would downplay Iowa and New Hampshire to focus his resources on Florida and the Super Tuesday states of February 5th. It was a risky strategy, one never tried before and adopted out of weakness rather than the strength he tried to project. He was simply too liberal for Iowa’s electorate. He was better suited to New Hampshire, but McCain and Romney had clear advantages there at the start of the campaign. Giuliani’s advisers concluded his best hope was to capitalize on Florida and February 5th.

  The arithmetic behind a late-state strategy made some sense, given the rules of the Republican Party. Many states were winner-take-all, the same rules that apply in calculating votes in the Electoral College. Others were winner-take-all by congressional district. Giuliani’s team foresaw the possibility of a huge delegate haul on February 5th. They assumed he would easily win New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Delaware, all winner-take-all states with a combined delegate count of about 200. They expected him to win the majority of California’s 170 delegates, which were awarded by congressional district. And he counted on winning all of Florida’s delegates on January 29. That, they calculated, would put him well ahead of anyone else in the field after Super Tuesday, in pursuit of the 1,191 delegates needed for the nomination. The question was whether Giuliani could stay alive until Florida without success in one of the early states.

  Giuliani’s late-state strategy always came with an asterisk. His real hope was to exceed expectations in New Hampshire and give himself a boost heading to Florida. As his campaign manager, Mike DuHaime, later explained, “It was more intended to be a New Hampshire, Florida, February 5th strategy, rather than simply a late-state strategy, but unfortunately that is not how it worked out.”

  In November, Giuliani began his move in New Hampshire, airing television commercials and booking more campaign time. We caught up with him on Thanksgiving weekend, aboard his bus, as he traveled from the lakes district to Concord. Are you here to win? we asked. Giuliani laughed. “Sure I’m here to win,” he said. “What else would we be doing here, but to win? That’s the whole idea of it. Romney spent seven or eight million to get where he is and has stayed pretty much where he’s been, so we think we can catch him and get ahead of him.”

  Already, however, his candidacy was experiencing problems. Early in November, Bernard B. Kerik, the former Giuliani driver, New York police commissioner, and business partner, whom Giuliani had pushed to become secretary of homeland security in the Bush administration, was indicted on corruption charges. Giuliani was forced to acknowledge that he had failed to check Kerik out. But damning new evidence in the New York Times showed that Giuliani had been briefed about Kerik’s possible problems in December 2004 and still ignored the warnings.

  Politico reporter Ben Smith then published a story detailing how Giuliani, as mayor, had “billed obscure city agencies for tens of thousands of dollars in security expenses amassed during the time when he was beginning an extramarital relationship with future wife Judith Nathan in the Hamptons.” The exposé created a major problem nationally for Giuliani. In New Hampshire, the conservative Manchester Union Leader, no friend of Giuliani’s, gave the story huge play.

  A third setback disrupted Giuliani’s plans. He was counting on an endorsement from Florida Governor Charlie Crist. According to three Giuliani advisers, Crist had gone to see Giuliani in the Hamptons in July and told the mayor he would back his candidacy. On October 9, the day the Republican candidates debated in Michigan, Crist called Giuliani’s closest confidant, Tony Carbonetti. “I’m in,” he told Carbonetti, according to an official familiar with the conversation. Giuliani’s team penciled in mid-November for an announcement and planned a series of events around it, starting in Florida and then going to New Hampshire. Then, inexplicably, Crist backed out, leaving Giuliani without the credibility boost he badly needed.

  Despite his spending several million on his New Hampshire advertising blitz, Giuliani’s poll numbers began to drop as the scandal stories took root. The candidate and his staff suddenly drew back, pulling down their ads and effectively abandoning the state. Giuliani’s decision to pull out of New Hampshire proved to be an unexpected gift to his friend John McCain. McCain pollster Bill McInturff said later, “They left open the one piece of real estate John McCain could win.” Beth Myers later said at an Institute of Politics conference at Harvard, “When Rudy stopped advertising in New Hampshire, that was one of the worst days in our campaign. . . . He went down and McCain went right up.”

  The Giuliani team saw it differently. They were desperate to keep the race as fluid as possible until Florida. Because they still regarded Romney as their biggest threat and believing he would win Iowa, they were determined to do what they could to prevent him from winning New Hampshire. If Giuliani couldn’t win, perhaps McCain could. “We knew by the middle of December we could not win New Hampshire,” the Giuliani adviser said. “But we knew if we stayed full throttle, Romney would win [because McCain and Giuliani would divide the moderate vote]. We were not trying to hurt Romney. We were trying to help ourselves. We were trying to stretch the election out another month.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Can Anybody Play This Game?

  The most trustworthy, competent, and conservative of all those seeking the nomination.

  —Manchester Union Leader endorsement of McCain

  For much of 2007, no one took Mike Huckabee very seriously. His role seemed to be chief comic in the Republican field. Not that his résumé was anything to scoff at. He had served as governor of Arkansas for a decade. He had chaired the National Governors Association and earned a reputation as a conservative who could work with his Democratic counterparts. He was quick and engaging, deeply conservative but with a beguiling personality that disarmed those with whom he disagreed.

  His personal st
ory was compelling. He grew up in a family with little money. His spare-the-rod-and-spoil-the-child father was a fireman and his mother worked as a clerk. He was a Baptist minister who also played bass guitar in a band called “Capitol Offense.” He told one reporter he would like the Rolling Stones to play at his inaugural. When a doctor told him his health was threatened by obesity, he lost 110 pounds, completed a marathon, and wrote a book about his experience. He had a quick sense of humor. “I’m from the small town of Hope,” he said once. “You may have heard of it. [It was also Bill Clinton’s hometown.] All I ask you is, give us one more chance.”

  Since he lacked money or a big name, debates became his route to prominence. Because he was an ordained minister who was openly seeking the support of Christian conservatives and because he was lightly regarded as a possible nominee, Huckabee drew questions about the Bible, theology, and the intersection of church and state. His deft responses to these delicate questions made him an early standout. In a debate co-sponsored by YouTube, which featured questions from around the country, he was asked about Jesus and the death penalty. “What would Jesus do?” the video inquisitor asked. Without hesitating, Huckabee quipped, “Jesus was too smart ever to run for public office.”

  In New Hampshire, CNN’s Wolf Blitzer asked Huckabee, “At a previous debate, you and two of your colleagues indicated that you do not believe in evolution. You’re an ordained minister. What do you believe? Is it the story of creation as it is reported in the Bible?”

  “It’s interesting that that question would even be asked of somebody running for president,” Huckabee began. “I’m not planning on writing the curriculum for an eighth-grade science book. I’m asking for the opportunity to be president of the United States. But you’ve raised the question, so let me answer it. ‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the Earth.’ To me it’s pretty simple, a person either believes that God created this process or believes that it was an accident and that it just happened all on its own. . . . Let me be very clear: I believe there is a God. I believe there is a God who was active in the creation process. Now, how did he do it, and when did he do it, and how long did he take? I don’t honestly know, and I don’t think knowing that would make me a better or a worse president.”

  When the candidates debated in Michigan on October 9, 2007, and some offered upbeat assessments of the economy, he dissented. “A lot of people are going to be watching this debate. They’re going to hear Republicans on this stage talk about how great the economy is,” he said. “And frankly, when they hear that, they’re going to probably reach for the dial. I want to make sure people understand that for many people on this stage the economy’s doing terrifically well, but for a lot of Americans it’s not doing so well.”

  He offered contrary views on trade and stood up for an Arkansas program that allowed the children of illegal immigrants to apply for college scholarships. When Romney attacked the program, Huckabee cut him down. “I’m standing here tonight on this stage because I got an education. If I hadn’t had the education, I wouldn’t be standing on this stage. I might be picking lettuce. . . . In all due respect, we’re a better country than to punish children for what their parents did.”

  Huckabee’s political strategy was narrowly focused on locking in conservative Christian and pro-life activists in Iowa. If Romney had an early-state strategy and Giuliani had a late-state strategy, Huckabee had a one-state strategy: Iowa. Support from religious conservatives would not be enough to win the nomination, but if he could consolidate the Christian right in Iowa, Huckabee knew he could win there. He would take his chances after that.

  Surprisingly, Huckabee opposed participating in the Ames straw poll, particularly after McCain and Giuliani dropped out. “He thought it was a waste of time and money if the other people didn’t do it,” campaign manager Chip Saltsman recalled. Huckabee saw it as high risk. “I knew that if we played and did poorly, it was over for us,” he later wrote. Saltsman told Huckabee that he had to compete and had to do well. Ducking Ames would have the same impact as doing poorly: There wouldn’t be enough money to survive until January.

  His second-place showing gave him an immediate boost, at least in publicity and recognition. His next major goal was to deepen his appeal as the candidate of the religious right by impressing the participants at the October “Values Voters” conference in Washington hosted by the conservative Family Research Council. “I come today not as one who comes to you, but as one who comes from you,” he said. Speaking shortly after Giuliani had addressed the crowd, he urged the audience not to be influenced by questions of electability. Better to support candidates who “sing from their hearts” than to follow those who “just lip-synch the lyrics from our songs.” His strongest response came when he said, “Let us never sacrifice our principles for anybody’s politics. Not now. Not ever.”

  By then, Huckabee was beginning to move in Iowa, boosted by networks of evangelical churches and the community of homeschool advocates. He made ever more direct appeals to Christian voters. As the caucuses neared, he aired a television commercial that opened with the words “Christian leader” on the screen. At the end of December, he put on a beautifully produced Christmas commercial. He wore a red sweater. There was a Christmas tree to one side and “Silent Night” played softly on the soundtrack. In the background, as the camera panned slowly, light reflected off the bookshelves to form the image of a white cross. “Are you about worn out of all the television commercials you’re seeing, mostly about politics? I don’t blame you,” he said. “At this time of year, sometimes it’s nice to pull aside from all of that and just remember that what really matters is the celebration of the birth of Christ and being with our family and our friends. I hope that you and your family will have a magnificent Christ mas season.”

  The ad drew criticism for its overtly Christian appeal, but that was of little concern to Huckabee. The polls showed he was now the front-runner in Iowa.

  No one loomed larger at the time of McCain’s implosion than Fred Thompson. The former Tennessee senator, veteran movie actor, and star of NBC’s Law and Order started sending out signals in the spring that he was interested in running. Big and ruggedly handsome, a natural in front of the camera, he seemed to fit what many disgruntled Republicans were looking for: someone with a Reaganesque style, an appealing demeanor, and conservative values.

  His campaign went through three phases: anticipation, hype, and disappointment. He initially surrounded himself with a team that had little experience in modern presidential campaigns. They convinced him that new media offered a way around the rigors of the campaign trail, which appealed to a man with a reputation in Republican circles as a not particularly hard worker. When left-wing moviemaker Michael Moore released Sicko, a documentary that compared Cuba’s health care system favorably to America’s, a cigar-chomping Thompson cut a quick video offering a sarcastic response. It became an instant hit on YouTube. His advisers pointed to it as the template for the Internet-age campaign he could run.

  “Fred was sold a bill of goods about what it took to run for president,” communications director Todd Harris later told us. “He was given the distinct impression by people who have never even worked on a presidential campaign, much less mapped one out, that in 2008 all you needed to do was have a heavy blog presence, appear regularly on Fox News and specifically on Hannity & Colmes, and from time to time go out and have an event.”

  As McCain foundered, Thompson dithered. June turned to July and July to August without any real campaign structure in place. His initial fund-raising fell short of his advisers’ expectations. His wife, Jeri, a powerful behind-the-scenes force, warred with some of the senior talent he had recruited. Staff upheaval began long before there was even a plan for an announcement. Tom Collamore, who was brought in to put the campaign together, was pushed out. Other staffers left or were forced out. Bickering and leaks permeated the campaign. It was as if the wheels were coming off the wagon before it even left the assembly
line.

  The last weekend in July, Thompson called Bill Lacy, who had run his successful 1994 campaign for the Senate and was then the director of the Robert C. Dole Institute at the University of Kansas. “I need your help,” Thompson told him. Lacy asked a few questions and requested basic information about the campaign: the basic strategy document, polling data, the budget and fund-raising plan, an organizational chart, opposition research. “He stopped me,” Lacy recalled later. “[He said], ‘Bill, I don’t believe we have any of those things.’” The two met the following week at Thompson’s home in McLean, Virginia. “He took me back into the study, just the two of us,” Lacy said. “He said, ‘Bill, I am desperate. I would like to be president. But this is a mess and I need you to come in and fix it.’”

  From there on, Lacy was running a triage operation. A staff already shaken by upheaval went through another round of changes. Five months before the Iowa caucuses, there was no infrastructure in place, no plan for an announcement, no draft of a speech. Worse, the finance department envisioned raising only half of what the campaign team had budgeted to spend.

  Thompson often said that while he wanted to be president, he never really wanted to run for president. He proved that once he became a candidate by doing things that seemed ingenious but in fact were politically detrimental. By announcing his candidacy on Jay Leno’s Tonight Show on the evening of the Republican debate in New Hampshire, he simultaneously snubbed his rivals and offended the constituency of an important early state.