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

by Shirley, Craig

  Another “old hand” was more realistic when he told the columnists, “A few years out of it is a long time. That clock rolls around pretty fast for campaigners.”94 The laws governing federal campaigns had changed greatly, too, and Joseph P. Kennedy was no longer around to write unlimited checks.

  It also seemed that the Kennedy “machine” was not so well oiled. Michael McShane, a Mondale aide whose father had once worked for JFK, said, “I remember … talking to some of the Kennedy staffers that these guys would walk in 9:30, 10, they'd make a couple of phone calls, and then they'd go to lunch.”95

  In the early fall of 1979, after months of cagily telling the media that he “expected” that he would support Carter,96 Ted Kennedy dropped the pretense. Stephen E. Smith, Kennedy's brother-in-law, family confidant, and all-around utility infielder for the clan, announced the formation of a presidential exploratory committee to begin the organizational efforts. A date was announced, November 7, for the third Kennedy to formally declare his intentions to run for president of the United States. The headquarters was on 22nd Street NW in Washington, in what once was a Cadillac dealership.97 In retrospect, it should have been an Edsel dealership.

  THE CBS TELEVISION NETWORK announced that it would broadcast a one-hour documentary on Senator Kennedy. Called CBS Reports: Teddy, it would air on Sunday, November 4, at 10 P.M. eastern time. The executives at CBS rushed to get the show on the air before Kennedy officially announced his candidacy to prevent any “equal-time” claims from the others running for president.98

  The Carter White House complained bitterly to CBS about the special, which had been in the works since the previous May, when it was becoming clear that Kennedy might indeed run for president. Carter aides believed that the show would be one giant wet kiss for Kennedy, especially since the host was Roger Mudd, an old friend of the Kennedy family.

  Anyone who thought that CBS or Mudd would grovel before Teddy was sorely mistaken. The hourlong special was an unmitigated disaster for Kennedy. The interview began with Mudd asking Kennedy about the state of his marriage. The senator stammered: “It's—I would say that it's—it's—it's—I'm delighted that we're able to—to share the time and the relationship that we—that we do share.” Several more questions dealt with his wife's alcoholism and Kennedy stumbled through these as well.99

  Mudd later completely unnerved Kennedy with a simple yet devastating question: “Why do you want to be president?”

  Kennedy, with a stunned look on his face, fumbled and bumbled and mumbled. “Well … I'm, … were I to make the announcement … and to run … the reasons that I would run is because I have great belief in this country … that it is … there's more natural resources than any nation of the world … there's the greatest educated population in the world … greatest technology of any country in the world … and the greatest political system in the world.”100 It went downhill from there.

  Mudd was appalled that his old friend was so poorly prepared. He debated whether he should even bother to continue the interview.101

  The rest of the special was almost as excruciating to watch. Mudd asked Kennedy whether he thought anyone would ever believe his version of the story about Chappaquiddick. Kennedy responded, “Oh, there's, the problem is, from that night, I, I found the conduct, the behavior almost beyond belief myself. I mean that's why it's been, but I think that's the way it was. Now I find that as I have stated that I have found the conduct that in, in that evening and in, in the, as a result of the accident of the, and the sense of loss, the sense of hope, and the, and the sense of tragedy, and the whole set of circumstances, that the behavior was inexplicable. So I find that those, those, types of questions as they apply to that, questions of my own soul, as well. But that happens to be the way it was.”102

  Kennedy, the vaunted public speaker, came across as babbling, dissembling, and unprepared. Chatter over his poor performance dominated Washington, the media, and Democratic circles for days, and shattered his legions of fans.

  The Carter people could not believe their good luck. They were so delighted with how badly the special turned out that they copied the transcript and handed it out to anybody and everybody.

  Kennedy moved on to Chicago and was promptly pelted with an egg.

  One day after Kennedy's plunge into the campaign, Jerry Brown entered the race. He promised to “protect the earth, serve the people and explore the universe” and to “sense our unity in the spirit on this small speck of universal time.”103 “Governor Moonbeam” was at it again.

  THE SAME DAY THAT Kennedy's disastrous interview with Mudd aired, events thousands of miles away would conspire to prevent Kennedy from winning the Democratic nomination and would reinvigorate, for a time, the fortunes of Jimmy Carter. On November 4, 1979, radical Islamic “students” charged the American embassy in Tehran, Iran, and took sixty-six Americans hostages.

  The capture of the American hostages was ordered by the Ayatollah Khomeini, who had also commanded the overthrow of the shah back in February. As his country's leading cleric, Khomeini had more power than what passed for the new government in Iran, and he was whipping up anti-American sentiment. Each night, Americans watched rallies by terrorists whom the media kept referring to as “students.” The daily frenzy would not be complete without the ritualistic burning of an American flag and chants of “Death to America.” The American hostages were bound and blindfolded and paraded before the manic protesters so they could mock and threaten them, all for the benefit of the gaggle of Western reporters and cameras.

  The hostage crisis allowed Carter to dominate the national stage. For months he had been dealing with reports about his sinking presidency, leaks about his dysfunctional White House, and rumors that his chief of staff, Hamilton Jordan, was using cocaine, but now he had an opportunity to display real leadership. Carter made it known to the ayatollah how much these Americans meant to him, which temporarily made him “look presidential.”

  Though Carter's performance over the course of the crisis could only be described as dithering—each and every day, new attempts to negotiate with the terrorists would spring forth—Kennedy went him one better. The senator inexplicably attacked the exiled shah, who was now battling cancer, and not the man who was holding the American hostages. Kennedy was widely denounced for “injecting politics” into the sensitive matter.

  The only one who seemed to demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of American politics was the ayatollah, when he released the thirteen American women and blacks being held.

  President Carter was soon getting the support of 70 percent of the American people for his handling of the crisis in Iran, because most believed he was doing all he could to secure the release of the hostages.104 He now looked like the strong, decisive leader while Kennedy looked like the sad sack.

  Such are the fortunes of war and politics.

  4

  THE FRONT-WALKER

  “What am I supposed to do, skip rope through the neighborhood?”

  Ronald Reagan's third drive for the White House was sputtering along as one old loyalist after another took a powder on the Gipper, mostly over the imperious management style of John Sears. Sears had become manager once again—over the protests of many—mainly because he had Mike Deaver's backing, which in turn meant that he had Nancy Reagan's backing. Now many Reaganites were being left out, ignored, or demoted as Sears and the campaign's national political director, Charlie Black, opted for “more important” state Republican operatives than the ones who had actually won primaries for Reagan in 1976.1 In Texas, for example, Ernie Angelo, Ron Dear, and Ray Barnhart, who had beaten the GOP establishment in 1976, winning all one hundred delegates at a critical time for Reagan, had been demoted for the 1980 effort. All were crestfallen, especially the fiercely competitive Angelo.2

  Sears had once wanted to be a psychiatrist. He was able to glean insights into people's pathologies, which gave him a distinct advantage in politics. The night before Richard Nixon resigned in August 19
74, Sears bet some drinking buddies from the media that the “Trickster” would mention his mother in his pitiful remarks before departing the White House. Sears collected on his bet.3

  Yet as well as Sears could read politicos, he had become insensate to the needs, desires, and wants of many Reaganites, including those in the grassroots. Sears had been forced out of the Nixon White House early on because Nixon's old friend, Attorney General John Mitchell, was fearful of the influence the young and moderate Republican would have over the Oval Office.4 Now Sears was behaving just like Mitchell, forcing out the conservatives whom he feared had more influence over Reagan than he.

  Years later, Sears compared the job of campaign manager to that of an orchestra conductor trying “to get everybody to sit in their chair and play their instrument.”5 The problem for the Reagan campaign was that not everybody was singing from the same sheet, and many did not even know which instrument Sears wanted them to play. Asked about the growing friction, Sears simply shrugged his shoulders, recalling, “There was a lot of pushing and shoving and that is normal.”6 Peter Hannaford, speaking for Reagan's Californians, dismissed Sears as “paranoid.”7 Another observer said that since 1976, “Sears had changed. Self-effacement had turned to arrogance, brilliance to egomania, self-mockery to aloofness and shyness to secretiveness.”8

  Reagan was dropping in the national polls among GOP primary voters. The candidate acted as if wrapped in gauze, because Sears would not allow him to campaign too often or too aggressively. Over cocktails, political journalists mocked Reagan's slow-motion effort, calling him the “front-walker” rather than the “front-runner,” which also implied that Reagan was decrepit.9

  The campaign's finances were a disaster, too. In September of 1979, it leaked out that Reagan's campaign was, incredibly, more than $500,000 in debt, even with former Democrat and now Reagan booster Frank Sinatra helping him raise money. The Reagan for President Committee was taking in around $300,000 per month but spending around $500,000 per month.10 Sears's profligate ways had not changed since 1976. His splurging included renting a $1,700-per-hour private jet for Reagan. When asked about the indulgence he sniffed, “When you're a front-runner you must go in style.”11 A young aide, Doug Bandow, wondered why he and others in Reagan's entourage would stay in expensive hotels like the Waldorf in New York and not even “double up on rooms.”12

  Morale bottomed out. Internal strife was high among the survivors as they were engaged in a death struggle, battling for the soul of the campaign. Would Sears and his ally Deaver prevail along with a more “moderate” Reagan, or would the campaign get out of Reagan's way so he could follow his natural ideological instincts? The argument not only was insulting to Reagan, but demonstrated that even his own people often underestimated him. He had always known where he was going and how he would get there.

  Sears's temporary alliance with Deaver was just that. Only several days before Reagan's announcement, Sears and Deaver got into a screaming match as Mrs. Reagan “sobbed in the background,” according to Robert Scheer of the Los Angeles Times. Reagan and Paul Laxalt “joined in the shouting.” Laxalt took Deaver's side and Reagan was yelling for a truce. But Sears got his way.13

  The campaign had grown to more than 150 staffers, plus innumerable consultants, and Sears was hiring more. Many on the staff were new to Reagan. Lyn Nofziger, recently departed from the campaign, worried that Reagan was ignoring old friends and supporters, and that there was an ongoing effort to “repackage” Reagan.14 Every conservative knew what that meant. Nofziger, Jim Lake complained, was “sowing seeds of discontent with the right-wingers.”15 Some of the new advance staff offended Reagan's old friends by keeping them at arm's length. They became known as “Reagan's SS.”16 With all the intrigue, much of it caused by himself, Sears quit. “Fuck it, I can't work here anymore.”17 The Reagans had to call him back from the ledge.

  The Gipper regarded most of the strange new people around the campaign with bemusement and often simply nodded his head and then cocked it and smiled without saying a word. He would always listen to reason, but he was not about to alter his philosophy or ideology. Reagan was a master pragmatist when the need called for it, but he also had an utter belief in his abilities to lead people. Reagan was keeping his cool for the most part—and his sense of humor. He explained his reason for running to one reporter: “Well, there was an old saying in show business. If you don't sing and you don't dance, you'd better be able to do something else.… I don't sing and I don't dance.”18 He also had a standard one-liner about Jimmy Carter that drew laughs every time: “A man who tells you he enjoys a cold shower in the morning will lie about other things too.”19

  Publicly, Reagan continued to defend his beleaguered campaign manager, but he was deeply unhappy that old hands Nofziger and Marty Anderson were gone from the campaign and that money was being spent willy-nilly. At times, he was forced to apologize to old friends and supporters for Sears's decisions. Wooing moderate Republicans, Sears approached Governor Bill Milliken of Michigan, who had been a major Reagan basher in 1976; when Reagan's Michigan chairman, conservative state senator John Welborn, called Milliken a “skunk” to the media, Sears dismissed Welborn.20 Reagan had to write a letter to a friend in Michigan apologizing for Sears's shabby treatment of his “good friend” Welborn and saying that Sears was “trying to moderate my views or make me less conservative.”21

  Reagan was becoming more and more uncommunicative with his campaign manager. Nofziger, years later, explained how he knew when Reagan did not like someone: Reagan would just clam up. The Gipper was far too polite to be overtly rude, but he would simply nod his head and smile and try to avoid direct engagement with the person. Peter Hannaford, another old Reagan hand, agreed that freezing people out was how Reagan dealt with people who got on his nerves. Increasingly in late 1979, this was how the Californian was acting with Sears. When Reagan and Sears did talk, Reagan did most of the listening, often looking grim.

  Archconservatives on occasion also got on Reagan's nerves. Some cited the fact that Reagan had not yet come out against Jimmy Carter's SALT II treaty as evidence that he was being “moderated,” but Reagan was studying the document carefully. There would be no doubt that he would eventually oppose it if he deemed it a one-way street favoring the Soviets, but he wasn't going to be cowed into opposing something as important as an arms agreement if he hadn't reviewed it. In early October 1979, Reagan did indeed take a public position against the treaty, because it did not halt the spread of nuclear weapons. “SALT II is not a strategic arms limitation, it is strategic arms buildup,” he said.22

  Reagan's measured response did not satisfy some of the most avid Cold Warriors in the conservative movement, but he knew that if he was to become the fortieth president of the United States, he needed to lead more than the grassroots conservatives who had rallied to his side in 1976. He wasn't interested in leading another lost cause. He would campaign as what he was most comfortable being: a responsible conservative who knew the world he lived in.

  ONE BRIGHT BIT OF news for the Gipper came when the California GOP decided to retain its winner-take-all primary. It was widely assumed that Reagan would swamp everybody in his adopted Golden State and take all 168 delegates bound for the national convention in Detroit. But California's primary was in June, months after Iowa and New Hampshire; the way things were looking to some in the Reagan camp, his campaign could be washed out to sea long before the June 3 primary. As of late September 1979, Phil Crane had campaigned in New Hampshire all or part of forty-five days, Bush had been there twenty-four days, Bob Dole twenty-one days, and John Anderson fifteen days. Reagan? He'd been to New Hampshire just once in two years, thanks to Sears's play-it-safe strategy.23

  Reagan did make a rare trip to Indianapolis to address the National Federation of Republican Women (NFRW), a decidedly conservative organization with real grassroots strength. Its power and influence was such that all the announced or to-be-announced candidates had agreed to speak to the 2
,500 women gathering in Indiana. When Reagan appeared, camera flashes went off continuously and some middle-aged women jumped up and down like teenyboppers, as many of the members were fans of Reagan from his movie days. “We all have sort of a love affair with Ronald Reagan,” said one woman present.24 Still, Reagan's reception was not as overwhelming as it had been in the past. James Dickenson of the Washington Star wrote that the women behaved as if Reagan had once been a “favorite boyfriend” but now they were “being wooed by all the good-looking guys in town.”25 Indeed, all the GOP candidates received warm welcomes from the gathering, including the newest suitor among them, General Alexander Haig. John Connally arrived via a two-blocklong parade that included girls on rollerskates and a high school marching band.

  Nancy Reagan was sometimes on the stump for “Ronnie,” speaking and taking questions from audiences and reporters alike. In 1976, she had done some campaigning, but she would be more involved this time around, acting as Reagan's own “palace guard.” She was on the lookout for people who were simply trying to use her husband; she knew all too well that this was Ronnie's last chance.