The failure in the Iranian desert underscored one of Reagan's main campaign themes: the need for upgraded military strength. It turned out that the helicopters deployed in the mission were ancient and shoddy—this at a time when Carter was again trying to cut the military budget. When the U.S. Navy asked the White House for replacements for the aircraft lost in Desert One, it was rebuffed.30U.S. News & World Report said of the failed rescue operation that Reagan was the “big political winner.”31
The big political loser may have been John Anderson; Time and Newsweek had planned cover stories anticipating his third-party run, but he was booted off by the huge Desert One story.
The boost of support Carter had received soon sank in the quicksand of public opinion. House Speaker Tip O'Neill told President Carter over breakfast, “You seem snakebit.” Carter, always awkward in the face of O'Neill's Irish bluntness, sat in stony silence.32
REAGAN MADE A QUICK swing through Tennessee, where he picked up the endorsement of Governor Lamar Alexander.33 While in Tennessee, Reagan was expected to say nice things about Howard Baker and nothing bad about the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA).
Four years earlier, he had been scorched on the eve of the Tennessee primary for suggesting that he would “look at” selling the multibillion-dollar federal project. To Reagan, the New Deal–era electrification venture was a boondoggle, but to thousands of locals, it was an icon of “good government” activism that had raised them up from wretched poverty. In a surprise, he ended up losing the Tennessee and Kentucky primaries to Gerald Ford by hair-thin margins, and most felt the furor over his remarks was the reason. In 1980, Reagan—once burnt, twice smart—addressed the issue right off the bat, telling a small crowd that he “had no intention of selling” the TVA. “I thought we might as well get that settled,” he said with a grin.34
Still, the Tennessee tour didn't go smoothly. First, the always punctual Reagan was a half hour late for a rally of three hundred fans who awaited his arrival; to make matters worse, he then ducked into a one-hour meeting with campaign advisers. It was bad advance work all the way around. The campaign event took place at the Stage Door Lounge, which was too small, meaning that influential Republicans had to be turned away. The local media were also kept at arm's length, and Reagan got poor press reports as a result.35 Clearly, the frenetic pace of the campaign was taxing his campaign staff.
AT A PRESS CONFERENCE at the National Press Club in Washington, Anderson formally announced his third-party pursuit of the presidency and said that it would be called the National Unity Campaign for John Anderson. During the press conference he blasted Reagan, calling him a “dangerous” man.36 He released his fifty-six GOP delegates and returned to the FEC $307,000 in unspent matching funds.37
The Reagan and Carter camps were alarmed, as both saw Anderson with the potential to take voters away from them in the fall. But those in Bush's camp were thrilled. For months, they had groused that Anderson had been taking moderate GOP voters from Bush even though Anderson never had a realistic chance of winning the nomination. For the last round of primaries, Bush would finally have Reagan all to himself.
Nonetheless, Anderson had done a huge favor for future political strategists and consultants: he had identified the swing vote in American politics. In his corner stood middle-of-the-road, nonaligned, antiestablishment voters who swung back and forth between the two major parties. Disaffected visionaries on white steeds regularly ride into American political lore in search of an alternative to the two-party status quo. Whether the standard bearer was Teddy Roosevelt, George Wallace, or John Anderson (or, one day, Ross Perot), the quest always proved quixotic. But the aftereffects of a third-party challenge lingered, because one of the major parties ultimately absorbed and co-opted the message of the outsider.
Despite the formidable odds against his third-party candidacy—or perhaps because of them—Anderson took on a renewed faddish appeal. Liberals, especially in Hollywood and the media, took up his cause—including multimillionaire Stewart Mott, crown prince of hopeless liberal causes. Mott, an unreconstructed liberal, was quirky but had a heart of gold. The political cartoon strip Doonesbury started touting Anderson, and he landed a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live.38 Rumors made the rounds, fed by an interview with Morton Kondracke of The New Republic, that CBS anchor Walter Cronkite might agree to become Anderson's running mate.39
ALTHOUGH KENNEDY HAD WON Pennsylvania over Carter, he still faced very long odds. On Saturday, April 26, he tied Carter in the Michigan caucuses, and neither candidate was helped. Kennedy needed more than a draw, but it was enough to keep him in the race, and by keeping Teddy in the race, it prolonged the fight for Carter. This could only spell trouble for the president, whose approval rating had plummeted again after the momentary spike resulting from the aborted Iranian rescue attempt. The miserable economy had quickly sent it back down. By the end of the month a New York Times/CBS poll put his approval rating at 21 percent.40
Carter's men looked to sharpen their attacks on Kennedy. They were disturbed by the fact that the Pennsylvania primary had marked the first time middle-class conservative Democrats had swung their support to the challenger. By this point, Carter had 1,109 delegates to 639 for Kennedy.41
Over the last weekend in April, Reagan took more GOP delegates in state meetings in Minnesota and Missouri. He now stood at 429 delegates to 96 for Bush. Reagan was still less than halfway to the 998 needed for a first-ballot nomination.42
ON THE STUMP IN Texas, Leon Jaworski, the famous Watergate prosecutor, Houston native, and supporter of George Bush, tore into Reagan. “Is it to be Ronald Reagan, extremist, whose over-the-counter simplistic remedies and shopworn platitudes … or is it George Bush, moderate, sensible and sound in his views and objectives?” Bush “rolled his eyes heavenward” while listening to Jaworski's over-the-top rhetoric, although he was also clearly enjoying it.43
Jaworski also ripped John Connally for endorsing Reagan. It was all complicated by the enigmatic customs of Houston society and politics, as socialite Joanne Herring knew all too well. The striking blonde said it was about money, one-upmanship, the right parties, the right clubs, and the right church. If your great-granddaddy hadn't fought at the Alamo, you were a newcomer. Bush, despite living there for more than thirty years, was made to feel like a greenhorn by the folks around Connally. Bush was oil, and for many in Houston, that was new money. It was laugh-aloud ironic, because he'd come from the oldest money in America, New England society. But to Herring and her high-society friends, it was a matter of the highest import. Herring was friends with both Connally and Bush, but she was supporting Reagan. He was the toughest anti-Communist, and killing commies in Afghanistan had become her pet charity.44
An outsider in the state, Reagan did his best to win over Texans. At Baylor University in Waco, Reagan offered the school's mascot, a live bear, a soft drink. The bear happily accepted the gift and Reagan quipped, “I'll tell you one thing, I'm not going to take it away from him.”45 A member of the drill team kissed Reagan, leaving a large set of red lip prints on his cheek.
He was less welcomed at the LBJ Library in Austin, where a small group of student protesters chanted, “Reagan go home!” They also carried signs that said, “LBJ is rolling in his grave.” Some got downright nasty when they displayed a Reagan campaign poster covered with Nazi swastikas.46 The irony of students sticking up for Johnson because Reagan was speaking at his presidential library was lost on no one. Twelve years earlier, tens of thousands of student protesters had camped out at the White House and chanted morning, noon, and night, “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” Johnson cursed a blue streak about the anti–Vietnam War protesters, but their relentless harassment led in part to his abrupt departure from the political scene.
Despite the handful of youthful protesters at the Johnson Library, Reagan confidently campaigned among young Americans at high schools and college campuses, where he was often greeted warmly. Just the week before, he
'd been on the campus of St. Mary's, a Catholic women's college affiliated with Notre Dame. Reagan was welcomed wildly by the students and he told them of coming to Notre Dame years before when he was filming the part of George Gipp for the movie Knute Rockne, All American. The kids rewarded Reagan with a blue and gold jersey inscribed “Gipper” and the number 80.47
On April 24, he paid a courtesy call on Governor Bill Clements, who, while blowing Reagan a big wet kiss, officially stayed neutral in deference to his fellow Texan Bush.48 As Reagan walked through the state capitol, a group of older women saw the Gipper and, well, they swooned, sighing and cooing. One exclaimed, “He is still so cute.”49
The Bush campaign, recognizing the financial advantages it had over Reagan, was planning on spending at least $600,000 on television advertising in Texas.50 The campaign was so pleased with the “Ask George Bush” half-hour TV productions done in Pennsylvania that it also aired them in Texas.51 Nervous local television operators rifled their inventories of films to weed out old Reagan movies and keep them off the air, for fear of triggering the FCC's equal-time provisions.
Bush, exhausted, gave a poor performance in Dallas by mangling his speech in front of a crowd that had begun by being supportive but became quiet and uncomfortable as he struggled to finish. Later in the day, an empathetic supporter asked Bush where he was off to next. The exhausted Bush replied, “Oh gosh, I don't know. Just on and on and on.”52
Though Reagan didn't have much money to spend, he was being aided—indirectly—by an outspoken Texan, Eddie Chiles, who put his enormous wallet where his mouth was. Chiles was the head of the Western Company, which supplied equipment to oil companies. Chiles ran ads throughout the South that opened with an announcer saying, “What are you mad about today, Eddie?” Chiles would then expound on some aspect of government or the culture, making a conservative case against each. In the background was patriotic music. He also distributed tens of thousands of bright red bumper stickers that shouted, “I'm mad as hell too, Eddie!”53 Chiles never mentioned Reagan in his ads but he didn't have to. Everybody knew who and what he was talking about. Some local stations, fearing FCC complaints, refused to run his spots.
Texas was a hothouse for conservative activism. Reaganites such as Tom Pauken had been aggressively organizing and running for office.54 Joanne Herring, the beautiful Houston socialite and popular local television hostess, was a staunch anti-Communist who was egging Democratic congressman Charlie Wilson to join her one-woman crusade against the Soviets' invasion of Afghanistan. The Hunt brothers of Dallas—William Herbert Hunt and Nelson Bunker Hunt—funded many conservative and patriotic organizations, as did T. Boone Pickens, Harold Simmons, Dick Collins, and others. Most of these superrich Texans, unknown to the country at large, were superstars in GOP and conservative circles. Most shunned the limelight, but Chiles bathed in it. Always fascinated with playthings, he bought the hapless Texas Rangers baseball team in 1980 for $4 million. Nine years later, he sold the team to a group of investors headed by a ne'er-do-well oilman, George W. Bush. Young “George W.” was sometimes mistakenly referred to as “Junior,” an appellation he detested.
As in previous primaries, Ambassador Bush was dogged by right-wing literature that accused him, because of his former membership in the Trilateral Commission, of being part of a conspiracy to bring “one-world” government to America. It clearly got under his skin, and he was forced to denounce the unsigned pamphlets yet again. He went to Dallas and appeared on a local talk show hosted by Charlie Rose. The set featured an all-female audience that, together with Rose, hurled questions at Bush, who did well in the setting. After a year of this, Bush had become an old hand at working a live audience. Yet, once again, he was asked about the Trilateral Commission, and once again, he was forced to deny being part of a conspiracy.55
In Fort Worth, Bush said that Reagan had “absolutely none” when it came to foreign- policy experience.56 He then threw gasoline on the fire by suggesting that Reagan's campaign was responsible for the malevolent brochures. Returning Bush's fire, Reagan denied knowing anything about the brochures, but he let loose on his opponent when he said, “The only person I've seen raise the Trilateral issue is George Bush and maybe he should tell us why he resigned?”57 The battle escalated when Bush pointed out that Reagan campaign manager Bill Casey and longtime adviser Caspar Weinberger were also members of the commission. Reagan said that Weinberger never thought it was a conspiracy and asked again why Bush had resigned.58
Bush did not back down from his accusations that Reagan's campaign was behind the brochures. In fact, Ernie Angelo had previously sent a memo out to his Reagan team across the state telling them to stop distributing this material if, indeed, they were.59 Angelo got in a lick when he said of Bush, “George isn't given to taking criticism too well.”60
Reagan said he wished Bush “would accept my word that we don't know anything about this Trilateral issue.”61 Bush wouldn't let it go, calling the material “vicious.” Yet when he appeared on the Houston television station KTRK immediately after Reagan had told the station that Bush's claims were a “desperation gambit,” Bush—informed that Reagan was on camera elsewhere—suddenly backed down. Now he said the pamphlets were “not a big deal, frankly.” Bush's backpedaling came “to the surprise and disgust of the Reagans,” as Lou Cannon later reported. Nancy Reagan asked pointedly, “If it's no big deal, then why does he keep raising it?” Later, Reagan told aides, in confidence, that Bush “just melts under pressure.” Ominously, he said this in response to a suggestion about Bush going on the ticket with him. He also dismissed Bush as lacking “spunk.”62
Bush was getting more pressure from the groups calling for him to drop out of the campaign. He was getting agitated. He also told reporters how proud he was of one of his sons for almost getting in a fistfight with someone who had questioned their father's patriotism. Bush did not say which of his four sons was involved in the dustup. He became angry in front of a crowd in Austin, saying he did not “need any lectures” about getting out of the race. “Hell with 'em. We're in this thing to win.”63
Reagan was equally angry, but at Bush, for mischaracterizing his beloved Kemp-Roth plan. Bush was telling crowds it would cost $90 billion in the first year alone. “I am not out here in left field all alone with some cockamamie proposal,” the Gipper stormed to the press.64 This episode in the Bush-Reagan range war only confirmed that relations between the two men were a dead letter.
Despite all this, Jim Baker and the Bush troops did a good job keeping expectations low. All the media bought the line that Bush would be happy with 40 percent of the popular vote and just twelve delegates. Some of Reagan's undisciplined zealots, on the other hand, were predicting that Reagan would get seventy-five out of eighty delegates and 60 percent of the GOP vote.65
ALTHOUGH TED KENNEDY NEEDED big wins if he was to have any chance of ripping the Democratic nomination from Carter, he made only a cursory pass through Texas. Meanwhile, Mrs. Carter and other surrogates worked the state for the president. That legwork paid off for Carter, who stomped Kennedy on primary day in Texas, 56–22 percent.66 It was, however, only an underpublicized “beauty contest,” with no delegates chosen. Ominously for Carter, 19 percent of Texas Democrats pulled the level for “uncommitted.”67
The Bush-Reagan contest in the Lone Star State was surprisingly close. Bush won an impressive 47 percent of the vote to Reagan's unimpressive 51 percent.68 None of the early polling had predicted such results, nor had the state's GOP county chairmen, 70 percent of whom were supporting Reagan.69
Bush's team had played the expectations game perfectly. Even though he lost, he got a media boost from the unexpectedly tight contest. He would live to fight another day. After the results were counted, Bush said that his narrow loss wasn't “much of a downer,” because no one had expected him to perform well in Texas.70 He lamented that if he'd had another week in the state, he might have won. Given his rise in the polls, he may have been right.
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p; But it was Reagan who had won. He offered his take on why Bush had lost Texas despite having lived there for thirty-one years: “Maybe it's because the people of Texas are aware that he has also run as the native of three other states.”71 For Bush, such swipes were not nearly as big a problem as the fact that, because of the manner in which Texas's delegates were apportioned, Reagan had taken the lion's share of them, with sixty-two to only eighteen for the Houstonian.72
This was the second primary in a row in which Bush had performed well in the popular vote but not received anywhere near a proportional share of the delegates. Reagan must have understood Bush's frustration, having experienced it in 1976. Reagan had arrived at the Kansas City convention actually having won more of the popular vote in the contested primaries than did Ford, but because of bossism, mistakes by his campaign, and the vicissitudes of politics in New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Ohio, he got nowhere near his proportional share of delegates.
If Reagan empathized with Bush's position in 1980, he did not show it. After Texas he told reporters that Bush “has no mathematical excuse for continuing.”73 Ford had taken a similar approach in 1976, telling Reagan to get out. Back then, Ford had overplayed his hand, and now Reagan was doing the same with Bush. In each case, the calls to drop out of the race created a more fearsome, more resolute challenger. Bush tartly replied to Reagan's comments, “I'm going to stay in this race all the way … because I believe the country deserves a choice.”74 It was a statement eerily reminiscent of what Reagan had said four years earlier to Lyn Nofziger when the Gipper was being badgered to get out.
Rendezvous with Destiny: Ronald Reagan and the Campaign that Changed America Page 39