With just a few days to go, the Reagan plane, LeaderShip '80, had become a moveable feast of wine and song. Drinks were being consumed at all hours. The chase plane was even more of a rollicking good time. Lyn Nofziger, who sometimes preferred to travel on this plane, could always count on a bottle of Bombay gin waiting for him.
Reagan was on high octane, but his staff was running on fumes. At one point, an exhausted Michele Davis fainted in the aisle of the plane. Like most of the other campaign aides, she had been burning the candle at both ends, working all day, drinking all night, dating on the run. She was surprised to wake up and find a compassionate conservative, Ronald Reagan, hovering over her, trying to revive her.69 Davis wrote in her diary that people were “getting kind of punchy.”70
Meals were served endlessly to the press—steaming platters of macaroni and cheese, pots of beans and sausage, giant frankfurters. Upon every takeoff, Mrs. Reagan would go through the press section handing out chocolates. Not everybody wanted the chocolates and some reporters complained of the poundage they had gained since being assigned to the Reagan campaign. But they knew it was best to accept the proffered candy, even if it meant depositing it in the pouch in front of them.
Some women in the press corps just didn't like Mrs. Reagan for whatever reason—she was old-fashioned, they didn't like her clothes, she didn't have a cause, whatever. Judy Bachrach of the Washington Star wrote a vicious column about her for handing out chocolates!71 After the column, Mrs. Reagan jokingly wore a sign around her neck as she handed out the candy. It read, “Take One! Or Else!”
Bachrach might have been more open-minded had she known how little the Carter White House thought of the press corps. One Carter campaign memo went so far as to refer to the reporters as a “flock of sheep.”72
THE CHEER AND OPTIMISM that had dominated the Carter campaign immediately after the debate was gone, finito. By the weekend, his aides were quietly conceding that Reagan had “profited the most” from the debate. One Carterite said that Reagan “came across as appearing much more credible … as we're all now discovering.”73 Pat Caddell grudgingly accepted that maybe Reagan had gotten a “slight advantage.”74 Caddell was relentlessly spinning, but privately, he buried his head in his hands and lamented, “I just wish we hadn't debated.”75
The momentum had shifted abruptly. Dick Wirthlin's internal polling suggested that Reagan had overtaken Carter in the race, and Reaganites were feeding these tidbits to reporters. The media's own polls showed motion toward Reagan also. In addition, the press could see on the ground the ever-swelling throngs for the Gipper, and the morale of the campaign staff and the candidate himself as he effortlessly worked a crowd.
Carter's fall offensive was faltering. In Mississippi just three days before the election, Carter bluntly told the crowd that his reelection was “very much in doubt.” One aide, in an understatement, said that there was “a pause in the momentum” for Carter.76 While Carter was getting great receptions from black audiences, the whites who came to hear him speak now were underwhelming, listless. Mondale, who had as good a feel for the game of politics as anyone, later remembered, “It was after that debate you could feel it drifting away.… You can see it in their faces.… You can see it in the way they applaud.… You can tell when they're kind of dispirited.”77
The president staggered into Florida. Reagan, in contrast, was rolling now. He told crowds, “He did not give us a government as good as the people, as he said he would! He only gave us a government as good as Jimmy Carter! And that isn't good enough!”78 Audiences ate it up. Signs materialized proclaiming, “Ask Amy, She Knows,” including one that adorned the door to the head on Reagan's plane.79
In Wisconsin, before a large, friendly labor crowd, Reagan just could not resist. Speaking of Carter, he mirthfully said, “I know he touched our hearts, all of us, the other night. I remember when Patti and Ron were little tiny kids and we used to talk about nuclear power.”80 When he openly wondered who had “been in charge for the last three-and-one-half years,” the crowd began chanting, “Amy! Amy!” “That could be,” Reagan drolly replied.81
On the Reagan plane's PA system the campaign broadcast, for the benefit of reporters, Carter's much-mocked comments on discussing nuclear proliferation with his daughter, as well as his remarks about how he and Rosalynn read the Bible to each other in Spanish.82 The Carter team employed the same device aboard Air Force One, broadcasting an old speech of Reagan's from 1961 in which the Republican warned that Medicare was a step toward “socialized medicine.”83
But Carter just couldn't escape the ridicule. “Ask Amy” had taken on a life of its own. On the Sunday before the election, during the CBS broadcast of the Cowboys-Cardinals football game, quarterback-turned-commentator Roger Staubach was asked how Dallas could stop the potent St. Louis offense. “I talked to my daughter, Amy, this morning about it,” he replied, “and she said the number-one problem was the bomb.” Staubach, a Reagan supporter, did have a daughter named Amy, though she was just four years old.84
Carter was stumbling at the worst possible time, but the Reagan campaign wasn't content to wait and see how things would play out. Bill Timmons was organizing a massive get-out-the-vote effort, the biggest in the history of American politics, using possibly 500,000 motivated Republicans. Phone calls were being made, doors knocked on, rides to the polls arranged. Television and radio advertising was broadcast playing up Reagan's record as governor. Even Betty Ford had signed a letter to more than a million GOP women in targeted states.85 In Texas, Gary Hoitsma with the Reagan campaign in Austin proudly told reporters that the campaign had fifty phone banks there and had already called one million voters.86 Bob Beckel, Carter's point man in the state, paddling along on denial, said, “We're moving and Reagan's stalled.”87
However, respected columnist and former Democratic consultant Mark Shields flatly predicted that Reagan would win the election on Tuesday, possibly by a big margin.88 Tom Shales, who had ripped Reagan's debate performance, three days later did a 180-degree turn and wrote a long piece defending Reagan while tearing into the three networks, their anchors, and reporters for gross unfairness in their coverage of Reagan over the past year.89
Reagan streaked to Michigan on Sunday morning for one more joint appearance with his new best friend, Gerald Ford. Ford, the former center, and Reagan, the former right tackle, went high and low on Carter. Reagan praised Ford's time in office and Ford said Carter had “screwed up” the country. Ford also tried to chide Carter for accidentally referring to “Grand Rapids” as “Cedar Rapids.” Ford told the audience that, in his opinion, Grand Rapids was “the most wonderful community in all the forty-eight states—er, fifty states.”90 One Reagan aide, remembering Ford long history of malapropisms, shook his head and said, “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.”91
Some protesters heckled the Gipper, chanting, “Bonzo! Bonzo! Bonzo!” Reagan, grinning, won the discussion when he told them and the supportive audience, “Well, they better watch out! Bonzo grew up to be King Kong!”92 Pleased with himself, Reagan said to an aide, “Eh—that got 'em.”93
So much had changed in a short time. By this point Reagan had even developed a solid partnership with his running mate—a partnership that would eventually bloom into a genuine friendship. George Bush was out on the road taking the fight to the incumbent, proving himself to be tougher than Reagan had once thought. And Reagan had shown himself to be deeper, more reflective than Bush had expected. The running mates now spoke on the phone two or three times a week—at Reagan's insistence.94
Things were suddenly looking very good for Ronald Reagan. Superstitious, he almost never said “when we win,” but rather “if we win.” He always reminded aides of “President Dewey.”95
Others were more bullish. Perhaps peering into the future, a fortune cookie company in New York began marketing cookies under the heading “Reagan Says”; each cookie had a saying or parable by the Gipper.96
IF THERE WAS A scent of
victory in the air for Reagan, there was a smell of death around Carter's term of office. The rats were beginning to jump ship. Lane Kirkland, the head of the AFL-CIO, had been supporting Carter's reelection, but secretly opened back-channel communications to Ed Meese. The chancellor of West Germany, Helmut Schmidt, was quietly reaching out to Reagan, suggesting a mid-November meeting.97 Caddell conceded that, for the first time in a long time, his polling had Reagan in the lead.98
Other rats were leaking their names for a role in a possible Reagan administration. World-class self-promoters such as Al Haig were being “mentioned” for State. Others, more modest and class acts, like Dick Schweiker and Drew Lewis, were finding their names showing up for possible roles in the cabinet without any impetus from them. For the Departments of Energy and Education, no names made the list of the “Great Mentioner,” as Reagan saw them as worthless and wanted them dismantled. Some other interesting names were being floated, including Thomas Sowell, an African-American at the vanguard of conservative intellectuals, for Labor and the young Michigan congressman David Stockman, who had so effectively portrayed Carter in the mock debate with Reagan, for a White House staff position.99
THE WEEKEND BEFORE THE election, most political writers were still saying the election was too close to call. The media generally stuck to predictions of only modest GOP gains in the House of ten to fifteen seats and three to six in the Senate. As for the presidential race, a huge block of undecided voters remained, making the whole situation just too fluid to gauge. Many political watchers felt that, in the end, voters would settle for the Carter they knew rather than the Reagan they did not. That's what Jody Powell told himself, saying that when “people really start to think about Ronald Reagan in the White House,” they would opt for Carter.100
But something was going on out there. GOP phone banks were showing an enormous upswing in Reagan support since the debate. Morale among the workers and party people was sky-high. Everybody was working twenty-hour days and loving every second of it. Some Reagan teams had so many volunteers on their hands that there wasn't enough work to go around. Michele Davis penned in her campaign journal, “I know we are going to win … everyone is so UP. Even Stu Spencer is smiling outright.”101
For the Democrats, it was just the opposite. Low morale and low volunteer activity plagued them across the nation. Carteritis had set in. Democratic candidates were desperately running away from the president, hoping not to be caught in his undertow. “A lot of us could lose, and Carter isn't worth it,” one confided to writer Elizabeth Drew.102
Reagan could feel the difference from the crowds. He'd always drawn his strength and sustenance from people, and he had hit his stride at just the right time, exhorting crowds who were, in turn, exhorting him. The ground was cracking underneath Carter and the Democrats as Reagan's crowds continued to swell. Lou Cannon reported that Reagan's supporters “now press in on the candidate in what sometimes seems an almost atavistic urge to touch their leader.”103
The primitives were massing, the elites nervous.
And the political Richter scale was beginning to gyrate.
37
ENTRANCE, STAGE LEFT
“I am not frightened by what lies ahead. And I don't believe the American people are frightened by what lies ahead.”
In the lead-up to Election Day—Tuesday, November 4—the weather across the country was unusually warm for so late in the year. States in the South were still hitting highs in the mid-seventies and northern cities such as Boston were downright balmy, with daytime temperatures in the high fifties.
But ominously, rain was pouring down when President Carter returned to the White House before lunchtime on Election Day. He had just come back from voting at his old high school in Plains, Georgia. There had also been a steady rain in Seattle the night before at Carter's last stop. For Carter, it seemed like it was raining all over the world.
In the past week, he had gone to twenty-six cities in fifteen states, logging more than fifteen thousand air miles.1 His face was “puffy and lined from the relentless pace he had set,” in the words of the New York Times, and his right hand was “red and bruised from endless hand-shaking,” covered in nicks from the rings and fingernails of people clasping.2
At 8 A.M. in Plains, he spoke to old friends and neighbors—people who used to call him “Jimmy.” Carter's voice quavered as he tried to find the words to defend his first term of office. He said ruefully, “I am ready to abide by your judgment,” like a man on trial who was not hopeful for a favorable verdict from the jury.3 Carter struggled, choking up as he bit his lip. His remarks were “tinged with foreboding,” Sam Donaldson reported.4 Mrs. Carter stood beside him, looking stoic but sad.
Later that morning, five hundred administration employees—not knowing whether they would be employed for much longer—waited in the rain for President and Mrs. Carter on the South Lawn. After landing in Marine One, the president addressed the crowd. He spoke in past tenses—not “We will” but rather “We have.”5 It was not very reassuring.
Carter somberly reminded his audience to vote and then walked into the White House with the first lady. Observers could not tell whether that was rain or tears streaking down their faces.
RONALD REAGAN, BACK AT his home at 1669 San Onofre Drive in Pacific Palisades, cast his ballot several hours after Jimmy Carter. A voting precinct had been set up at a neighbor's house, so he and Mrs. Reagan made a short and leisurely trip down the street to vote just after 10 A.M. pacific time.6 Robert and Sally Gulick had made their home available for seventeen years as a polling place to their neighbors. Lawrence Welk, Sylvester Stallone, and Vin Scully had all voted at their house.7
Reagan was dressed in a god-awful red-and-white-checked blowsy shirt and brown pants. Mrs. Reagan looked terrific, as always. Friends and well-wishers lined the street and the Reagans stopped frequently to shake hands, chat, and hug. Mrs. Reagan told a friend, “I'll be glad when the day is over.”8 They voted by paper ballot and Reagan was spotted wearing his reading glasses in the open voting booth, something he rarely allowed the public to see. Television cameras and reporters were everywhere, and autograph hounds badgered the Reagans. He was besieged with questions but said lightheartedly, “I can't answer till I get on my mark,” like the old pro he was. On the ground were two taped Xs, one marked “R. R.” and the other “N. R.” Someone had scribbled on Reagan's mark “O. & W.,” a joking reference to a phrase coined by Jack Kemp the year before, when he called Reagan the “oldest and the wisest” of the GOP candidates. Nancy Reagan hated the expression.
Reagan was asked whom he voted for and he quipped, “Nancy.”9 When asked whom she voted for, he wisecracked, “Oh, Nancy voted for some has-been actor.”10
As Reagan got into his limousine, reporters clamored to know whether he thought he was going to win.11 “You know me,” he replied. “I'm too superstitious to answer anything like that.” Mrs. Reagan said softly that they were “cautiously optimistic,” prompting Reagan to tell the throng, “Yes, I'm cautiously optimistic.”12
Whatever the outcome, he was making plans to head to his ranch to recharge his batteries. In the last two weeks of the campaign, he'd stumped in fifteen states and was exhausted.
THE 1980 CAMPAIGN HAD begun more than two years earlier, when Congressman Phil Crane launched his long-shot bid for the GOP nomination in the late summer of 1978. For some, the quest for the White House had started even earlier—much earlier. Ronald Reagan had begun officially in 1968 at the GOP convention in Miami Beach and unofficially as a kid in Dixon, Illinois. Jimmy Carter had been bent on securing a second term ever since he audaciously ran for president in 1976 as a former one-term governor of a backwater state—a victory as extraordinary and unexpected as any since the election of former one-term congressman Abraham Lincoln in 1860.
After two years of electioneering by nearly a dozen men, after some thirty-five primaries and more than $255 million spent by all the contenders and pretenders, the national debate had c
ome down to this one day, November 4. An estimated eighty-five million people would go to the polls, voting not only for their chief executive but also for 34 senators, 435 members of the House, and roughly 6,000 state legislative seats, not to mention local offices and various referenda.13
Holding Election Day in early November was a holdover from America's agrarian past. Back in 1792 Congress had specified only that presidential electors be appointed “within thirty-four days preceding the first Wednesday in December, in every fourth year.” This was to give the members of the Electoral College time to meet and count their ballots and thus proclaim a new president-elect. It wasn't until 1845 that Congress had officially designated “Election Day” across the country as the “Tuesday next after the first Monday in the month of November.” Early November was the most convenient time because it fell after farmers had pulled in their harvest, meaning they could afford to take the time to travel to vote, but before the snows of winter had arrived, which would make travel from remote farms much more difficult. Election Day was set for a Tuesday because traveling to vote could take a day or more, and activity on a Sunday, the Lord's Day, was verboten for many Christians.14
Rendezvous with Destiny: Ronald Reagan and the Campaign that Changed America Page 79