by Jake Tapper
At 11 or so, Gore himself calls. He’s put on speakerphone. “Boy, that was some Election Night, huh?” Gore jokes. He thanks them all. “I can’t tell you how much that meant to me and the country. Tipper and I are grateful. You people are unbelievable, just unbelievable. Your performance was absolutely astonishing.”
It’s an emotional moment for Klain in many ways, pushed that much closer to tears because he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in more than a month. Finally he had been put in charge of a Gore campaign. He didn’t win. But he had done everything he could, and, he feels, there are few serious tactical errors—if any—that could have been anticipated and could have definitively changed the outcome. And, after all, Gore hadn’t officially won Florida even once, and it came this far. And while the battle had gone on, not only did Klain prove himself to Gore, but the Al Gore whom Klain had admired—and liked, even—had reemerged.
Gore breaks up the moment with another joke. He’s having a party at NavObs Wednesday night, everyone’s invited. They shouldn’t have any problem finding the place, Gore says. “You’ll know it when you see a group of people shouting, ‘Get out of Cheney’s house!’”
But even as the Gore attorneys pack away their legal-size manila folders, and Fabiani reaches for his bourbon, other Democrats are in denial. Richman and Jacobs are looking into a way to appeal the Seminole County lawsuit at the U.S. Supreme Court. Then there are the three Florida house Democrats who call for Gore to continue to pursue whatever legal avenues remain available in his quest for the presidency. And in the protests of representatives Alcee Hastings, Peter Deutsch, and Carrie Meek, it’s made crystal clear that many Americans will forever harbor lingering doubts about Bush’s legitimacy as president.
“The vice president should not concede and should actually use that opening the Supreme Court has given him,” Deutsch says in a conference call with reporters Wednesday. “There’s still time to count the votes.” Despite legal experts’ claims to the contrary, Deutsch insists, the Supreme Court ruling, in remanding the case back to the Florida Supreme Court, leaves an opportunity for the recount to be reordered on constitutional grounds. The actual final deadline “is January 6, when Congress accepts the electors,” Deutsch says. They slam the SCOTUS for what they consider to be a partisan ruling precluding, according to Meek, “my African-American constituency” from having a “chance of having their votes counted.” The Court’s decision “reminds me of some terrible, horrible mistakes of the past,” she says.
Hastings says that the ruling turned American politics upside down. “Rather than be a place where presidents choose judges, these were judges choosing a president.” Deutsch says that his ten-year-old son summed up the perception problem of the Court Wednesday morning when he said, “It’s not fair.” “It looks like a political decision,” Deutsch says, calling the ruling “maybe [the Supreme Court’s] darkest hour ever.” While Hastings, Meek, and Deutsch allow that they will live with a President Bush, Hastings calls the decision a “stain on democracy….The people are going to be left saying, ‘I’m not certain this guy won this election.’” Factor in the various disputes surrounding the Florida election, Hastings says, including the butterfly ballot, the failure of various hand recounts to be completed, the fact that some ballots were “on an eleventh-grade reading level” and on and on. After all that, “you tell me that you know that George Bush won this election, I will tuck myself under the legitimacy that you have just falsified. The legitimacy of any president where the votes are left uncounted is automatically a consideration.”
Yes, they’ll work with him. “He’ll ‘be’ the president,” Hastings says. “And if the Middle East explodes tomorrow, we will rally around him as we would Al Gore.” Still, the wounds from this election may be slow to heal, Meek says, particularly among black voters, who are especially wary of the legitimacy of Bush’s presidency. “Our voters are suspect [sic] of the judicial system,” Meek says. “They feel there’s something rotten in Denmark. There have been too many circumstances that belied honesty and integrity in this process. They don’t believe that Gore has been treated fairly. They feel that their votes have not been counted.”
“I don’t think this thing is over,” Deutsch says. “Just think about every Bruce Willis movie you’ve ever seen.”
“I prefer Friday the 13th and Freddy Krueger from the Nightmare on Elm Street films,” jokes Hastings.
But even Bruce Willis movies roll the credits at some point. What about the members of the Gore team who are saying that it’s all over?
Deutsch refers to them as “the people in Al Gore’s office who want to go back to being lobbyists” and “don’t want to offend a Bush administration,” because they’re “afraid of losing their clients.” Deutsch says that he knows Gore fairly well and that “I know in his heart I don’t think he wants to stop.”
Carter Eskew pitches in, makes some suggestions about Gore’s speech. As do Attie, Daley, Bob Shrum, Tipper, Karenna, Kristin, the Gore family in general. Even historian Richard Goodwin throws in an idea or two. But Al Gore’s speech is largely his own. He’s working hard, finding the right tone, working on delivery, making sure that it’s the speech of his life. There’s some debate about whether or not he should use the word “concession.” He decides he’d better.
His speech is human, heartfelt, self-deprecating, completely and absolutely deferential to President-elect George W. Bush. Gore steps to a podium in the Old Executive Office Building. He seems to take a moment to mentally prepare himself; a barely perceptible shift from a wince in horror to a sigh of relief.
“Just moments ago, I spoke with George W. Bush and congratulated him on becoming the forty-third president of the United States,” Gore says. “I promised him that I wouldn’t call him back this time,” he jokes. Gore spells out his concession so clearly that no pundit could read any doubt into it, or slam him for anything but unconditional surrender,“offer[ing] my concession… and accept[ing] my responsibility, which I will discharge unconditionally, to honor the new president-elect and do everything possible to help him bring Americans together.”
Without trying to justify his hard-fought legal battle to have the Florida undervotes counted, Gore acknowledges that he “strongly disagree[s] with the [Supreme] Court’s decision.” But he also says: “I accept the finality of this outcome, which will be ratified next Monday in the electoral college.”
Showing a glimmer of the pugilistic “Fightin’ Al” who felled Bill Bradley and so turned off the media, Gore says that “some have asked whether I have any regrets. And I do have one regret: that I didn’t get the chance to stay and fight for the American people over the next four years, especially for those who need burdens lifted and barriers removed, especially for those who feel their voices have not been heard. I heard you, and I will not forget. I’ve seen America in this campaign, and I like what I see. It’s worth fighting for, and that’s a fight I’ll never stop.”
He quotes Sen. Stephen Douglas telling Abraham Lincoln, “‘Partisan feeling must yield to patriotism.’” He says that “what remains of partisan rancor must now be put aside, and may God bless his stewardship of this country.” He thanks the Liebermans for not only bringing “passion and high purpose to our partnership” but for “open[ing] new doors, not just for our campaign but for our country.” (In case anybody forgot: Lieberman’s a Jew!)
The camera cuts to Tipper, sandwiched between Lieberman and wife, with a tearful daughter Karenna and husband, Drew Schiff, behind them, as well as a mop of blond hair from an unidentified Gore daughter.
Karenna must have lost it when Gore quoted his father (quoting poet Edwin Markham), saying, “As for the battle that ends tonight, I do believe, as my father once said, that no matter how hard the loss, defeat might serve as well as victory to shape the soul and let the glory out.
“I personally will be at his disposal, * and I call on all Americans—I particularly urge all who stood with us—to unite behind our next president,�
�� Gore says.
“And now, my friends, in a phrase I once addressed to others”—namely President George H. W. Bush and Vice President Dan Quayle in 1992—“it’s time for me to go,” Gore says.
Boy! the pundits exclaim. If only he had spoken like that during the campaign! And this is how it always is, which is something for civilian Al Gore to remember. Because when the pundits praise Gore over the next few days for his grace and class, they are merely doing what the media always do with presidential losers.
“A Concession Speech with Grace and Class,” headlined the Washington Post… on November 5, 1980, for President Jimmy Carter.
“Bush, Gracious in Defeat, Promises Smooth Transition,” wrote the Associated Press… on November 4, 1992, about President George H. W. Bush.
“Dignified Ending to Dole’s Gutsy, Arduous Campaign,” headlined the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on November 6, 1996, about Sen. Bob Dole.
And so, what’s next for Gore?
“I know I speak for all of you and for all the American people when I say that he will be our president, and we’ll work with him. This nation faces major challenges ahead, and we must work together. And I extended my best wishes to him and to Mrs. Bush and to the members of the Bush family.”
That’s not Gore speaking. It was Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis in 1988.
And he was interrupted by the Democratic crowd.
They cheered: “’92! ’92! ’92! ’92! ’92! ’92!”
At the Governor’s Club, Ginsberg has taken a few dozen of the Florida state GOP staffers out to dinner, “all the folks we displaced,” as he later puts it. Before the champagne toasts to Bush and their efforts, they all watch Gore’s speech silently. Ginsberg will later call it “graceful.”
Down the street, at Po’ Boys, Gore’s speech gets a different reaction from Speaker Feeney.
“What a loser,” Feeney says, according to a Sun-Sentinel reporter who Feeney doesn’t know is there. He calls it “an evil speech.”
Just as Gore didn’t seem slick or fake or insincere or arrogant or condescending—even humbly referencing his need to “mend some fences” in Tennessee, both “literally and figuratively”—Bush, in his acceptance speech, successfully steers clear of his oratory foibles.
He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t mispronounce any words with more than two syllables, doesn’t seem—as he too often does—a few California rolls short of a sushi platter. His tongue darts in and out of his mouth a tad too often (dry mouth?), but Bush seems sturdy, strong, and a good winner.
In stark contrast with his campaign staffers who drummed up Florida crowds with anti-Gore vitriol, Bush even suggests that he understands, even empathizes with, Gore’s attitude of the last few weeks.“Gore and I put our hearts and hopes into our campaigns,” Bush says. “We both gave it our all. We shared similar emotions. So I understand how difficult this moment must be…. He has a distinguished record of service to our country as a congressman, a senator, and as a vice president.”
(Bush doesn’t work into his speech Gore’s service in Vietnam during the war. Gore, helpfully, did.)
Bush asks for prayers for him and his family, prayers for Gore and his family, for “this great nation,” as well as “for leaders from both parties.” With the Creator in mind, Bush puts a karmic spin on the last thirty-six days, saying, “I believe that things happen for a reason, and I hope the long wait of the last five weeks will heighten a desire to move beyond the bitterness and partisanship of the recent past.”
Bush emphasizes his desire to work with Democrats, ticking off reforms that everyone can agree on in the broadest, most superficial terms imaginable: education, Social Security reform, Medicare, tax relief, foreign policy “true to our values,” and a strong and superior military. Bush does seem better suited to co-leading a bipartisan consensus on Medicare and Social Security reform than Gore, but the bloody, ugly divisiveness of the last six weeks may prove far more powerful than the glossy sheen Bush tried to coat his incoming presidency with.
Speaking of divisiveness, having lost the black vote by a larger percentage than any Republican presidential candidate since Gerald Ford in 1976, Bush even marginally reaches out to the black community—heralding “our shared American values that are larger than race or party,” and adding that “the president of the United States is the president of every single American, of every race and every background.”
Comparing this tight race to the hard-fought 1800 race that delivered the presidency to perhaps America’s most brilliant president, Thomas Jefferson, the man who is probably not even in the top fiftieth percentile says he would “be guided by President Jefferson’s sense of purpose: to stand for principle, to be reasonable in manner, and, above all, to do great good for the cause of freedom and harmony.” Perhaps hoping to increase the sales of his campaign “autobiography,” A Charge to Keep (written by spokeswoman Karen Hughes), Bush says that “the presidency is more than an honor, more than an office, it is a charge to keep and I will give it my all.”
It’s a great speech, given to thunderous applause from the Democrat-controlled Texas house of representatives, highlighting Bush’s boasts of having reached across the aisle to work with Democrats. Or so it appears. After being introduced by Democrat speaker of the house Pete Laney, Bush refers to the chamber as “a place where Democrats have the majority, Republicans and Democrats have worked together to do what is right for the people we represent. We had spirited disagreements, and in the end, we found constructive consensus. It is an experience I will always carry with me, and an example I will always follow. The spirit of cooperation I have seen in this hall is what is needed in Washington, D.C.”
It turns out that dozens of Democrats actually weren’t invited. “We weren’t asked to come,” says state representative Garnet Coleman, vice chairman of the Texas house’s Public Health Committee and a member of the Appropriations Committee. Calling the Bush team’s failure to invite Democrats “phony” and “hypocritical,” Democratic state representative Kevin Bailey, D-Houston, says that “it was kind of surprising that we weren’t invited.”
“It shows you how good they are at presenting impressions,” adds Coleman.
Gore spokesman Douglas Hattaway is at Café Cabernet with some friends and colleagues. He’s approached by Michael Leach, of Seminole County fame.
“Hey!” Leach says after introducing himself.“Great speech! Except when he attacked the Supreme Court.”
“What part was that?!” asks Hattaway.
“You know,” says Leach, “when he said he disagreed with them.”
“You know what?” says Hattaway. “I need a fucking drink.”
Postscript
The Plot to Steal the Presidency
Walk into the Grand Atrium of the Ronald Reagan Building on Friday night, January 19, 2001, and you’ll be treated to some interesting scenes.
There’s Fred Bartlit over there, hugging Ken Starr.
There’s Phil Beck, warmly introducing Dr. Laurentius Marais to fellow guests. “My star witness!” he says.
Ginsberg, Carvin, Terwilliger, Van Tine. Olson’s over there—they say he might be solicitor general!
It’s the Baker Botts reception for former president and Barbara Bush. A black-tie affair, packed to the gills. Tomorrow, George W. Bush will be sworn in as president of the United States.
“George W.’s first job was in the mail room of Baker Botts,” Baker says to the crowd.
Soon it’s Bush Sr.’s turn to speak. “I want to thank Jim, who went over there and did that superb job.” He also thanks the “many lawyers from Baker Botts and across the country who went down there at their own expense and did a fantastic job of getting out the truth and protecting, I’d say, the rights of all of the voters in Florida.” The lawyers, Bush says, “went over there and, in my opinion, Barbara’s opinion, did the Lord’s work.”
He has praise, in particular, for Baker. “I mean, Christopher never had a chance up against this guy—I’m t
elling ya!” Bush says.“He was in over his head when Baker took him on.”
“Without reminiscing too much about the event, those terrible thirty-seven days,” Bush says, with Jeb’s son George P. Bush by his side, “I think one of the things troubled me the most were the gratuitous attacks on this boy’s father. The attacks on Jeb Bush, the governor, the most honorable, honest man in the world. It really burned me up, and Barbara, too.
“I don’t know why I’m getting off on that tangent in this night, but this seemed like a friendly crowd to tell that to.”
There are balls and parties all over town. Ginsberg and his law/lobbying firm, Patton Boggs, host one for the Bush legal team. Greenberg Traurig’s D.C. office hosts Barry Richard. At the Florida Ball, in the National Building Museum, in a black, ruffled, strapless, floor-length silk gown, wearing a large diamond choker and a wrap is Katherine Harris. She may be appointed to a position in the Bush administration yet—one that doesn’t require Senate confirmation. Or she may run for Congress; there’s reportedly a GOP House seat opening up in the Sarasota area.
“I want you to know how very much I missed you and how very pleased I am to be back in circulation,” she says to a mass of Floridians.
There’s John Ellis, of Fox News Channel, over there, talking about the Bush “dynasty.” “For all the press jabber about dynastic pretensions, I’ve never heard anyone in the family talk about it,” he tells a fawning reporter from the New York Times, whose subsequent story doesn’t even mention Ellis’s role in his cousin’s presidency.“It’s viewed as an amazing thing, not a dynastic thing. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I think George W. and George Herbert Walker Bush both worked very hard to get where they are today. But it’s extraordinary that it happened. If you wrote it in a book, nobody would believe it.”