Going Rogue: An American Life (67 page)

1 remember the first time Todd and 1 heard the Illinois senator speak on TV, during the run-up to the Democrar primary. Afterward, we looked at each other and said, “Wow. That was good.” But even then 1 feared his smooth style would obscure what he was actually saying.

Other members of the campaign team included Tracey Schmirt and Chtis Edwards. Tracey was a very smart woman who had served as press secretary at the RNC and had a gift for media messaging and for relating with reporters. Chris, a White House veteran, was so kind, polished and impeccably dressed. 1

also introduced to a married couple that was working for John, Mark and Nicolle Wallace. 1 was told the couple met during rhe 2000 Florida recount, when Mark was one of George W. Bush’s attorneys and Nicolle was communications director for the Bush campaign. Mark, who went on to work as a deputy with Bush’s U.N. Ambassador Bolton, seemed ro me half

sunshine, half thundercloud. Always talking with his hands, joked a lot to keep things light, but 1 would also he had a

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hair-trigger temper and ofren reacted to problems with a brief explosion (“This is f****d up! Fix it! Now! “). Blond and pretty, Nicolle was outwardly

affectionate, with

a charm that some women in politics lack. She also had a television quality about her, always “on” and speaking in sound bires. Also on the ream were a pair of very brainy guys named Randy Scheunemann and Sreve Biegun, the men who would be helping with foreign policy briefings.

Randy began with a smile. “I’ve been around John McCain for a long time and he’s known for making a lor of bold choices. This might be rhe boldesr one yer:’

I laughed, glad he felt comfortable enough to joke with me. “I agree:’ I said.

Randy explained he’d done John’s foreign policy briefings when John ran for president in 2000. He had also worked as a national security advisor for Republican lawmakers and consulred wirh Pentagon officials on Iraq and other major conflicrs. I liked Randy from the start.

He then introduced his colleague, Steve Biegun. Steve had served as staff director for the Senare Foreign Relations Committee and spent rhree years as the number tbree man on the Bush National Security Council; he had been there on September II, 2001. Steve
was an expert on Soviet and post-Soviet Russia and had lived in
Moscow for a number of years. I liked him righr off the bat, too, especially when I saw an eight-by-ten glossy of his wife and kids taped to the inside cover of his briefing binder.

His boys were baseball players, he said when I asked about them.

“I hope you’re nor missing their games for this:’ I said. He was.

Steve and

were good men, helpful and unptetentious.

They reminded me thar Obama didn’t have foreign policy experi
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ence. As a governor, I had gained such experience as it related to Alaska’s international commerce and energy issues, as well as our strategic national security position. Steve and Randy reminded me that after a decade and a half in public office, including serving as a city manager and governor, I had more administrative and executive experience than either Obama or Biden. We assumed it was the campaign press people’s job to get that message out to the voters.

Most of the folks in this group would be affectionately known as

“the B

because, with the exception of the WaIlaces, they

all assigned to the VP half of the ricket. Most of the B Team turned out to be, unquestionably, first string.

Very early in the campaign, Schmidt walked into our suite, escorting a tanned, kind of tired-looking guy in a suit.

“Governor Palin, I’d like to introduce Andrew Smith,” Schmidt said. “He’ll be your campaign chief of staff.” I stood up and offered my hand. “Hi, Andrew,

great to meet

you.”

“Tell the governor what you’ve done, Andrew,” Schmidt said.

“What I’ve done?” Smith said in a thick East Coast accent. Schmidt eyed Smith and made a kind of “Go on, tell her” motion with his hands.

“Yeah,” Schmidt said. “You’ve worked on rhe New York Srock Exchange.”

Smirh turned to me. “I’ve worked on the New York Srock Exchange.”

“Oooh … okay,” I said, ·smiling. “Well; it’s great to have you aboard. Have you managed campaigns before?”

Andrew swiveled his head between Schmidt and me. Finally Schmidt answeted fot him: “No. He’s a financial guy.”

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It seemed odd that we were being put in the

of a man

who had never run a campaign before, but Andrew seemed like a nice guy, and it wasn’t my

figured they were pros and knew

what they were doing. It ended up being a learning experience for all of us.

5

In the suite, a beautiful, helpful lady named Coral had set up a sewing machine ro tailor the clothes the campaign supplied. Nicolle had had a hand in hiring a team of New York stylists, one of whom had apparently worked for some big-name newscasters, including Katie Couric.

When we had a few minutes and the stylists helped me take a closer look at the clothes, the price rags almost knocked my eyes
out.

I remember seeing one rather plain-looking blazer and thinking,
That cost more than a semester at the University of Alaska.
I also noticed that instead of decent $7 pairs of nylons, one fancy package’s price tag read $70. I hated to break it to them, but I doubted 1’d even wear them-it was still warm out, after all. The campaign had also purchased real pearls for the girls to wear on the night of my speech. Aftet the big night, I made my daughters put them back into the store boxes and hand everything back to campaign staffers. We didn’t need fancy jewelry. (Not long after Todd and I married, we bought a $35 wedding band from a street vendor in Hawaii, and it still works!) At one point, Willow asked a campaign staffer, “Who’s paying fot all this?”

“Don’t know,” the staffer said. “But it’s taken cate of.” After my parents arrived for the convention, campaign aides took Dad down to Neiman Marcus to browse $200 ties and $350