What It Takes (167 page)

Keene couldn’t figure that, either: “We need good news.”

“That’s what I thought, too. ...” Then Dole asked: “What does Devine think?”

“He’s in Minnesota.”

“You think he’d come with us?”

“He would if you asked.”

“You get him.”

So then it was Keene and Devine—just like old times! Keene was spouting lines for Dole mile-a-minute (“Why don’t you start asking, ‘Where’s Bush?’ Haven’t seen him anywhere! How can he write off the heartland of this country?”) ... And Devine was hunched over his computer (he had a
laptop
!), trying to figure out where Dole might win delegates—maybe delegates enough to ... make this a fight! They couldn’t fight Bush all across the South, but they could pick off Missouri, Oklahoma ... North Carolina, surely—a district or two in Florida? ... They were actually nosing toward a
plan
... and Dole started to perk up. He kept hovering over Devine:

“What about the delegates? Aghhhh ... you got ’em?”

“Yeah, I got ’em,” Devine said. “But I’m not telling you because you’ll hold me to the numbers.”

“Nooo,” Dole said. “I won’t do that.”

Keene said: “Yes, you will!”

And they started to laugh. It was the first time in a week anyone had heard laughter on that plane.

“Just tell me,” Dole said. “Can we still do it?”

Devine said: “You can do it.”

Auughhh!
It was like someone breathed air back into the Bobster. He seemed physically bigger! His tan came back! ... He got right on the phone to L Street—get Brock on the line!
We need computers for the plane, and phones!
... Where’s Judy? ...
We’re stayin’ in Minnesota, Tuesday night!

At L Street, this was terrible news: Dole was on the warpath! He was
ruining everything
! Judy Harbaugh couldn’t keep the schedule tied down long enough to send Advance out ahead of Dole. She ended up advancing in cities where

Dole never showed. Then the ancient and freckled Dixiecrat, Strom Thurmond, endorsed Dole in South Carolina—where Dole wasn’t even planning to fight—so for the next week, the only place Dole wanted to go was South Carolina.

Brock called Judy: “Is he sticking to the schedule? Don’t change it!”

“I can’t get anything put together! He’s messing with everything!”

Brock called Dole and chewed him out.
Who’s running this campaign, anyway?

And that about sent Dole over the edge:
Why aren’t we staying in South Dakota, or Minnesota ... on a VICTORY NIGHT?
Dole said he couldn’t understand it, Keene couldn’t understand it, Devine couldn’t understand it!

Keene and Devine sent Mari home—she was too sick to do any good. Dole had someone call Riker: “Senator says, meet him in Duluth tomorrow morning!” ... They called back the young ad guys who’d done that great Dole video—Murphy and Castellanos—hired them on an emergency basis, and they cut two dozen ads in ten days, more than the Dole campaign had managed to produce the previous year. ... On the phone from the road, Dole reeled in an endorsement from Jeane Kirkpatrick. She was the soul of the Reagan revolution. She knew Dole
and
Bush—and she was coming out for Dole! So he called Judy Harbaugh again, ordered her to schedule him back to Washington for a big press conference. ... Meanwhile, he spent his victory night in Minneapolis.

What he did, in effect, was cut his own campaign out of the loop—made up a new one from the plane ... and not a bad one! At least, it felt like a campaign.

That’s when Keene got a call from his buddy, the columnist, the big-right-foot, Bob Novak. He was going with a piece, the next day, quoting a “high official in the Dole campaign” who said the Plane from Hell had been “hijacked” by Keene and Devine.

Well, that was trouble ...

That could only be one source ...

That could only mean ... the Big Guy ... was pissed!

Bill Brock met the plane, the night after the Minnesota and South Dakota wins. They were in Orlando. The next morning, Keene was eating breakfast in a coffee shop—Dole was speaking in the back room—when a newsmagazine photographer asked Keene:

“Mind if I get a picture of you and your Campaign Chairman?”

Keene said: “It’s all right with me if it’s okay with him.”

The photographer said: “He’s on his way over.”

Bill Brock sat down in the booth, and as the photographer was taking his picture, Brock raised a finger into Keene’s face and announced:

“I’m cutting the string. You’re finished! You’re off the campaign!”

Keene started to pfumfer through his breakfast. (He had egg on his face!) ... Don Devine wandered over, and Brock wheeled on him: “You, too! You’re fired! You’re off the payroll! And you’re off the plane in Jacksonville. You can find your own way home. And you can
pay
your own way home!”

Devine said: “I don’t know if I’ll
get
off...”

Brock said: “You’ll get off, or we’ll throw you off!”

When Dole finished his speech, and was headed to the cars, Keene sidled up: “Uh, are you aware that Don and I have just been fired?”

Dole just stared ... then he said to Keene: “I’ll talk to Brock. Don’t worry.”

But still, Dole could not pick a fight with his Big Guy. Anyway, there was no time to talk—they were on their way to Universal Studios. Dole had a photo-op! Movie stars! ... Then they were back on the Plane from Hell—just a short hop into Jacksonville, and when they landed, here came Brock, down the aisle:

“Get their stuff off the plane! Throw it off! They’re off the plane!”

Keene scurried up the aisle toward Dole. “How do you want me to handle this?”

“Aghh ... gingerly, I hope.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

So Keene gingerly told every word, every seamy bit of background, to every paper in the nation with circulation of a hundred thousand or better: if Brock and his pricey flunkies hadn’t steered Dole’s campaign into such desperate deep water, Keene never would have
been
on that plane! ... Meanwhile, the Big Guy could not content himself this time with Klingons peddling his response—no, he bestirred himself
personally
to apprise the big-feet (just on background, understand): if Dole and his humble helpers hadn’t reduced the campaign to such a mess
before Bill Brock got there
... well, things would
never
have come to this pass. It all made delicious cud for Super Tuesday chewing, as everybody-in-the-know analyzed Dole’s desperation (the only thing upon which all sides agreed) ... an impression reinforced by Wirephotos of Dole, at Universal Studios, grinning (hegh-hegh-hegh) ... next to Frankenstein’s Monster.

Office of the Vice President, Washington

Schedule of the Vice President

for

Asheville, North Carolina

March 5, 1988

EVENTS:
Visit to Asheville Flea Market

DRESS:
Men: Casual

Women: Casual

CONTACTS:

Vice President’s Advance Office

John G. Keller, Jr. 202-456-7935

Trip Coordinator

Tracy J. Spahr 202-456-7935

ADVANCE
: Nancy Pilon LEAD

Tom Johnston USSS

Mike Williams WHCA

WEATHER:
Mid 50’s/Chance of Showers

Contact Sheet for

Asheville, North Carolina

March 5, 1988

HOTEL:
Holiday Inn West

275 Smoky Parkway Hwy

Asheville, NC 28806

705-667-4501

USSS:

Tom Johnston, Lead 684-5652

Marshall, TSD 684-4850

Command Post 684-4467

WHCA: Mike Williams Lead 684-5575

ASHEVILLE REGIONAL AIRPORT 684-6873

VP Holding Room 684-5472

Air Force II (Line 1) 684-5048

Air Force II (Line 2) Ramp Phone 684-5373

ASHEVILLE FLEA MARKET 253-1691

VP Holding Room 251-1114

Senior Staff Holding Room 251-1115

Staff Holding Room 251-1116

CELLULAR SERVICE: To reach one of the following numbers dial: 1-704-777-7626 then:

VP Chief of Staff Motorcade Car 301-520-4020

VP Chief of Staff T-8000 301-520-5891

VP Chief of Staff T-8000 (McBride) 301-520-3942

VP Mil Aide T-8000 (Menarchik) 301-520-3941

USSS Supervisor T-8000 (Johnston) 301-288-4029

WHCA Lead T-8000 (Williams) 301-520-3018

SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR TRIP-SITE CELLULAR USERS:

Your cellular phone has been activated for use in the local cellular network. The local network is a nonwire-line system. Before using your cellular phone please insure that the internal program is set on scan b. A telephone credit card IS NOT required to complete long distance calls.

SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS:

To reach the White House dial: 1-202-395-2000

To dial Long Distance dial: 1 + AREA CODE + NUMBER

To reach Greensboro, N.C., S.O.: 1-919-852-4549

To reach Greensboro, N.C., R.P. dial: 1-919-854-5609

To reach Greensboro N.C., C.P. dial: 1-919-852-0012

Schedule of the Vice President

for

Asheville, North Carolina

March 5, 1988

9:15 A.M
. THE VICE PRESIDENT arrives Asheville Regional Airport, Asheville, North Carolina.

Met by:

Mr. and Mrs. Jim Bailey (Diana), GBFP Buncombe County Chairman

Mr. and Mrs. Wes Potter (Dottie)

Shana Fagan (granddaughter, 14 years old)

Mr. John Veach (Jack), GBFP Supporter

Dr. Reuben Holden (Ben), GBFP Supporter

Mrs. Katheryn Kenny (Cookie), Buncombe County Co-Chair, Women for Bush

Mrs. Ruth Brandon, Buncombe County Co-Chair, Women for Bush

9:20
A.M.
THE VICE PRESIDENT boards Motorcade and departs Asheville Regional Airport en route Asheville Flea Market.

Motorcade Assignments

Lead        N. Pilon

Spare       Dr. Savage

LIMO THE VICE PRESIDENT

           Follow up

Control    C. Fuller

           J. Keller

           D. Menarchik

Support   S. Hart

           D. Valdez

           T. McBride

Staff Van All Remaining Staff

Guest Van

Press Bus B. Zanca

(Drive Time: 25 Minutes)

Guest and Staff Instructions

Upon arrival at the Flea Market, Guests and Staff will be escorted to Viewing Area.

Please board Motorcade no later 10:00
A.M.
for transport to Airport.

event: Visit to Flea Market

OPEN PRESS

9:45
A.M.
THE VICE PRESIDENT arrives Asheville Flea Market and proceeds through Flea Market.

10:00
A.M.
THE VICE PRESIDENT concludes participation in Flea Market and proceeds to Motorcade.

10:05
A.M.
THE VICE PRESIDENT boards Motorcade and departs Asheville Flea Market en route to Asheville Regional Airport, Asheville, North Carolina.

NOTE: UNSCHEDULED CAMPAIGN ACTIVITY EN ROUTE = 10 MINUTES

George Bush walked through a flea market in North Carolina. Actually, he got out of his car and walked about fifty yards, shaking hands and chatting. Someone—maybe a reporter who worked his way through the Service cordon—asked him about Panama. Noriega was acting up again: canceled the elections and beat up the winners. Bush said something—his mouth moved, anyway—which sent the rest of the press running, asking: “
Whadd’e say? Whadd’e say?
” After a minute, one reporter announced: “Panama. Democracy will prevail.”

There were glum nods. It was shorthand. The reporters had heard the Veep’s nonanswer on Panama. Bush had nonanswers on everything. One of the reporters said, “I don’t think I’d drive three minutes to see this.” In fact, she had driven and flown a hundred thousand miles.

One woman, a flea-marketeer, brought a jar of honey for Bush to autograph. One man got his dog, Cocoa, patted. (“What’s the dog’s name?” press wanted to know.) And then it was over. ... The limo drove straight into the middle of the flea market, the Secret Service made a Gardol shield on one side, and the pod-people started shouting: “All right! Let’s get the bus! Bus! BUS! PRESS THIS WAY!”

They were mostly back on the bus when there was a sudden bustle, and someone muttered, “Ah, shit!” Bush had grabbed the microphone in his limousine and was standing on a rocker panel, in an open door. George Bush was going to
talk
!

His high, nasal voice filled the flea market. “I just want to thank you very much for that ...” The press was running back, six-legged, whipping out tripods and boom mikes.

“I just want to thank you very much for that warm North Carolina welcome. Thank you very much for that warm North Carolina welcome. ... And if I may be permitted, I need your vote on March 8th. ...

“And if I get it, if I do, you’ll ... you can say you went shopping with the next President of the United States!”

The limo was rolling—Bush was inside.

“Ah, shit!” The press went running again—back to the bus. The press was restive. It’d been weeks since Bush said anything.

It was three days till Super Tuesday. South Carolina would vote today. Bush had that wrapped up in ribbons—Atwater’s home state. He would win South Carolina—big. And that would be the headline, into Super Tuesday.