A Day in the Life of a Political Machine

Cold coffee. Last-minute plans. Calls that are not made and many that are not answered. Primary campaigns are usually studies in tension, turmoil, trial and error. Not George Bush’s campaign. The Vice President, more than any other contender in either party, has an organization that functions like a finely tuned machine. The campaign is always a reflection of the candidate, but sometimes the candidate seems to be no more than the end product of an enormously intricate mechanism.

Last week the Bush machine was concentrating on the South, and especially on South Carolina, where Saturday’s primary served as an all-important prologue to Super Tuesday. In the end, it paid off: Bush won South Carolina handily, with 48% of the votes, compared with 21% for Bob Dole and 19% for Pat Robertson.

The soul of a political machine can be analyzed best through a glimpse of its parts, both grand and trivial. What follows is one day — Wednesday, March 2 — in the life of the Bush campaign.

6:12 a.m., Biloxi, Miss. The predawn fog creeps across the Hilton hotel parking lot where a dozen perky volunteers gather to prepare for the Vice President’s visit that afternoon. Scott Walker, 22, who has taken a semester off from the University of Central Florida, leads a group that will plant another 100 BUSH FOR PRESIDENT signs along Highway 90. The others head for the the Mississippi Coast Coliseum to inflate 1,000 red, white and blue helium balloons. They work in the men’s bathroom, where the ceiling is low enough to allow the balloons to float within reach. Logistics are controlled by Washington: the balloons have been sent down to Biloxi by Federal Express.

6:20 a.m., New York City. Roger Ailes, the Bush campaign’s $25,000-a-month media consultant, winds down at home from an all-night session at his office, where he has been polishing two Bush television ads. One touts Bush’s record, the other attacks Dole for supporting the national commission on the deficit, which the ad charges was proposed by Mario Cuomo, the “liberal Democratic Governor of New York.” An Ailes assistant copies the ads and sends them by messenger to Pollster Robert Teeter and to campaign headquarters in Washington.

6:35 a.m., Columbia, S.C. From his 14th-floor room in the Radisson Hotel, Campaign Manager Lee Atwater, wearing a shaggy white sweater, surveys six different newspapers to prepare for his morning staff meeting.

6:45 a.m., Tampa. Craig Fuller, Bush’s smooth and efficient White House chief of staff, knocks on the door of the Vice President’s suite at the Sheraton Grand Hotel. Bush, who has been up for 45 minutes, is eating a breakfast of cereal, fruit and yogurt. Fuller provides the latest breakdown from Tuesday’s nonbinding Vermont primary (Bush has beaten Dole 49% to 39%) and then runs through the themes to be stressed during the five-state swing today: strong defense and “stability.” Each day the campaign carefully focuses its message on a simple idea. Fuller reminds Bush to avoid mentioning Dole or Robertson by name but to reaffirm the stability factor, a subtle contrast to Dole’s supposed short fuse and Robertson’s wild charges.

The Bush organization operates more like a board of directors than a classic pyramid, with each member having relatively equal access to the Vice President. The inner sanctum: Fuller, Campaign Manager Atwater, Media Consultant Ailes, Pollster Teeter, Communications Director Pete Teeley and Deputy Campaign Manager Rich Bond.

7 a.m., Tampa. Tim McBride, Bush’s personal aide, hands him the telephone for a five-minute live interview on the Oklahoma radio network. Since New Hampshire, Teeley has ordered at least two such interviews each morning for drive-time radio in markets where Bush cannot appear in person.

7:25 a.m., Columbia. Three brown phones and three white ones are forever ringing in Atwater’s room at the Radisson. Scanning the Charlotte Observer, he tells New Hampshire Governor John Sununu, “I want you to come down to Houston. Things start happening in the last ten days.” After hanging up, Atwater, in his rat-a-tat South Carolina accent, explains, “We have blended the national campaign with the state campaign here.”

7:40 a.m., Tampa. Bush enters the first of five black Cadillac limousines flown in the day before by Air Force C-130 cargo planes. Morning traffic is never a bother for the Bush campaign: with radios cackling about the movements of “Timberwolf,” Bush’s code name, the Secret Service and the state police block all intersections along the way. Although Iowans were unimpressed with the trappings of incumbency, Southerners seem to cotton to such pomp and circumstance.

7:45 a.m., Gulfport, Miss. Jim Vandenberg, manager of the Catfish Shak restaurant, pours the last quart of pickle relish into the industrial-size tub of tartar sauce for the catfish later that morning in Biloxi. The Bush campaign originally wanted a crayfish boil, but wiser heads counseled that crayfish are a Louisiana dish; catfish are regarded as Mississippian.

8:05 a.m., Clearwater, Fla. The cavernous dining room of Las Fontanas can seat 500, but it is only half-filled for the senior citizen breakfast. More than half of those present are glossy yuppie types rather than silver-haired pensioners. “Where the ! ! are the seniors?” Teeley mutters. Bush’s speech meanders. His claim that the medical and financial condition of senior citizens has improved evokes no response. But when Bush says, “I’m talking about stability, who’ll be stable in a crisis,” the audience perks up.

8:42 a.m., Clearwater. For 45 minutes after breakfast, Bush does several interviews with the three Tampa-St. Petersburg network affiliates in a back room at the restaurant. The campaign’s goal is to get as many images on as many local stations as possible. Bush looks each interviewer in the eye, as he has been coached by Ailes to do. His aides smile as Bush keeps mentioning “stability.” “Dole acted like talking to us was a chore,” notes Diane Pertner of WXFL. “But the Vice President was relaxed and obviously very interested.”

9:28 a.m., Columbia. At a campaign staff meeting, Atwater tells the eight others present, “First and foremost, things went great in Vermont yesterday. This will give us a good head of steam . . . What’s today?” Campaign Aide Warren Tompkins: “Jeb Bush at 3:30 at the Veterans Memorial. The Governor will be in Greenville attacking Dole’s textile votes.” Atwater: “I’d do it in Spartanburg.” Press Aide Barbara Pardue suggests that since Pat Robertson was endorsed the previous day by Cowboy Roy Rogers, the Bush campaign should seek a rival endorsement from the Lone Ranger. Laughter.

9:50 a.m., St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport. Air Force Two lifts off exactly on schedule. On board with Bush are 18 aides, 15 Secret Service agents and three reporters. The Vice President sits in a swivel chair in the front cabin with former Secretary of the Navy John Lehman. Lehman, champion of the 600-ship Navy, is Bush’s heavyweight sidekick for the day (yesterday it was Barry Goldwater). When Lehman mentions that Michael Dukakis advocates saving $18 billion by eliminating two carrier task forces, Teeley, who has been sitting in on the conversation, immediately sees it as the perfect item to highlight Bush’s speech at the Ingalls shipyard in Pascagoula, Miss. Teeley urges Bush to add a new note card for his speech. Bush agrees and Teeley drafts four new sentences, based on Lehman’s unchecked assertion.

10:08 a.m., Baton Rouge, La. A van from Fred Heroman’s flower shop arrives at the Louisiana State University Assembly Center, bringing Spanish moss to complete the Cajun backdrop for the Vice President’s speech at the jambalaya rally.

10:35 a.m., Mobile. Among those greeting Bush at the airport is a bevy of Azalea Trail maids in phosphorescent Scarlett O’Hara crinolines. One reporter wonders whether the Secret Service has checked under the hoopskirts: “You could hide a Stinger missile in there.” Bruce Zanca, a Bush advanceman, uses a ramp phone resting on the runway to call Air Force Two. The telephone is one of the 101 special phone lines that will be installed for the Bush entourage that day at Government expense.

10:39 a.m., Columbia. Atwater saunters into Governor Carroll Campbell’s office for a strategy session about Bush’s media campaign. The Governor is Bush’s Southern campaign chairman. Campbell: “Now don’t forget those small rural stations with UHF and the small cable stations. And put in five minutes of the Campbell endorsement and the Bush spot on those Christian stations.”

12:20 p.m., Pascagoula, Miss. With Lehman at his side during a visit to the Ingalls shipyard, Bush waves stiffly from a platform in front of a new amphibious assault ship, the U.S.S. Wasp. To a crowd of men in hard hats, Bush vigorously advocates a strong military and then launches his hastily scripted attack on Michael Dukakis. For the first time all day, the national press takes notice; Bush must be so confident that he is looking ahead to the general election. Bush’s understated comparison of himself with Dole and Robertson (he again mentions “stability”) gets lost in the static.

1:15 p.m., Biloxi. The Bush entourage is running an atypical 15 minutes late. The weather is oyster-gray, and the turnout at the Mississippi Coast Coliseum is only fair. Dozens of Bush signs provided by the campaign lie unused on the ground. Some campaign officials wanted to stage the rally indoors, but Lanny Griffith, the Southern coordinator, insisted on palm trees and the gulf as the appropriate TV backdrop. Bush has only an outline to speak from, and his off-the-cuff remarks are off the mark: “I know I have the commitment of the innate honesty and decency of the United States.”

1:50 p.m., Biloxi. Before the local media interviews, Teeley takes Bush aside and whispers Dole campaign gossip: Brock and Dole are rumored to be not speaking. Bush frowns. “Well, I guess we should just keep plugging ahead on the high road,” Bush says. “I know that’s going to be tough for you, Pete,” he adds kiddingly, and then slugs Teeley on the arm. The first question at the local press conference is from a blond local TV reporter in black Reeboks: “Mr. Vice President, how do you stay in such great shape?”

2:30 p.m., Baton Rouge. An elephant costume sent from the National Federation of Republican Women has just arrived. They want a college student to put it on and escort Bush to the podium. Christy Casteel, Bush’s Louisiana campaign director, needs to clear the costume with the Secret Service, but there is not enough time to do so before Bush’s arrival.

2:45 p.m., aboard Air Force Two. The Vice President’s plane is less a floating palace than a flying Motel 6 — frayed brown seats, rickety mustard- yellow baggage racks. Bush and staff munch on popcorn and the Vice President’s favorite snack food: fried pork rinds with Tabasco sauce. On the ritzier press plane, reporters dine on whitefish, smoked salmon and crabmeat.

3:55 p.m., Baton Rouge. Bush has an hour of downtime at the Ramada Hotel near L.S.U. Doffing his jacket, he phones Atwater in South Carolina. Atwater says reporters are asking lots of questions about the Dukakis statement. It seems that while Dukakis did say he would cancel two new carriers, he added that he would not scrap any already afloat. Teeley is dispatched to gather the facts and smooth things over. Atwater also tells Bush that Dole has promised a “major announcement” for the next day. Bush: “What is that all about, do we have any idea?” Atwater doesn’t. (It turns out to be an endorsement from Jeane Kirkpatrick.)

Bush asks Atwater about two Dole ads that attack Bush for waffling on taxes and leaving no marks in the jobs he has held: “Is he running the waffle ad? Any idea why they ran that snow-prints ad in Florida of all places?” Bush is pleased and relaxed. Things are going well. He turns to Fuller and says, “I wish the sand were running through the hourglass faster because everything feels real solid right now.” Bush heads into the room next door and pedals a stationary bicycle for 20 minutes while watching CNN.

( 5:12 p.m., Baton Rouge. Two thousand people gather on the floor of L.S.U. Assembly Center, where the Fighting Tigers play basketball. The scoreboard reads DOLE: 0 BUSH: 88. Bush’s talent for tortured syntax and mixed cliches comes through when he says, “I’m disturbed when Congress pulls the plug out from under the contras.” But he is having a good time — as is the crowd — and he dons a “Bushbackers ’88” apron to serve platefuls of jambalaya to the faithful.

5:37 p.m., Baton Rouge. Teeley and Fuller huddle about Dole’s suggestions that Panama’s General Noriega received millions from the CIA while Bush was director. Teeley then calls an impromptu press conference and says to the assembled reporters, “It sounds like we’re in a campaign with Lyndon Larouche.” The starved national reporters scribble furiously. Finally, they have something as spicy as the jambalaya. But neither Fuller nor Teeley has a chance to discuss with Bush how he should respond to Dole’s insinuations. “I can handle it,” says Bush as he heads for a local TV interview. “I find it amazing that a U.S. Senator would talk about CIA matters,” he tells one interviewer. “There are proper channels to discuss CIA operations, and a political campaign is not one of them.” Teeley to Fuller: “Can’t improve on that answer.”

6:25 p.m., Baton Rouge. A White House communications aide tells Fuller that “somebody is trying to contact Timberwolf.” Barbara Bush is using five minutes of free time after a campaign stop in Meridian, Miss., to reach her husband. Bush is still in the post-jambalaya press conference for the local media and can’t get to the phone.

7:20 p.m., Air Force Two en route to Greenville, S.C. The day’s campaign revels are ended. Bush orders a vodka martini with two olives. When a photographer wanders in, an aide whisks away the glass. “We live in a world of images,” Bush sighs.

8:30 p.m., Air Force Two. Bush confers with Fuller and Teeley, who report the latest from Atwater and Teeter. Fuller says the trip to Orlando has been dropped. “The numbers are too good,” he says. Bush is disappointed. “We were going to work out with the Astros,” he says. “I was going to show ’em my behind-the-back catch.” When business is done, Bush leans back and reflects on his organization. “Nobody is in absolute charge of anything, everybody works together and knows they have to get a consensus. If there’s a problem between people, I straighten it out. I guess a business school | wouldn’t design it that way, but my standard is: Does it work or not? It works for me.”

9:50 p.m., Greenville. Governor Campbell meets Bush at the airport and rides with him to his hotel.

11:45 p.m., Greenville. Teeter and Fuller discuss media buys and travel arrangements. Their plans are predicated on Dole’s. Robertson is rarely mentioned, Kemp not at all. Teeter has learned that day about Dole’s media plans. “He’s buying the living hell out of North Carolina. He committed for $334,000 in the last two days alone.” Teeter reports on their own buys: “We bought Columbia-Jefferson City today and upped our buy a little bit in St. Louis. We’re only going comparative in South Carolina so far.” (In their parlance, Dole’s ads are negative; Bush’s are “comparative.”)

The discussion turns to Sunday. “The question is,” says Teeter, “Should we do two stops in the South and a big event in St. Louis Sunday night? Or should we pull out all the stops, take it to him ((Dole)) and do four big stops in Missouri on Sunday?” Teeter says there is heavy pressure from Illinois to appear there right after Super Tuesday. The two men smile ruefully; neither wants to make a firm commitment that far ahead.