THE TIDE TURNS
“I could have wiped Iran off the map with the weapons that we had, but in the process a lot of innocent people would have been killed, probably including the hostages, and so I stood up against all that advice…”
-Jimmy Carter
July 12, 1980
Unidentified Location — Bonn, West Germany
Carefully, the Carter administration had spent months ratcheting up the sanctions against Iran and weakening their bargaining position. By July, the mining of the harbors around Iran had prevented much of their ability to export oil — crippling their economy. The United States had embargoed all shipments to Iran save food and medicine, and Iranian assets stored in the United States remained frozen.
Outwardly, Khomeini continued his tough rhetoric against Carter and the Americans, but his grip on the Iranian electorate was slipping. He could assure himself favorable election returns by killing a hostage, but he also knew that would bring on the full wrath of the American military. Instead, he wanted to give the hostages back and repair the Iranian economy in time to curry favor.
The United States was also receiving intelligence that in the aftermath of the decision to mine the ports, Khomeini moved in to ensure that the militants did not harm the hostages. Publicly, the militants appeared in control of the situation, but in reality, Khomeini knew that letting them get their way would mean a bloody and costly conflict with the United States.
By late-June, Khomeini had reached his breaking point. The sanctions were taking their toll, the mining of the harbors imperiled Iran’s economy, and the militants who had seized control of the embassy were getting ready to turn on Khomeini. He was also facing a threat from his neighbor. Saddam Hussein had just launched a surprise invasion of his nation. An air invasion followed by a sustained ground assault was now 72-hours old, and Khomeini was in desperate need of military equipment to stave off the attack.
Backed into a corner, the Ayatollah Khomeini authorized Sadegh Tabatabaei to initiate negotiations with the Americans. Tabatabaei reached out through the Germans, and now, Warren Christopher (“Chris” as the president called him) was on his way to negotiate an agreement to bring the hostages home.
Warren Christopher and his team arrived in Bonn for negotiations with the Iranians on July 12th. He knew that the Ayatollah Khomeini’s position was weakened, that the upcoming Iranian elections threatened his hold on power, and that the devastating invasion of Iran was costing him resources and lives. Warren Christopher should have had all the leverage, but the Iranians knew that even more than they wanted the mines gone from their harbors, Jimmy Carter wanted the American hostages returned home.
Christopher greeted the Iranians as they arrived and thanked them for opening channels for negotiation.
Tabatabaei returned the pleasantries and began to outline their requests. First, they wanted an assurance that the United States would not interfere in Iranian affairs. Christopher was pleased. That was easy enough. The president had no ambition to meddle in the internal disputes of foreign nations, particularly not in the Middle East.
They also wanted a return of Iranian assets that had been seized or frozen after the hostages were taken. Again, Christopher felt this was a reasonable demand. The more difficult request was that, within this, they wanted a return of the Shah’s assets. The Shah’s family had wisely moved many of their assets outside of the United States, fearing this exact scenario. The Deputy Secretary of State explained this to Tabatabaei who seemed unmoved. A demand was a demand. If America wanted its hostages, Iran wanted the money they felt had been stolen from them.
Their final demand was the most obvious: America needed to move swiftly and immediately remove the mines from the Iranian harbors. [1]
The provisions were the most reasonable the Iranians had proposed up until this point — a sure sign that the internal economic situation was worrying the Ayatollah Khomeini in the lead-up to the August elections. Bluster could only go so far. He would either need to kill a hostage, securing favorable returns at the ballot box and ushering in a wrath of American military force, or he would need to come to some kind of an agreement that he could make out to be a win for the Iranian people — some way for him to say he had conquered the Americans diplomatically.
Christopher contained his excitement about the state of negotiations. There was a path, but he also knew it would be long, winding, and its outcome was anything but guaranteed. After the first meeting, the Deputy Secretary of State phoned the White House to speak directly with the president.
“He reiterated the parameters they’d mentioned in writing,” he explained. “A return of Iranian assets, an agreement not to meddle in their domestic affairs, and immediate removal of the mines. We talked about the Shah’s assets, and I explained many of them had already been moved offshore. We’ll need to figure out something on that — maybe a promise to help them locate the assets. They won’t move on it completely.”
The president was thrilled.
Christopher stayed in Europe to meet with allies about the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan while Tabatabaei returned home to speak with Khomeini. It seemed possible, even likely, that an agreement could be reached.
July 28, 1980
The White House — Washington, DC
It’s quite possible that if James Earl Carter, Sr. had lived some years longer, his son would never have become President of the United States. At the time of his father’s death, Jimmy Carter was pursuing a military career and quite content to work on submarines. He’d already escaped death once, and he did not yearn to return home to Plains, Georgia — the quaint town that would soon become so associated with his identity. Jimmy Carter the Peanut Farmer? It wouldn’t have happened if his father had lived a few more years. Instead, Billy Carter was being groomed to take over the family business. But while we plan, — well, Carter knew the saying well.
On July 22, 1953, James Earl Carter, Sr. died of pancreatic cancer, and his son Jimmy was called upon to return home and take care of the family’s business. Billy Carter was just 16 years old, too young to take on the responsibilities of the peanut farm. Instead, that job fell to Jimmy, who, back in Plains, immersed himself in the community just as his father had until one day he found himself on the school board, then the State Senate, and then he was living in the Governor’s Mansion.
All of this complicated the life path that Billy had envisioned for himself when he was a boy. Ever since James’ death, he’d been a little directionless. He used to joke with reporters, “My mother joined the Peace Corps when she was 70, my sister Gloria is a motorcycle racer, my other sister, Ruth, is a Holy Roller preacher, and my brother thinks he is going to be President of the United States! I’m really the only normal one in the family.” [2]
Carter’s presidency provided his brother with a certain celebrity that appealed to him, having lived in Jimmy’s shadow for years. In 1978, he took a trip to Libya that was widely panned after he said he wasn’t worried about the political repercussions of the trip with the Jewish community because there were “more Arabs than Jews.” [3]
The next year brought a precipitous decline for Billy. His income disappeared, he drained his savings, and he wound up in rehab to treat an addiction to alcohol. Then, the Libyans offered him a sum in excess of $200,000 for his help in selling oil. It would be embarrassing enough for the president’s brother to be doing work on behalf of a foreign government, but it was made worse by the fact that Billy had not registered as a lobbyist. Billy quickly registered when the story became public, but the damage was already done.
The story took on a life of its own. Around the same time, Brzezinski had utilized Billy in the negotiations over the hostages. Carter had been involved in approving the backchannel, and now the press reported that Billy, while being paid by the Libyans, was helping with the hostages. Carter was forced to admit he’d shared cables from the State Department with Billy. Some on the fringes began to wonder if the president and his family were compromised.
As Carter would later write, the whole thing was unpleasant, especially for a president trying to get on with winning reelection.
The Carter team gathered in the White House to debate whether or not Carter should testify in the Senate inquiry. Over at Foggy Bottom, American diplomats were working towards the release of the hostages. It was a potential breakthrough in the standoff that could be overshadowed by an unseemly scandal involving the president’s brother. Carter’s men were divided over what to do.
“We cannot let this thing consume us,” Powell said, unsure why nobody else saw things exactly as he did. “If it is a drip-drip-drip of more embarrassing revelations, we’re dead. Whoever heard of a president wanting to face the voters while his administration was under Senate investigation? We’ve got to cut the head off the snake. Testify and move on.”
Carter did not match his press secretary’s temper. He understood that every day reporters hounded Powell for answers, but Powell’s frustrations over the story were clouding his judgement. In Carter’s estimation, sending him before the Senate committee would only escalate the stakes of the investigation. He’d met for hours with Billy, who was now sober, and who had clearly outlined what had happened. Carter had little doubt that his brother would be able to handle the questioning.
“If I get involved, it looks like I’m trying to shield him. Billy can stand on his own two feet.”
“Mr. President, with all due respect, sir —”
Carter waved him off, sparing Powell the embarrassment of raising questions about Billy’s sobriety. “That’s not going to be an issue. He’s sober — he’s been sober.”
Jordan wasn’t sure where he stood. He thought Powell made sense, but he also wanted to spare the president of facing a Congressional inquiry head-on.
“We don’t know what this hearing is going to be like,” Carter continued. “Are they even organized? Do they have enough information to ask substantive questions? Or is it going to be a circus? If you’re going to put me in front of Bob Dole, we’ve got to know the answers to these questions. We’ve got to know what they’re going to ask.”
Jordan nodded at the president’s point and moved in to end the debate. “Nobody’s called on the president to testify. We don’t need to offer it, but if they call us, we’ll figure it all out then. Right now, let’s get the leadership here, tell them what we know, and call it a day.” That was exactly what they did, and shortly after the leadership left the White House, the president got the most encouraging news of his presidency since the Camp David Accords.
July 29, 1980
The White House — Washington, DC
The Shah’s assets had proved the biggest difficulty for the negotiations over the release of the hostages. Tabatabaei had been too forgiving in the initial meeting. When he returned to Iran, Khomeini was unwilling to accept that the Shah’s assets would go unreturned. Christopher tried to impress the difficulty of returning them, but it fell on deaf ears. After much progress, the negotiations had slowed considerably.
Finally, after a week of silence, Christopher offered a compromise: The Americans would be willing to help Iranians locate the hidden assets, and the Americans also included assurances that some $240 million in military equipment that Iran had purchased but never received from the Americans would be included in the return of Iranian assets. Now, Tabatabaei had an offer with which he could return to the Ayatollah Khomeini.
On July 27th, news broke that the Shah had died, and the State Department was again thrown into uncertainty, wondering how the news would impact the negotiations. They got their answer soon enough. The Iranians added another demand: They wanted an assurance that there would be no further legal action taken on behalf of the hostages. Again, Christopher brought the addition to Cy Vance and the president. Both agreed it was a reasonable request. Christopher should proceed with the agreement.
Carter was in the president’s study just off the Oval Office working with Jerry Rafshoon and Chris Matthews on his address to the Democratic National Convention. The speech took on an unprecedented importance for Carter. He kept refusing drafts as they were brought to him. Frustrated, his speechwriting team asked for guidance.
“This contest is going to be between two individuals with beliefs totally different from one another. I can’t think of any two nominees in my lifetime for whom the differences have been so stark. The speech has to say that. This isn’t a normal election,” Carter said, his frustrations mounting. “No matter if you’re a woman, or a farmer, or a minority, or an educator, or a senior — the choice could not be clearer. We’ve got to raise the stakes.”
Rafshoon nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. President.” As he started to scribble notes onto his pad, Hamilton Jordan barged in.
“Mr. President, we need to get to the Situation Room.”
They walked through the door, and Carter took his seat at the table. Warren Christopher was on the phone. Cy Vance had already come over for the call, and he sat across from the president, arms crossed and brows furrowed.
“Mr. President,” Christopher began.
“Chris, what is it? Do you have news?”
“Mr. President, I have just heard from Tabatabaei. It seems — Mr. President, they’ve accepted the terms. They’re prepared to release the hostages.”
Carter leaped from his seat. “Chris, that’s great!” He put his hands on his hips and grinned ear to ear. He looked up at Jordan and Vance who smiled back. “You’re sure now?” the cautious peanut farmer asked. He needed reassurance.
“Mr. President, they said they are ready to send the hostages back. We need to finalize the agreement, but it looks like we can get them home as soon as next week as long as we’re ready to de-mine the harbors.”
The president could not believe his ears. The men and women who had been trapped in Iran for more than 250 days were coming home. He was relieved — ecstatic, even. He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him also recognized that his political fortunes were turning. The mess of the Republican Convention had laid bare that Party’s divisions. He was running against who he believed to be the weakest of his potential Republican competitors. And now, the hostages — the millstone that had weighed down his reelection efforts — were coming home. There was cause for celebration.
August 4, 1980
Rhein-Main Air Base — Frankfurt, Hesse, West Germany
Rumors about a release of the hostages soon trickled out over the town. Jordan, Rafshoon, Powell — they couldn’t contain themselves. Nine months earlier, the militants seized the embassy and took the hostages. Now, they were prepping for Carter to greet them at Rhein-Main Air Base in Frankfurt and welcome them home. Reporters furiously pursued them, but they could not get the confirmation they needed. In a different era, they may have reported the rumors, but this was too serious. Breaking the news early might mean the death of a hostage.
On August 2nd, Walter Cronkite cut in to
Guiding Light to make the announcement Americans had long awaited: “Good afternoon, this is a CBS News special report. We are receiving word from the White House that President Carter will address the nation from the Oval Office, where he will —” Cronkite paused. He’d been waiting many days to break this news. “—announce that the United States has secured the release of the Iranian hostages, and that they will be coming home.”
That night, Carter confirmed what Cronkite had reported hours earlier: “I am pleased to announce that we have negotiated a release of the Americans held in Iran. They will soon be on their way to Germany, where I will meet them at Rhein-Main Air Base, and welcome their release. We will return to America together, aboard Air Force One.”
Jordan nodded his head on the other side of the camera. It was like the night they’d won the Iowa Caucuses — things always seemed to fall into place for Jimmy Carter. It had been a difficult four years, but now the second term was in sight.
Carter spent most of his time on the plane discussing the details of the welcome home ceremony. In Germany, Carter would give brief remarks and Americans would receive the first images of the freed hostages. They would then fly back together on Air Force One, and Andrews Air Force Base would host an elaborate welcome home ceremony. Carter would speak again, praising their bravery, and reminding Americans of the importance of patient and deliberate negotiation.
The hostages would be united with their loved ones, and they’d be welcomed to the White House the next day for breakfast with the president and Mrs. Carter. Every possible moment would be captured by television cameras. Jimmy Carter may not have made decision for political reasons, but he did do everything he could to exploit a good campaign moment. His entire primary campaign had been won by the crisis and his deliberate attention to it. Now that they were home, the four-day spectacle of events would help seal his reelection just as the Democrats prepared to unite in Madison Square Garden for their Convention — another traditional opportunity for a bump in polling numbers.
Back home, Pat Caddell was monitoring focus groups and survey data. The president was a strong leader. The president was trusted. The president was able. The president had been right all along. The data told him that reelection was within their grasp.
The president waited on the tarmac as the hostages disembarked their plane. The airplane door had a banner that read “Welcome Back to Freedom,” and the 52 hostages smiled and waved as they exited the aircraft, reveling more in their freedom than their celebrity. It had been exactly nine months since their capture.
Carter didn’t know what to expect, but any distrust between the former hostages and their president melted when the first one off the plane embraced him. Each of the successive hostages did as they stepped off the stairs. Carter spoke briefly to reporters, saying that the hostages and him were going to be alone. The hostages where shepherded into a room where they received medical evaluations. Carter waited with them.
One of them asked why the Shah had been allowed into the United States in the first place. Carter tried to explain the decision — what he’d been told about the Shah’s health and how the United States was the only place he could receive treatment. He did not mention David Rockefeller or Henry Kissinger or the political pressure. He spoke in humanitarian terms. He was doing what he thought would save another man’s life.
The man who asked the question nodded his head and did not press Carter further. He wished that Carter hadn’t done it — that he’d stood up to the shadow cabinet of foreign policy thinkers who had forced his capture, or that Maggie Thatcher had taken the Shah in herself. He wished that after the Valentine’s Day attack on the embassy, Carter had sent in reinforcements to secure the embassy. Any of this might have spared the man his 274-day capture. But none of that mattered right now. Carter had gotten them their freedom back, and he’d done it without further harm happening to any of them.
Before the return flight to the United States, Carter addressed the nation again: “It is impossible for any of us to imagine how these brave Americans felt on their plane here. They are hostages no more. They are prisoners no more. Together, we are returning to the land we all love.” [4]
After spending some more time with the hostages and showing them around the plane, Carter settled in to take a nap on Air Force One. His mind — always racing towards the next thing — drifted to the upcoming Convention speech he would give. Kennedy had been denied any major speaking slot. Carter had defeated him, and the Massachusetts Senator hardly had the delegates to force much else. It didn’t take long for these thoughts to drift into their original encounter, which had come on one of the finest days of Carter’s career: The Georgia Law Day Speech.
It was May 1974. Carter watched himself welcome Ted Kennedy to the Governor’s Mansion. He never had much like for Kennedy, even then. He had already been planning his presidential campaign and assumed that Kennedy would be his biggest threat. Their conversation lacked the camaraderie that Kennedy enjoyed with other Democratic politicians. Carter was short — cold, even. The disdain between them cemented when Carter, who offered Kennedy a ride on the governor’s plane the next morning so they could go to the University of Georgia Law School Law Day celebration together, revoked the invitation. Kennedy had to drive himself there for an event they were both attending.
As Kennedy spoke at the event, delivering the keynote address, Carter realized that his remarks resembled Kennedy’s too much for him to give his prepared speech. He ran to an adjacent room and scribbled notes on a paper. He would use these notes to deliver one of the defining speeches of his political career.
It’s possible that the 39th president would never have advanced past the asterisk status in the history books if it had not been for Hunter S. Thompson’s presence in the audience that day. He’d come to interview Kennedy, but in between trips to his car for a taste of bourbon, the Gonzo journalist found himself stirred by a politician. Surely, it couldn’t be the case, but alas, it was.
Carter cited Reinhold Niebuhr and then — nearly in the same breath — said, “The other source of my understanding about what's right and wrong in this society is from a personal, very close friend of mine, a great poet named Bob Dylan.” But aside from endearing himself to Thompson with this cultural reference, Carter continued to deliver an impassioned speech about morality and the law — and the true meaning of justice.
With the same ease with which he drifted from Niebuhr to Dylan, the governor swayed back to Niebuhr: “One of the things that Niebuhr says is that the sad duty of the political system is to establish justice in a sinful world. And he goes on to say that there's no way to establish or maintain justice without law. That — that the laws are constantly changing to stabilize the social equilibrium of the forces and counter forces of a dynamic society and that the law in its totality is an expression of the structure of government.
“Well, as a farmer who has now been in office for three years, I've seen it first hand, the inadequacy of my own comprehension of what government ought to be for its people. And I've had a constant learning process, sometimes from lawyers, sometimes from practical experience, sometimes from failures and mistakes that have been pointed out to me after they were made.”
He reminded the audience of his commitment to racial equality. His first speech as a Georgia State Senator, he told them, was against a literacy test that the state had imposed. Characteristically, Carter invoked that he was representing the “most conservative” district at the time. And he reminded them of a proud Southern Democratic tradition. Southern Democrats had a lot to regret — to be embarrassed by, as Carter himself had said just earlier in the same speech. But he reminded the audience of their populist roots. It was the tradition that Lyndon Baines Johnson invoked as president, and it was one that Carter invoked now: “I remember the thing that I used in my speech, that a black pencil salesman on the outer door of the Sumter County Courthouse could make a better judgment about who ought to be sheriff than two highly educated professors at Georgia Southwestern College.”
He told the lawyers gathered that day the story of a woman who had been taken advantage of, who had signed away her 50 acres mistakenly. Exasperated, he conceded that maybe that had happened to her was technically correct under the law. “But I, my — my heart feels — feels and cries out that something ought to be analyzed, not just about the structure of government, judicial qualification councils, and judicial appointment committees and eliminating the unsworn statement — those things are important. But they don't reach the crux of the point, that I, that now we assign punishment to fit the criminal and not the crime.” It was a bold statement.
Almost flippantly, he continued, “You can go in the prisons of Georgia, and — and I don't know, it may be that — that poor people are the only ones who commit crimes. I don't think so. But they're the only ones that serve prison sentences.”
That day, he was fearless. Near the end of his remarks, he accused the lawyers, without much of a veil, of being a corrupting force in Georgia’s politics: “We had an ethics bill in the state legislature this year. Half of it passed, to require an accounting for contributions during a campaign, but the part that applied to people after the campaign failed. We couldn’t get it through to require the revelation of payments or gifts to officeholders after in office. And the largest force against that ethics bill were the lawyers.”
His cadence that day was labored. He was thinking as he spoke. He repeated words and stammered as much as Ted Kennedy had done in his Mudd interview, but the difference was Carter had something to say, he was just finding the words and the tone to confront a group of lawyers about their profession. It was a brave speech. Thompson would later claim it was the “most eloquent thing” he’d ever heard from “the mouth of a politician.” Perhaps he meant it. But for Carter, the speech was true to form. He did not seek to praise the lawyers and win their votes. Instead, he lectured them. He forced them to confront inadequacies in the judicial system. It was a righteous speech and asleep on the couch of Air Force One, Carter couldn’t help but feel it had played a role in his being there. He’d shown up Kennedy twice, and now the only thing that stood between him and a second term was Ronald Reagan — a B-rate actor who lacked the sophistication Carter felt was necessary for the job. He may have been dreaming of days past, but when he woke, he’d be focused on the task ahead. His mind was resolute, his determination fierce: He would not lose. He would become the first Democrat since FDR to win two full terms. He would win in November.
August 14, 1980
Madison Square Garden — New York, NY
Carter entered the Democratic National Convention with the strongest approval rating of his presidency — 82%. The early days of August 1980 were filled with a sense that things were finally on the up for Americans. The year had begun with uncertainty, but Americans had prevailed at the Winter Olympics, and now they’d brought the hostages home from Iran. Perhaps this new decade would bring them out of the national malaise Carter identified in his July 1979 speech. Among the Democratic faithful gathered in Madison Square Garden, the feeling that the election had been won was euphoric. They may have overestimated how long a hangover of good feelings could persist, but on the Convention floor, they were buoyed by their confidence.
The news of the hostages had wiped Billygate right off the front pages. Senator Dole had been eager to make the charges stick, but nobody paid them any attention. In the ten days since their release, Americans had watched Carter welcome them home, an interview with one of the hostages who thanked the president for getting them home safely, and the images of hometowns welcoming the hostages back. America was coming back together.
A viewer of the 1980 Democratic National Convention would not have the sense that this was a party that — one year ago to the day — was prepared to toss out their incumbent president in favor of a challenger by a margin of nearly 50%. There was no indication that the Party had just come through four years of bitter internal squabbling. In fact, there was little mention made of either of Carter’s two primary challengers. Jerry Brown didn’t speak at all, and Ted Kennedy gave an early evening address on the opening day of the Convention. It was a clear rebuff of the Massachusetts senator, but Kennedy had neither the delegates or the will to make the moment into anything more. He gave a terse speech focused on the need to continue a fight for Democratic values. It wasn’t clear if that meant supporting Jimmy Carter against Ronald Reagan.
Carter paid Kennedy’s mediocre effort at healing the party little attention. He and his team had little reason to believe that a major overture to Kennedy was needed. The Massachusetts senator — the Prince of Camelot — had one just a single primary against the incumbent. John Connally had entered the Republican National Convention with more delegates than Kennedy brought to New York. During the workshopping of the president’s convention speech, Rafshoon humorously suggested they begin, “It’s good to be in New York — the state that killed Kennedy’s campaign, and now where we’ve decided to bury it.” Jordan’s laugh had echoed through the West Wing. When he told the president about it, Carter jokingly suggested leaving it in.
Carter himself had trouble believing that at one point the Party had been against him as he stood there, listening to the enthusiastic cheers of the delegates. When they finally dulled their roar long enough for Carter to begin, he spoke of the Party’s history of progressive leaders.
It started out fine enough. “Fritz and I will mount a campaign that defines the real issues, a campaign that responds to the intelligence of the American people, a campaign that talks sense. And we're going to beat the Republicans in November,” he told the delegates to sustained applause.
“We'll win because we are the party of a great President who knew how to get reelected — Franklin Delano Roosevelt. And we are the party of a courageous fighter who knew how to give 'em hell — Harry Truman. And as Truman said, he just told the truth and they thought it was hell. And we're the party of a gallant man of spirit — John Fitzgerald Kennedy. And we're the party of a great leader of compassion — Lyndon Baines Johnson, and the party of a great man who should have been President, who would have been one of the greatest Presidents in history — Hubert Horatio Humphrey.” [5]
Carter’s speech that night lacked the memorable turn of phrase that would endear other acceptance addresses to the history books or the public conscience, but he preached of party unity, of healing wounds, and he raised the stakes of the election. “The Republican tax program offers rebates to the rich, deprivation for the poor, and fierce inflation for all of us,” he told delegates, “and just in case you were confused about where the Republicans stood on this giveaway for the rich, they nominated two thirds of the Reagan-Kemp-Roth tax plan for president and vice president.”
He also referenced his own recent foreign policy triumph in hopes of exploiting an already-clear gap among voters: They trusted him far more on foreign policy than they trusted his opponent. “If the last nine months taught us anything,” Carter said, “it’s that we should never underestimate the power of the pen.
“We did not bring the hostages home through blustering talk of war. The hostages are home safe tonight because cooler heads prevailed. I shudder to think at what the outcome might have been had we not been so focused on their safety.
“The Republican nominee advocates abandoning arms control policies which have been important and supported by every Democratic President since Harry, Truman, and also by every Republican President since Dwight D. Eisenhower. This radical and irresponsible course would threaten our security and could put the whole world in peril. You and I must never let this come to pass.” [6]
The speech did what Carter needed it do do: He brought the Party together and reminded them that he would rise to the challenge of defeating Reagan. He didn’t need their love; he needed their votes.
September 8, 1980
Dallas Love Field Airport — Dallas, TX
The release of the hostages and the tame Democratic Convention had put the Republicans on their heels. Now, Reagan and Kemp were trying to adjust the electorate’s attention to the economy, where Carter remained especially vulnerable, but it seemed that wherever he went a pesky rumor stalked the Republican vice presidential nominee.
As the plane made its descent, Jack Kemp was sparring with his staff. Dick Wirthlin was traveling with Kemp that day to try and get a sense of why he was underperforming out on the campaign trail. They were locked in an argument about the rumors of Kemp’s secret gay past.
“I don’t know why he doesn’t go out there and say it’s all nonsense,” Kemp humphed at Wirthlin. He’d been frustrated by Reagan. The top of the ticket had not returned his calls. Rumors swirled that he regretted choosing Kemp. The New York Congressman saw his political future flashing before his eyes — he would be finished if this campaign didn’t end in victory.
“We don’t want to give it oxygen, Congressman. If we go out there, and we start responding to these rumors —”
Kemp interrupted. “I’m responding to them every day. Every stop, we get some stupid question about why I won’t come clean. It’s been two months — we’ve got to put it behind us.”
“The polling doesn’t suggest that it’s breaking through to mainstream voters. The press is asking you about it, but they’re not writing about it because we aren’t giving them the story.”
Kemp rolled his eyes. “This is my reputation, Dick. My goddamn reputation! They’re saying I’m some closeted homosexual.”
The wheels made impact and the men jostled in their seats. “Congressman, you have a speech to give. We can talk about this on the way to the next stop.”
The plane touched down, and Kemp was greeted on the tarmac by George H.W. Bush, who had agreed to campaign for the ticket in Texas. His best hope now was for a spot in the cabinet. Kemp and Bush shook hands in the airplane hangar and Bush introduced the “next Vice President of the United States.”
Kemp gave his stump speech: Chastising the Carter administration’s economic policy, accusing the president of “running on raising taxes,” and promising Americans that he and Reagan would deliver a better jobs market and bring down inflation. Then, he jumped in the car and was off to a fundraiser in the city.
Kemp and Bush were scheduled to get lunch after the rally, and when they arrived at the restaurant they were bombarded by reporters. “Congressman Kemp, do you have any response to the recent article in
Esquire that alleges you engaged in homosexual conduct while you were a member of Governor Reagan’s staff in the 1960s?”
He was supposed to ignore the question, but his conversation that day with Wirthlin indicated to him that the Reagan men didn’t have his best interests at heart. He’d read in one paper that they’d discussed moving him to HUD after they won the election, perhaps nominating Bush or some other Republican for the vice presidency in his stead. He had to look out for himself.
“Let me say this once and once only,” Kemp started. Behind him, a squeamish Bush tried to nudge himself out of the shot, lest he appear to be standing behind Kemp in any recording while the nominee said whatever it was he was about to say. Wirthlin, too far away to interrupt, looked on in horror. “I am not a homosexual, and I have never — not once — engaged in homosexual conduct of any sort. These are lies spread about my character, and I am not going to stand for them.
“Yes, there were homosexuals on the staff — two of them, in fact — and Governor Reagan — he was the governor at the time — moved swiftly to take care of the issue. I owned a cabin with these men, but I never went to it, and I was never a part of their … activities.” Kemp began to turn away, but then worried that maybe he’d gone too far. He didn’t want to give the impression that he lacked compassion for gay people, but rather he just wanted to set the record straight on his own sexuality.
Leaning back towards the cameras, Kemp continued, “Of course, I believe in civil liberties for homosexuals. I just am not one. I don’t behave in that way,” and then he went into the restaurant. George Bush couldn’t help but feel that if Reagan had just sucked it up and chosen him, this whole campaign would be going a lot smoother. He dutifully followed the Kemp entourage into the restaurant.
Reagan, who was campaigning in North Carolina, got a phone call from Wirthlin.
“There’s a mess here, and we’re going to have to clean it up,” he began. Then, he explained Kemp’s statements. At first, Reagan wasn’t too worried, but then Wirthlin explained how Kemp had left it with the press.
“Civil liberties for homosexuals? What does he mean?” Reagan asked, looking around for answers from Meese or any of the other staffers traveling with him. None of them had any clue, but they knew it wouldn’t go over well with a certain bloc of voters upon whom they were relying in this election.
The next morning, they were proven correct. All three networks carried Kemp’s statement on the evening news, and the Moral Majority crowd was irate. Jerry Falwell called Reagan himself.
“Governor, what on earth did he mean when he said
civil liberties for homosexuals?!” the words dripped out of Falwell’s mouth as if speaking them aloud would sentence him to a lifetime in Sodom or Gomorrah.
“Well, I don’t know, Jerry. I don’t agree with him.”
“He’s your running mate, governor, and I’m going to have a lot of people on the ground who don’t know what to make of this. God forbid something were to happen to you — would this man support rights for these homosexuals?”
Reagan was quiet. Why was he forced to defend Jack Kemp? Nancy looked on worryingly, thinking,
I knew he’d be a mistake. In reality, Nancy had been so blinded by the disloyalty of George Bush and keeping him off the ticket that she failed to voice any reservations about Kemp.
Falwell filled the silence himself. “And what about this cabin? Is the man a faggot, governor?”
Reagan’s head was spinning. These were his people, why were they turning on him? “Absolutely not, Reverend. You know this is just some cockamamie rumor started by some San Francisco liberal who is trying to make a splash. It’s absolutely based in nothing. When I was governor, we did a full investigation of this, and nothing ever turned up about Jack. I would not have asked him to be my running mate if I knew him to be a homosexual.”
“Well, you’ve got to walk back his statement about civil liberties, governor, or on Sunday I’m going to have a congregation full of people who don’t know what to make of this ticket.” Falwell hung up the phone.
With a sigh, Reagan said, “Get me Kemp.”
• • •
The next day, Kemp followed the orders of his running mate: Walk back the statement, and as if he’d intercepted his own pass, he charged straight in the opposite direction.
He was at a press conference in Washington, ahead of leaving for an event in Ohio, when Kemp tried to fix his mistake. “I want to be very clear about what I meant,” Kemp said, “because I am a man of conviction. I stand by what I said — that homosexuals are entitled to some civil liberties. We all are under the Constitution, but there are limits. We have to draw the line somewhere. For anyone to twist my words and say I support —”
The reporters had no interest in waiting. “Congressman, give me an example,” one of them asked. “Where do you draw the line?”
Cameras flashed and Kemp raised is finger to his lower lip to think. “Teaching,” he said matter-of-factly. “I would draw the line there. I would not let them teach in schools. I think a school board should have the right to choose what type of example we have for our children in public schools.” [7]
The answer set off a firestorm of controversy. Two years earlier, California had defeated, by a 58-41% margin, the Briggs Initiative (Proposition 6). Had it passed, the Initiative would have banned gay teachers in public schools. The ballot question had many prominent opponents. Jimmy Carter and Gerald Ford were among them, but perhaps a more influential voice of opposition was none other than Ronald Reagan, who, in a public letter released before the election, argued that a child’s teachers were unlikely to influence their sexuality.
Kemp’s statement delighted Falwell, who was a fierce supporter of Proposition 6, but it infuriated the Reagan campaign as it was now forced to walk back another of Kemp’s statements, and would be doing so at the expense of their base of supporters.
The Carter campaign jumped immediately on the comment. Conveniently, Carter was campaigning in California that day — a sign of his campaign’s confidence in the wake of their post-hostage release/convention bump. “And I just heard today that the Republican ticket is now embracing an idea that California voters soundly defeated just two years ago. That’s right. Today, Jack Kemp said he would ‘draw the line’ at letting gays and lesbians work in our public schools. And I say to that: We draw the line at sending Ronald Reagan and Jack Kemp to the White House!” Not only did Kemp force Reagan into an awkward predicament with his base, he’d given Carter an issue around which he could rally his.
Reagan was cornered by a reporter later that day, and while he’d been briefed on the matter, he was hoping to talk to Kemp before addressing it. “I haven’t talked to him, no,” Reagan admitted, before clarifying his own stance. “I said then, and I am saying now, that I think that goes too far. Of course, I don’t support the teaching of a homosexual way of life in our classrooms, but that Initiative was a threat to Constitutional liberties — of privacy. That was my position then, and that’s what it is now.” With an edge, he finished, “And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter for right now.” [8]
Kemp again tried to clarify his remarks again the next day. “What I meant to say was that I believe each municipality has the right to make their own determinations,” he said. “We do not need mandates — one way or the other — coming down from the federal government. Let school boards decide. Let parents decide.”
A reporter from the
Post followed up with the only logical question: “Congressman, you’re a parent. If the school board in your hometown were considering a measure about this, what would you ask them to do?” In reality, Kemp had already given his answer the day before, hadn’t he? But repeating it would solidify the difference between him and his running mate.
“My opinion doesn’t matter,” he answered, and then he was whisked away by staff into the next event, leaving reporters dumbfounded.
September 16, 1980
Ebenezer Baptist Church — Atlanta, GA
The Kemp drama continued Carter’s streak of good luck: A messy Republican National Convention, the release of the hostages, a perfectly adequate Democratic National Convention, and now a rogue running mate who forced the Republican ticket into uncomfortable binds on controversial issues. Reagan reiterated, again, his opposition to an outright ban on gay teachers. Jerry Falwell said he was “disappointed” by the nominee’s remarks but reminded his congregation it was important to come around and support the Reagan/Kemp ticket. Then, on September 12th, Tim Kraft resigned as campaign manager for Jimmy Carter over allegations had used cocaine. What happened next threw the narrative of the race into another tailspin. Democrats said it was unfair — that the press, bored by the prospect of a runaway Carter victory, manufactured a crisis. Republicans said it was only natural that pious Jimmy Carter would put his foot in his mouth.
For weeks, while reporters wrote of Kemp’s gaffes and did interviews with the returned hostages, another drama was bubbling to the surface. Ronald Reagan had gone to the Neshoba County Fair in Mississippi, on August 3rd. The fairgrounds were near Philadelphia, Mississippi, a small town that was known for being the site of one of the most notorious lynchings at the height of the Civil Rights Movement. Reagan went there and in a brief speech blew the dog whistle once held by Richard Nixon during the employ of the Southern Strategy: “I believe in states’ rights; I believe in people doing as much as they can for themselves at the community level and at the private level, and I believe that we’ve distorted the balance of government.”
Well, Carter was outraged, and he said so. Surrogates for Carter’s team reminded the press that Reagan had been endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan (and pointed out it had taken weeks for Reagan to disavow their support).
Then, Carter went to Tuscumbia, Alabama, for a rally for his campaign, and Ronald Reagan — convinced that his invocation of states’ rights had been totally divorced from the context it had carried for more than a century in that region of the country — accused Carter of racism, saying that the president had opened his campaign “in the city that gave brith to and is the parent body of the Ku Klux Klan.”
Well, Carter was furious at that, too. To say nothing of the fact that the birthplace of the Klan was widely known as Pulaski, Tennessee, Carter was enraged that
he had been accused of racism. This was the same Jimmy Carter who, for years while growing up, was raised by Black caretakers, who spent time in the fields with Black workers in the South, who went to the theater with young Black children at a time when most white children refused to be seen with their Black peers, let alone associate with them. Carter had spent his life making sense of the peculiar region in which he’d been reared, and he was an imperfect vessel for the New South.
After a defeat in one gubernatorial election, he ran again, this time from a playbook that Reagan and his team would’ve recognized. Then, when he won, he did an about-face on the voters who thought they knew what Carter was promising. He told them bluntly in his inaugural that the era of racial discrimination was over.
Jimmy Carter was not innocent when it came to race. Few white men in the nation were, particularly those who had come of age in the South. But Jimmy Carter, who harbored a deep love of humanity, who had spent most of his life surrounded by Black Americans, was not going to let Ronald Reagan call him racist. And now, in the Ebenezer Baptist Church, he was ready to take Reagan to task for the implications that the Republican candidate was making — and in doing so, he again flipped the narrative of the 1980 election.
“You’ve seen in this campaign the stirrings of hate,” he told the congregation. Heads nodded. “And the rebirth of code words like ‘states’ rights’ in a speech in Mississippi! And a campaign reference to the Ku Klux Klan relating to the South. That is a message that creates a cloud on the political horizon. Hatred has no place in this country.” Those in the congregation took to their feet, and Carter continued, “Racism has no place in this country!”
No sooner had Carter left the church than the press was asking if it had been Carter who had gone too far in calling Reagan racist. The Carter staff was apoplectic, but this was a time when candidates didn’t accuse their opponents of racism. Powell pointed out that Carter didn’t say Reagan was racist. The reporters didn’t care. He asked how it was different from when Reagan accused Carter (incorrectly, he might add) of kicking off his campaign in the birthplace of the KKK. It just was, they told him. And now, once more, there was a real race for President of the United States.
Carter’s remarks did not entirely erase his lead over Reagan, but the Reagan team moved in quickly to capitalize on it. The candidate decried Carter’s assertions. Nancy Reagan appeared in a new ad, where she spoke of how offended she had been by the president’s words. Even Jack Kemp was allowed to speak to reporters — for the first time in a week. He said he “couldn’t believe” Jimmy Carter would “stoop so low.” It was, verbatim, the talking point that had been prepared for him.
Journalists wondered aloud and in print if Jimmy Carter was just too mean to be reelected. Too arrogant. Too smug. Most Americans just wanted the election to be over.
September 30, 1980
Rancho del Cielo — Goleta, CA
Ronald Reagan sat in his chair, facing forward at the television, a blank stare plastered on his face. He was not unthinking in this moment, he was simply overwhelmed by what to think. He’d always known that he was surrounded by gay men on his staff. It was never much of an issue for Reagan. He was a product of Hollywood. He’d been surrounded by gay men his entire career. It wasn’t his lifestyle, but he didn’t much care if others chose it.
He knew, though, that his path to the presidency relied on religious voters in the South who would have to turn against one of their own in favor of a Hollywood-type, and if that was going to happen, there could not be any ambiguity about where Ronald Reagan stood on the issue of gay men living out lives in American society.
When he’d chosen Kemp, he’d known that there were rumors and questions, but he felt he had few competent running mates to choose from, and he thought the old maxim that reporters stayed out of the private lives of politicians would shield Kemp from any gossip. If Kemp had just kept his mouth shut, that may have happened, but that fateful trip to Dallas produced two errors that now consumed Reagan’s path to the White House.
It was Kemp’s second statement that produced the first firestorm. His peculiar statement about civil liberties about gay men invited an unnecessary and unwanted debate about the role of out gay men in public life, and it had forced Reagan and his running mate to break on an important issue among the Religious Right: gay teachers. Reagan did not believe they should be banned. He’d made every effort to staunch the bleeding and give a wink-and-a-nod to the base, but there was an election to win, and he couldn’t afford to alienate the center. Kemp seemed to think it was fine as a matter of public policy. Now, instead of keeping the attention on the mediocre economy, the Reagan campaign was spending too much time talking about an issue on which Reagan departed from the religious voters he needed to win the presidency.
But now, it was Kemp’s first unforced statement that imperiled the Reagan ticket. He’d denied, in public and on the record, that he had ever engaged in homosexual conduct. Now, Kemp was on the record about the issue, and that meant that if reporters found evidence to the contrary, Kemp lied. And lying was fair game. This was the post-Nixon, post-Watergate world. Politicians who lied deserved to be exposed — no matter what they lied about.
Lyn Nofziger received a heads up from a contact at ABC that
Nightline was going to air an episode in which they interviewed a man who claimed to have engaged in sexual intercourse with both Jack Kemp and Ronald Reagan. Nofziger had convinced the ABC producers that the statement about Reagan was simply beyond the pale, and they’d agreed not to air it. Instead, they would note that the man they interviewed claimed to have had sex with “other high-profile male politicians,” but that the
Nightline team had found no other corroborating evidence about such activity. Nofziger didn’t like the implication that the statements about Kemp were credible, but he had to take what he could get.
In the forty-eight hours before the
Nightline special, the Reagan team was debating what to do. Wirthlin was, perhaps, the only one contemplating the great irony that a television program born from relentless and damning coverage of the Iranian Hostage Crisis — which, at one point, was threatening to engulf the president’s chances at reelection — was about to air a television special that could potentially doom the Reagan campaign.
Lou Harris, a pollster who was following the trends of the Religious Right, reported to the Reagan inner circle that they had exactly one option if they wanted to win the election: Drop Jack Kemp from the ticket. Nancy Reagan voiced her support for the idea.
Reagan feared that doing so would only validate the Kemp rumors, and he himself noted the tragic outcome of the McGovern campaign. Axing Tom Eagleton from the ticket did nothing to help them on their way to a 49-state blowout.
Instead, Pete Hannaford, a senior communications advisor on the campaign, decided that Kemp should do an interview himself, with his wife by his side, denying all of the allegations. Kemp was eager to take on the fight, but he refused to let Joanne sit beside him. The embarrassment, he argued, was not worth it. Hannaford speculated that her absence would raise questions, but Kemp disagreed. “I can’t make her sit through that,” he insisted, and so they agreed that Kemp would participate in a brief interview that would air after the salacious accusations, and he would deny, once again, that he was gay or had ever engaged in sexual activity with men.
Now, Reagan and his wife, Hannaford, and Bill Casey sat around the television set at Rancho del Cielo as the
Nightline episode began.
Ted Koppel began: “As long as he has been prominent in the world of politics, questions about his private life have dogged Jack Kemp. Years ago, as a member of his now-running mate’s gubernatorial staff, Jack Kemp was a part-owner in a Lake Tahoe cabin said to have hosted homosexual gatherings. Mr. Kemp has long denied that he ever attended the cabin, but he was identified in contemporary reports as having attended at least one of these events. It was a scandal that threatened the Reagan governorship and ultimately led to the firings of two homosexual staffers in the Governor’s office.
“Those rumors and that tawdry speculation came back to life this fall as Mr. Reagan selected Mr. Kemp to serve as his running mate in the upcoming presidential election. For years, the story has languished because no one was willing to come forward, publicly and on-the-record, and speak about the behavior in which Mr. Kemp allegedly engaged.
“Tonight, that changes.
“William Seals, Jr. was just 17-years-old when he volunteered on Ronald Reagan’s first gubernatorial campaign. He now says that he was a participant in the homosexual gathering at the Lake Tahoe cabin in 1967. He alleges that at that party he had relations of an adult nature with Mr. Kemp.”
At this point, Nancy Reagan rose from the couch in disgust. “This is just ridiculous,” she said. “It’s improper. I can’t believe they’re putting this on television.” She retreated to her bedroom. Reagan was forced to keep watching as the television changed to show William Seals, Jr., whom Reagan remembered, sitting in a chair in front of a dark background, ready to expose Jack Kemp and imperil the prospect of a Reagan presidency.
Why is he doing this to me? Reagan thought to himself.
Why does he want to do this?
Seals’ statements were matter-of-fact, and he avoided coloring in his anecdotes with too much detail. He looked reserved. His hair was neat, his shirt pressed, and his tie was straight. He looked like any church-going man. And that was the problem.
“You say that a sort of homosexual party occurred at the Lake Tahoe cabin, in which Mr. Kemp was a partial owner?” Koppel asked.
“Yes.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I was there.”
“Mr. Kemp has long denied that he was at the party. Is he telling the truth when he says that?”
“No, he is not. Jack Kemp was absolutely there. He and I went to bed together.”
“I apologize for pressing the issue, but would you mind being more specific in what that expression means? I think it means different things —”
“I had intimate relations with Jack Kemp.”
“At the time, in California, such an act was against the law.”
“That’s correct.”
“So, you’re alleging that you and Mr. Kemp engaged in an illegal — an — that you and Mr. Kemp engaged in conduct that was not sanctioned by the law while at the cabin in Lake Tahoe?”
“Yes, I am.”
Reagan was dismayed. Hannaford, sitting beside him on the couch, shifted uncomfortably.
The interview continued for a few minutes before a commercial break, and when the program returned, Koppel introduced the next segment: the Kemp interview.
“Congressman, thank you for sitting with me.”
“I think it’s important to refute these lies, Ted. I’m surprised, frankly, that you’re even putting them on air. It’s a great disservice to my family, and it places an incredible burden on us. The idea that anyone can just come forward and allege anything is, frankly, appalling.”
“Surely, Congressman, you can understand —”
“I can’t say I do,” Kemp sneered.
“Well, Congressman,” Koppel said, leaning in as the interview grew increasingly combative, “you are accused of breaking the law, and you are accused of lying to the people, and you are accused of engaging in an act, which, if true, would raise doubts about your own sexuality while you have repeatedly questioned the kinds of roles that homosexuals, and, perhaps by extension, bisexuals, can have as you seek the nation’s second-highest office.”
“These allegations are unequivocally false. There was, during the Reagan governorship when this all happened, an investigation led by the Reagan staff, and the two men who were found to have engaged in homosexual conduct were fired.”
“And you insist that you were not at the Lake Tahoe cabin when that party happened.”
“Not only was I not there for this supposed party, I never went there period.”
“Despite the fact that you partially owned it?”
“Correct.”
“Surely, you can see why that may raise questions with voters. You owned a home, but you never went to it?”
“It was a ski cabin, not a home.”
“Back to the allegation that you engaged in this behavior —”
“It’s his word against mine, and I ask the American people who they think they should believe: A United States Congressman or a man desperate for public attention who has only come forward now in hopes of finding his fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true, Congressman. In the course of our reporting, we spoke with a local reporter out of Phoenix, Bill Best. Best alleges that Seals spoke to him years ago about the incident and that he himself was propositioned — sexually — by a member of the Reagan inner circle.”
At Rancho del Cielo, Hannaford couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was the man who’d propositioned Best. He stood up from the couch and began pacing the room, sweating profusely. Reagan paid it little attention. He was sick to his stomach.
“I don’t know anything about that,” Kemp said, “and all you’ve proven is that this Seals character has been spreading his lies for years. There is no one else who can say that I engaged in this activity because it didn’t happen. You have one liar accusing a Congressman of inappropriate behavior. That is all.”
And that’s where the interview ended. Koppel returned to the screen to narrate his conversation with Bill Best. Hannaford’s name was never revealed. And the program ended.
October 2, 1980
Townhall Meeting — Dayton, OH
They had finally reached October. For Carter, the sense that the election’s conclusion drew near was enough to keep him going. He was ready to get on with his second term — confident as he was that it would come. The polling had steadied, though the “mean narrative” had done a number. Nearly every major state was within 10-points (some 300+ electoral votes), and about 200 electoral votes were within five-points. Carter knew it would be close, but he was confident in his ability to close.
Rafshoon walked him through the event. It seemed simple enough: Remarks, a few questions, back in the car. He was joined by Howard Metzenbaum, Dayton Mayor Jim McGee, Congressman Tony Hall, and others. It was a packed crowd.
“It’s really an honor for me to be here with you in Miami Valley, Montgomery County, Dayton. I’ve only been here a few minutes, but I think I can already agree with your city’s motto, and it’s right on the mark. It’s ‘Great in Dayton.’ There’s no question about that.” He smiled.
The first question came from Lou Ann Clingman, a senior at Fernwell High School. She asked if families of college students would get a tax credit next year. Characteristically, Carter did not pander.
“I’ll be glad to answer,” he said. “No.” Laughter filled the room, and then Carter continued in a way he was prone to do — providing explanation. “But let me explain,” he begged. “Since I’ve been in office just three-and-a-half years, there have been very few goals that I have accomplished absolutely.” It was, again, the kind of thing most politicians would refuse to admit on the campaign trail. Carter seemed almost proud of it. “One of them is that I wanted to make sure that every young person in our nation who was mentally able to do college work could get a full college education no matter how poor the family might be. And I can guarantee you, that when you get ready to go to college, no matter what the financial condition of your family might be, you will be financially able to go to college, through grants or loans or work-study programs.” He was proud.
“There’s no reason anymore in this country after the great work that Congress has done in the last three-and-a-half years for any young person to be deprived oa. College education because of economic circumstances. So, we’ve done that, it’s a great achievement, and I think we’ll build on it.” Carter moved on to the next question, but his staff wasn’t sure that he’d earned a vote yet.
The second-to-last question came from Ken Day, a Dayton resident, and another high school senior. It was a bit unusual. “There have been predictions that every 20 years or election years ending in zero, the President dies in office. Are you concerned about this?”
Yes, Carter said, he had seen those predictions. “I’m willing to take the chance,” he said. “I don’t say that in a silly way, but even if I knew I would die in office if I were a President, I would still run for the office, because I think it’s the most exciting and challenging and important position in the world.” He continued to gush about the job and concluded: “So for all those reasons, I’m not afraid. If I knew it was going to happen, I would go ahead and be President and do the best I could till the last day I could.” And that was that.
In the audience, a different man was struck by what he’d just heard.
Jimmy Carter wasn’t afraid of death. [9]
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
[1] Around the same time IOTL, these negotiations began in earnest. Some, like Kai Bird, have posited that they were only derailed by the presence of the Reagan campaign, specifically Bill Casey. It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe that theory ITTL because Bill Casey’s entire presence in Europe during this time period is butterflied away because of the elongated primary campaign and brewing Convention fight. Others, like Stu Eizenstat, believe that if Hussein had not invaded Iran, they would have struck a deal, but the Iraqi invasion of Iran made the whole deal fall through because of distrust of the Americans. Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, Speaker of the Iranian Parliament, confirmed to Yasser Arafat that Khomeini had come around to releasing the hostages before Iraq invaded.
ITTL, those negotiations transpire and Khomeini, crippled by the mining of the harbors, moves more quickly to formalize them because he can’t afford to wait. He needs a surge of cash, weapons, and the easing of sanctions in order to fight Iraq. He may not trust the American regime, and he may be worried about appearing too close to them, but he also needs to be fighting back militarily against Iraq before the elections.
My source for the demands is Carter’s
Keeping Faith, 558, and Kai Bird’s assessment of the behind-the-scenes negotiations is truly unparalleled (this is the part of his book that tops Jonathan Alter’s). Pages 570-578 of
The Outlier cover the negotiations.
[2]
Keeping Faith, 545.
[3]
Keeping Faith, 545.
[4] This statement is based off of what Carter said IOTL before he left Plains to greet the hostages in Germany. They are reprinted in
The Outlier, 602.
[5] The original text of this chapter included Carter’s memorable gaffe (See below if you don’t know what I’m referring to at about 2:48), but the gaffe was a combination of Carter’s fatigue (his speech was delayed well into the night because of circumstances that would not be replicated here, and the teleprompter malfunctioned that night).
[6] Most of this is taken from Carter’s OTL speech, but I updated some of the text to account for alternate events that occurred ITTL.
[7] These are all based on Jack Kemp’s OTL positions. You can read them here:
https://www.nytimes.com/1996/08/11/us/in-his-own-words-jack-kemp-and-the-issues.html
[8] Reagan’s tap dance is taken from here:
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/22/opinion/when-reagan-said-gay.html
[9] What I love about research is how many bizarre moments you find in history — it almost
begs people like us to write stories like these.
The Q&A session from the Dayton, Ohio town hall actually happened. The questions are pulled from OTL, as are Carter’s responses — even the question about the Curse of Tippecanoe. The strange part is, while I can’t claim to know what another human being was thinking, of course, we do know that John Hinckley, Jr —
yes, that John Hinckley, Jr — was in the crowd and presumably heard this question and Carter’s answer. It was too surreal to not include in the story, and, of course, every good author does what they can to weave a bit of foreshadowing.
