And I see no reason why four more years in office should deny us the activity of ex-President Jimmy. Certainly he was motivated in part by the fact he didn't get a full eight years in office, but I also think after eight years there would still be plenty of work left to do.
Jimmy Two: America in Carter's Second Term
- Thread starter Vidal
- Start date
And I see no reason why four more years in office should deny us the activity of ex-President Jimmy. Certainly he was motivated in part by the fact he didn't get a full eight years in office, but I also think after eight years there would still be plenty of work left to do.
I'm thinking along those lines in my timeline, too, though with the ultra eventful two terms he's having (as in the successful Eagle Claw was far from the biggest event in his administration) he might be burned out.
4. An Ass-Whipping
AN ASS-WHIPPING
“I’ll whip his ass!”
-Jimmy Carter
“I’ll whip his ass!”
-Jimmy Carter
January 21, 1980
Bush Campaign HQ — Des Moines, IA
An old adage was born after the 1980 Republican Iowa Caucuses: There are three tickets out of Iowa. The political world was shaken by the first-place finish of George H.W. Bush, a virtually unknown moderate Republican who was now emerging as the Ford-style centrist alternative to Reagan, especially with Howard Baker’s disappointing fourth place finish. In a rather distant second came Reagan, the front runner (or walker), whose approach thus far was largely built around staying out of the fray. John Connally, the former Texas Governor and Nixon administration official, earned the third and final proverbial ticket out of Iowa. He was close behind Reagan, surprising the punditry with just how many conservative votes he’d siphoned off from the Gipper. It was enough for Connally to declare victory.
“They said we’d finish fourth or fifth, and here we are — right at Reagan’s heels!” a gleeful Connally told a crowd in Charleston, South Carolina the night of the Iowa results. Indeed, the night had been promising for Connally. Most assumed that Connally’s star was fading. His third place finish — the delegate total rivaling Reagan’s — rejuvenated his effort.
The business interests who had funded most of Connally’s campaign but were starting to grow weary felt more confident in the campaign. In the days after Iowa, Bush and Reagan went to Manchester and Concord to earn votes in the first primary state. Connally went to New York, Miami, and Houston to raise money. His assessments of the race were candid and withering for the once-front runner.
“The way I see it, Reagan’s finished,” Connally said. “His staff will still wheel him out, powder his face, put a speech in front of him, and tell him to read it, but make no mistake: It’s bedtime for Bonzo. So the question is: Do you want a New England liberal named George Bush or John Connally, friend of the capitalist and the conservative alike?” He grinned. “I don’t think it’s a hard question to answer.”
The real winner of Iowa, however, was the man who came in first, once thought of as the asterisk in the field. George Bush’s improbable victory reminded many of Jimmy Carter’s shocking win just four years earlier. And look how it’d gone for Jimmy.
Bush’s standing in the national polls changed overnight. Before Iowa he was at a dismal 6%. Now, he was at 25%. The Reagan campaign was dismayed to learn that Bush had gained more than twenty points in a new poll of New Hampshire voters. Reagan was sitting atop a shaky, slipping lead.
Yet, with victory in sight, Bush pumped the brakes, cautiously tip-toeing around the Granite State, emphasizing that he had the “Big Mo,’” and promising voters he was “Up for the ‘80s” — a pointed reminder that Ronald Reagan wasn’t.
Heading into New Hampshire, Bush had two major boons on his side. The first was a phone campaign from Gerald Ford, who called allies in New Hampshire and told them candidly that it was time to get behind Bush. But more important was the cash John Connally was about to spend on the New Hampshire primary.
With all of his new fundraising dividends, John Connally thought about heading back into New Hampshire and giving the state a whirl, but Eddie Mahe had a different idea: Take the money and hammer Reagan on the airwaves, give Bush the win in New Hampshire, and then make it a one-on-one race in South Carolina, where Connally would be more naturally suited for the primary than Bush. And so, in the five weeks between Iowa and New Hampshire, primary voters in the Granite State could not watch television without a dark and gloomy ad questioning Ronald Reagan’s fitness for the job.
One of the more devastating ads showed Reagan himself at a Florida campaign event. It had happened after the Iowa loss and a tired Reagan said, “I believe one of my advantages is that I’m not running for reelection … to hell whether there’s a second term.” The ad faded to black as a narrator asked, “After the last four years, don’t we want a president ready to serve eight?” Connally’s ads lended a certain legitimacy to Bush’s new slogan.
Reagan fell further and further behind.
It wasn’t until a few days before the primary that Reagan’s luck began to change. The Nashua Telegraph had insisted that the final primary debate be a two-man show between Reagan and Bush, but the Federal Election Commission ruled that it was a contribution to the Reagan and Bush campaigns, and so Reagan’s team, already strapped for cash, decided to cover the costs of the debate. Both candidates agreed to keep the debate between them, but John Sears thought it was a mistake. At the last minute, he encouraged his candidate to invite the others and put Bush in an awkward bind live on stage. Reagan agreed, and Sears eagerly called the other candidates.
In South Carolina, a phone rang for John Connally, and Sears explained the entire plan.
Connally roared with laughter. “Brilliant strategy, but I ain’t coming. Fuck him over once for me,” he said of Bush. [1]
The night went just as Sears had envisioned. Reagan invited the other candidates out onto the stage while Bush sat awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the commotion whirling around him. Reagan, meanwhile, commanded the room. The crowd cheered him on and booed John Breen, the moderator, who was trying to shoo the other candidates off stage. Reagan blew into the microphone. “I am the sponsor, and I suppose I should have some right,” the candidate said as Breen tried to cut him off.
“Would the sound man please turn Mr. Reagan’s microphone off?” Breen asked. The crowd hissed.
Pursing his lips, Reagan stood up, too angry to keep sitting. “Is this thing on?” he asked. The audience cheered back. It was on. Reagan sat down and continued: “Mr. Green, you asked me…” he began to say.
“Would you turn that microphone off please?” Breen asked again.
With a thunderous voice, Reagan bellowed: “I am paying for this microphone, Mr. Green!” He’d again misstated the moderator’s name, but few noticed and those who did didn’t care. The cheers for the Gipper erupted through the audience of more than 2,000 primary voters. So, too, did the other candidates — Anderson, Baker, Dole, and the rest — who stood clapping while a dumbfounded George Bush learned a harsh lesson of campaigning in the television age: Politics was theater.
It’s hard to measure exactly how many votes Reagan won that night, but the record’s clear that the debate in Nashua rejuvenated the candidate himself, pushing him to maintain an aggressive campaign schedule that may well have made the difference in a close primary race. Reagan was outspent on the airwaves — no one could match Connally’s cash operation — but he worked hard in the final hours, and it was enough to carry New Hampshire, if only by four-and-a-half points.
• • •
When Ted Kennedy called his mother on the night of his loss in the Iowa Caucuses, she told him not to worry. “I’m sure you’ll work hard and it’ll get better,” she told him. [2]
Kennedy wasn’t sure, and in those disappointing hours after a crushing loss in Iowa, the heir of Camelot considered dropping out of the race for president. His campaign had not heeded the warnings of Joe Kennedy II, who told his uncle that there wasn’t enough retail politicking happening on the ground and that the people were moving back to Carter. The Senator, Steve Smith, Joe Trippi — they didn’t want to believe it. How could they lose to that bumpkin Carter?
But lose they did. Carter’s win in Iowa exceeded all expectations, including those of Hamilton Jordan and Pat Caddell. The president now held all of the momentum, and momentum was a difficult thing to try and overcome in a hotly-contested presidential primary.
Ultimately, Kennedy decided to stay in the race. Iowa would be his Oregon — the unexpected and devastating loss that would allow him to get up the next day, strike back, and assemble a winning campaign. On January 28th, he decided to reset his campaign with a fierce rhetorical assessment of the Carter administration in a speech at Georgetown.
Kennedy criticized the Carter Doctrine, a new policy announced by the 39th president, that stated the United States would defend its interests in the Persian Gulf — including by the use of military force if necessary. The Doctrine had been based on the Truman Doctrine. Zbiginew Brzezinski drafted it and and meant it as a warning to the Soviet Union that they should not continue beyond their invasion of Afghanistan.
Kennedy needled his primary opponent, arguing that Carter’s weakness in Cuba had contributed to Soviet aggression and argued that Carter was raising the stakes of the Soviet invasion for political gain, likening the invasion to the Berlin Blockade or the Cuban Missile Crisis. “Exaggeration and hyperbole are the enemies of a sensible foreign policy,” he warned. By the end of the speech, Kennedy had transitioned to a full bore attack on the Carter administration’s foreign and domestic policies and recommitted himself to the campaign.
It hardly moved the needle. Within a week of the speech, Carter remained atop Kennedy in the polls in New Hampshire — a state known as Massachusetts’ backyard. It was astonishing that Kennedy could not pull the numbers together to trounce Carter there.
On the eve of the primary, the President of the United States employed the Rose Garden strategy popularized by his predecessor. The Friday before, the American ice hockey team had performed the “Miracle on Ice” — defeating the Soviet hockey team in Lake Placid at the Winter Olympics. Just a day before New Hampshire voted, Carter welcomed the team to the White House for a televised ceremony.
Members of the team skipped up the steps and a grinning Carter shook their hands, hugged them, and patted them on their backs. “These are wonderful young Americans, and they have thrilled our nation, and we are all grateful for your tremendous achievements,” Carter said, while reminding the nation that the United States would be boycotting the 1980 Summer Olympics hosted by the USSR.
The photo op could only have helped Carter in a state of hockey fans, and after the celebration ended, Carter turned to his political team for an update on the situation in the Granite State.
Caddell assured him the polls looked good. Caddell was right. Carter beat back Kennedy on the Senator’s home turf: 50-37.
March 2, 1980
Heritage USA — Fort Mill, SC
The Carolina sun shone bright and hot, but John Connally was wearing an expansive grin nonetheless. He needed South Carolina if he was going to emerge from this dog fight as the nominee, and he knew now that he would get it. He could’ve kissed Haley Barbour that sonofabitch who arranged the whole thing. A brilliant kid, really. The John Connally of 1960 or 1964 would probably not recognize the nature of campaigning today — ducking in and out of Sunday services, shaking hands with snake handlers, grabbing a bite to eat with clergy instead of businessmen — but while the Connally of the 1960s would not recognize how campaigning was done, he would recognize the candidate: A man willing to do what he had to do to become President of the United States.
And now he was standing on a stage in a theme park preparing to accept an endorsement from a televangelist. Backstage, Haley Barbour beamed with pride. If John Connally became President of the United States, it would be this moment right here that had done it, and he — Haley Barbour — had orchestrated the whole thing. One day, it would be Barbour on stage, riding the emotions and enthusiasm of the Religious Right straight into the Oval Office, but like it had been LBJ’s turn before, it was Connally’s turn now.
While Reagan and Bush duked it out in snowy New Hampshire, Barbour was spending every hour in meetings with Jim Bakker. Jerry Falwell was criss-crossing the Evangelical pockets of the country and rounding up votes for Reagan. He believed in Reagan, he said, and the hesitation of last fall had disappeared. Some still had doubts that Reagan was up to the task, and some had been impressed by Connally’s use of their rhetoric, but Falwell wasn’t convinced. Reagan, he believed, was the real deal, and they had to get in line behind him. Barbour knew that if they were going to make John Connally president, they needed their own Falwell.
Jim Bakker had been reluctant to get too heavily involved in the election. He wasn’t apolitical, but he didn’t share Falwell’s conviction that making themselves legitimate in the eyes of the public came at the ballot. Bakker was more inclined to fill his pockets with the theme park, the television show, and the Sunday services. He wasn’t sure he needed a politician. Jim Bakker had been naive to the way the world really worked.
Haley Barbour, like a dog with a bone, had phoned Bakker almost daily in the early months of 1980. He wanted to see the Theme Park. He sat in on a taping of Bakker’s program. He even went to Bakker’s church every Sunday in January. They met for coffee afterwards one weekend, and Barbour spent time listening to Bakker. He saw the comparative lack of political fervor, and he heard what Bakker really needed.
“Mr. Connally has a number of friends in business,” Barbour explained. “We’re the best financed campaign out there.” He paused. Political wheeling and dealing may have been how John Connally got to the top, but it was a foreign subject for Bakker. “Charles Keating is a major backer of Mr. Connally.”
Bakker, drawing a sip of his coffee, nodded.
“Anyways, we need your support down here. If we let this thing go to Ronald Reagan without a fight, we’re looking at four more years of Jimmy Carter. Or worse — George Bush.” Barbour’s line may have fallen on deaf ears if Reagan hadn’t just scraped by in New Hampshire, failing to meet the expectations some had set for him. “He’s damaged goods after New Hampshire. He had one good moment, but it can’t sustain him. We need a well-financed conservative alternative to Bush or this whole thing is over.”
Bakker nodded again.
“Mr. Bakker,” Barbour began — Bakker wasn’t going to make it easy for him, “can we count on your endorsement of Governor Connally?”
Bakker agreed, and on that last Sunday before the South Carolina primary, he was hosting a major rally at Heritage USA in which he’d give John Connally his wringing endorsement. They’d had Sunday services together that morning (Connally sat front row), and now they’d come for the political rally that promised to upend the race for the White House. Jim Bakker couldn’t believe he was at the center of it all. But then again, maybe he could. After all, in one week Charles Keating would make two substantial contributions to Heritage USA and Heritage Village Church.
“I have met with John Connally, and I have looked in his eyes,” Bakker told the gathered crowd of at least 1,800 people. “John Connally is a God-fearing man, and he is a strong leader — unafraid to guide our nation forward, away from this malaise, and he’ll be equally unafraid to ask for the Lord’s help as he does it!” Eddie Mahe, standing next to Haley Barbour behind the stage, smiled. It was exactly what they needed
Connally shook Bakker’s hand and slapped his back as he pulled him in close for the photographers.
“It is a privilege to be here with all of you today,” Connally told the crowd, “and I am honored to have the endorsement of such a wise and Christian man — Jim Bakker and his wife, Tammy. Thank you both for your support today. It means the world to me.” The candidate talked briefly about the issues that these Christian voters wanted to hear about, lamenting the “decline of family values” and promising to defend the tax-exempt status of religious schools. Then, he turned into a harsh rebuke of the presumed front runner.
“I like Ronald Reagan a great deal,” Connally lied, “but we are going to be up against some dark forces this fall. Jimmy Carter and his Georgia Mafia will stop at nothing to hold on to power. I’m not sure if Governor Reagan spent too long in Hollywood, or if he’s just out of practice, but this moment demands a sharp and energetic campaign — the kind of campaign we’re running here. If we’re going to beat Jimmy Carter in November, you need to know that your nominee will do everything he can to win. That’s the most important thing: We have to win first. And if you want a president who can go on to do these great things — protecting our families and the institution of marriage — then you’ve got to want a nominee who can make it to the White House, not collapse on the finish line. I don’t mind telling ya that I’m that candidate.” It would be hard to state Connally’s theory of the case more plainly than he just had.
Reagan was incensed by the remarks. “Frankly, I’m surprised to learn that Governor Connally has any concern for these issues,” the candidate said. Ed Meese commented further, “Nothing in Governor Connally’s past suggests he will be a leader of virtue.”
Well, that was it. At a Thursday morning breakfast event, Connally wasted no time raising an issue that he’d heard about from Reagan’s time as governor. “I was governor of one of our largest states,” he told the audience, “and the deal is, when you’re governor, the buck stops with you. If a bill is going to become a law, that’s your decision. It’s also your decision who you hire for your staff. I think who you choose to surround yourself with says a lot about your character, and that’s why I have a hard time listening to Ronald Reagan travel around this state when he hired a number of homosexuals to be on his staff when he was Governor of California. You either care about good Christian values by living them, or you don’t care for them at all.”
Connally was dredging up an old story from 1967, when columnist Drew Pearson wrote of a “homosexual ring” in Reagan’s gubernatorial staff, and he alleged that there was a recording of an orgy among eight men, two of whom were Reagan staffers, that had taken place at a cabin near Lake Tahoe owned by some on Reagan’s team. Two of Reagan’s staffers were indeed gay and were let go from the office, amid a larger staffing shake-up, as a result of the story. Now, Connally raised the old charge in hopes of alienating Reagan from the Evangelical voters of South Carolina.
The Reagan campaign denied the allegations. Said a spokesman, “The implication that Ronald Reagan made a habit of employing homosexuals while Governor of California is patently absurd.” Voters, however, were soon inundated with a push poll, funded by Charles Keating on behalf of the Connally campaign, that asked them if they would be more or less likely to vote for Reagan if they knew he had gay men on his staff, or if they had ever heard stories about Reagan “engaging socially” with members of the “homosexual Hollywood elite.”
On March 8th, the Reagan campaign learned the hard way just how devastating a scorched earth strategy could be. John Connally trounced the competition in South Carolina, defeating Reagan by 11% of the vote. Connally’s numbers had been helped by Bush’s decision to forgo a serious fight in South Carolina. His campaign looked at the brewing conservative battle and determined they didn’t have room in the fight. They focused on states coming later in the primary season.
A demoralized Reagan described the contest as a “thumping” the next day when speaking with reporters. Connally, meanwhile, thanked Jim Bakker and moved on to Florida.
March 22, 1980 [3]
Camp David — Catoctin Mountain, MD
The president felt confident he was on the verge of victory in the Democratic primaries. So far, Kennedy had only managed to carry Massachusetts, and the president was eager to move on from the intraparty fighting and focus on the Republicans, where he and his team were growing increasingly unsure about who they would face. He was outpolling Reagan, Bush, and Connally, but the White House knew those numbers were soft. The public attitude toward the Carter administration’s handling of the hostage situation was changing, and Caddell warned that opinion would soon turn. These political realities and Carter’s intense desire to bring the hostages home safely, forced him to confront the possibility of a rescue mission of the hostages.
The Pentagon had been planning for such a rescue since the hostages were taken in November, but the realities of their rescue posed grave risks. The hostages were being held deep within Iran. The logistics of extracting them would be near-impossible.
The proposed mission involved helicopters flying into the country and landing at a location known as “Desert One.” There, they would refuel and travel to “Desert Two,” a mountainous location. At night, they would meet with a team of CIA agents and special forces already on the ground and drive into Tehran. The helicopters would fly to the Amjadieh Stadium where they would wait for the special forces and hostages to return. Then, they’d be flown from Tehran to Egypt. It was immediately clear to Cy Vance how many variables existed in the scenario — and how much potential there was for it to go wrong.
“Mr. President,” he argued, “the Pentagon is never going to tell you they can’t do something, so allow me: This mission will not succeed.”
Carter was angry. The situation had been weighing on him for months, and he wanted to deliver the hostages home. Vance’s diplomacy had not been working.
Carter pressed the Pentagon for answers. Why did they think they could overwhelm the hostage takers in the embassy? They argued that by this point, they were not fearful of an invasion of the embassy and their guard was down. They were not trained military professionals. They were no match for the Delta Force. Carter nodded in understanding.
Zbig asked the military what “the long pole in the tent” was — what was the most vulnerable part of the mission? David Jones, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, answered that the biggest variable was the number of helicopters. They felt they needed a minimum of six to carry out the mission. Carter authorized the use of eight.
The president wanted to know what kind of preparation the military had done for the raid. They told him that the forces had been practicing out West in the American desert with the same helicopters that would be used in the raid. They were prepared, able, and ready. The president started to believe that Operation RICEBOWL [4] was the way out of the crisis, but Cy Vance remained unconvinced and again made his case that the president had to continue the diplomatic route.
Vance argued that there were other Americans in Iran who could be taken hostage if the mission failed. Carter dismissed these concerns, arguing that they’d been warned to leave Iran multiple times and that he did not feel the same responsibility for them that he felt for the hostages who’d been taken.
The Secretary of State believed that the only way out of the crisis was for Iran to give in — for them to see there was no victory for them in holding the hostages indefinitely. He claimed RICEBOWL was rife with too many variables, and he went as far to threaten his resignation. The threat fell victim to the “Boy Who Cried Wolf” scenario. Vance had made such threats before and been bluffing. The president was not persuaded by them now.
“What would you have me do, Cy?” the president asked. “The negotiations are not working.”
With his back against the wall, Vance raised the question of a blockade or mining effort. Jordan groaned. They’d been down this road before, and he was certain that such provocation would endanger the hostages. Jordan believed a rescue mission was less of an affront to Iran because it was narrowly focused on the hostages and getting them home, but Vance pointed out that some versions of the proposed raid included diversionary airstrikes to throw the Iranians off the scent of the rescuers.
The president liked the idea of the targeted rescue mission, but Vance continued to oppose it and berated the Pentagon with probing questions. He wanted to know what would happen if something happened to one or two of the helicopters. That wasn’t a problem, the Pentagon insisted. The mission could be completed with six. What if the forces on the ground weren’t able to make it to Desert Two? Those who organized the mission said that was unlikely.
“How,” the Secretary asked, “do you intend to secure the air base at Nain without anyone in the neighboring town realizing it?” David Jones admitted that this was a sticking point, but argued that, because it was the weekend, there was minimal interaction between the town and the airfield. Vance was unimpressed. “You have to seal this base for 26 hours without anyone knowing. I don’t see how you can do it.”
Then, he proceeded to interrogate Jones about the inside of the compound where the hostages were being held. Jones admitted that they did not know exactly how the compound was configured, and that they weren’t sure where exactly the hostages were. For Vance, this was unacceptable. “What if you go in the wrong way, they hear you, and they start taking out the hostages?” The Chairman conceded that was a possibility. Mondale expressed similar concerns and asked if there was any truth to the claims that the place had been rigged with booby traps. Jones conceded he had no way of knowing.
Defense Secretary Harold Brown outlined the finality of the situation. “We need to do something, and this rescue mission is our best bet,” he argued. “Our other option, mining or implementing some sort of blockade, carry heavy risks to the hostages, and they could drive the Iranians into the arms of the Soviets.”
Here, Jody Powell interrupted. Earlier, he’d had a conversation with Stu Eizenstat, who questioned if the Iranians would really be so quick to embrace the Soviet given how anticommunist their belief system was. Brown was quiet. It seemed no one had considered that possibility before. [5]
Brzezinski brushed it aside, arguing that Iran would do anything to defeat the United States, even if it meant partnering with a regime that challenged their existing belief structure.
The president had heard enough. He wanted the Pentagon to continue gaming out the matter and taking the necessary steps to prepare for the rescue mission. He was still undecided, but he wanted the option on the table. Then, he told Vance to meet him in the Oval Office.
Once there, he asked his Secretary of State where he was willing to compromise. Did he favor a rescue mission or another military option? When Vance attempted to say neither, the president waved him off. “I trust your counsel, but I need an answer. Think about it, and prepare a memo for me,” he said.
March 26, 1980
Kennedy Compound — Hyannis, MA
Heading into the New York primary, Kennedy and his team knew it carried the potential of being the decisive contest. Kennedy had lost badly in Iowa. Then, he’d given an impassioned speech, criticizing Carter’s foreign policy and demanding that the press treat him fairly over Chappaquiddick. He went on to lose badly in New Hampshire, too, portrayed as his “backyard.”
It seemed that no matter what Kennedy did, he could not catch Carter. Even when Carter’s 1980 budget proposal was widely panned by liberal Democrats, they delivered him a convincing win in Illinois, a state Kennedy should have carried. With Illinois lost, the Kennedy camp read the writing on the wall. Their star had faded. Their campaign had imploded. Jackie Kennedy Onassis assembled members of the family to consider how they might approach Teddy about dropping out of the race. The family was stunned.
Those inside the campaign, the candidate included, decided to wait until the New York primary was over before making any such decision. The polls predicted a defeat akin to Illinois, but the Massachusetts senator thought better of the New York electorate. He campaigned hard for the Jewish vote, an area in which Carter was weak, and hoped to turn the narrative.
At the United Nations, Carter’s ambassador was weighing whether or to not vote in favor of a resolution condemning Israeli settlements in Gaza and the West Bank. Carter instructed him to vote in favor of the proposal so long as a paragraph about Jerusalem was cut from the text. Just before the vote, Donald McHenry scanned the resolution and saw that while the paragraph about Jerusalem was cut, the Holy City was still mentioned in the preamble. McHenry tried to phone Washington, but he couldn’t get ahold of the president. With the vote called, McHenry decided to play it safe and abstain from the vote. Had he supported the resolution, he may have thrown the primary to Kennedy, but instead Carter hung on to enough of the Jewish vote to prevail.
Kennedy’s loss in New York forced the end of his campaign.
Taking a long drag from her cigarette, Jackie broached the subject as delicately as she could. “Teddy, I think we have to consider this might be over.” The senator was in disbelief. His team was stunned. His wife, Joan, was comforting herself with drink and avoiding the subject altogether. Nobody knew quite what he would say.
It was clear to Kennedy that his odds were long. He had consistently lost big contests to a candidate who refused to campaign. He may have been more in tune with the party’s ideology, but they clearly favored the president in office now — the one dealing with multiple crises. Maybe the electorate worried about how Kennedy’s personal character would fair in a contest against a charming movie star or a ruthless businessman. Maybe voters weren’t really willing to forgive Chappaquiddick, as Kennedy had assumed they would be.
Steve Smith broke the silence that followed Jackie’s statement. “Senator, I think we’ve got to face the music. There’s no mathematical path to the nomination and a fight that continues is not good for the party, or for you — not when you can’t win.”
But this argument missed the point of Kennedy’s decision to enter the race in the first place. Surely, he wanted to win and become president, but it was about more than that for him. He did not view the campaign as simply an electoral effort. He viewed it as a movement — a cause. For Kennedy to drop out now, before the convention, would admit a blow to his liberal ideology. Kennedy was unwilling to concede the party to Jimmy Carter.
There were other factors to consider, however. His family needed attention. The money to fund the campaign was running out and was likely to disappear now that the nomination was mathematically out of reach. Running a campaign in the remaining states would mean an embarrassingly shoestring operation, especially for a Kennedy. He would be reduced to a footnote, a spoiler. If Kennedy wanted to preserve his honor, Smith argued, he needed to get out now, embrace Carter, and get back to work in the Senate. Maybe Carter would reward him with a nice speaking slot at the convention. (He wouldn’t, and both Kennedy and Smith knew this).
The Senator made the decision himself, finally embracing the logic of Smith and his family. He had to get out of the race now to preserve the family’s honor, but he would do so in a characteristically Kennedy way — with a big show.
Back in Washington, Kennedy convened a final rally on March 30th, where he addressed a packed auditorium full of Kennedy loyalists.
“Thank you very, very much. Well, this isn't exactly the party I'd planned, but I sure like the company,” he said at the start.
But then came the painful part: “I have withdrawn from the campaign,” Kennedy said, “but I have not withdrawn from my commitment to speak for those who have no voice, to stand for those who are weak or exploited, to strive for those who are left out or left behind.”
He continued, calling for the party to “unite now behind President Carter” to ensure that the Republicans did not win in November, and he finished his remarks with a poignant reminder for his deflated supporters: “For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.” [6]
Blocks away, at the White House, Hamilton Jordan popped a bottle of champagne. Carter had banned alcoholic beverages at White House functions — not because the president was a teetotaler; he just wanted to save money for the government. This champagne was a personal expense by Jordan, and so Carter permitted himself a little taste of the champagne — of victory.
They stood around with smiles — Jordan, Powell, Rafshoon, Donilon, and a few others. “To an ass-whipping!” Jordan toasted.
“To an ass-whipping!” the others said in unison.
“And to the one ahead!” Powell added.
And James Earl Carter flashed his signature grin. To an ass-whipping, he thought to himself.
April 11, 1980
The White House — Washington, DC
What few of Jimmy Carter’s opponents understood was that he was, at his core, a risk taker who did what the moment required. During his second campaign for governor, the one in which he was successful, Carter betrayed his personal moral compass and went South instead — blowing the dog whistle as loud as any in Dixie had done before. Yet, when he took office, he declared that the time for racial discrimination was over. It was a simple and genuine declaration, and yet it had caught so many by surprise given the campaign Carter had employed to get there.
Carter decided weeks earlier that time was up for the Iranians. The Hostage Crisis had gone on too long. Convening his national security team once more, Carter knew the time had come to make a decision. Vance was incensed, and he let the president know it. The point of the meeting was to decide on a course of action to bring the hostages home — a military course of action. Vance began by insisting that the president reconsider. The exhausted president ignored him.
“Cy,” he said, “if you’d like to weigh in on which option you believe strengthens your hand diplomatically, I welcome that input,” he said, “but the time has come for us to try something different.”
Vance could not believe that Brzezinski and the others had pushed the president into such a foolhardy position. He had no doubt that either option would endanger the hostages, and knowing that their safety was the president’s top priority, Vance made the point repeatedly as the others debated the merits of each plan.
Brzezinski, whom the president found himself listening to at an increasing rate, argued against the naval blockade or mining of the harbors. He believed that either operation would force the Iranians to seek aid from the Soviets, making the situation in the Middle East even more complex. They could not afford to let Iran become a proxy for the Cold War. Vance pushed back on the notion, though half-heartedly, and again argued for diplomatic resolution.
The conversation turned towards an outright rescue mission. Carter liked the idea, but he was nervous about its chances of success. Again, he ordered those around him to walk through it step-by-step. Again, they were met with blistering critiques from the Secretary of State who refused to see how the operation could go off so smoothly.
In Vance’s efforts to discredit the proposed Operation RICEBOWL, he unwittingly drove Carter towards another, even riskier, military option.
Carter pressed his advisors on how mining ports in Iran would work. Mondale cautioned the president against the idea, but Carter pressed on, demanding answers. Where would the mines be placed? What reason was there to believe the Soviets would so readily confront the U.S. military in open waters in defense of Iran? Wouldn’t starving Iran of its oil wealth force their hand in the negotiations, enabling Vance to bring home the best deal possible to free the hostages?
Harold Brown, the Defense Secretary, reported back on how it could work. He preferred the mining to an outright naval blockade. Once the mines were laid, Brown explained, the military effort was done. The United States would not be forced to maintain the sort of sustained naval presence required of a blockade, and the risk of confrontation with the Soviets would therefore decrease. He also agreed with the president that it would, within months, cripple the Iranian economy and force them to the negotiating table.
“Or they’ll just kill a hostage,” Jordan muttered.
The thought of losing a hostage made the president uneasy, but he’d begun to doubt Zbig and Jordans’ assertions that it was inevitable. After all, wouldn’t Khomeini know that by killing one of the Americans he would be signing his own death warrant?
Jordan and Mondale doodled on the papers in front of them as a silence fell over the room. Months had passed since the embassy was seized and the Americans were first taken. The time had come for a decision, and there was only one man in the room who could make it. Brzezinski’s head swiveled from side to side, searching the faces of his colleagues for any indication of what the president might do. Vance held his gaze on the president.
Carter was rubbing his hands against his forehead. He had always insisted that the buck stopped with him, and he knew now that this was the kind of decision only he could make. He had to do what was best for the hostages — what would get them home safely and quickly? Nothing, he feared, but that was not an option.
“We’re going forward with mining the ports. Finalize the plan, and I’ll prepare an address for the American people.” The Commander-in-Chief had made his decision, and he stood abruptly and left the room. He needed to tell Rosalynn.
April 24, 1980
The Oval Office — Washington, DC
“My fellow Americans,” the president began.
Chris Matthews was standing on the other side of the camera. He had never before written a speech that carried the significance this one did. Of course, he had not been alone. The speech was mainly written by Jerry Rafshoon, and the Pentagon had their fair share of edits, but in this moment — as he watched the president utter these consequential words, Matthews couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d changed the course of history. Perhaps this was naive. It was not his speech, after all, that would influence the final outcome of the Hostage Crisis — it was Carter’s decision, but then, too, so much of diplomacy came down to the words said by those at the table, and this address, which Chris Matthews had played a heavy hand in drafting, would set the tone for those negotiations moving forward.
“Now, on my order, American naval vessels are moving in to mine several key ports in Iran and Kharg Island. This action is necessary as Iran continues to deny the release of innocent American hostages who have committed no wrong against the nation. I informed our closest allies of my decision just hours ago, before formally giving the order.
“Any harm inflicted on the hostages will be met with the swiftest and most intense military action on the part of the United States, and any action taken against our Navy as they perform this operation will be interpreted as an act of war against the United States.
“We will remove these mines only when the American hostages — all of them — are released.”
Carter then sought to compel Iran to come to the table. “Allow me to be perfectly clear to the people of Iran: What happens next is entirely within the hands of your government. Should your government move quickly to safely release all Americans held in Iran, there will be no disruption to the Iranian way of life. It will only be if they delay in releasing the hostages that everyday Iranians will bear the burden of this decision. I hope, for your sake, that your government will respond with your interests in mind, just as our government is acting in the interests of the American people.”
When the speech was done, a nervous president thanked his team for their efforts. Rosalynn, who stood next to Matthews throughout the address, embraced her husband.
“That was really very good,” she assured him. “It’s only a matter of time now.” Carter hoped she was right.
>>>>>>
[1] As quoted in Rendezvous with Destiny, 148.
[2] True Compass, 375.
[3] Based on meeting minutes found here: https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1977-80v11p1/d217
[4] Thank you, @Yes
[5] Granted, I have the benefit of hindsight but this is a fairly obvious question that Kai Bird raises in his biography of Carter. IOTL, no one mentioned this point. ITTL, Eizenstat, who was an advocate for a mining or blockade effort, raises the question to Powell before the meeting, and Powell, in turn, asks it.
[6] The speech opening is from Hillary’s 2008 concession in our timeline - which rivals Kennedy’s, in my opinion, for prolific addresses by failed candidates. The second part comes from remarks prepared by Steve Smith for Kennedy, according to pg. 217 of Camelot’s End, and the final part is obviously his famous convention closing.
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Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful stuff Vidal. Your thorough research, superb prose and intense dedication to realism make this TL amongst the best I’ve ever read.
One of the things I really like about this TL is that all of the divergences come from really minor things - people asking different questions in meetings, slight changes in scheduling, people taking different practical perspectives on the same fundamental worldviews.
Thank you! Sometimes I worry that these changes drag the timeline towards accusations of "doesn't this all work out just a bit too perfectly?" But in writing and researching, I've come to start looking at that from the opposite lens. If OTL was posted on this site in some alternate universe, would people ask the same questions? And I feel like the answer would be yes, and so I have taken some liberties in thinking the opposite.
For example, the Connally campaign. Eddie Mahe, Connally's campaign manager, was married to a Christian fundamentalist who had gradually expanded their political influence for four years. It almost seems like wish fulfillment on Reagan's behalf that she never said to Eddie, "Hey, why don't you listen to me on this?" and, in the cases where she did speak up, Mahe ignored her. What?! So, that's just one of the kinds of PODs you've made.
And if we were writing OTL from the land of Jimmy Two, there would surely be SOMEONE who would comment, "Hey, don't you think it's a little too convenient that Cy Vance is just ~out of town~ for the meeting where Eagle Claw gets approved? Seems like things line up just a bit too neatly for Reagan here..."
Part of this is to emphasize that we don't need to move a mountain to re-elect Jimmy. Things just have to line up a bit differently. This is still a time of genuine swing voters - the kinds of voters who didn't really agree with Reagan on the issues but just wanted Jimmy to look strong for once, or who thought the economy was in just too bad of shape to merit another four years. We can fix those problems without making Jimmy Carter into someone he fundamentally was not: A natural leader and executive who unified the Democratic Party and got along great with the Washington establishment.
I have to say I really like this timeline. I've not been commenting on here just because I keep forgetting to. But the picture you've built up of Jimmy is a really interesting one. I'm British, so I would never be able to vote for him, so I've always taken the re-election as some kind of near impossible tilting at windmills like quest. You're doing a decent job of seeding things here that'll hopefully pay off down the line.
I can't help but notice that Ed Muskie is still in his senate seat at the present time? Strikes me that he'd make a pretty decent Senate Leader or Whip at some point in the future, always thought it was a damn shame that Carter brought him into the administration right before it collapsed.
I can't help but notice that Ed Muskie is still in his senate seat at the present time? Strikes me that he'd make a pretty decent Senate Leader or Whip at some point in the future, always thought it was a damn shame that Carter brought him into the administration right before it collapsed.
In researching my second Carter administration, I found out more about Jim Bakker's than I'd known previously. There were investigations starting in '79, that were not serously prosecuted under Reagan, that might be under Carter...
en.wikipedia.org
Jim Bakker - Wikipedia
@Vidal : I've been doing some work on Carter's second term, and found things of interest.
Admiral Rickover is likely to be around longer, and the General Dynamics Electric Boat scandal may well have different results with him in charge--and Carter served in subs, so will NOT be happy with it.
Admiral Rickover is likely to be around longer, and the General Dynamics Electric Boat scandal may well have different results with him in charge--and Carter served in subs, so will NOT be happy with it.
Carter's foreign policy team is an interesting mix. You have Vance and Zbig who are totally incompatible. By this point IOTL, Vance was gone because he felt Eagle Claw showed the president had come down on Zbig's side over his. Of course, ITTL, there is no Eagle Claw for Vance to resign over. That said, foreign policy under Carter was about more than the Hostage Crisis, and Vance's misgivings about the direction in which Carter was heading will definitely remain. It seems unlikely he'd last in the position for eight years.
With all of that said, though, it's worth noting Carter really liked Warren Christopher and wanted to elevate him to Sec. of State but given the timing of Vance's resignation, Carter felt he immediately needed someone with credibility in the domestic political scene and on the world stage. He may not feel those same pressures later on.
I was wondering if you read about the book, "We've Got People": https://splinternews.com/patience-is-not-a-virtue-ryan-grim-on-weve-got-people-1835282746. Reckon Carter winning in 1980 will change the thinking of some Democrats on the direction of the party.
Wonderful as always but I've got a "housekeeping" note:
Pretty sure you meant "blistering" as "blithering" does not convey the sense the set up is aiming for
Randy
Pretty sure you meant "blistering" as "blithering" does not convey the sense the set up is aiming for
Randy
I actually take a slightly different view in that Carter's conception of what the Party should be was basically the model for Clinton, too. Both were Southern Democrats with the traditional tendency towards helping the impoverished and disadvantaged but limited that tenet of their philosophy based on economic constraints and the drive towards balancing the budget/etc. Carter was, in a sense, ahead of his time in predicting the American public's distrust of the government spending tax dollars, etc.
The Reagan answer to this was not, at the time, orthodox Republican. While the GOP had previously answered the question with, we won't spend your money on things you don't need, Reagan tested a new response: We will just give you back your money.
So, Reagan's loss means more changes for the GOP than a Carter win means for the Democrats IMO. The Democrats were already marching in Carter's direction and continued to do so even though he was only a one-term president, and Carter's economic philosophy will strain the Party's relationships, etc. with unions.
I think the question becomes what happens to the Republicans? Do they continue on a Moral Majority path? Do they resort to the Bob Dole School of Balanced Budgeting and Responsible Government? Do they find a new moral panic around which they can rally support? What the GOP does will inevitably influence where the Democrats go from there, so while a Carter second term is certain to impact where the Party goes, I think a lot of that has to do with the idea of "Reagan losing" than it does "Carter winning."