The Triumph of Nancy Reagan Karen Tumulty (motivational novels .TXT) 📖

errors. In Philadelphia, Mississippi, where three civil rights workers had been murdered in 1964, the Republican nominee declared his belief in “state’s rights,” a phrase that has an ugly racist legacy. At a religious convention in Dallas, he endorsed the teaching of creationism. None of this boded well for a candidate seeking to reassure voters that he wasn’t a right-wing zealot or a bigot. He needed to recognize he was talking to the whole country now, not just the conservatives who had cheered him to victory in the Republican primary.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s return had not been welcomed by others in the campaign’s top echelon. He was beginning to worry that he had made a terrible mistake. It was hardly a subtle hint that there was no office—or even a desk—for him at the new Arlington headquarters. Nor was he being included in strategy meetings at Wexford, which was something Nancy noticed. “Where’s Stu?” she asked at one. “Next meeting, make sure Spencer is here.”

“I hadn’t been invited. Bill Casey, Dick Wirthlin, and the rest wanted me nowhere near the candidate. Neither did Ed Meese, for that matter,” Spencer said. “Nancy was the one who delivered the message—and the guys heard her loud and clear.” But by then, Spencer had come up with another, more effective plan to assert control. He proposed an audacious scheme to Deaver: “Mike, you and I both know that with Ronald Reagan, whoever owns the body owns the campaign. We take over their plane. We cut off the phones. And then we run the damn show.”

The coup came together quickly. Spencer brought in his own scheduler, Joe Canzeri. He kept Nofziger aboard to handle the press. Martin Anderson would direct policy from the plane and act as the “conservative conscience,” ignoring whatever dictates were coming from Arlington. They found an experienced Washington hand named Jim Brady, who understood the workings of government and could help with issues research. Spencer also added Ken Khachigian, a young and gifted wordsmith who had written speeches for Nixon. “That was my team. I had a speechwriter. I had a press operation. I had a scheduling operation. I had a philosopher. I had Deaver for Ron and Nancy. I had me,” Spencer recalled.

For the final two months before the election, Spencer’s rogue operation was in charge. “We ran the entire campaign from that airplane,” he said. “The Reagans were very happy; they were completely comfortable again for the first time in ages. Meanwhile, back at the national headquarters in Arlington, they were having fits. They would demand, let’s say, a copy of the speech Reagan was going to give in Des Moines. We gave it to them after the fact, not before.”

Under Spencer’s guidance, everything began working better. Ronnie kept his message focused on Carter’s failings and the country’s economic problems. He took fewer questions from the press. Spencer also managed to secure for Ronnie the endorsements of civil rights leaders Ralph Abernathy and Hosea Williams, both of whom had supported Carter in 1976. The Reagans’ comfort level with Spencer was such that they would often include him as they hashed out their own differences over how the campaign was going and bickered over Nancy’s constant worries that Ronnie was being pushed too hard physically. These conversations usually took place at night, after Ronnie got into his pajamas. “I spent half my life in their bedroom,” Spencer said. “This was where the arguments always took place. She’s jumping on him. Sometimes there were arguments about the kids, but they had nothing to do with the campaign, so I didn’t get into those. They were usually over schedule. They’d argue and argue.”

Nancy also took the measure of the newer members of the team. Speechwriter Khachigian recalled his first long conversation with her, which happened as they campaigned in Illinois that fall. Normally consigned to the staff bus, Khachigian had been summoned to ride in the Reagans’ limousine because he and the candidate needed to talk over plans for a half-hour television address. The speechwriter sat in the jump seat, his knees jammed against Nancy’s. As Ronnie turned his attention to the remarks he would have to deliver at the next event, Nancy turned hers to Khachigian.

“It’s important for Ronnie in his speeches to be emotional,” she told him. As she saw it, Ronnie should not be steered toward hard-edged bombast or swamped with the intricacies of policy. He was at his best when he could strive “to move an audience, and to reach for their passions, to string out their emotions and reach their hearts,” said Khachigian, who would go on to become the chief White House speechwriter. “I think one of the reasons I synced with Reagan is that I paid attention to her instructions.”

Nancy was not so sure-footed in managing her own image. In the 1980 campaign, as in 1976, there were harsh comparisons with the woman she would replace in the White House. Four years earlier, Nancy had been portrayed as the buttoned-up antithesis of breezily candid Betty Ford; this time around, glamorous and perfectly coiffed Nancy was being held up against earnest, down-to-earth Rosalynn Carter, who sewed some of her own clothes and served nothing harder than wine when she entertained. But Rosalynn also raised eyebrows by sitting in on meetings of her husband’s Cabinet and his National Security Council, and sent her chief of staff to important policy-making sessions. Nancy said she would never do such things.

Nancy’s disavowal of any hand in her husband’s governing agenda was seen as yet more evidence that she was merely a paper doll figure. At the same time, a separate and contradictory story line was developing. This one had Nancy as a master manipulator; a behind-the-curtain whisperer. Campaign reporters took note how, on the day Sears was fired in New Hampshire, Ronnie had seemed at a loss for words when asked where the pressure had come from to dismiss the campaign manager.

“From you,” Nancy prompted.

“From me,” her husband said.

At a stop in