By winning the Iowa straw poll, “W” confirmed his standing as the man to beat–and beat up. Last week the pummeling began in earnest. In a recent interview, he mocked the plight of one death-row inmate in Texas, and critics pounced on him for seeming callous and political. Democratic opponents attacked his role as the boss of Texas regulators. In a lawsuit, one of them claimed she had been fired for aggressively investigating a funeral-home company headed by a Bush supporter. The governor denied he’d had a “conversation” about the company’s situation, but last week lawyers for the woman accused him of lying under oath. Bush admits he asked a casual question about the matter; his attorneys say that doesn’t amount to a “conversation.” Texas Democrats were chortling. “The hairsplitting sounds like a certain president we all know, doesn’t it?” said one.
Every campaign season now begins with a feeding frenzy of character sharks. In Bush’s case, there’s not even any blood in the water yet. Questions are focusing on whether he ever used cocaine even though no news organization or opponent has unearthed evidence that he did. Drugs are of interest because the governor has been so forthcoming on other private matters. He boasts that he has been faithful to his wife since he married her in 1977; he solemnly confesses that he used to drink too much until he quit one hung-over morning in 1986.
But about illegal drug use–an inevitable question for every baby-boomer candidate–Bush was oddly evasive, carefully rehearsed and full of practiced indignation. He wouldn’t discuss the matter, he said, except to say that he was once “young and irresponsible.” Boomers, he said, should do their own kids a favor and not recite a catalog of sins. The media should lay off, so that good but imperfect people would seek public office. As he left on his campaign swing last week, Bush again branded such rumors “ridiculous and absurd.” He declined to say “false.”
Then, without warning, W abandoned his strategy by answering a question from The Dallas Morning News man in New Orleans. Since background checks required of White House employees ask about drug use within the last seven years, could Bush meet that test himself? Bush hesitated, then said yes, he could, and would apply it if elected. The crew back in Austin soon saw the almost-laughably predictable result. The front-page headline: Bush says he hasn’t used drugs in last seven years. In other words, it sounded as if he might have used drugs as recently as 1991–when his father was president. A seriocomic panic ensued. “People were up all night figuring out what to say next,” said one aide.
The solution: a further “modified limited hangout.” TV crews were summoned to Roanoke, Va., for an urgent “press avail.” There, Bush declared that he could have passed a background check even when his dad was president, when there was a 15-year time limit on drug questions. In other words–though he didn’t actually utter them–he was claiming he had been clean since 1974, when he was 28. But then a reporter pointed out that the current White House rules require applicants to admit any drug use since the age of 18. Why not go that far back? W blanched, but had been briefed, and didn’t bite. He would speak no more. If voters wanted to reject him for what might–or might not–have happened a quarter-century ago, so be it. Boomer parents, Bush declared, should still follow his lead and say to their teenage kids: “I’ve learned from mistakes I may or may not have made…”
Bush’s handlers, relieved at the weekend that their man was safely back in Austin, declared victory. “We’ve set the limits on what we’d say, and people are telling us to stand up to the media,” said campaign manager Rove. Born-again spin doctors were dispatched to predict that their flocks would embrace Bush’s sin-to-redemption saga. Even some Democratic strategists thought Bush might have stumbled into a successful stance. His boomeresque predicament, and indirect plea for tolerance, might win sympathy, they said.
But first there was the little matter of the GOP nomination, and his rivals were emboldened by the drug fandango. Christian conservatives, led by Gary Bauer, declared the public’s right to know whether Bush had ever committed a felony. (Cocaine possession is one.) His salami-slicing was all too reminiscent of the man he’s trying to replace, said others. But the most common comment in opposing camps had less to do with Bush’s new position than how he got there. “He looks like he’s not ready for prime time,” said a rival campaign manager. That may be wishful thinking, but it’s the kind that keeps your enemies in the race.
