Maybe some of that was a bit overblown, but it didn’t matter. I knew Nicaragua would be up in arms about being called a ‘banana republic’ but nobody would care. They had broken off diplomatic relations with us, and they couldn’t vote in the election anyway. The critical thing was to get the magic word impeachment back out there. This allowed me to make nice with the right wing of the party, show that I had learned the error of my ways, and still look dignified and principled to the moderates. Kiss Newt’s ass, tie my name to that of George Bush, and ratchet up the ‘Clinton Fatigue.’
After I left, Cokie Roberts chewed on a Gore campaign staffer who didn’t quite distance his boss from Bill Clinton. He tried the ‘where there is smoke there must be fire’ defense, which really didn’t sit all that well, since most of the smoke was circling the President and not me. Afterwards, in their Roundtable segment, which I watched on the monitor from the green room, the general consensus was that Bill Clinton had badly mishandled the entire situation.
Of special interest to me was a remark by George Will, given in his trademark lecturing cadence. “What I find curious is why anybody who knows Carl Buckman would ever think he would back down from this fight. Everybody knows about the Marines. There is an entire mythos about how they consider themselves elite assault troops able to take on any odds and triumph. What most people don’t understand is that in the United States Army, paratroopers are their Marines. They consider themselves elite infantry. In combat they expect to be surrounded, outnumbered, outgunned, and to take heavy casualties — and they expect to win! Carl Buckman, by all accounts, was an excellent officer and emblematic of this belief. He doesn’t know the meaning of quit and he doesn’t know the meaning of surrender.”
Mythos? Trust George to use a five dollar word!
Anyway, there it was, out in the open again, impeachment. I wouldn’t have to say it again, unless asked. Bill Clinton began circling the wagons again, and the House Judiciary Committee began spouting off about hearings and the mechanism for a fresh trial. Realistically, there would be no impeachment. Slick Willie was the lamest of lame ducks. He had maybe six weeks until the election, after which he would be out of office ten weeks later. Nobody was going to the trouble of impeaching him. It would be like sentencing a man with terminal cancer to the electric chair. It would never happen.
What would happen, however, was that the Democratic Party would begin devouring itself from the inside out. Al Gore was going to have to distance himself from his boss, a tricky thing to manage under the best of circumstances. John Kerry kept trying to salvage a sinking ship. He began demanding dates and times for a debate with me, and George Bush’s staff responded with a categorical refusal unless he publicly repudiated the Clinton-Gore strategy of sending me to prison on false charges. (George did have a debate with Al, in which he demolished Gore.) We were showing solidarity and teamwork while the Democrats were falling apart.
By the middle of October the polls were well ahead for the Governor. Even the mess with the USS Cole in Aden helped. In an awful way it pointed out Clinton’s, and by extension Gore’s, poor performance in foreign policy and defense. It was disgusting to watch Rove use the deaths to put Bush into office.
I was informed by my children that Stormy was housebroken, and I verified that with their mother. The last few weeks of the campaign became a family affair. The girls were old enough to take care of themselves, so Marilyn and Stormy joined me on the campaign trail, with the twins flying in on weekends. Marilyn was now comfortable enough to be able to do a quick introduction for me. She would go out on stage to applause and cheers, and introduce me as, “A man who has proven he is a hero to the nation, and a man who is my hero, Carl Buckman!” I would then come out, leading Stormy on a leash, and give my wife a hug and a kiss. She would step back and I would lift Stormy up onto a table or bench, if she couldn’t make it herself. She was getting huge, and was a real publicity hound (no pun intended!) It was easy to break the ice with comments along the line of, ‘It’s a good thing I’m rich, because you wouldn’t believe how much kibble we go through!’ and ‘If this politics thing doesn’t work out, I’m going to buy a saddle and start working the carnie circuit!’, while if she was acting up a little, I could simply say, ‘I should have left you in the basement!’ She was an extremely well behaved and calm dog, and could go through several minutes of intro remarks, at which point Marilyn or the girls would take her backstage. (One favorite remark: “If you’re a Republican, she’s just licking you, but if you’re a Democrat, she’s tasting you!”)
By Tuesday, November 7, it seemed a foregone conclusion. The Governor was up by at least five points across the country. John Kerry would be heading back to his day job in the Senate, and Al Gore and Bill Clinton were about to get permanent vacations. It even looked like I was going to be re-elected in the Maryland Ninth. Fletcher Donaldson and a few other reporters had begun asking what I planned to do after being elected to the Vice-Presidency, as if it was already decided. I simply told them that nothing was assured until the election, but that if the Governor was elected, we would both make sure that the best possible candidate ran in the special election. I declined to name any names, but promised them that whoever was nominated would be an excellent candidate to carry on the work I had done for the citizens of the district.
That Tuesday night we had our usual bash at the Best Western. We stayed in an impromptu lounge we had created out of a conference room, with a bank of televisions and some tote boards to count electoral votes. Tonight was definitely a family affair, with the girls and the mutt in attendance, and Cheryl Dedrick and her husband were with us. If I was elected to both offices, we planned to announce her candidacy on Wednesday, but we wanted them there tonight.
By nine the Maryland Ninth was called, with a certain Carl Buckman winning by 15 points. You could hear the screaming from down the hall. I took the call from my opponent, who tried to get me to let him know who would replace me if George Bush won. He had already announced that he would run again in the special election in January. I thanked him but didn’t tell him.
It was shortly after eleven when the networks began announcing that George had won. I didn’t even catch it at first, since I was outside walking Stormy, while she sniffed everywhere trying to find the perfect spot to squat in the grass. I could hear some screaming from inside, but we had been getting that all night. Then some kid came racing out of the building and ran up to us, breathless. “Congressman! Congressman! You won, you won!”
I smiled at him and said, “I know I won, son. Calm down.”
“No, you don’t understand! Governor Bush won! Both NBC and CBS just called it! You won!”
“Huh!” I just stood there for a moment, as Stormy pooped in the shrubs. “I’ll be damned. We won?”
“You won!” Another staffer ran up at that point and told us both the same thing.
“I’ll be damned!” I looked down at the dog, now back by my side. “Well, Stormy, let’s go see what kind of trouble I’ve gotten into now!”
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