BOSTON, Mass. — If you’re reading this over breakfast, I’m at a rally in Faneuil Hall for John McCain. Tomorrow, barring a last-minute political earthquake, Republicans in over 20 states will go to the polls and all but crown the Arizona senator the nominee of their party. It’s already being called one of the greatest political comebacks in American history — one that I hope to explain in the thesis (book?) I plan to begin writing when I return to Ithaca next week. I’ve spent the better part of the last two months doing everything in my limited power to make that comeback possible — attending rallies, writing letters to the editor and calling conservative talk radio to counter the relentless anti-McCain jihad. The ride to this point has been bumpy, an emotional roller-coaster of sorts. I hate it, and I love it. After weeks of volunteer work in New Hampshire culminating in a McCain victory, I was hooked. If history was about to be made, I was going to be there to witness it first-hand. One ticket to South Carolina, please.
South Carolina
My plane touches down in Myrtle Beach at around 8 p.m. the night after the New Hampshire primary. 24 hours later, I’m sitting in the audience at the GOP’s Fox News debate. The best part about watching a debate live is that you get to see what happens during commercial breaks. The candidates leave their lecterns … Thompson chats with Giuliani, Giuliani chats with McCain, McCain chats with Huckabee. Nobody speaks to — or even looks at — Mitt Romney; he is, quite clearly, not in the club (or, as he’s become fond of saying, “an outsider”).
During one break, I get up from my seat and head toward the stage to get a peek at the action. On my way, I bump in to Fred Thompson and say hello. “Hi there, buddy,” he says, shaking my hand with a grip that nearly breaks my arm off. Fred goes on to greet his daughter, I mean, wife Geri — like the debate, better seen in person. The night belongs to Fred — the pundits unanimously declare him the debate’s victor for his confident demeanor and his one-line zingers (mostly at Huck’s expense). Speaking of Huck, I get to meet the Arkansas preacher-turned-governor during one of the breaks. I pass on some politically incriminating information on Mitt Romney — the former Massachusetts governor endorsed a far-left Democrat, Mayor Rocky Anderson of Salt Lake City, for re-election in 2003! That raises the Huckster’s eyebrows, and he promises to look into it.
The next morning, I’m entrusted with driving former Indiana Senator Dan Coats’s Lexus to an event while he rides along with his former colleague in the Straight Talk Express. As I wait outside for the keys, I notice the senator’s 23-year-old blogging daughter Megan and introduce myself. I mention a news item I caught the other day — she called Obama “cute.”
“That’s the last time I talk to MTV,” she says jokingly. A few days later, I discover that there are Jews in South Carolina. And not just any Jews … Jewish Republicans! Enter John McCain’s secret weapon, Joe Lieberman. The independent Connecticut senator is set to speak at a Charleston synagogue, and I’m there with a few other young staffers to greet him as he enters. I give him a copy of my first Sun column — about his 2006 loss in the Democratic primary. He says he looks forward to reading it on his afternoon flight (the campaign is dispatching him to South Florida, to make the rounds on the synagogue circuit.)
On January 15, all eyes turn to Michigan, where Mitt Romney looks to make his last stand after losses to Huckabee in Iowa and McCain in New Hampshire. I watch the returns come in with other McCain supporters at a would-be victory party in Charleston. With all signs pointing to a Huckabee win in South Carolina four days later, I decide to watch the election results that night on TV while packing my bags for what looks to be one depressing flight back to Ithaca. Thanks in part to a snowstorm that blankets the upstate evangelical Huckabee strongholds, McCain pulls out a narrow three-point victory. I cancel my flight and drive my rent-a-car from Hilton Head to Miami Beach.
Florida
January 25 is the highlight of my Florida trip. After making some arrangements with McCain’s advance team, I’m green-lighted to ride along in the senator’s van as he criscrosses the Miami area. A few minutes before I’m supposed to board, however, I get a call — Senator Mel Martinez has just endorsed McCain, and they need another seat. I ride along instead with Mark Salter, McCain’s speechwriter (and apparently the only guy cool enough to wear blue jeans on the trail).
It’s Latino Outreach Day on the McCain campaign, and our first stop is the Spanish-language Univision channel. I follow the entourage upstairs and peer into the small room where McCain is conferring with his wife Cindy and his aides, all while a make-up artist goes to work on the 71-year old. She makes sure every hair is in place (I’ve been told that McCain is unable to lift his arms up high enough to comb his own hair due to the injuries he sustained as a POW in Vietnam.)
After the interview, McCain stays in the studio to take some pictures and shake every last hand. He trots out his Spanish: “Vota por McCain! Vota por McCain!” Pointing to Cindy … “Mi esposa.”
From there, it’s off to the Latino Builder’s Association, where Senator Martinez introduces and officially endorses McCain. Taking questions from the media afterwards, McCain trumpets a new Wall Street Journal poll showing him faring better than his Republican competitors against Hillary and Obama.
The night’s last stop is a fundraiser in the backyard of a lavish mansion in Coral Gables. It’s an intimate event, a hundred or so people. After being introduced by the host, McCain steps onto a ledge. “It’s nice to visit this middle-income neighborhood.” He gives a truncated stump speech. “I have good news and bad news,” he says. “The good news is that it looks like we’re going to have enough money to fight on … the bad news is that most of it’s still in your wallets.” The crowd erupts in laughter — they’ll have plenty more to smile about four days later, when McCain pulls out a five-point victory in the state. Unlike Mitt Romney, who’s porn $35 million of his own money into his campaign, they’ll be getting a good return on their investment.
Before I leave, I manage to get a few words with Senator McCain. I tell him my plans to write a book about his campaign. He flashes me that unmistakable grin … “Thank you, my friend. I hope it has a happy ending.”