The empire strikes backReeling in Big Labor and improvising well, Gore has a big week.
Finally. But can it last?By Eric Pooley
October 18, 1999
Web posted at: 12:29 p.m. EDT (1629 GMT)
It was about time Al Gore caught a break. For months his
presidential campaign has seen nothing but bad luck and trouble,
much of it brought on by the Vice President himself. He ignored
his only Democratic rival until Bill Bradley's minivan pulled up
right alongside Air Force Two. He turned his campaign into a jobs
program for consultants and seemed congenitally unable to connect
with voters. Things were so dismal for so long, in fact, that
after Gore fired his pollster, slashed his staff, declared
himself the underdog and moved his headquarters to Nashville,
Tenn., it was probably inevitable that his luck would change, at
least for a little while.
But let's not get carried away with comeback talk. Let's just say
Gore finally had a good week.
If a high point came in Los Angeles on Wednesday, when Gore
landed the endorsement of the 13 million-member AF-CIO--a labor
machine that can give his campaign soft money, vote-pulling
muscle and 200 organizers in Iowa alone--it wasn't the only one.
That night in Seattle, after the Senate shot down the
Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, Gore tried to build
momentum by staying up late to write, edit and star in a TV spot
in which he pledged that his first act as President would be to
send the treaty back to the Senate. That may not get voters
dancing in the streets of Nashua, N.H., but at least it proved he
was capable of making a spontaneous move. "It was probably the
least calculated moment of the campaign," says an adviser. Gore
didn't even have time to poll, though he knew in his bones that
the no-nukes message would play well among liberals leaning
toward Bradley. Flying from Seattle to Washington on Thursday,
Gore told reporters how he had written the spot on hotel
stationery; he even handed out copies of a penciled-up draft. He
was pleased to have done something brave and impulsive. On Friday
he was still being that way. He told the Washington Post he was
thinking about flying solo--asking Bill Clinton to stand aside and
let him win or lose by himself.
Gore, who can seem phony even when he's totally sincere, has
always tried to make up with hard work what he lacks in instinct
and inspiration. Right now he's working so feverishly to connect
that he makes you want to give him a hug. "I don't want to tell
you what's on my mind," he says constantly. "I want to show you
what's in my heart"--and you get the idea he'd like to rip the
thing clean out of his breast, just to prove he has one. What's
fascinating is that this all shows signs of working. He sometimes
manages to find what performers call the Zone--the elusive place
where everything they try works. In Seattle an audience of Boeing
aerospace machinists went wild for Gore--repeat, went wild for
Gore. People laughed at his jokes. They nodded at his confession
that after Vietnam and Watergate, "I was as disillusioned as
anyone you've ever met." They cheered when he promised he would
"stay and fight" for them. And they were mindful that unlike
Bradley, he supports building the F-22 Raptor jet fighter, a
program that helps keep Boeing humming.
Though two of the AF-CIO's biggest unions, the Teamsters and
United Auto Workers, withheld their endorsements last week in
hopes of extracting trade protections from the Clinton
Administration, the good news for Gore is that he managed to reel
in the AF without making those kinds of concessions. In effect
he pulled a Bradley, telling unions they should trust him because
of what he is, not what he will do. He glossed over the knottiest
issue facing labor: the way free trade exports American jobs and
suppresses American wages. And though free traders have proposals
for dealing with the problem, Gore didn't mention them. Apart
from a promise to negotiate labor and environmental agreements as
part of future trade pacts, not as side deals, he offered
platitudes about protecting the right to organize and boosting
the minimum wage--no-brainers for any Democrat. In fact, nothing
Gore said in L.A. about how he'd "stay and fight for working
people" would have raised an eyebrow the next day in Washington,
when he told the free-trade-loving members of the Democratic
Leadership Council that he would stay and fight for centrism.
Gore has been doing plenty of staying and fighting this month.
His new slogan, of course, is designed to contrast him with
Bradley, who left the Senate during the Gingrich revolution.
Gore's attacks on Bradley represent something he's long been
missing: a coherent strategy, a chance to pull himself off the
mat.
Gore first drew blood with "stay and fight" two weeks ago, when
he and Bradley made a joint appearance in Iowa. Bradley spoke
first, bemoaning the state of politics and wondering why he and
Gore couldn't be more like home-run rivals Mark McGwire and Sammy
Sosa, "pushing [each other] to be the best we could be." When it
was Gore's turn he said, "I listened carefully to what you had to
say about making this campaign a different kind of experience. I
really agree." He proposed a debate a week, each devoted to a
different issue. "What about it, Bill? If the answer is yes,
stand up."
Bradley didn't and hasn't. Ever since, Gore has been filching
Bradley rhetoric, talking about "having a different kind of
campaign," styling himself the high-minded statesman and Bradley
the conventional pol. To anyone paying attention, it's pretty
transparent. For 10 months Gore wouldn't come within 100 miles of
Bradley; now that Bradley leads in New Hampshire and has more
money in the bank than Gore, the Vice President wants weekly
debates to "elevate our democracy." Even Gore's advisers admit
the ploy. "Sure it's tactical," says one, "but it's also good for
the country." The danger for Bradley is that his countertactics
look no nobler than Gore's tactics. If Bradley really wants to
improve the process, why not just say yes to Gore? Certainly Gore
watchers would enjoy seeing a less rehearsed Vice President; in
1996 he was so obsessed with debate prep that he made sure the
temperature in his practice room matched the temperature in the
debate hall. So far, Bradley has agreed to one debate this year,
a televised town-hall forum to take place Oct. 27 in New
Hampshire. But the pressure is on, and he'll soon agree to more.
Which leaves Gore supporters wondering if their man can build on
his week. Those who doubt his fortitude should hear Seattle
mountaineer Jim Frush tell how Gore and his son Albert III, 16.
climbed Mount Rainier last August. With ice picks and crampons,
ropes and harnesses, they began the final grueling ascent at 2
a.m., in white-out conditions, hail and high winds. They summited
six hours later. Gore, who hasn't told that story publicly, has
been closing his speeches with a generic bit about standing on
the summit--"You can see a long way, but you can't see every day
that will dawn." But he chose the wrong metaphor. He'd better
hope the symbol of his campaign turns out to be that
death-defying climb.
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Cover Date: October 25, 1999
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