WEST WING MUST-READ: Todd S. Purdum, Vanity Fair's national editor, in the August issue -- 'LOOSE CANNON: It Came from Wasilla --
Despite her disastrous performance in the 2008 election, Sarah Palin is still the sexiest brand in Republican politics, with a lucrative book contract for her story. But what Alaska's charismatic governor wants the public to know about herself doesn't always jibe with reality. As John McCain's top campaign officials talk more candidly than ever before about the meltdown of his vice-presidential pick, the author tracks the signs-political and personal-that Palin was big trouble, and checks the forecast for her future':
'By the time Election Day rolled around, ... [t]he top McCain aides who had tried hard to work with Palin-Steve Schmidt, the chief strategist; Nicolle Wallace, the communications ace; and Tucker Eskew, her traveling counselor-were barely on speaking terms with her, and news organizations were reporting that anonymous McCain aides saw Palin as a 'diva' and a 'whack job.' Many of the details that led to such assessments have remained obscure. But in a recent series of conversations, a range of people from the McCain-Palin campaign, including members of the high command, agreed to elaborate on how a match they thought so right ended up going so wrong. The consensus is that Palin's rollout, and even her first television interview, with ABC's Charles Gibson, conducted after an awkward two-week press blackout to allow for intensive cramming at her home in Wasilla, went more or less fine, though it had its embarrassing moments ... and was much parodied.
'At least one savvy politician-Barack Obama-believed Palin would never have time to get up to speed. He told his aides that it had taken him four months to learn how to be a national candidate, and added, 'I don't care how talented she is, this is really a leap.' The paramount strategic goal in picking Palin was that the choice of a running mate had to ensure a successful convention and a competitive race right after; in that limited sense, the choice worked. But no serious vetting had been done before the selection (by either the McCain or the Obama team), and there was trouble in nailing down basic facts about Palin's life. After she was picked, the campaign belatedly sent a dozen lawyers and researchers, led by a veteran Bush aide, Taylor Griffin, to Alaska, in a desperate race against the national reporters descending on the state. At one point, trying out a debating point that she believed showed she could empathize with uninsured Americans, Palin told McCain aides that she and Todd in the early years of their marriage had been unable to afford health insurance of any kind, and had gone without it until he got his union card and went to work for British Petroleum on the North Slope of Alaska.
Checking with Todd Palin himself revealed that, no, they had had catastrophic coverage all along. She insisted that catastrophic insurance didn't really count and need not be revealed. This sort of slipperiness-about both what the truth was and whether the truth even mattered-persisted on questions great and small. By late September, when the time came to coach Palin for her second major interview, this time with Katie Couric, there were severe tensions between Palin and the campaign.
'By all accounts, Palin was either unwilling, or simply unable, to prepare. In the run-up to the Couric interview, Palin had become preoccupied with a far more parochial concern: answering a humdrum written questionnaire from her hometown newspaper, the Frontiersman. McCain aides saw it as easy stuff, the usual boilerplate, the work of 20 minutes or so, but Palin worried intently. At the same time, she grew concerned that her approval ratings back home in Alaska were sagging as she embraced the role of McCain's bad cop. To keep her happy, the chief McCain strategist, Steve Schmidt, agreed to conduct a onetime poll of 300 Alaska voters. It would prove to Palin, Schmidt thought, that everything was all right. Then came the near-total meltdown of the financial system and McCain's much-derided decision to briefly 'suspend' his campaign. Under the circumstances, and with severely limited resources, Schmidt and the McCain-campaign chairman, Rick Davis, scrapped the Alaska poll and urgently set out to survey voters' views of the economy (and of McCain's response to it) in competitive states. Palin was furious. She was convinced that Schmidt had lied to her, a belief she conveyed to anyone who would listen. ...'[C]ampaign aides cast about for someone who could serve as a calming presence: Palin's horse whisperer. They settled on Mark McKinnon, a smart, funny, soft-spoken former Democrat from Texas. McKinnon had long admired McCain, and had begun the Republican primary season helping him out-though warning that he would never work against Obama in the general election. But now McKinnon, whose role in helping prepare Palin has not been previously reported, and who declined to elaborate on it to V.F., changed his mind and quietly signed on.
Mark Salter, McCain's longtime aide, says that McKinnon was picked because 'he's got a lovely manner: You sort of want a guy who's very easygoing, gives good advice, and doesn't add to the natural nervousness.' ... Palin herself often sounds tired and resentful these days, as if wondering whether she should have blinked and just said no to John McCain.'