Known and Unknown - Donald Rumsfeld [141]
The logo for my brief presidential campaign was, appropriately, a dark horse.
I considered informing President Reagan personally about my decision, but I didn’t want to put him in an awkward position, considering that his vice president, George H. W. Bush, was the leading candidate. Instead, I went to see one of Reagan’s close friends and advisers, then Attorney General Ed Meese.
A respected figure among conservatives, Meese was a thoughtful man who always seemed to put loyalty to President Reagan ahead of his own ambitions. “Ed, I’m considering running for the nomination,” I told him. “I thought I’d let you know.”
Meese expressed his appreciation that I informed him personally. Although he said he was likely to stick with Bush, he welcomed me into the race. “It’s important to have alternatives available in case something happens,” he commented. I knew our conversation would find its way to President Reagan.
There was another person I wanted to speak to before I made any announcements. I flew out to meet with President Ford at his home in California. Despite Bush’s considerable advantage as the sitting vice president, Ford felt the 1988 contest was open. Very kindly, he told me that he had been describing me to his friends as the “competent” choice.17 But considering my time away from the public spotlight, Ford wondered how I could get from where I was to where I wanted to go.
Having participated in several presidential campaigns over the years, I was well aware that putting one together from scratch was a monumental undertaking, especially without being a front-runner and not currently in elective office or carrying a famous name. Bush had made light of the so-called vision thing, but I felt it was important for a candidate to be able to explain why he had decided to run for the country’s highest office.
I believed my national security background qualified me to uphold the Reagan standard of “strong and decisive leadership” with respect to the Soviet Union and the other threats that were gathering around the globe.18 I also wanted to focus on opportunities for all Americans, building on my experiences in Congress and the private sector.
My hope was to emerge at the top of the second tier of candidates, while the two front-runners, Bush and Bob Dole, faced off. It was a page from the playbook of my first congressional primary, when my plan had been to run ahead of the other second-tier candidates, and then try to persuade them to drop out and support me, leaving me in a one-on-one race with the front-runner. As in 1962, a great many things would have to fall my way for that plan to work. For one thing, the other second-tier candidates would have to falter. Second, I would have to raise sufficient funds to be able to hang on through Super Tuesday and beyond.
After having served by then as a member of Congress, an ambassador, White House chief of staff, secretary of defense, and a private sector chief executive officer, running for president was humbling. I remember going to speak to college Republicans at the University of Northern Iowa. The schedule my campaign group prepared said that three hundred students might attend. But almost no one showed up. The seats were empty, with the exception of the college Republican chapter president and a few of his friends. There, as at other events, my small staff may well have outnumbered interested voters.19 I participated in all of the presidential candidate forums to try to boost my candidacy, but they received very little coverage, because Bush, wisely pursuing a front-runner’s strategy, usually didn’t attend.
It was hard to raise money with low name recognition, but of course it was hard to increase name identification without spending money. Ironically, the new public-financing laws enacted in the wake of Watergate, supposedly to keep money from distorting the political process, favored incumbents. It made fund-raising for lesser known candidates an even steeper uphill climb. I now was barred by law from