Playbook 2012_ The Right Fights Back (Politico Inside Election 2012) - Mike Allen [15]
After the Reagan debate, Romney adviser Ron Kaufman watched the video. Kaufman, a Washington lobbyist, was staying in the unfamiliar surroundings of a Courtyard by Marriott (“because we’re the cheap guys,” noted Kaufman, approving of the savings). Kaufman was practically purring over Romney’s timing. He compared him to Tom Brady, the veteran New England Patriots All-Pro quarterback. Romney’s crack about Perry and his job-creating predecessors had been rehearsed at debate prep, like almost all candidate quips, but Romney had found just the right moment to use it. He had come off sounding like Johnny Carson, Kaufman thought. Romney was not famous for making people laugh, but he was, without doubt, much improved over his 2008 debate persona, which had been stiff and humorless. Stuart Stevens had not hired anyone to coach Romney on his body language. He thought that “Do this, do that” instructions just made candidates self-conscious.
One political operative, a woman who had worked for George W. Bush and other leading Republicans, noticed something else about Romney. He seemed somehow more commanding, more manly, than he did four years ago, at once more relaxed and confident. On the other hand, she said, about half the Republican base “doesn’t want him.”
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After entering the race in August, Perry immediately shot to the top of the polls, and for a moment at least, it looked as though he might be the man to beat Romney. At the Orlando debate, one of the organizers was startled when Perry appeared at the “mic check,” the ritual pre-debate walk-through for the candidates, looking worn out before the debate had even begun. The Perry camp was complaining that the debate time had been lengthened to two hours to accommodate another candidate, former New Mexico governor Gary Johnson. Appearing less than excited about the prospect of performing before a live audience of five thousand and a national TV audience of five million, Perry grumbled something to the effect of “It’s 24/7 from now until next November,” the organizer recalled. “He didn’t say, I’m getting tired. It was just sort of, Wow, this takes a lot of energy. It was, I’ve got to be doing this 24/7 for the next fourteen months, geez.” The organizer was surprised that Perry would be so open, griping on a stage surrounded by people he didn’t know (but who knew plenty of reporters).
The reviews of Perry’s debate performances in the mainstream press and the blogs were devastating. While Romney won A grades, Perry was given Cs and Ds. The Texas governor was soon dropping precipitously in the polls. As the debates followed one after another—the Reagan Library on September 7; Tampa, Florida, on September 12; and Orlando on September 22—Perry’s swagger faded into an odd passivity. More ominously, his fundraising began to freeze up.
David Carney, Perry’s chief strategist, was dismissive of the debates as a noisy sideshow. A former top Perry fundraiser was not so sanguine. “Dave Carney did not think the debates were very important because, in Texas, they’re not. In Texas, it doesn’t affect your major donors. If you have a bad debate, they don’t care,” she said. The Perry operation had raised more than $15 million quickly, about half from Perry’s deep Texas well of supporters. But after the Tampa debate and “definitely” after Orlando, the money was “flatlining,” said the fundraiser. The fundraiser, who left the campaign in early October, was an old pro who had worked on the national level in several elections before joining the Perry team when he announced. She found the Perry operation to be surprisingly provincial. At first, she was working out of the chief finance officer’s private home “with dogs running around,” she recalled. (“We would go out to the pool to take calls to get a little peace and quiet.”) When she offered suggestions, she was told, “That’s not how we do it here.” She would answer, “Well, you’ve never run for president