Barbara Bush Dies at 92

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Former first lady Barbara Bush, who died yesterday at the age of 92, was a remarkable woman, and her attributes are justifiably being remembered today. She said many things that should inspire the rest of us on our journeys through life.

I have felt considerable empathy for the Bush family, especially Mrs. Bush's children, who have had the pleasure of having their mother with them longer than most. I learned when my own mother died that, no matter how old we are when it happens, it feels strange to be a motherless child.

And I have learned that is a feeling that never really goes away.

I have no doubt that George W. Bush, who is now 71 years old, is feeling that way tonight — in spite of his insistence that "my soul is comforted" by his mother's certainty that there was an afterlife waiting for her.

The loss of a parent is a blow for most people, whether it is expected or not.

But it is also worth remembering that she, like all of us, was human and subject to the same shortcomings we all have.

For example, when her husband, then–Vice President George H.W. Bush, debated the first woman to be on a national ticket, Geraldine Ferraro, in October 1984, Mrs. Bush, when asked her opinion of Ferraro, replied, "I can't say it, but it rhymes with rich."

Well, we all have our shortcomings, as I said.

And most of the time Mrs. Bush was inspirational, reminding us of things that really count in life. But she wasn't perfect. None of us are.

We shouldn't lose sight of that fact as the accolades pour in.

A First in Presidential Politics

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"Let me just say, first of all, that I almost resent, Vice President Bush, your patronizing attitude that you have to teach me about foreign policy."

Rep. Geraldine Ferraro
Oct. 11, 1984

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Thirty years ago tonight, a woman participated in a vice presidential debate for the first time.

Actually, that isn't really as impressive as it sounds. There had been only one vice presidential debate prior to that — between then–Sen. Walter Mondale and then–Sen. Bob Dole in 1976. If Geraldine Ferraro had not been a participant, the debate probably never would have garnered the attention it did.

But it was part of the historic nature of the 1984 campaign. Ferraro, after all, was the first woman to be nominated to a major party's national ticket. Minor parties had nominated women before, but few of them managed to win even 1% of the popular vote. Most were mere footnotes in the annals of presidential politics. Even the first women to seek a major party's presidential nomination — Republican Margaret Chase Smith in 1964 and Democrat Shirley Chisholm in 1972 — were treated more as oddities than legitimate candidates.

Conventional wisdom holds that, in any election, a Democrat can count on winning one–third of the vote, a Republican can count on winning one–third of the vote, and the election will be decided by what that final one–third — the undecided, the uninformed and the easily swayed — choose to do. Consequently, Ferraro knew she would receive more votes for a national office than any woman before her — although, as it turned out, the Democrats lost that last one–third of the vote by a wide margin.

Conventional wisdom also holds that most people don't vote for the running mate. They vote for the candidate at the top of the ticket.

Now, personally, I have never been a big fan of vice presidential debates. What is there to debate? Vice presidents don't make policy. In fact, it is only in the last 40 years that the vice president has been treated as a legitimate and contributing member of the executive branch — but the transition has been a work in progress. Vice presidents still serve, as they always have, as the designated national representatives at foreign weddings and funerals. Vice presidents also preside over the Senate and cast votes when needed to break ties.

(That is why the distinction is made in this year's midterm elections that Republicans need to control 51 seats to take over the Senate whereas the Democrats need to control 50 seats. The decisive vote in a tie in the Senate belongs to the party in the White House because the vice president presides over the Senate.)

Otherwise, their chief responsibility is to stay awake during tedious Senate debates, even if they are battling jet lag from having just returned from a funeral halfway around the world.

But if vice presidential debates focused only on those experiences that qualify a person to be vice president, no one would tune in. After all, who wants to hear people talk for 90 minutes about their experience attending funerals or weddings or how they managed to stay awake through tedious legislative debates?

So vice presidential debates focus on issues that presidents are able to influence — sometimes — and other times are not able to influence. In short, a vice presidential debate is predicated on the assumption that one of the participants will one day become president, by assassination or election or maybe even resignation, and, consequently, it is necessary to know the candidates' views on abortion and guns.

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Actually, the notion that it is inevitable that a vice president will one day be president is absurd. Forty–seven men have served as vice president; fourteen went on to become president. That's less than 30% — and most of them became president following the death of the incumbent. It is by no means certain that they would have been elected president on their own. Five only served out their predecessors' unexpired terms, then faded into obscurity. Only four (that's less than 9%) were elected to the presidency without the benefit of having ascended after the death or resignation of someone else — and two of them were elected before presidential elections started involving a popular vote in the early 19th century.

The vice presidency simply never has been the stepping stone to the presidency that you might think it would be.

Many vice presidents have gone on to seek the presidency on their own. Many failed to win their party's nominations — and all who did win the nomination after 1836 and before 1988 were defeated (with the exception of 1968, when Richard Nixon, running as a former vice president, won both the Republican nomination and the general election).

George H.W. Bush, of course, had sought the presidency before — in 1980, he had been Ronald Reagan's top rival for the Republican presidential nomination before being chosen to be Reagan's running mate. Ferraro, however, never had sought the presidency. She had barely sought the House seat she occupied, having won three terms, and was barely known outside her district.

So why was it important? It was important for Democrats to keep the momentum going after Mondale's first debate with Reagan. The polls showed the Democratic ticket trailing the Republican ticket by a wide margin — correctly, too, as it turned out — and the Democrats' hopes for victory depended on a perception of sustained momentum.

Bush's objective was simple — halt the Democrats' momentum, then Reagan could close the deal in the rematch with Mondale later that month.

My memory of that night is that neither candidate was the clear winner — which, in some ways, was a victory for Bush because it supported opposition arguments that the Democrats' momentum had stalled. If Bush had been the clear loser, the Democrats would have had momentum decisively on their side when Mondale faced Reagan in their second and final debate a week and a half later. But the absence of a clear winner changed the conversation.

For the next couple of decades, women were frequently mentioned as potential running mates for presumptive nominees — but such talk was mostly to appease women voters. A vice presidential debate has been part of every presidential election since 1984, but Ferraro remained the only member of the club of major–party female nominees for almost a quarter of a century.

It was a week shy of 24 years later — on Oct. 3, 2008 — that a female nominee participated in another vice presidential debate. That was the day that then–Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska, the first female nominee on a Republican ticket, and then–Sen. Joe Biden met in their only debate of the 2008 campaign.

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Once again, the conclusion was that the debate had been a draw. As nearly as I could tell, the 2008 vice presidential debate, like the one in 1984, had no influence on the outcome of the race.

Savoring a Short-Lived Triumph

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"I would rather lose a campaign about decency than win a campaign about self–interest."

Walter Mondale
Oct. 7, 1984

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On this night 30 years ago, Walter Mondale's presidential campaign seriously began to entertain thoughts of winning the election.

In hindsight, of course, such thoughts were ludicrous. On Election Day, Ronald Reagan won a 49–state landslide. No one has won the presidency with such a sweeping landslide since.

Mondale had struggled since the summer convention to be regarded as a plausible alternative to Reagan, but he hadn't gotten much traction. After their first debate on this night in 1984, though, it was said that Mondale's campaign staff had been "tap dancing down the aisle" of Mondale's campaign plane.

Why were they so enthused? Because Reagan, at the time the oldest man to be nominated by a major party for the presidency, had appeared confused and disoriented on that stage in Louisville with Mondale.

He had not been the sharp Reagan everyone had expected; instead, he more closely resembled the tired, disengaged old man his critics had said he was. But many people had dismissed that as political gamesmanship.

The first debate focused on domestic issues, an area where the Reagan campaign believed it had a clear advantage — as could be seen in the famous "Morning in America" advertisement that boasted of the economic progress that had been made in Reagan's first term.

When they saw with their own eyes, disbelief gave way to dismay for many, and, in the two weeks between debates, the Mondale campaign began to think and act like a campaign that might not lose after all. Mondale himself began to sound and act like a candidate whose fortunes were turning — who just might be able to achieve what had previously been thought to be impossible.

Nearly everyone who saw the debate 30 years ago tonight had to agree that Mondale was the winner. And that made news because Reagan was so far ahead in the national polls. Like Barack Obama in his first debate with Mitt Romney, Reagan didn't need to be perceived as the winner; his opponent did. And it gave his campaign a much–needed boost. The next day, when Mondale participated in New York's Columbus Day parade, thick crowds lined the street. When he had been there to kick off his campaign a month earlier, attendance was sparse.

At a rally, Mondale's running mate, Geraldine Ferraro, introduced Mondale as "the new heavyweight debater of the world, Fighting Fritz Mondale!" For his part, Mondale was eager to tell the voters, "Today we have a brand new race."

It was preferable to acknowledging the facts — it was the same old race with a new twist.

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Well, not exactly.

Reagan still had a big lead in the polls. All the debate did was give the shaky elements of Reagan's coalition reason to give Mondale a second look. The twist was temporary at best. All that was needed on the incumbent's end was a little tweaking, a little fine tuning.

A big part of Reagan's problem had been a rambling, incoherent closing statement. At a point in the debate when a candidate needs to be as warm and appealing and visionary as possible, Reagan didn't use his folksy approach that had served him so well in the past.

Mondale took advantage of his opportunity. "The question is our future," he said. "President Kennedy once said in response to similar arguments, 'We are great, but we can be greater.' We can be better if we face our future, rejoice in our strengths, face our problems and, by solving them, build a better society for our children."

And Reagan's campaign staffers were pointing fingers at each other. Reagan had been overprepared, some argued. He had been mismanaged. His head had been crammed with facts and figures — when he was at his best communicating with the viewers in his folksy way. Let Reagan be Reagan, many said.

Reagan and Mondale would meet again in their second and final debate two weeks later. Ferraro and Vice President George H.W. Bush would meet in the second–ever vice presidential debate in a few days, and the momentum Mondale had gained in his first debate with Reagan would begin to fade.

The First Bump on That Glass Ceiling

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Nearly 15 years earlier to the day, Neil Armstrong took a giant leap for mankind. On this night in 1984, Geraldine Ferraro took a giant leap for women.

She had been telling folks to "just call me Geri" since long before Walter Mondale picked her to be his running mate a week earlier. But somehow that just didn't seem right for a presumptive vice–presidential nominee.

It took her more than four minutes, but Ferraro finally said what thousands in San Francisco's Moscone Center and millions more watching on TV had been waiting to hear.

First, though, she reaffirmed that "America is the land where dreams can come true for all of us."

Exactly one week earlier, Mondale, the former vice president and presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, had announced that he had chosen her to be his running mate — and now, it was her turn to officially accept the nomination (per political protocol) after the delegates approved Mondale's choice, which they did by acclamation.

It was a mere formality, of course. A rather quaint American tradition. No one thought for a second that she would turn down the nomination. And she didn't. Then after she had accepted the nomination, she spent about 25 minutes introducing herself to America. Other than her debate with Vice President George H.W. Bush three months later, it was about the most extensive exposure America would get to the first female on a major party's national ticket.

Not all Americans were watching, of course. They never are, but in a convention week that included soaring speeches from Mario Cuomo and Jesse Jackson, Ferraro's speech clearly was the emotional high point.

American Rhetoric proclaimed the speech she gave 30 years ago tonight to be #56 on the list of the top 100 speeches of the 20th century. It carried unique challenges that neither Cuomo nor Jackson had to face.

Ferraro was the first woman on a major–party ticket. It was historic, and all eyes would be watching her closely. Her detractors would be looking for anything to criticize, and her supporters would be looking for anything to praise.

Ferraro simply seemed to want her opportunity to tell the country what she could do.

"The promise of our country is that the rules are fair," Ferraro told the delegates. "If you work hard and play by the rules, you can earn your share of America's blessings."

That is pretty standard political rhetoric, but it seemed more convincing coming from the first woman on a major party's national ticket.

And, taking a page from John F. Kennedy's political playbook, Ferraro said, "The issue is not what America can do for women, but what women can do for America."

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Reactions to the speech were generally good. Pundit reactions to the selection of Ferraro as running mate were decidedly mixed, although Ferraro initially proved to be an asset. Mondale's campaign had been far behind Ronald Reagan's in the polls before the convention; after the convention, the Democratic ticket enjoyed a nice bounce and even managed to pull roughly even — for awhile.

But the Democrats came back to earth in a hurry. By the end of July, questions came up about her finances, her husband's finances, their separate tax returns, etc., and the momentum came to a screeching halt.

No one knew any of that 30 years ago tonight, of course, when Ferraro stood before the delegates to the Democratic convention and accepted the vice presidential nomination.

It was a legitimate nomination, but it was still mostly symbolic. Nearly everyone watching probably realized, on some level, that she would not be elected.

Nevertheless, the euphoria inside the convention hall was unmistakable, and Ferraro was almost giddy at times.

"By choosing a woman to run for our nation's second–highest office," Ferraro said, "you sent a powerful signal to all Americans. There are no doors we cannot unlock. We will place no limits on achievement.

"If we can do this, we can do anything."

The Day Mondale Made History

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"You don't have to have fought in a war to love peace."

Geraldine Ferraro

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In 1984, I made up my mind early to support Walter Mondale for president.

His announcement 30 years ago today of his selection of Geraldine Ferraro to be the first female vice presidential nominee of a major political party did not influence my decision.

Nor, I suppose, did it influence most of my friends and co–workers, all of whom seemed to have decided how to vote fairly early, too.

I know it didn't affect my mother. She was an admirer of Mondale before he was chosen to be Jimmy Carter's running mate.

Mom and I never spoke about Mondale's choice so I don't know if she would have selected someone else if it had been up to her. I might have picked someone else. There were times, I guess, when I questioned the wisdom of Mondale's choice — not because of Ferraro's gender but because of her rather thin political resume.

So, if it had been up to me, I probably would have picked someone with more extensive political experience — and perhaps some experience running in a statewide campaign. As a representative, Ferraro's campaigns had been districtwide.

Of course, if the point is to make history with a nomination, one is limited to the options that are available at the time. In 1984, Mondale didn't have the luxury of an abundance of choices. Democrats had no women in the U.S. Senate and only one serving as governor of a state. He probably could have found a woman in the House who had spent more time there than Ferraro, but she might not have shared so many of his views.

Ironically, that would change within the next few years. That may have been — at least in part — an outcome of Ferraro's groundbreaking candidacy. The '80s was a decade of great strides for women. In addition to Ferraro's nomination, Sandra Day O'Connor was the first woman nominated to be a Supreme Court justice, and Sally Ride was America's first woman astronaut.

But, in the rush to make history, the Mondale campaign staff failed to adequately vet her and thus was subjected to a distracting investigation of Ferraro's family finances at a time when the Democratic ticket needed to be refining its message for the general election. It was embarrassing, too, because it revived stereotypes about New York Italian–Americans and organized crime.

Twenty–four years later, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin became the first woman nominated for the vice presidency by the Republican Party.

When Vice Presidential Candidates Collide

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Walter Mondale and Bob Dole met in the first vice presidential debate in 1976.

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History will be made tomorrow night in Danville, Ky., when Vice President Joe Biden and Rep. Paul Ryan meet in the vice presidential debate.

This isn't the first time a debate has been held in Danville (population about 16.000). Nor will it be the first time vice presidential candidates have debated. In fact, it will be the ninth time.

It has been said that vice presidential debates have little, if any, influence on the outcome of a presidential election. But they have often been noteworthy.

The first time that vice presidential candidates debated was 36 years ago next Monday, when Walter Mondale and Bob Dole met in Houston.

That night, Dole made a sneering comment about "Democrat wars" and Mondale called him on it.

The vice presidential candidates did not debate in 1980, but, on this day in 1984, the first woman on a major party ticket, Geraldine Ferraro, debated Vice President George H.W. Bush in Philadelphia.

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What stands out in my mind about that debate was the blatantly obvious condescending tone of the vice president's remarks. He was a man with an extensive background in foreign affairs, and he appeared to feel that it was beneath him to debate Ferraro, who had a certain amount of knowledge about foreign policy acquired in three terms in the House as well as her experience dealing with appropriations on the House Budget Committee — but nothing remotely comparable to Bush's resume.

Ferraro was right to tell Bush that she "resented" his attitude, but my memory is that Bush was judged the winner that night.

The victory gave a much–needed boost to 73–year–old President Ronald Reagan's campaign for re–election. Reagan had stumbled badly in his first debate with Mondale only four days earlier, and public opinion polls had begun to show some shakiness in his standing with the voters.

(In the aftermath of his widely panned debate performance last week, Barack Obama can only hope that Biden hands him such a gift tomorrow night.)

When Reagan met Mondale in their second and final debate a week and half later, he seemed energized, and he gave a much stronger performance, essentially locking up his 49–state landslide.

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The vice presidential candidates debated early in October in 1988 — on Oct. 5, a date that has been chosen for vice presidential debates three times. It was on that first occasion — in Omaha, Neb. — that Sen. Lloyd Bentsen told Sen. Dan Quayle that he was "no Jack Kennedy."

Twenty years ago this Saturday, the first — and, so far, only — three–way vice presidential debate was held in Atlanta.

(The first–ever three–way presidential debate was held 20 years ago tomorrow.)

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The vice presidential debate in 1992 was memorable for the things the third wheel in that debate — Ross Perot's running mate, Admiral James Stockdale — said.

I always thought that was something of a pity because Stockdale was an intelligent and exceptionally brave individual. He spent seven years in a Viet Cong POW camp and suffered severe physical injuries during his captivity.

He had earned the right to be treated with respect, but the fact that he was not a career politician worked against him in an arena where that kind of experience would have served him well.

After the debate, jokes were made about his halting and confused delivery, his opening statement ("Who am I? Why am I here?") and other nifty sound bites that, taken together, made Stockdale look old and foolish.

But the truth was that Stockdale did not know he would be participating in the debate until about a week before, and he got no advice from Perot. He was about as unprepared as a man could be for a nationally televised debate — and it showed.

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Two days ago was the 16th anniversary of the debate between Vice President Al Gore and Jack Kemp in St. Petersburg, Fla., during the 1996 campaign.

On Oct. 5, 2000, Dick Cheney and Joe Lieberman debated in Danville.

Four years later, to the day, now–Vice President Cheney debated John Edwards in Cleveland.

Four years ago, on Oct, 2, Biden debated Sarah Palin in St. Louis.

If you have no real memory of those debates, don't worry about it. As I say, they don't seem to matter much when people make up their minds how to vote.

But they can be quite entertaining.

Gerry

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I didn't vote for Barack Obama in 2008, but I understood what many of his young supporters were feeling.

I understood it quite well. It was the enthusiastic fervor that comes with being on the same side as a trailblazer, a pioneer, and that is a feeling that, I truly believe, every generation in America should experience at least once — because it is really the essence of what it means to be an American.

America has always been about pioneers — the pioneers who braved the ocean and the unknown to come to this continent centuries ago, the pioneers who explored and charted it, the pioneers who took their search for answers into space.

Obama was a pioneer, the first black to be nominated by a major party for president or vice president. Whatever history ultimately says about the successes or failures of his presidency, he will always be the first black nominee, the one who made it possible for others to follow.

In 1984, then–Rep. Geraldine Ferraro became the first woman to be nominated for a spot on a major party's national ticket, and I was an enthusiastic supporter of the Democratic ticket that year.

Ferraro's death today at the age of 75 has brought back a lot of memories of that time for me.

I guess my experience in 1984 more closely mirrored the experience of Republicans in 2008, though, because, as you undoubtedly recall, the Republicans nominated then–Gov. Sarah Palin to be their first female vice presidential candidate.

(In fact, I observed in 2009 that the parties' first female vice presidential nominees had lived parallel lives since their historic campaigns.)

Like the Democrats in 1984, the Republicans went down to defeat in 2008 — so that year I did not have the experience of supporting a barrier–breaking nominee who was successful in the general election.

Well, that may not be entirely true. I wasn't old enough to vote in 1976, but I supported Jimmy Carter, who was — I was told at the time — the first president elected from the Deep South in more than 100 years.

Carter was kind of a pioneer in that sense — although, frankly, I always had my misgivings about that. Lyndon Johnson was from Texas, which I always considered a Southern state (if not a Deep Southern state), and Dwight Eisenhower was born in Texas, although he grew up in Kansas. Woodrow Wilson was born in Virginia, but he spent his adult life in New Jersey.

As a product of the South, I felt a great deal of pride in seeing a fellow Southerner elected president — even though he wasn't the first.

Then, in 1984, I really did get to support a political trailblazer, and, when I think of that time, I have to conclude that I was more carried away with the symbolic nature of Ferraro's nomination than her relevant experience.

It was, frankly, comparable to the experience levels that Obama and Palin brought to their tickets in 2008. Far from impressive.

I don't remember giving much thought to Ferraro's experience level at the time. I was influenced by other things, and one certainly was the historic symbolism of her candidacy.

I never really thought the ticket had a chance to win — and I was living in Arkansas, where the numbers were running pretty heavily against the Democrats (on the national level, anyway). It was hard for someone supporting the Democratic ticket there to get much of a sense that victory was really possible.

A few weeks before the election, Ferraro came to speak in Little Rock. I'm still not sure why she came to Arkansas, what she hoped to gain, but I went to hear her speak with some friends of mine, Mike and Jane, anyway.

About five or six months later, the three of us went to Dallas to see Eric Clapton in concert. The atmospheres at both events were just about the same.

In 1984, a Geraldine Ferraro event was like a rock concert without the music, just the star on stage. She would stand up there and wave, and folks would shriek and holler like they did at the Beatles shows 20 years earlier.

I clearly remember that day. It was a kind of drizzly October morning. I was working nights at the time. Can't recall if the event was on a day that I had off anyway or if it was just an ordinary weekday morning, but it really doesn't matter, I suppose. In those days, I was always off duty in the morning.

Nor does it really matter why Mike and Jane also were able to attend that event on a weekday. The fact remains, the three of us went to see "Gerry" — as her supporters tended to call her affectionately — and my memory is that the place was packed.

And everyone cheered wildly at anything she said. She could have been reading to us from the classified ads in the morning paper, and it wouldn't have mattered.

Personally, with my lifelong interest in history, I was just pleased to experience this brush with history. I have no specific memory of anything she said.

(It was doubly historic, in fact, as I recall. Then–Gov. Bill Clinton attended that rally. He was always a vocal supporter of the Mondale–Ferraro ticket, even though the voters in Arkansas were not as enthusiastic about the ticket as he was.)

I'm sure she spoke critically of Ronald Reagan and his record in the White House. That's one of the main jobs of a vice presidential candidate. But even when she was critical in that campaign, Ferraro was dignified and respectful. She was often subjected to indignities by the opposition, but she never repaid them in kind.

1984 was groundbreaking in another way. It is the first campaign that I can remember that utilized popular music from the politically charged 1960s in its advertising.

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That reminds me of the closing days of that campaign. It was truly a memorable time for me.

Even though it was early November, my memory is that it was unseasonably mild, and my friend Sheila and I decided to do our own form of "campaigning" for Mondale–Ferraro.

The evening before the election, we decided to just go out driving in Little Rock. I had some Mondale stickers on the back of my car, and we thought — naively — that we might drum up some support for Mondale by just cruising around and letting the other cars see the stickers.

What the heck? Gas wasn't too expensive in those days — at least not compared to what we pay today — and my car got good mileage. But there was simply no way that I was going to sway enough voters to my side to change anything in Pulaski County, let alone the state of Arkansas, through mere exposure to the bumper stickers on the back of my car.

I don't think either Sheila or I had any realistic expectation that we could influence the outcome that night — and it didn't matter, I guess. We were experiencing the "Yes we can" moment of our generation.

It turned out that we couldn't — but, in a way, we did.

Because of Gerry Ferraro, women could dream of something of which only little boys were encouraged to dream before. Blacks can do more than dream today — and, I suppose, someday in the future, Hispanics and Asians and gays will join them, if they haven't already.

I had heard little of Ferraro before Mondale chose her to be his running mate, and I heard relatively little from her after that campaign — except for 2008, when she was part of Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign.

For the most part, she played her role on the national stage in 1984, then stepped back to let others take the spotlight.

Gerry Ferraro blazed the trail. She played her role in American history.

She fought the good fight.

Parallel Lives

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The recent release of Sarah Palin's memoir, "Going Rogue: An American Life," has made me ponder the course of her political career and that of the other woman who was a running mate on a major party ticket a quarter of a century ago, Geraldine Ferraro.

Certain similarities jump out at me, starting with their ages. Both were in their 40s when chosen to be running mates. Ferraro was 48, which was within the range of most previous Democratic running mates. Palin, on the other hand, was 44, the youngest Republican running mate in 20 years (considerably younger than Dick Cheney or Jack Kemp had been).

Initial surveys indicated that both were popular choices, although they ran into trouble once their conventions were over and the campaigns began in earnest. Palin's problems in the 2008 campaign have been well documented, but, in case you need a reminder (or you are too young to remember the 1984 campaign), not only was Ferraro criticized for a style that was regarded by some as reckless and defiant, but she had problems with her family as well. Less than a month after being nominated, Ferraro had to face relentless questioning about her and her husband's finances.

That was a distraction, but Ferraro wasn't helped by her shoot–from–the–hip style. After telling reporters that she would release her tax returns but her husband would release only a tax statement (his explanation to her, she said, was "Gerry, I'm not going to tell you how to run the country, you're not going to tell me how to run my business"), she made a remark that dogged her: "You people married to Italian men, you know what it's like." Republicans sensed a gender–neutral opportunity to attack and they didn't let it go to waste.

Both Palin and Ferraro had somewhat limited political careers prior to being nominated, and their lack of experience frequently was compared (unfavorably) to the abundance of experience possessed by their opponents. After Ferraro's debate with George H.W. Bush and Palin's debate with Joe Biden, both were said to have performed better than expected, but they were hammered, nevertheless, by the opposition for their "extremist" political views, and both lost the general elections by wide margins — even though it could be rightly said that the opposition's presidential nominees were more popular personally than their policies.

Ferraro and Palin were chosen in large part to appeal to female voters. It was a roll of the dice that didn't pay off. They may well have attracted some female voters, but exit polls indicated that neither succeeded in winning the women's vote. After the 1984 election was over, most political observers agreed that no potential Democratic ticket could have defeated Ronald Reagan, and, following last year's economic meltdown, the same probably could be said of any potential Republican ticket in 2008. Blaming the female running mates strikes me as convenient but ultimately indefensible.

Like Palin, the year after the campaign, Ferraro published her memoir, "Ferraro: My Story," which was a bestseller. There was talk about her political future, and she was labeled a "rising star" in party politics, but, beyond founding a political action committee that had as its mission the goal of electing 10 women in the 1986 Congressional elections and two unsuccessful bids for the Senate in the 1990s, Ferraro's political career was over.

There is talk today about Palin's political future as well. What that future holds has been debated since Palin's resignation as governor of Alaska a few months ago, but she still clearly appeals to some Republican voters.

I hear some of today's Democrats fretting about Palin. What will become of the nation, they ask, if Sarah Palin is nominated for president in 2012 — and, God forbid, actually wins? I've heard some cite, as an ominous sign, reports from the Des Moines Register that suggest that more than two–thirds of Iowa Republicans have a favorable opinion of Palin.

"That's close to the 70 percent who hold favorable views of former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee, who won the 2008 caucuses," writes the Register's Thomas Beaumont, "and it's higher than the 66 percent who view former U.S. House Speaker Newt Gingrich favorably. Palin's number is also higher than that of former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney, runnerup in the 2008 caucuses, who is viewed favorably by 58 percent of the state's Republicans."

I would give a lot more credibility to those numbers if this were November 2011 and the Iowa caucuses were a few weeks away. But even that couldn't be viewed as conclusive. In mid–November of 2007, polls indicated that Hillary Clinton and Mitt Romney would win the Iowa caucuses.

I may be wrong, but my inclination since July has been that, unless she runs for and wins a seat in the Senate or the House next year, Palin ultimately will not pose nearly as much of a threat as many Democrats fear. She will have no recent achievements to bolster a political record that was — to put it charitably — quite thin in 2008, but it was acceptable for a vice presidential nominee. It will be far less plausible for a potential president.

Beaumont quotes a former director of the state's Republican Party, who claims Palin is misunderstood and has been victimized by mistakes that were not hers. Therefore, this isn't about achievements. "She's getting the chance to set the record straight."

Fine. I'm all in favor of personal redemption. But my belief has been that resigning her post will work against her when many Republicans ask themselves the tough questions that caucus participants must ask about every candidate. Typically, if you don't have recent achievements, you'd better have a record of achievements. Palin doesn't have the latter and she quit the former. That's not exactly a bumper sticker slogan.

Even today, more than two years before the next Iowa caucuses, there are signs that decision will hurt a potential Palin candidacy. A GOP activist told the Register that Palin "needs a policy platform, with a conservative organization or media outlet, to boost her credibility."

And, even though she enjoys high favorable ratings from Iowa Republicans, Beaumont reports, "24 percent of Iowa Republicans view Palin unfavorably, compared with 12 percent for Huckabee." Party activists told Beaumont they believe the decision to resign has a lot to do with that.

Democrats who are worried about 2012 are getting ahead of themselves. They need to be promoting the idea of getting all their senators and representatives on the same page.

History says the party in power will lose ground in the midterm elections. Lately, public opinion surveys are saying the same thing.

Without the bullet–proof majorities in Congress, how much of his agenda can Barack Obama expect to push through in the last two years of his term? How will his record of achievements look then? I suppose that depends on exactly how much ground is lost in 2010.

See, that achievements thing works both ways.

Either Way, It's Going to be a Landmark Election

---

"Politics isn't just a game of competing interests and clashing parties. The people of America expect us to seek public office and to serve for the right reasons. And the right reason is to challenge the status quo and to serve the common good."

Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin,
Republican vice presidential candidate,
Aug. 29, 2008

---

John McCain's choice for running mate made it official. The election of 2008 will be remembered in the history books as a landmark, no matter who wins.

And right now, I think, it's anybody's guess who will win.

If the Democrats win, Barack Obama will become the nation's first black president. He's also the first black nominee on a major political party's ticket.

If the Republicans win, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin will become the nation's first female vice president. She's the first female on a Republican ticket.

With McCain's selection of Palin, both tickets now are clearly outside the historic box.

I've been thinking about the implications of McCain's choice. I have a few thoughts to share.

• When I wrote about Palin as a potential running mate six months ago, I wrote about things like geographic balance and gubernatorial experience.
  
  Other things seem to have come up now that her nomination is no longer speculation but a virtual certainty.
• Here's a point I haven't heard anyone mention today (perhaps someone has mentioned it and I just haven't heard it):
  
  We have no Southerners on either ticket.
  
  If you count the first George Bush as a Texan (and some of the Texans I know don't because he was born in Massachusetts and grew up in Connecticut, although he spent most of his adult life as a Texas resident), the last election in which no bona fide Southerners were on either ticket was 1972.
  
  (Again, I suppose that requires an exception — some people consider Maryland a Southern state, because it condoned slavery and tobacco was its primary cash crop in the early days. If that makes Maryland a Southern state, then Richard Nixon's running mate in 1968 and 1972, Spiro Agnew of Maryland, was a Southerner.
  
  (However, I never have regarded Maryland as a Southern state because, while there certainly were tobacco planters in Maryland who were sympathetic to the Confederate cause, the state did not secede from the Union during the Civil War nor did it fight for the South.
  
  (And if a state didn't fight on the side of the Confederacy during the Civil War, I have a hard time reconciling the inclusion of that state as a "Southern" state. Some people, however, use different criteria when making that judgment.
  
  (Nevertheless, for the sake of argument, if one considers Maryland a Southern state, then the streak between elections without a Southern nominee really has to go back to 1948 — although one tends to run into much the same issue concerning the home states of Harry Truman of Missouri and his running mate Alben Barkley of Kentucky.
  
  (And — to proceed even farther along this particular slippery slope — if Missouri is considered a Southern state, that means the streak goes back to 1940, where it definitely stops. No more exceptions to be made. There were absolutely no Southerners on either ticket in 1940.)
  
  Anyway, for most, if not all, of the last 60 years, Southern or border state candidates have figured prominently on national tickets. But not in 2008 (although, again, someone could raise an argument about Delaware — even though it had mostly ended the practice of slavery by the time of the Civil War and never seceded).
• In the past, my belief has been that historic "firsts" in American politics tend to be long on symbolism and somewhat short on a record of success.
  
  But, in 2008, it seems we can't miss.
  
  Both Obama and Palin are historic firsts. And, unless something wildly unpredictable happens between now and Nov. 4, one of them is bound to win.
  
  The other halves of both tickets — McCain and Joe Biden — are part of that "old white men's club" that represents the establishment. This year, though, one can be forgiven for seeing them both as transitional figures, serving as the bridges between their parties and the opportunities of the future.
  
  Voters can also be forgiven for wondering things about the selection of a female that they might not have wondered before.
  
  For example ...
  
  The Wall Street Journal is already talking about McCain's mission to "seize the momentum" from jubilant Democrats wrapping up their historic convention.
  
  How much political consideration was given to the notion of selecting a woman (only hours after the first black presidential nominee had given his acceptance speech in a football stadium filled with screaming, adoring supporters)?
  
  If Barack Obama did not head the Democratic ticket, would McCain choose Palin?
  
  Is she the Republican he feels is most qualified to take over the duties of the presidency in an emergency?
  
  I'll admit, it didn't hurt that Palin paid homage to the women who blazed the political trail ahead of her — Democrats Geraldine Ferraro, as Walter Mondale's running mate in 1984, and Hillary Clinton, in her unsuccessful bid for the presidential nomination this year.
  
  I've heard many women in both parties praise Clinton's tenacity in her presidential campaign, and I know that many women came into 2008 believing they would have an opportunity in November that they could only dream of before — the chance to vote for a woman for president.
  
  Many blacks clearly felt the same way about Barack Obama. Obviously, both candidates could not be nominated for president. One had to lose — which means one candidate's demographic group had to be disappointed.
  
  Palin has the opportunity to fill the void left by Clinton's departure from the race.
  
  Women represent a huge share of the electorate. They don't vote as a bloc, but they do have similar (and related) needs and goals. In that sense, it appears that the Democrats' loss could well be the Republicans' gain.
  
  So, from the perspective of a nominee who wants to counter the groundbreaking nature of his opponent's presidential nomination, I think McCain probably did as well as he could.
  
  Earlier this year, I suggested that McCain might consider former Oklahoma Rep. J.C. Watts. For all the reasons I mentioned, I still think Watts would be a strong national candidate in the future. But, in hindsight, I think it would have been unwise to put a black man on the GOP ticket and expect that to make the Republicans more competitive for the black vote in November.
  
  Blacks have been voting heavily for Democrats for generations. And, while Watts might have been able to put a small dent in the Democrats' share of the black vote, frankly, it would have been unrealistic to expect a massive shift of allegiances in support of a conservative black candidate for vice president over a liberal black candidate for president on the other side.
  
  But the gender gap is alive and well — especially given the lingering animosity between Clinton's supporters and Obama's supporters.
  
  And that fact did not escape ABC News, which observed that Palin said, "The women of America aren't finished yet and we can shatter that glass ceiling once and for all."
  
  That could be an appealing pitch for many women who deeply wanted to see someone from their gender on a national ticket this year.
  
  While it remains to be seen how Palin is vewed after a weekend of intense scrutiny followed by the exposure a designated nominee receives at a convention, she got off to a good start in her coming-out party in Dayton, Ohio, today.
• For those who were looking for a candidate who can reassure cultural conservatives, Palin seems to fit the bill:
  1. Palin is a lifelong member of the National Rifle Association.
  2. Palin has a son who was born in April with Down syndrome. Many women choose abortion when they learn they are carrying a child with Down syndrome, but Palin demonstrated her pro-life commitment by choosing to carry the child to term. He was with her family at the rally today.
  3. Palin is a supporter of oil drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) — her running mate is not.
Add to that a few other "pluses" McCain acquired with his choice — Palin is charismatic. She has an engaging speaking style. She is the mother of a soldier fighting in Iraq, which reinforces McCain's support for the Iraq War. Most people can see, in Palin, their daughter or sister or mother. Or spouse. She appears to be capable of connecting with people on a number of levels. I think there are clearly some drawbacks, but it remains to be seen how severe they are:
• Primarily, I think, the fact that Palin has been governor for less than two years undercuts McCain's argument that Obama, with less than four years in the Senate, isn't experienced enough.
  
  (Although, from a strategic perspective, perhaps McCain wants to nudge the Democrats into re-opening this discussion — since it would focus on the presidential, not vice presidential, nominees.)
• Palin is the only major party candidate who isn't known very well by the American public. As a result, her statements and movements will be under a considerable public microscope for awhile.
  
  (Although she should be all right if she can avoid the problems that plagued Ferraro in 1984 — general missteps and her husband's financial scandal.)
• It seems to me that most, if not all, of Hillary Clinton's supporters also support most of the same things Clinton does. Thus, I think it would be a mistake for McCain to think that disaffected Clinton supporters will automatically support Palin and the GOP.
If you voted for Clinton, you're probably pro-choice. You're probably a supporter of universal health care. In short, you probably support most of the Democrats' agenda. Palin supports what has become the traditional Republican agenda. The question each of Hillary Clinton's supporters have to ask themselves is, will gender trump ideology? If most of them decide that it does, then this choice could be a big plus for McCain.
• That really brings me to this "gender gap" matter.
  
  I don't know if the gender gap really exists. If it does, it seems to me that whatever "gap" exists owes its existence more to racial differences than sexual ones.
  
  I was looking at some exit poll figures that go back to 1972, and in every election from 1972 through 1996, women voted for the party that won the White House. They also tended to give a higher share of their vote to the Democrat than men did — although it's worth noting that President Reagan enjoyed a rare (for Republicans) double-digit victory among women in 1984, the year the Democrats put Ferraro on the ticket.
  
  Since 2000, women in general have favored the Democrats, even while the nation has been electing the Republicans.
  
  Now, the numbers among white women tell a somewhat different story.
  
  White women, who have tended to represent about 43% of the overall vote, have been more inclined to vote for Republicans than their black and Hispanic sisters, who have been responsible for adjusting the overall women's vote to reflect greater support for Democrats.
  
  Actually, since 1972, white women have voted for the Democratic nominee only once — in 1996, when they voted to re-elect Bill Clinton.
  
  Perhaps the Republicans are conceding the black vote to the Democrats — which, considering the historical pattern, would be a prudent thing to do, even if the Democrats hadn't nominated a black man for president.
  
  Perhaps Palin is intended to be a lure for the white women's vote that Republicans may be fearful of losing in 2008.
• It's also worth noting that McCain turned 72 today. If he's elected president in November, he will become the oldest man elected to that office.
  
  Given the demands and pressures of the presidency in the 21st century, as well as McCain's own cancer history, it's understandable to be concerned about how secure his future would be.
  
  Well, the future is always uncertain.
  
  Even when you think you're on solid ground, that ground may well turn to jelly in an instant if an earthquake strikes. And, as someone who grew up in the famed "tornado alley," I've seen homes and businesses that were reduced to rubble by angry winds that were calm only minutes before.
  
  But ...
  1. if the Republicans win, and
  2. if McCain does not survive his term in office, then
  
  I wonder if Palin will be reviewing the early episodes of "Commander in Chief," the Geena Davis TV show from 2005-2006?
  
  The show began to change in inexplicable ways midway through the season, but the early episodes were intriguing explorations into the issues facing a woman who unexpectedly ascends to the presidency when the incumbent dies.
  
  (By the way — an interesting trivia point. Davis' character in "Commander in Chief" was named Mackenzie, and many people called her "Mac." In reality, of course, the 2008 presidential candidate is John McCain — and some people have taken to calling him "Mac.")
• I don't consider myself old, but it's a little unsettling for me to realize that both national tickets have a candidate who is younger than I am. That's a "first" for me!
  
  For the record, I am 48. Obama is 47 and Palin is 44.

Oh, and by the way ...

Mark October 2 on your calendar. That's the day that Biden debates Palin.

It will be interesting to see if Biden, who has something of a shoot-from-the-hip style, can tone it down in the debate. (If memory serves me correctly, that was the same challenge being issued to Vice President Bush before his 1984 debate with Ferraro.)

Jindal's Stock is on the Way Up

Adam Nossiter of the New York Times says Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal is emerging as a leading candidate to be John McCain's running mate.

While Jindal's record in office -- so far -- has been impressive, I think he still needs some seasoning, needs to add a few accomplishments to his resume, before thinking about being a national candidate. He's only in his 30s, about half McCain's age.

McCain needs youth on his ticket -- as well as someone who appeals to social conservatives. Jindal fits the bill on both counts.

And he's got (limited) executive experience. With two legislators running against each other for the presidency, if one has a running mate who has experience on the executive side, that candidate has an edge.

If Jindal had been governor for a few years rather than a few months, he might be perfect for McCain.

Actually, speculation is running rampant among Republicans these days, even though it's early June and observers don't expect McCain to announce his choice until early August.

Matthew Cooper suggests, in Portfolio.com, that former Hewlett-Packard CEO Carly Fiorina could be McCain's running mate. Cooper says discussions linking Fiorina to the GOP ticket are "talk she discourages but doesn't dismiss, even if the chances of it actually happening are probably far-fetched."

There also has been talk of New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, but that's talk that has been drawing a decidedly mixed response.

Some bloggers have been giving Bloomberg a thumbs-down response. "No this would be a bad thing!! New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg is a huge anti 2nd Amendment person and therefore anti-gun!! McCain should not choose him as a running mate and it worries me to see this!!" writes MaddMedic blog.

Bloomberg's politics appear to be middle of the road, so much so that he's even being mentioned as a possible running mate for Democrat Barack Obama.

And word is that California Evangelicals' survey of its membership finds McCain will suffer a substantial drop in support from followers of that organization if he picks a running mate who is not perceived as a conservative.

I guess the wildest suggestion I've seen is that Geraldine Ferraro, who ran with Walter Mondale against Ronald Reagan in 1984 and supported Hillary Clinton in this year's Democratic race, could be McCain's running mate.

On the Democratic side, I have hesitated to speculate on running mates until I was sure who would be the nominee. It's not certain yet, but it sure looks like Obama will be the party's standard-bearer.

I think Obama should pick someone with executive experience, someone who has been a governor or is currently a governor. Bill Richardson of New Mexico is a strong pick.

A governor also has the advantage of having won a statewide campaign, just as senators do.

Aside from Obama, there aren't many blacks holding offices that are elected on a statewide basis.

And the one I can think of -- the governor of New York -- was actually elected lieutenant governor and rose to become governor when the incumbent resigned.

So the experience of having won a statewide race -- even in a relatively small state like New Mexico -- will be valuable to a national ticket.

Other Democratic governors Obama could consider are Ohio's Ted Strickland, Oklahoma's Brad Henry, Pennsylvania's Ed Rendell.

(As for McCain, there are quite a few other Republican governors in the South if Jindal doesn't suit him.)

But I would counsel Obama against picking a woman governor, on the grounds that a black man and a woman on the ticket would be change that is too radical for most voters.

Some of the polls suggest that voters are willing to consider voting for a ticket like that. But people have been known to misrepresent the facts to pollsters.

That's too bad because there are some talented women in Democratic politics -- Gov. Janet Napolitano of Arizona, Gov. Kathleen Sebelius of Kansas, Sen. Blanche Lincoln of Arkansas (can you imagine what Democrats could do with a Lincoln on the ticket?).

At some point, the Democrats will put another woman on the national ticket. It just shouldn't be this year.

Crossing the Lines on Race and Gender

In the Orange County Register, John Ziegler makes an interesting comparison between the behavior of the first black star athlete in golf, Tiger Woods, and the first serious black presidential candidate, Barack Obama.

After acknowledging that "Woods technically is more Asian than black and Obama is as white as he is black," Ziegler points out that "there are stark differences in the way that Tiger Woods and Barack Obama have approached the issue of race in their careers."

One should read the column in its entirety, but essentially it points out that Woods' reaction to racial references by others is more mature now than it was 10 years ago -- when he was younger and inexperienced and still under the guidance of his father.

Today, Woods' father (who, in Ziegler's words, "was known to be far more militant on racial issues" than his son) has been deceased for nearly two years, and Woods essentially brushes off perceived racial slights that might have provoked more of a response when Earl Woods was alive.

(In Earl's defense, he was born in the Great Depression, orphaned in his teen years, and received a baseball scholarship to Kansas State University, where he was a racial pioneer, breaking the conference's "color barrier" in 1951. Pioneers have to have thick skins -- and they tend to be less tolerant than those who come later. That comes, I suppose, from not having the luxury of standing on someone else's shoulders but instead having to stand on your own two feet, however shaky they -- or the ground beneath them -- may be.)

Not so with Obama.

A good case in point is the recent handling of Geraldine Ferraro, herself a groundbreaking vice presidential nominee for the Democrats 24 years ago. Ferraro asserted that Obama, who has served slightly more than half of his six-year term as U.S. senator, would not be in the position he is in if not for the fact that he is black.

On the subject of experience, it can be argued that Ferraro herself probably wouldn't have qualified for a spot on a national ticket in 1984 if not for a characteristic over which she had no control -- her gender.

At the time, she had never been a candidate for statewide office in New York (she did seek the Democratic nomination for the U.S. Senate twice in the 1990s -- both times unsuccessfully. And it can be further argued that she might never have been in the position to run for the Senate if she had not been on the national ticket in 1984).

Before 1978, Ferraro's career consisted of service as a teacher, lawyer and member of the Queens County District Attorney's Office (a non-elective post).

She was elected to the House of Representatives in 1978 and re-elected in 1980 and 1982 before Walter Mondale chose her to be his running mate in 1984. (In a truly revealing political cartoon of the day, Mondale was shown standing next to a Ferrari with F-E-R-R-A-R-O written on it and saying "Just think of the chicks I'll get with this!")

The idea was that Ferraro's presence on the ticket would help Mondale bridge the perceived "gender gap" in American politics, but the eventual results failed to demonstrate either the existence of such a gap or Ferraro's ability to swing votes to the Democrats because of it. Incumbent President Ronald Reagan was re-elected easily, carrying 49 states and receiving nearly 59% of the popular vote.

Anyway, this week Ferraro resigned her post with Hillary Clinton's finance committee after being criticized by Obama's campaign for her remarks. Ferraro's resignation apparently was voluntary. "I feel terrible for the fact that Hillary is stuck in this thing," Ferraro told the New York Times. "Why put her in that position?"

The day after Ferraro's resignation, the New York Times ran an article in which Patrick Healy and Jeff Zeleny reported, "[Obama] said he was puzzled at how, after more than a year of campaigning, race and sex are at the forefront as never before."

Puzzled?

Obama may have been puzzled, but the Times reporters weren't. They went on to observe that "race, as well as sex, have been unavoidable subtexts of the Democratic campaign since the two candidates began seeking to be the first African-American or the first woman to lead a party’s presidential ticket. In the primaries and caucuses this winter, too, Mrs. Clinton has enjoyed substantial support from women, while Mr. Obama has increasingly drawn overwhelming votes from blacks."

And the racial divide has never been as pronounced, perhaps, as it was in Tuesday's primary. Mississippi, "a state where the electorate has historically been racially polarized, generated one of the most divided votes," the Times observed. "Mrs. Clinton received 8% of the black vote, and Mr. Obama received 26% of the white vote, according to exit polls by Edison/Mitofsky for The Associated Press and television networks."

This nation has been electing presidents since 1788. Constitutional amendments gave blacks the right to vote nearly 80 years later and gave women the right to vote in 1920. Only one Democratic or Republican candidate for vice president (Ferraro) was not male, and none of the candidates for president were black or female.

In this country women have won Senate seats and governor's offices, and they continue to hold them in many states. Blacks have won considerably fewer Senate seats, less than a handful (including the one Obama holds). And, if New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer resigns as he has said he will next week, his successor will be only the fourth black governor in American history.

But this year, the Democratic candidate for president will be black or female.

And, as the campaign drags on longer than most people ever anticipated, the rhetoric becomes more heated on both sides.

That's appropriate, I guess. Harry Truman, who liked to say "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen," called the presidency "the hottest kitchen on earth." So it's only fitting that those who want to occupy it for the next four years should be subjected to some of the heat now.

But, after all, it's only March 15. The Democratic convention in Denver won't be held until August. There's a lot of time left to resolve this.

For that matter, Mondale's nomination still wasn't mathematically clinched after the 1984 primaries had concluded in June. But, by the time the convention was held the next month, he had secured the support of enough delegates to wrap it up. He even announced Ferraro's selection about a week before the convention -- much earlier than nominees tended to do prior to that time.

Maybe Naftali Bendavid of the Chicago Tribune has the answer. The party, Bendavid suggests, needs a Yoda -- an elder statesman to resolve the issue.

You can't turn to the most recent Democratic president for that, though. He's married to one of the candidates, and I guess you could say that represents a conflict of interest.

But a political scientist from Iowa State University threw some cold water on the "elder statesman" notion, anyway.

"Even if there were a group of party heavyweights," the political scientist told Bendavid, "their choice would most likely be John Edwards, and not the two exciting but risky front-runners."