Surrounded by Enemies (14 page)

Tradition holds that American presidential campaigns get started on Labor Day weekend, and 1964 was no exception. Over the three days of September 5-7, both President Kennedy and Senator Barry Goldwater hit multiple campaign events across the nation. Goldwater looked every bit as suntanned and confident as President John Kennedy, and much more relaxed. Reporters who had little respect for Goldwater judged his persona on the campaign trail, framed through his ever-present, black, horn-rimmed glasses, as being like that of a “square Kennedy.” The Republican had a conservative, plainspoken charisma of his own.

Goldwater and Kennedy created a dynamic that no one had foreseen. Each brought the other’s game up a great deal. Both spoke more extemporaneously than the average politician, and each man seemed to particularly disgust and frighten supporters of the other. Passion, light and dark, surrounded the campaign from the beginning.

Goldwater’s crowds were large, wild and enthusiastic on Labor Day weekend. Kennedy’s would have been the same way, except that the Democratic campaign had severely limited the types of campaign events it would allow the President to attend. The larger the event, the more time and resources were devoted to protecting it. The upshot was that JFK did smaller and safer events. Kennedy seemed like a boxer trying to fight somebody else’s style besides his own. He wanted to jump out into crowds, but he could not.

This allowed Barry Goldwater to wrap himself up in the relaxed, western lifestyle he represented, presenting himself as more of a common man. The President seemed less fluid and friendly without the adoring crowds surrounding him.

The problem was corrected by the middle of September, when the young Minnesota attorney general, Walter Mondale, took over the Committee to Re-Elect Kennedy. Mondale was a rising star in the Democratic party, he’d been elected AG just four years out of law school. He shared Kennedy’s “vigor” in his public image.

As Mondale laid out his vision, the President would, in fact, do fewer events than Goldwater, but the ones he did do would be designed to perfection. There would be crowds and audiences, but they would be like extras in a film production. Commercial camera crews were turned loose on each one of these events. They came back to editing rooms with stunning images of John Kennedy, a man who had nearly been martyred in Dallas, now surrounded by people, touching them, shaking hands, smiling, even kissing babies.

Mondale hired Tony Schwartz of Doyle Dane Bernbach to create the ad campaign for CREEK. The subliminal message of every JFK commercial was that John Kennedy was a good guy who’d just come through a close call, and the nation was lucky to have him around, agreeing to finish the job he had started.

Goldwater’s media buys, in contrast, were sharp and aggressive. He looked like a man who was just mad enough to grab the bull by the horns, stop all the foolishness and get the job done.

JFK’s team portrayed Goldwater as a lunatic who would get America into a nuclear war that would destroy the world. Goldwater’s team portrayed JFK as an entitled rich boy who was in over his head.

It got very, very ugly. There were accusations from both sides in October that each had bugged the other’s campaign headquarters. Goldwater’s campaign went further, accusing the administration of ordering illegal wiretaps of his personal phone conversations. No evidence was ever produced. The White House vigorously denied this charge.

The Goldwater campaign slogan was “In your heart, you know he’s right,” something that was successfully parodied by the Kennedy campaign as, “In your guts, you know he’s nuts.”

Dallas continued to spin its dark magic over the campaign. The Kennedy campaign acted most often to downplay conspiracy, letting the lone-gunman theory take the day, even though the team knew otherwise. The Goldwater campaign, in ironic contrast, felt strongly that Oswald was the likely killer who worked alone but that any suspicion of conspiracy reflected badly on their opponent. Both sides seemed to be in hot disagreement, even though each side was publicly arguing the other side’s private position. The issue transcended politics and became an existential touchstone for the tortured logic of the time.

No one seriously thought Barry Goldwater could win the general election, and that included most Republicans. Yet there was something unsettled in America that said anything could happen. A Gallup poll released after the Republican convention suggested Goldwater was within five points of Kennedy. You might say that Kennedy would likely win unless something happened. Then you remembered that something did always seem to happen with President Kennedy. Games change.

On a campaign stop, Barry Goldwater sighted through a replica scope of the Mannlicher-Carcano-style rifle reportedly used by Lee Harvey Oswald and quipped, “I don’t care if he was a Marine sharpshooter. Nobody could get three shots off in that time, let alone four or five.” Goldwater further implied that Kennedy himself may have had something to do with creating the conditions of his assassination attempt. “I make no specific charge,” he said. “I simply question whether President Kennedy has leveled completely with the American people about what he really knows about the events in Dallas.”

Goldwater’s comments seemed like more of the same from a man prone to gaffes. Yet there was a large constituency out there for the Arizonan who felt he was only getting in trouble because he spoke the truth too plainly. The White House knew that no matter how extreme he might sound, it would be a grave mistake to dismiss the threat he posed.

The fall campaign had gotten so nasty and just plain angry, particularly on the Goldwater side, that the two presidential debates of 1964 became known as “the Arguments.”

The Kennedy and Goldwater teams agreed to only two debates, or as JFK said, “two more than are absolutely necessary.” One would be on domestic policy and the other on foreign policy issues. The Kennedy campaign team considered not debating Goldwater, but given the President had debated Nixon four years ago, they felt they would have to match that commitment or be seen as being afraid of a fair fight.

In the first domestic policy debate, Goldwater aides had prepped him to “soften his image” a bit, to appear more calm and presidential. He had been branded as an extremist by his opponents within his own party in the primaries and had seemed to embrace the characterization, famously saying that “extremism in defense of liberty is no vice” in his acceptance speech.

The debate started with Goldwater trying to portray his opponent as out of touch in contrast to his own common touch. “This President cares that a sailboat named Constellation won the America’s Cup this year, but I don’t, and neither do you people at home,” Goldwater told the audience. Kennedy smiled, “Constellation won? I did not know that.” Kennedy had not lost his ability at political jujitsu.

In the end, the first debate was genial enough. Both Kennedy and Goldwater had served in the Senate together and were on friendly terms. The media declared the debate a tie, then declared that ties go to the incumbent. The narrative being developed was that Goldwater was going to lose on points if he didn’t go for a knockout the next time he and Kennedy got in the ring.

The good news for Goldwater in all this was that the 1964 Summer Olympics were being beamed by satellite around the world for the first time ever, and ratings for the debate were depressed. The second debate, however, was scheduled for October 25, the day after the Olympics sent all the athletes home.

Prior to that second debate, polls showed Goldwater losing by double digits (49-38, Gallup). His campaign advisers knew that they had to shake things up or they could lose in a landslide. Goldwater friend and campaign adviser George Shadegg could not restrain himself, leaping to his feet. “Forget being presidential, for God’s sake, Barry,” he implored. “Take the battle to Kennedy, hit him hard, knock him down, and if he gets up, knock him down again.” They egged the senator on: Be who you are, a warrior for truth. This way, the reasoning went, even if they lost on November 3, they could feel good about showing the electorate what was really at stake with this “big government at home and appeasement abroad” operation that Kennedy was running.

Democrats knew this change of tactics was in the wind. Goldwater aides claimed they had knowledge only because CREEK had seen fit to bug Republican headquarters, a complaint they never grew tired of making. That belief would turn out to be just one of more than a dozen extreme disagreements in the second debate’s ninety minutes of back-and-forth.

Within minutes, Goldwater’s aggressive behavior had triggered a lot of that pent-up stress that Kennedy had suppressed over the past year. Ordinarily, he might have held that in check and delivered one of his measured and good-natured performances. But an hour before the debate, Kennedy had received an injection from Dr. Max Jacobson that contained a strong shot of amphetamine. The President of the United States was buzzing when he took the stage that night.

So, for different reasons and with different strategies, Goldwater, by design, and Kennedy, by circumstance, punched hard the entire time. To this day, it is the feistiest presidential debate on record and feels like the political equivalent of an Ali-Frazier championship fight.

Goldwater immediately tried to put Kennedy on the defensive over the Atomic Test Ban Treaty, mocking the agreement as something “you and your Harvard friends think will bring peace and happiness to the world.”

“No, senator,” said Kennedy, cutting him off. “We will still probably have our share of locals wars and unhappiness on this Earth, but at least we will all be alive to have that experience.”

Goldwater attacked Kennedy for having supported selling wheat to the Soviet Union in 1963 or as he put it, “buying dinner for your friend Nikita.” Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev had only recently survived an attempt to remove him from power by Supreme Soviet head Leonid Brezhnev, who was now under arrest in Moscow. The two leaders who had nearly come to war two years earlier, Kennedy and Khrushchev, now found themselves sharing a common brush with conspiracies designed to remove them from office. In private correspondence in 1963, each man had stated to the other their belief that they had been targeted by domestic political enemies angered over actions and statements they had made together in the pursuit of world peace.

In the debate with Goldwater, Kennedy did not acknowledge his communications with Khrushchev but did call the Soviet leader an “adversary America can and should do business with” to advance the cause of peace between the Cold War rivals. This immediately was seized upon by Goldwater, who claimed the statement represented Kennedy’s problem in a nutshell. “There is no doing business with Communists, Mr. President,” he said. “All you can do is prepare to defend yourself.”

During the 1960 debates, Kennedy had successfully boxed in his opponent Richard Nixon by talking tough about Cuba and implying Nixon was weak on the issue, knowing full well that Nixon could not talk about classified activities that might prove otherwise. Now it was JFK’s turn to be boxed in. He could not reveal the private exchange he’d had with Khrushchev only the day before, when the Soviet premier confided that the only reason he’d fought to keep his office was his strong desire to work with Kennedy to end the Cold War.

The debate over China’s October 16 detonation of an atomic bomb drew a similar back-and-forth. As far as nuclear policy went, Goldwater argued against the increasing dependence on intercontinental missiles instead of SAC (Strategic Air Command) bombers. “I don’t feel safe at all about our missiles,” he answered moderator John Chancellor of NBC. “I wish President Kennedy would tell the American people how undependable the missiles in our silos actually are.”

The President declined, stating that the matter was classified. “I am, however, glad to hear Senator Goldwater agrees with our goal to reduce global tensions by reducing the world’s nuclear stockpiles.” Goldwater shot back his outrage that his words could be twisted so terribly.

Goldwater had backed the populist nature of following the Oswald jury’s conspiratorial leanings because they hinted at dark secrets in the Kennedy White House, secrets that could be used to destabilize a reasonably popular incumbent. The photo of the Republican presidential candidate sighting through the same style of rifle that had been aimed at the President made the Kennedy men see red.

During the debate, President Kennedy finally got his chance to respond, and he came out swinging in outrage. “For Senator Goldwater to come before the American people and say in so many words that somehow the President of the United States is the responsible party for an attempt on his life and the lives of others is reckless behavior in the extreme.”

Kennedy looked straight at Barry Goldwater. They’d been friendly in earlier times but not now. “Senator, if you believe that, then you need to say it to my face, and let the people you would ask to lead, hear you say it and judge your own character for themselves.”

It was political dynamite, the most shocking moment in televised presidential debate history. This was not much of an accomplishment in 1964, given that the only other televised debates had been the ones between Kennedy and Richard Nixon just four years earlier. But nearly fifty years later, it is still the moment played in the highlight reels before every presidential debate. It was a moment that transcended politics and felt more like the beginning of a brawl.

Instead of backing down and saying he had been misinterpreted, as presidential candidates would likely do today, Goldwater fixed Kennedy with his own steely gaze. “I will say it, Mr. President, and to your face. I believe that the way you ran your White House caught up with you in Dallas. Oh, I don’t know the specifics, and maybe we never will, but we do know your record of reckless appeasement of the Soviets. That kind of weakness incites a response from your enemies. It’s not pleasant to hear, sir, I know that, but someone must say it.”

Rather than further escalate the fireworks, the President smiled cryptically to himself. Audiences perhaps got a glimpse of what was on his mind moments later, when NBC’s Chancellor said it was time for the candidates to deliver their closing statements. Kennedy looked straight at Barry Goldwater and began:

At that point, President Kennedy turned from Goldwater to the camera, and directly asked, “What then?”

Many believe that the chance Barry Goldwater had to be President of the United States evaporated into thin air at that moment on the University of Wisconsin stage. A clear majority of undecided voters decided that the Republicans had nominated someone who was politically suicidal and potentially insane. The election was over, even though it had twelve days yet to go.

The headline had been set, as had the tone of the rest of the campaign. The
New York Times
titled its article, “Desperate Goldwater Blames JFK for Dallas.”
Top Story
headlined its own coverage, “Goldwater KOs Himself.”

The polling data that the GOP establishment started getting was dismal. The country, still unsettled, had nonetheless collectively decided that Kennedy deserved a second term, particularly given Goldwater as his opponent. In the final ten days of the campaign, a veritable GOP all-star team of Richard Nixon, Nelson Rockefeller, George Romney and Everett Dirksen all hit the road, not for Barry Goldwater, whom they felt was a lost cause, but for Republican candidates in the House and the Senate. They urged Kennedy-leaning voters to avoid giving the incumbent President a “liberal blank check” by handing him congressional super-majorities.
Top Story
called it, “The Drive to Bury Barry,” and it stuck.

Then, with only two days to go until the election, Vietnam came alive again as an issue when Viet Cong guerrillas hit a U.S. air base at Bien Hoa, killing four Americans and wounding a dozen more. Five planes were destroyed and many others were heavily damaged. All of this happened just ten miles northeast of Saigon.

Goldwater called for immediate retaliation, saying, “Let’s take the planes they didn’t get and anything else we need and go after them.”

Kennedy, knowing he only had to straddle the fence a matter of hours, used it to play into the prevailing theme of his campaign that Goldwater was a hothead who would drag the country into danger. “This is a very serious matter,” said Kennedy somberly, “and those who have done this should expect our response soon. What I won’t do is treat real-time foreign policy as a political game and, frankly, my opponent shouldn’t either.”