agony finally ended at 9:20 p.m., when Sidoti called back to say the AP was about to officially declare McCain the winner.
Mark Salter would recall that he had never seen McCain so happy as that night. The 71-year-old torture victim bounded onstage, a little creakily, and Cindy was glowing and regal in a purple suit and pearls. Grinning mischievously, McCain couldn’t resist a reference to the 2000 debacle in South Carolina. “What’s eight years among friends?” he chortled to the crowd. When his mother drew a roar, McCain walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Momma,” he said. He exited the stage as Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me” played. He stayed up late into the night, talking with his buddy Graham about how far they had come and what lay ahead. Only bad luck could deny him now.
By late February, Salter had finally stopped waking up each morning with thoughts of a potentially ruinous story racing in his mind. In December, he had felt sure it was coming. The New York Times was calling around, asking about McCain’s relationship to an attractive lobbyist named Vicki Iseman. In 1999, she had often been seen around McCain’s office at the Senate commerce committee, where he was chairman. Friends were calling Salter and asking about the rumors. Was the Times about to run an exposé of an extramarital affair between McCain and a lobbyist, for whom he was alleged to have performed legislative favors? Salter had spent hours (including Christmas Day) locating records in an effort to prove that the story was not true. But the rumor mill was grinding on the campaign trail. When a New York Times reporter, talking to Romney’s press secretary, knocked down gossip that the story would be on page one the next day, Romney joined the conversation and asked, “It’s not running?” It was pretty clear that Romney hoped the story would run sometime before the New Hampshire primary.
But weeks passed, and the article did not materialize. Salter heard that the Times’s editor, Bill Keller, had spiked the story twice. Salter began to believe the article would not run. Salter could be standoffish, and he was often ironic and sometimes angry. But he was also a romantic, one reason why he was such an effective alter ego for McCain. Salter wanted to believe that the Times editors were “grown-ups,” as he put it to Schmidt. The accusations were too flimsy and the Times was too reputable. “I know them,” he told Schmidt. “They’re adults. They’re not going to hurt a Christian family with no reason.”
Schmidt was not so sure. He regarded himself as a realist about the media: he was willing to use reporters and even be used by them. He regarded the media as a problem needing vigilant attention. Even the friendliest reporters, the ones whose company he enjoyed at hotel bars, could be expected to turn on the campaign. The New York Times, he believed, harbored a clear liberal bias. “Look,” he told Salter, “if McCain is the nominee, he’s going to have two opponents: whomever the Democrats nominate and The New York Times. And The New York Times is gonna spend every day trying to help your Democratic opponent beat you, and you’ve just got to accept that.”
On Feb. 21, the Times posted a story on its Web site implying that McCain had been romantically involved with Iseman around the time of his bid for the 2000 nomination. The campaign was given two hours’ warning. McCain was campaigning in Ohio, and Salter and Schmidt were in Washington. They raced to the airport, where it was snowing and flights were being canceled. Finally boarding a flight to Detroit, where they could rent a car and drive to Toledo, they scrolled their BlackBerrys as the Times story popped up online. Schmidt began to gently pound his fist on the seat in front of him.
“This was a mistake for The New York Times. This is not only not gonna hurt us, it’s gonna help us,” Schmidt said, with just a hint of excitement in his voice. “We’re gonna go brief McCain. We’re gonna tell him to stand up there stoically. Do a press conference. Take every question. Just don’t get pissed off.” Salter began to feel a little better. The two men discussed damage control. When they got to Detroit, they were going to start calling reporters, telling them that the story wasn’t fit to print, that it had been spiked a couple of times before the Times finally ran a very thin version—a clumsy attempt to slip hints of illicit romance into a story that purported to be largely about McCain’s ties to lobbyists. This was just another sad chapter in the paper’s once proud history, they would say—a tawdry sequel to Jayson Blair, the Times reporter who got caught fictionalizing his stories.
It was 11:30 p.m. by the time Salter and Schmidt reached the McCains’ hotel suite. Cindy was visibly upset. McCain was stone-faced and seething, but silent. Salter started right in: “Y’know what? The story was a mistake. It’s a bulls––– story, and it’s gonna be easy to fight.” The two aides spelled out their strategy for a press conference. “Don’t get mad,” Salter urged. “Just be calm.” McCain said very little, except “See you at the press conference.”
The next day McCain flatly denied any romantic involvement with Iseman and excoriated the Times. Schmidt’s instincts were right: the story proved to be an embarrassment to the newspaper. The pundits turned on the Times for running a story with so little apparent evidence; the Times’s ombudsman was also critical of the paper. There were a few awkward loose ends. The story claimed that McCain’s advisers had warned him to stop seeing Iseman. McCain flatly denied this to reporters. But John Weaver—McCain’s old best buddy, now in semi-exile though still talking occasionally to Salter—told the Times (and NEWSWEEK’s Michael Isikoff) that he had met with Iseman at a restaurant at Union Station and told her to stay away from the senator. Speaking not for attribution, two advisers told NEWSWEEK that McCain had indeed been warned to stop seeing Iseman back in December 1999, when he was gearing up for a presidential run. But these details were largely overlooked by the mainstream press, which quickly lost interest in the story.
Schmidt’s handling of the Iseman story was a telling moment in the campaign. McCain might like to pal around with reporters, but the lesson was clear: in the end, the liberal press would always turn on you. Salter did not give up on reporters right away, but he came to believe that “gotcha” journalism was pushing aside honest give-and-take. The Straight Talk Express had been fun, but it was not the way to win.
Next: The fight between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton turns into a grinding stasis.
[Click here for Part 3]