kennyboy, demohack losers, read this and cry your heart out:
Republicans Were Masters In the Race to Paint Alito
Democrats' Portrayal Failed to Sway the Public
By Lois Romano and Juliet Eilperin
Washington Post Staff Writers
Thursday, February 2, 2006; A01
On the night of Sunday, Oct. 30, the White House team charged with getting Judge Samuel A. Alito Jr.'s nomination through the Senate got a first look at the nominee. The meeting was held in the office of White House counsel Harriet Miers, who three days earlier was forced to withdraw her own name from consideration for the Supreme Court after withering attacks from the president's conservative allies.
Without knowing Alito, Steve Schmidt, a top aide to Vice President Cheney designated to coordinate the nomination, and former Republican National Committee chairman Ed Gillespie, who was helping him, knew that Alito was everything Miers was not: an indisputably qualified jurist with a long paper trail that conservatives could embrace. They felt certain that this time the full political muscle of the conservative movement -- 20 years in the making -- would be behind Alito.
Alito seemed more relaxed at this first meeting than had John G. Roberts Jr. a few months earlier at a similar session, but it was clear that he lacked the ingratiating charm that helped Roberts sail through his confirmation. For 15 years, Alito had worked virtually alone on the U.S. Court of Appeals -- a job made for an introvert. But Schmidt was not concerned. This grandson of Italian immigrants suited up as humble and earnest, a guy who could be your neighbor in the suburbs. America would identify with him, Schmidt thought. And he was right.
For three intense months, hundreds of advocacy groups on both sides of the battle aggressively competed to shape public opinion, spending more than $2 million in advertising and blanketing the country with millions of e-mails saying why the man who would replace Justice Sandra Day O'Connor was important. But in the end, Senate Democrats and their allies never succeeded in convincing Americans that Alito was the threat to their rights that critics said he was.
In a sense, the outcome of Tuesday's 58 to 42 vote confirming Alito was ordained by the results of the 2004 presidential race, the mandate President Bush received for his conservative agenda, and Republican control of the Senate. "Elections matter," said Sen. Lindsey O. Graham (R-S.C.). But interviews with senators, congressional staff members, advocacy groups and White House aides over the course of the process suggest that the result was equally affected by the division and disorganization of Senate Democrats, who were outmaneuvered at virtually every turn, victims of the same strategies they used 18 years ago to defeat the nomination of Robert H. Bork.
"The irony here is that we thought we had accomplished something during the Bork hearings -- opening up the process, letting the American people see what was going on," said Sen. Joseph R. Biden Jr. (D-Del.), Judiciary Committee chairman at the time of the Bork nomination. "But they learned something, too."
The same night that Alito was being briefed in the White House, Ralph G. Neas, president of the liberal advocacy group People for the American Way and a veteran of the Bork fight, was in his office preparing for the week ahead. The earlier buzz was that Bush had narrowed the choice to Alito and J. Michael Luttig, a conservative judge from the 4th Circuit. But Neas was pretty certain it would be Alito, and that his trail of rulings on the appellate court would prove a gift-- something opponents could use to paint a portrait of judge who would take away a women's personal freedom and give Bush unbridled power.
Neas, 59, had devoted almost his entire career to trying to affect the Supreme Court, and he had at his fingertips a deep network of liberal advocacy groups ready to oppose anyone Bush nominated. Led by Neas and Nan Aron, president of the Alliance for Justice, and Wade Henderson, director of the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights, a coalition of about 75 organizations was on high alert. But Neas could count as well as the Republicans, and he knew the numbers in the GOP-controlled Senate were not on his side.
But, as with Bork, Neas felt certain that the force of his coalitions and grass-roots organizing, enhanced by quick Internet communication, could turn the public against Alito. The nominee had ruled on a number of hot-button issues over the years -- reproductive rights, discrimination, guns and federalism -- and Neas saw his job as bringing home to the American people the personal relevance of these rulings.
The next morning, a few minutes before Bush introduced Alito at the White House, Neas sent 8,500 reporters and 750,000 grass-roots activists and members a bulletin identifying Alito as part of the "radical right legal movement." It was inflamed language meant to reach the liberal base and to try to define the nominee for the media before the White House did. Neas knew that victory was a long shot and would depend to some degree on how the public saw Alito for the first time.
Schmidt's goal the first week was no different from Neas's: to quickly define the nominee before Neas and his allies succeeded in painting Alito as a right-wing nut. Adoring former law clerks -- some Democrats -- were lined up for television interviews, the story of Alito's upbringing and heritage was put in play, and judicial colleagues were singing his praises. Pictures of Alito coaching Little League were popping up everywhere.
An intense and single-minded advocate for the administration, Schmidt, 35, is considered an operative in the mold of the late Lee Atwater -- kinetic and relentless. Conservative activists love him, privately referring to him as "the bullet" for his swift and accurate aim at the target.
Ultimately, Schmidt would put in place a tight organizational structure and bring every tool at his disposal to the fight -- technology, the media, conservative special-interest groups, indignant Italian Americans led to believe Alito was being smeared. A nomination to the highest court in the land would evolve into a high-stakes political campaign -- shrill and choreographed -- and Schmidt would have the vast resources of the White House behind him. He would be helped by Gillespie, whose job was to communicate with senators, especially Arlen Specter (R-Pa.) , a pro-abortion-rights moderate whom the White House needed to keep happy, and former Indiana senator Dan Coats, who would be Alito's guide to Capitol Hill.
But just as critical as the internal structure was the heft of conservative leaders such as legal scholar Leonard A. Leo of the Federalist Society, who played a major role in bringing together 70 well-funded outside religious and conservative organizations last spring, when it was clear that Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist was seriously ill and at least one court appointment was on the horizon.
A Loner Thrust Into the Spotlight
As protocol dictated, Alito's first Democratic courtesy call Oct. 31 was with Minority Leader Harry M. Reid (D-Nev.), who had reservations about the nominee. The low-key and cautious Reid was never sold on the idea of a filibuster to prevent a vote on Alito, but he hoped the outcome of the hearings would dictate the politics. To a large extent, he relied on the Democrats on the Judiciary Committee to develop and execute a strategy, which never happened.
Reid banned staff members from the meeting with Alito. The men talked about a number of issues, and at one point Reid mentioned that Alito would be the fifth Roman Catholic on the court.
Reid's remarks shocked Alito, who promptly told his handlers about the conversation, which they saw as a veiled suggestion that Alito's religion would influence rulings on issues such as abortion. But White House aides decided not to take on the minority leader on the first day. Reid's office said yesterday that the remark was simply casual chatter in a breakfast discussion with reporters that morning, and it offered a transcript as proof.
While a mostly a good sport, Alito often conveyed a sense of reserve that left some senators cold. Coats saw the process as a form of culture shock for Alito, who he believed just wanted to get to high court so he could work alone again.
"This is more human beings than I see in a month," Alito confessed to Sen. Mark Pryor (D-Ark.) before their Nov. 3 meeting.
Sen. Kent Conrad (D-N.D.), from a state targeted by Republicans, went through a lot of trouble to have a photo of the judge in a baseball cap enlarged for fun. Alito barely cracked a smile. Sen. Patrick J. Leahy (Vt.), the ranking Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, had voted for Roberts but was skeptical of Alito. Trying to break the ice during their only meeting, Leahy -- the grandson of an Italian stone carver and the only Italian American Catholic on the Judiciary Committee -- greeted the nominee effusively in Italian.
"I don't speak Italian," responded an unsmiling Alito.
For Alito, who trudged through meeting after meeting, sometimes with a dazed look, the drill was overwhelming and often alien. One 25-minute meeting, with Sen. Lincoln D. Chafee (R.I.), a key Republican moderate, took place on the Capitol steps at Chafee's insistence so they could both be looking and pointing at the Supreme Court when they spoke.
At another meeting, with Democrat Robert Menendez, just appointed to a Senate seat from Alito's home state of New Jersey and whose vote the White House thought could be won, Menendez aggressively questioned Alito on privacy, abortion and his membership in the Concerned Alumni of Princeton, a now-defunct group known to be discriminatory toward women and minorities.
"If an organization like that had prevailed, I would not be here to vote on your nomination," Menendez said of CAP.
"I wouldn't either," Alito shot back.
While Judiciary Committee Republicans and their staff worked closely with the White House and their conservative allies to prepare for the hearings, Democrats were unfocused and divided over their strategy.
Leahy did not step into the leadership vacuum, leaving liberals such as Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (Mass.) and Charles E. Schumer (N.Y.) pushing to try to defeat Alito and moderates arguing that opposing Alito would hurt them. They thought that the party would be better off focusing on the GOP corruption scandals.
The liberal advocacy groups wanted nothing less than the Democratic leadership to take up a fight -- and penalize those who were fence-sitting. Roberts had been given a pass, but Alito was a different story. He would be replacing O'Connor, often the centrist vote on a divided court. But energizing Democrats was a challenge. Many simply didn't have the stomach for a fight they would probably lose.
A couple of weeks after the announcement of Alito's nomination, Reid summoned leaders from the groups to his office to discuss strategy with several top senators opposed to Alito, including Schumer. "We are not the enemy," Schumer told the lobbyists. "Stop going after moderate, red-state Democrats and start going after the Republicans."
Kennedy urged them during the 40-minute meeting to focus on grass-roots activities over the holidays to pressure key moderate Republicans, such as Chafee and Sen. Olympia J. Snowe (Maine). But the Republicans were already there with a concerted campaign, orchestrated by the White House, aimed at moderates in both parties.
Sen. Ben Nelson (D-Neb.), for example, knew on Nov. 2 that unless there was some unforeseen development he would vote to confirm Alito, but he told no one. As the hearings played out in Washington, Nelson was startled to see quarter-page ads in the Omaha World-Herald and the Lincoln Journal Star sponsored by the conservative group Focus on the Family. "Will Sen. Ben Nelson listen to Ted Kennedy or the people of Nebraska?" asked the ads, which showed head shots of Nelson alongside the Massachusetts liberal.
Facing a tough 2006 midterm race in the conservative state, Nelson was furious and complained to the group's president, James Dobson. He assured Dobson that so far nothing that emerged that would prevent him from voting for Alito -- and suggested that Dobson thank him publicly at the right time. On Jan. 21, four days after Nelson announced his support for Alito, the group ran new ads: "Thank you Sen. Ben Nelson . . . for listening to the voice of Nebraskans."
In Rhode Island, conservatives turned to the state's large Italian American population with a barrage of radio spots and rallies to press Chafee, who is also up for reelection. An abortion rights supporter often at odds with the White House, the Republican was boxed in politically -- he needed to vote for Alito to survive his primary, but a vote for Alito could hurt him in the general election in a Democratic state.
Views in a 1985 Memo
On Nov. 14, Neas thought he had found his smoking gun. On the front page of the Washington Times was a story leaked by the White House about a 1985 job application in which Alito had written, among other things, that "the Constitution does not protect a right to an abortion." By 7:45 a.m., 8,000 reporters received e-mails with a link to the story.
"If the confirmation is defeated," he said in a interview a few days later, "I believe this will be seen as a catalytic moment, when senators and the public questioned what they knew about him."
Neas and Aron always thought that Alito's views on abortion should be a focal point of the opposition, but it was not a strategy their Democratic allies in the Senate embraced. Heading into the 2006 elections, the last thing they wanted was to look like a party supporting abortion on demand.
The document gave Neas a hook to push the issue, but it was Specter, the pro-abortion-rights moderate, who helped defuse it. He wanted someone -- anyone -- to respond to the growing news story. He called Gillespie and proposed writing a letter with questions for Alito. But Schmidt vetoed it, telling Gillespie that addressing the issue would only exacerbate it.
In the end, Alito met with Specter, and as planned, Specter relayed the nominee's view that he made a "sharp distinction . . . between his role as an advocate and his role as a judge."
The abortion issue was losing steam, so the Democrats shifted gears. They tried portraying Alito as an extremist who wanted to give the president unfettered power. They also went after his credibility because he had not recused himself on a decision involving a financial institution in which he had investments. But nothing seemed to get traction.
By the time confirmation hearings began last month, Democrats knew that unless Alito made a big mistake or something damaging surfaced, he would be confirmed. But while there were endless meetings among the liberal advocacy groups, there was no coordinated strategy on the committee for questioning Alito.
Abortion was ruled out as a major issue for fear of alienating moderate Democrats. James Flug, a Kennedy aide who worked for the senator during the Nixon-era confirmation fights over Clement J. Haynsworth Jr. and G. Harold Carswell, insisted that Kennedy and others could get traction pressing Alito's connection to the Princeton group, as well as his failure to recuse himself from cases involving mutual fund giant Vanguard, with which Alito had investments. Others believed it more fruitful to demonstrate that Alito's rulings on the circuit court never gave the little guy a fair shake.
The result, everyone agrees now, was a disaster. Committee Democrats were all over the lot the first day of the hearings, leaving their allies in the groups stricken that a valuable opportunity for tough questioning was squandered. While subsequent days went slightly better, the legalistic arguments were difficult to follow. Even Kennedy's demand for documents from the Princeton group was overshadowed by pictures of the nominee's wife, Martha-Ann Alito, in tears.
Four hours a day for three weeks, Alito had practiced for his appearance with a team assembled by Schmidt that included Rachel Brand, assistant attorney general for legal policy; William K. Kelley, deputy White House counsel; Gillepsie; Leo; and Schmidt himself, who pressed him for answers about his membership in the alumni group.
Alito was more than ready and couldn't be budged off his prepared answers. And Republican senators such as Graham of South Carolina were prepped by the White House to do a "rehab" on Alito after any attack by a Democrat.
With the fight all but lost, Democrats had one last weapon -- a filibuster. But in the Democratic caucus, senators were uncomfortable with the idea. "It's bad politically," Schumer, chairman of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, said at one meeting.
Sen. John F. Kerry's calculus was different. As a potential candidate for president, the Massachusetts Democrat needed to shore up his liberal support and planned to announce his intentions after flying back from a day's visit to an economic conference in Davos, Switzerland. But when the news was leaked to CNN, he was ridiculed by Republicans for making the announcement from a posh resort.
For Kennedy, the fight against Alito was more personal than political. On Jan. 16, he had made a Martin Luther King Jr. Day appearance at Faneuil Hall in Boston and was given a standing ovation form a largely black crowd after being introduced as having "been fighting for us all week."
"It was like a pistol shot," recalled Kennedy, the moment he decided to fight for a filibuster. In the end, it, too, failed.
In a message to his board of directors, Neas tried to find some consolation. "Because of the Herculean efforts of the progressive coalition and our Senate champions," he wrote, "we will all be able to look ourselves in the mirror and know that we did everything possible to avert this constitutional catastrophe."
Schmidt, meanwhile, resigned from the White House yesterday and leaves for Sacramento today to run Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger's reelection campaign -- a political operative who knows he delivered.
Research editor Lucy Shackelford contributed to this report.
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