Pete du Pont’s 1988 Presidential Campaign: A Twentysomething Career Perspective
Former Delaware Governor Pete du Pont’s passing several days ago made me reflect on two entirely separate matters:
First, the quality of the man as I experienced it first-hand working on his 1988 presidential campaign as his New Hampshire press secretary. As a transient staffer — one of hundreds who’d likely passed through du Pont’s various campaign offices through the years — I did not know him well. But I fondly recall driving through New England’s vivid fall colors during the time I served as his New Hampshire presidential campaign press secretary in late summer of ’87 through February ‘88. An informal, accessible guy, he was a good man; a decent man; a family man. He cared about his candidacy, his purpose, and the issues and ideas he brought to the fore — many before their time as those who followed and reported on this GOP primary contest recall. I was fortunate then, as now, to have had the opportunity to work for him.
Second — and the point of this piece — was my career decision as a rookie GOP House press secretary to accept his 1988 presidential campaign’s job offer. Why Pete du Pont? I kept being asked. Besides the fact I liked his libertarian-like platform — especially his proposal to replace Social Security with a parallel, private system — the alternative was working as a mid-level communications functionary on the campaigns of either Vice President George H.W. Bush or Senator Bob Dole (R-KS). They surely had a better chance to win the White House. Bush, in fact, did. But from a skill and experience development perspective, taking the du Pont NH press secretary job was easily the best early career move I made.
Here’s why, and here’s the story:
In January 1985, I was exceedingly fortunate — lucky, actually— to find myself a House press secretary for freshman GOP Rep. Joe DioGuardi (R-NY).
Without contacts or an entree, I literally looked in the phone book, found his address, and knocked on his suburban New Rochelle, NY door one day in mid-1984. I was hellbent on getting a gig — any gig — on this open-seat race in Westchester County’s then-20th congressional district.
Popular longtime Democratic Rep. Richard Ottinger’s retirement set-up a competitive four-way Democratic primary. The winner was expected to easily prevail against DioGuardi — a rookie candidate positioned somewhat to the right of this well-heeled, moderate to liberal suburban NYC CD.
I volunteered the first week, started driving, then began writing candidate forum speech cards for $150/week. Things were working out. Still without a college degree, I was a young, well-informed news junkie. Besides football, The McLaughlin Group and C-Span’s “Road to the White House” were my favorite shows.
Sitting around headquarters on a couch several months into the campaign, the lead consultant turned, and asked, “Hey, you wanna be the press secretary?”
“Yeah, sure,” i said, knowing full well I was in over my head — and that my pathetic 20 wpm typing ‘skills’ would require drastic improvement.
“So, what do I do?” I asked.
“Just keep doing what you're doing — but more,” our consultant replied.
Well, OK then. I was now the press secretary, making $200/week. Life was good. Several months later, on election night 1984, lightning struck: the Reagan re-election landslide over Walter Mondale swept us into office by a few thousand votes.
That’s how I got my first Capitol Hill press secretary job.
There was no elaborate, scripted plan.
I also learned about the campaign business: Those who actually make the hiring decisions don't care about your degree; they care about what you can do for them now, today. It’s also like that kid’s board game, Chutes and Ladders: you can move up quickly, but you can just as quickly find yourself back to square one — with nothing. That appealed to me.
After DioGuardi’s first successful reelect in 1986 — a knockdown drag out affair with former Rep. Bella Abzug, who moved to Westchester expressly to knock-off DioGuardi— I wanted bigger campaigns, with bigger stakes. I just couldn’t get enough. I loved the business, and found my passion. Working the hyper-competitive NYC media market — especially as the nationally-covered Abzug spectacle unfolded in Westchester — I’d grown more confident in my skills.
But stay at my U.S. House job? Not a chance. I was in my mid-twenties. Rolling the dice and taking the biggest chances I could find was the only move. I knew my luck was fleeting. But I figured competing at the top level, against the strongest talent and consultants — subjecting yourself to defeat, skill deficit exposure and yes, future poverty via a loss — was the sole way to eventually excel in my chosen field.
That was my mindset: Dive in the top level shark tank and learn how to be a survivor.
But as a one-term House press secretary, the issue was just finding a way to the shark tank. Second? Securing an invite to jump in.
Easier said than done with limited experience and contacts.
By early 1987, the 1988 GOP presidential campaign was well underway. Vice-President George H.W. Bush, Sen. Bob Dole (R-KS) and Rep. Jack Kemp (R-NY) were the top tier front-runners. Former Delaware Governor Pete du Pont, former Sec of State Al Haig, Rev. Pat Robertson, and several others, were second and third-tier long shots.
Having volunteered as a teen for New Hampshire Reagan/Bush in 1980, I’d already made a presumptuous decision — at least in my own mind: I wanted to be New Hampshire press secretary for either Bush, Dole or Kemp.
In March 1987, I took a road trip to New Hampshire for the first 1988 GOP presidential primary ‘cattle call’ in Nashua, NH to seek out contacts, make my job interest known, assess the candidate stump speeches, and enjoy the hospitality suite revelry. Despite the fun, I drove back to DC, demoralized.
The handwriting was on the wall: Bush, Dole and Kemp already had numerous qualified NH and national operatives in-line for their New Hampshire press secretary slots. The job I wanted was likely out of reach.
After later making headway back in DC talking to the Bush and Dole campaigns about joining their national campaigns in an unspecified communications capacity— not what i wanted — I fortuitously received a call out of the blue from the du Pont folks. Knowing my interest in a New Hampshire press secretary position — and saying they’d already checked out my references — they made me an offer.
I took the job, and enthusiastically relocated to Manchester, NH with a princely-annualized salary of 16k — less than my House job of 24k. But that wasn’t the point. I was after experience. While politics, media and campaigns have significantly changed since ’88, serving as du Pont’s NH press secretary — even with his second tier status— was the most important early career decision I made.
Holding the actual New Hampshire press secretary title and its associated responsibility and accountability — not a “deputy this” or “assistant that” — helped me to significantly raise my game. Several times through the fall of ’87 through January ‘88, polling public showed du Pont vying with Jack Kemp for third place in New Hampshire behind Dole and Bush. Unfortunately, it was never sustained.
Still, the volume of media inquiries and on-camera interviews I handled at my own authority vastly improved my skills and marketability down the line. Following du Pont’s withdrawal following our 4th place New Hampshire finish, I began getting calls from the National Republican Senatorial Committee (NRSC) asking of my interest in 1988 Senate races. That would have never occurred just staying put in DioGuardi’s office.
Mostly, though, I acclimated to the speed required to successfully and strategically navigate the day by day. In the House office, I’d get perhaps five incoming media inquiries per day; at du Pont’s campaign, I’d frequently get over fifty per day, or more. It was just a different league; a different universe.
That’s exactly what I wanted, and that’s exactly what I got — sometimes to my detriment.
Finding myself unexpectedly at a debate negotiation one day sitting next to senior Bush campaign advisor Andy Card and other, more experienced candidate reps, I could merely hope I wouldn’t be taken to the cleaners.
Afterwards, of course, I realized Card, a pro’s pro, had done precisely that.
I remember walking out to my car with a sinking feeling, thinking, “something bad just happened.” But I learned from that error, and emulated Card’s wily debate negotiation tactics in other statewide races down the road, to my candidate’s advantage. Some other guy walked back out to his car knowing something went wrong.
The bottom line is learning and incorporating into your game the unpleasant lessons from those top echelon competitive embarrassments and losses is how to significantly up your skill level versus future competition. As time went by, I became drawn to big, “dangerous” toss-up statewide Senate and gubernatorial races — races where one is always exposed to possible defeat.
You acquire an attitude and edge you’d have never achieved by playing it safe, avoiding the best competition, and living within your comfort zone.
Besides boring, it’s just no fun.
Today, in the non-campaign public affairs space — a bastion of institutionalized mediocrity, timidity and going along to get along — I realize daily the importance of taking that plunge into the shark tank as soon as I had the chance to do so.
Thanks again to Pete du Pont for that opportunity. R.I.P.
