Confessions of a Republican Journalist: Election flashbacks

John Kerry had just been projected winner in the state of Vermont, and the first rumblings began to spread throughout the newsroom.

"When’s the pizza coming?"

George W. Bush had just been awarded West Virginia’s electoral votes by CNN when a message flashed across the top of my computer screen: "Do you know what time pizza comes?"

It turns out that the most exciting night in newsrooms also heralds the rare occasion of free food provided by the company. Along with a selection of pizzas thrown onto the conference room table with some paper plates and napkins, two-liter bottles of soda wait to be cracked open. Election night 2004 was exceptional as fresh disposable cups were also provided for the soda.

The only other night besides elections I can remember being fed pizza by the newspaper was on Sept. 11, 2001. The pies’ arrival was code for "nobody better even think of leaving their desks." On election nights -- be they presidential, gubernatorial, mayoral or congressional races -- greasy pepperoni and sausage is designed to keep editors sated to stay in that office until God knows when.

When the deliveryman finally arrived the evening of Nov. 2, 2004, polls had closed in the Midwest and the editorial staffers were extremely cranky. They scattered from their desks like ants who’d just had their hill kicked over, and lined up eagerly at the door to the conference room. This is what it was all about.

I’d been witness to several elections, gone to several parties, walked several precincts in a non-press capacity. On gubernatorial election night 1998, reporting at my first daily paper, I first headed to the Republican victory party, which was rather subdued as GOP candidate Dan Lungren was losing. As I interviewed people, I wished I could toss the notebook away and join the party, that I could wipe away the stigma of being a journalist and ease the minds of fellow Republicans who eyed me suspiciously. I was new in town, and nobody knew if I would slant the story to something like, "Suicidal GOPs watch party go down the tubes as they party..."

The next stop was the Democrats' shindig. As I walked into the building, I could feel cold stares and venomous glances from neo-Socialists and tree huggers. Did I forget to leave my voter registration at the door? How would they assume I was the enemy? I was the press, for God’s sake!

I found the local party chairman, got some quick quotes about Republicans destroying the environment and being evil to farm workers, and headed back to my car parked just outside the door. As a few stragglers in the parking lot shot more evil looks my way, I realized I had forgotten to take the "Lungren for Governor" sticker off my back window.

Well ... maybe I didn't forget.

For the 2000 presidential election, I was a news editor at another daily newspaper. The months leading up to the Bush-Gore showdown had been heated at best, homicidal at worst, and there were only a handful of non-closeted conservatives in the newsroom. The assistant managing editor had issued a moratorium on political talk out of a desire to prevent fisticuffs -- though he, an avowed Republican in his 20s, was a master at stirring the kettle and instigating verbal brawls. (I really looked up to him.) After Al Gore's Buddhist fund-raising scandal tarnished his campaign, this editor would fold his hands and bow reverently whenever he encountered the very liberal graphic design chief. She would either accept the invitation to debate or storm off in a huff -- she never wanted to say Buddhist prayers with the Jewish editor.

After we'd had our free pizza that night, it was time to sit back and see who the winner was. I sat by a small TV, watching returns come in and seeing networks compete over who could call a state first, an election-night malady that led to the debut of the Cautious News Network four years later. The conservative editor kept messaging me from his office as I watched pundits draw on electoral maps in play-by-play fashion. "What's going on?" he was asking as I would relay back the latest news. Then the Florida fracas began. "Talk to me, talk to me," he hurriedly messaged, not wanting to huddle in front of the TV, not wanting to look stressed and anxious in front of the liberals.

After Pizza Hut had turned to heartburn, CNN called the election for Bush. I screamed with glee and hugged a registered independent, the closest ally in a celebratory moment. The rest of the newsroom was in a dead hush.

The conservative assistant managing editor -- abiding by his own moratorium -- ran over waving his arms: "Shhh! SHHH!!"

What headline would the paper go with? One editor that night suggested "Bush by a hair." Another dirtier-minded editor had to explain to him why that wasn't a good idea.

And as semi-digested pizza began rising in the stomachs of newsroom Democrats, my indigestion had suddenly calmed.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to Gore's concession speech: he changed his mind, turned the car around and his personal electoral purgatory became recount hell for the whole nation. And many papers were left without decisive, six-column, 100-point post-election headlines. Talk about hell.

And weeks later, when the Supreme Court finally demanded a halt to obsessive-compulsive recounts, there was no newsroom pizza to celebrate a newly elected president. Worse, there was an intense hatred of Ralph Nader, as if third-party candidates had never screwed Republicans in a presidential race (Ross Perot, anyone?). The whole Democratic Party must have driven without seat belts in protest of everyone‘s favorite consumer advocate.

Sadly, I missed one of the best election nights in recent journalism history: the recall of Gray Davis and the election of uber-hero Arnold Schwarzenegger. I had spent a year as a magazine editor, and was suffering from news withdrawal to the point of taking a pay cut to return to print journalism. I had accepted a position with a daily paper, but the two-week notice to the magazine meant I had to watch Arnold's acceptance speech from the comfort of my own home.

Predictably, Gray was washed out by the star power of the action hero, and the election gave news outlets even more meaty fodder. The "Terminator" as governor? Too cool. Except there was one editorial problem: The best elected officials have short, tidy names that fit well in a one-column headline spec. "Davis," "Bush," and even the skinny letters in "Clinton" were a good fit. How would newspapers ever cope with "Schwarzenegger"? The governor could barely pronounce it. The paper's editor quickly approved usage of "Arnold" in headlines.

Since we were now on a cozy first-name basis with the Republican governor -- like the rest of California -- it would be interesting to see how GOPs fared in the next big election, Bush’s bid to keep his Pennsylvania Avenue address.

“Fucking Bush, man,” an angry, caffeine-laden news assistant grumbled as he paced near the TVs before the first returns had even come in on Nov. 2, 2004. “He’s fuckin’ going down!”

In the midst of his vitriolic snarling, he stopped by my candy bowl to grab a handful of half-price Halloween goodies. “That’s Republican candy, you know,” I quipped with a grin.

He stomped off, still growling. “Yeah, all the fucking rich Republican candy corporations...”

I wanted Bush to win for about every reason in the world: Supreme Court, Iraq, War on Terror, the list goes on. But at that point I willed the president to win for no other reason than making this obnoxious twerp eat crow along with his fun-size Charleston Chew.

Isn’t having a Republican in the newsroom a hoot? It’s also somewhat of a tourist attraction. One friend from the sports department stopped by later in the evening. “Did you really vote for Bush?” he asked solemnly. I confirmed his darkest fear. “You’re the only person I know who voted for Bush,” he continued, just staring down at me.

That’s nice to know. Did you get some pizza?

Finding any takers for a bet on the election that night was difficult, even for a Lotto-crazy newsroom. But one die-hard liberal (and die-hard gambler) went for the bet, and we wagered a grilled chicken sandwich from a favorite restaurant. Suddenly the focus went from free pizza to free chicken sandwich. But this was far from free -- my candidate would have to come through.

As Bush led in Ohio, the last state he needed to pull off the big win, I received a message. “I bet you’re tasting that chicken sandwich right about now,” the guy I’d bet against wrote.

“I’m nibbling on the bun,” I replied, “but I’m not counting my chicken sandwiches before they hatch.”

“Do they raise good chickens in Ohio?” he replied.

“I don’t know, but they sure raise tasty electoral votes sought the world over.”

I never got to do my victory lap that night; somebody probably would have tripped me en route, anyway. As the election remained too close to call and vice presidential nominee John Edwards hinted at a legal brouhaha, we dribbled out of the newsroom one by one. When I got up the next morning, Kerry was giving his concession speech and it was time to celebrate with Republican friends.

When I returned to work, I did my dignified version of the “nah nah nah” -- head held high, slight smile, striding to my desk while cheerfully greeting co-workers. Pissed-off co-workers. But I resisted the temptation to gloat -- I knew that if Kerry had won, there would have been an entire legion of newsies dancing on my grave.

I did, however, have to listen to the conspiracy theories intended to salve electoral wounds.

“Did you notice that in the states actually affected by terrorism, Bush lost?” one eagerly noted. “In Washington, D.C. -- which was attacked -- Kerry got 90 percent!” Everybody nodded in agreement; some expanded on the point.

In my little corner of this ideological world, I rolled my eyes. “D.C. goes Democrat,” I growled, more for myself than them, who wouldn’t listen anyway. “My grandmother could have called D.C.”

I chuckled as I heard one newsie prophesize that right-wing religious nuts were about to bring the end of the world. I can understand if they were blue. We Republicans had to live through two terms of Bill Clinton, and it was payback time. But this time around, they were blue -- and most of the country map was red. Call it a color-coded alert system.

Comments

[jay stevens]

I was home in the U.S. for the 2004 election. I did not watch ANY of the election coverage on television. I bookmarked a couple of election coverage sites on the internet and checked them about every 30 minutes. All together, I spent less than 15 minutes "watching" the election.

During the 2000 election, I just got so tired of talking heads blathering on trying to fill air time.

[RA]

I hope you have reason to gloat in 2006 and 2008.

[VS]

I was probably the only BBC news staffer who voted for Bush.

I tried to restrain my glee in the office last year too, but I wasn't successful. Heh.

[Jack Tanner]

No adorable pictures in this post? Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!

My son goes to public school in Boston. In his class election it was 21-2 for doyouknowhoIam? His teacher 'had to speak' to my wife because he defended Bush in class. They needed grief counselors on Nov 5.

[JohnS]

“Did you notice that in the states actually affected by terrorism, Bush lost?” one eagerly noted. “In Washington, D.C. -- which was attacked -- Kerry got 90 percent!” Everybody nodded in agreement; some expanded on the point.

I often work in the Pentagon. I am sure that it is in Virginia, not Washington, D.C. I am also sure that the Pentagon was attacked on 9/11 and even then, it was in Virginia and not D.C. But, hey, I'm not a smart, thoughtful, caring liberal and I could be wrong.