[Mb-civic] Republicans Were Masters In the Race to Paint Alito - Washington Post

[William Swiggard]

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 in 1987 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 senator Dan Coats (R-Ind.), 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.

Although 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 the 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 had 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 an 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. 
Harrold 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 calling 
for a filibuster from a ski 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 from 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.


http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/02/01/AR2006020101597.html?referrer=email
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