Decision Points

percent—a serious protest vote. To make matters worse, Texas billionaire Ross Perot decided to mount a third-party campaign. He preyed on disillusioned conservatives with his anti-deficit, anti-trade rhetoric. One of Perot’s campaign centers was across the street from my office in Dallas. Looking out the windowwas like watching a daily tracking poll. Cadillacs and SUVs lined up to collect Perot bumper stickers and yard signs. I realized Dad would have to fight a two-front battle for reelection, with Perot on one flank and the Democratic nominee on the other.
    By the spring of 1992, it was clear who that nominee would be, Governor Bill Clinton of Arkansas. Clinton was twenty-two years younger than Dad—and six weeks younger than me. The campaign marked the beginning of a generational shift in American politics. Up to that point, every president since Franklin Roosevelt had served during World War II, either in the military or as commander in chief. By 1992, Baby Boomers and those younger made up a huge portion of the electorate. They were naturally drawn to support someone of their own generation. Clinton was smart enough to steer away from Dad’s strengths in foreign policy. He recognized the economic anxiety in the country and ran on a disciplined message: “It’s the economy, stupid.”
    I stayed in close touch with Dad throughout the election year. By the early summer of 1992, the campaign hadn’t gained traction. I told Dad he ought to think about a bold move to shake up the dynamics of the race. One possibility was to replace Vice President Dan Quayle , whom I liked and respected, with a new running mate. I suggested to Dad that he consider Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney . Dick was smart, serious, experienced, and tough. He had done a superb job overseeing the military during the liberation of Panama and the Gulf War. Dad said no. He thought the move would look desperate and embarrass Dan. In retrospect, I don’t think Dad would have done better with someone else as his running mate. But I never completely gave up on my idea of a Bush-Cheney ticket.

    An Oval Office meeting with Dad and (
from left
) Andy Card, John Sununu, and Lee Atwater in 1989. Two days earlier, Dad had ordered American troops into Panama.
    One change Dad did make was to bring Secretary of State James Baker back to the White House as chief of staff. The campaign ran more smoothly with Baker at the helm. Voters began to focus on Bush versus Clinton. The polls narrowed. Then, four days before the election, Lawrence Walsh , the prosecutor investigating the Iran-Contra scandal of the Reagan administration, dropped an indictment on former defense secretary Caspar Weinberger . The indictment dominated the news and halted the campaign’s momentum. Democratic lawyer Robert Bennett , who represented Cap, later called the indictment “one of the greatest abusesof prosecutorial power I have ever encountered.” So much for the independence of the independent counsel.
    In the final days before the election, my brother Marvin suggested that I campaign with Dad to help keep his spirits high. I agreed to do it, although I was not in the most upbeat mood. I was especially irritated with the press corps, which I thought was cheerleading for Bill Clinton . At one of the final campaign stops, two reporters from the press pool approached me near the steps of Air Force One. They asked about the atmosphere on the plane. The politically astute response would have been some banality like “He feels this hill can be climbed.” Instead, I unleashed. I told the reporters I thought their stories were biased. My tone was harsh, and I was rude. It was not my only angry blurt of the campaign. I had developed a reputation in the press corps as a hothead, and I deserved it. What the press did not understand was that my outbursts were driven by love, not politics.
    Election night came, and Dad did not win. Bill Clinton won 43.0 percent of the vote. Dad ended up with 37.4 percent. Ross Perot took 18.9 percent, including millions of votes that otherwise would have gone for George Bush. Dad handled the defeat with characteristic grace. He called early in the evening to congratulate Bill, laying the foundation for one of the more unlikely friendships in American political history.
    Dad had been raised to be a good sport. He blamed no one; he was not bitter. But I knew he was hurting. The whole thing was a miserable experience. Watching a good man lose made 1992