Big Money: 2.5 Billion Dollars, One Suspicious Vehicle, and a Pimp—on the Trail of the Ultra-Rich Hijacking American Politics by Kenneth P. Vogel

Author:Kenneth P. Vogel [Vogel, Kenneth P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Political Science, Politics
ISBN: 1610393384
Google: Bz6uAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00QUW3VYO
Publisher: PublicAffairs
Published: 2014-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

The Biggest Bet Yet

Gusts of warm, damp wind swayed the palm trees outside the waterfront Marriott in Tampa, Florida, on August 27, 2012—what was to have been the first night of the Republican National Convention. A damaging storm named Isaac was pummeling the Gulf Coast hundreds of miles to the west. But at the Marriott, two by two, the Republican Party’s wealthiest decamped from black town cars or, for those in nearby hotels, covered golf carts. Through the massive revolving doors they went, into the glimmering, air-conditioned marble sanctuary of the hotel’s soaring lobby, then up a long escalator and into a massive ballroom.

They were there for an exclusive party dubbed the Freedom and Opportunity Reception,1 reserved for major donors to Mitt Romney’s presidential campaign. You were required to show a lapel pin signifying your status as a Romney “Founding Partner” (meaning you’d donated at least $50,000 to the campaign) or as a Romney “Star” (meaning you’d raised $250,000 or more from other people). I had no such pin, but the security wasn’t particularly thorough.

Inside the ballroom, hundreds of donors and bundlers mingled with Republican dignitaries like Republican Party chairman Reince Priebus, pollster Frank Luntz (who wore his trademark red sneakers), and Newt and Callista Gingrich, the bitter primary of just a few months ago now forgotten as Newt posed for pictures with some of the very donors who’d funded the super PAC attack ads that crushed his White House dreams.2

Donors grazed from a buffet featuring house-smoked shredded BBQ pork sliders with coleslaw and all manner of other hors d’œuvres. Jamming at the front of the room were the Oakridge Boys, a patriotic southern gospel and country band with at least one member whose long white beard and dark sunglasses would have fit in nicely with ZZ Top. Tropical Storm Isaac, which had already been blamed for nearly thirty deaths in the Caribbean, was expected to reach hurricane strength and make landfall in Louisiana and Mississippi at any moment, but under the glistening chandeliers of the ballroom the only thing wet was the sprawling open bar. On that bar, in front of the bottles of wine, beer, and top-shelf booze, were samples of the evening’s featured cocktail—a red concoction served with a lemon wedge and a maraschino cherry impaled on a toothpick, called the Hurricane.

It was precisely the kind of visual Republican officials had hoped to avoid when they decided to delay the convention a day. Romney’s advisors feared a political backlash if it appeared his supporters were partying while storm victims suffered. Imagine the specter of split-screen news reports showing rich (mostly white) Republicans celebrating on the convention floor while poor (mostly black) residents scrambled to flee the storm’s path and save their possessions. It could look like George W. Bush’s clumsy response to Hurricane Katrina all over again.

So, a few hours before he made his way over to the party, RNC chair Priebus had taken to the podium to announce that the convention would be in recess until the following afternoon.

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