Blind Allegiance to Sarah Palin (27 page)
Read Blind Allegiance to Sarah Palin Online
Authors: Frank Bailey
I moved into the Robert B. Atwood Building in downtown Anchorageâhome to many of the state's governmental offices, and, at
twenty stories, the second-tallest building in the entire state. The distance between Anchorage and Juneau was roughly six hundred miles, but I might as well have been a million miles from the Capitol Building where, on the third floor, Sarah, Todd, and Mike Tibbles wielded their powerful hands in running the state. By February, contact with Sarah, Ivy, Kris, and others started trickling in, never surpassing a handful of emails in a given week. Other grassroots folks who had once been instrumental in Sarah's election expressed concern that they could not get a return call or email for months on end. Prudently, I put my nose down and worked hard while enjoying the nineteenth floor view of Cook Inlet and Sleeping Lady Mountain.
Despite the breathtaking scenery, the work was not good for my ADD self. There were many fine and wonderful people who loved their lives working in administration, but for me, having been at the center of the drive to put a modern-day Queen Esther on her gubernatorial throne, I felt like my usefulness had ended. At our best during the campaign, we felt like family, even when dealing with multiple (and often unnecessary) daily crises. Here the dim lights and insulation from the political frenzy felt sterile. Where were all the phone calls and emails calling for immediate action?
In March, sheer boredom eroded my intentions to wait this out. Never comfortable with inaction, I decided I'd rather end the ride than work in a job that did not seem to directly effect real change for Alaska. For days I reworked a respectfully blunt message, and on March 7, 2007, I finally held my breath, typed in Sarah's email address, attached the letter, and with a hesitant index finger hit Send.
Sarah,
I've wrestled with this for quite a while now, sought Godly counsel, prayed about it, and now it is time for me to clear the slate. I do want you to know that what I'm about to say comes from the backdrop that I have and will always have huge admiration for you and support what you are doing.
Sarah, I was patient. A few weeks of unreturned phone calls from Mike went by before I brought it to you. I know how busy you were
then. I've always known that. It is always my LAST resort to ever take up your time. I know how busy you are now and that makes this tougher to send even at this late date. But I need to say this. . . . I need you to know how this went down and see this from my eyes.
So Mike called me back and said that he was offering me the Special Assistant. I said “Mike, I'm feeling a little awkward here because I didn't do this for a job. I did it to make a difference. So I am grateful, yes, but what I can tell about that job (Special Assistant) is that I don't really have the responsibility to make the difference that I want to. Can you check on the Dep. Commish job and get back with me?”
He said he would call me back Monday. He did not.
Instead, Todd called Monday night and asked why I had turned down a job. He made it clear that I was being ungrateful, and that many others didn't get the opportunity to work immediately in the transition position. I reminded Todd that a year ago, when no one else followed through on their word to help out, it was me, Kris, Clark, and Kerm. Period. That's not ungrateful. That is a fact. I didn't have to work for free. I CHOSE to work for free, and later just to cover expenses. I worked my BUTT off. . . . Sarah, we had 80+ hour weeks over and over and over again this summer. That was a blow to be considered ungrateful by a Palin. A big one.
One of Todd's points was “Do you think you can handle testifying in front of [Senate Democratic Leader] Hollis French?” My response was, “I'd do it just like every other new thing I've done this year. Did I think I could pick up the phone and call Wally Hickel and ask for his endorsement?” I was rarely afraid of a new challenge. What I lacked in experience I always compensated for in effort. Always. . . .
So my question is this, Sarah. I fought for you. Why didn't you fight for me? I'm left with the impression that you didn't. Why believe the nay sayers on my abilities? I know I didn't have Juneau experience or State experience, but I thought I proved my value throughout the campaign that I could learn anything and do it well. You constantly preached how you couldn't read folks minds,
and I was clear with what I wanted to you and Tibbles, and none of the options were afforded me (Boards & Commissions, DOA Dep Commish, DOT Dep Commish). Why were the grass roots efforts good enough to win you the Primary and General, but not good enough to excel in bringing new energy to Juneau and set the standard for state government?
This is not about a position. It is not about money. I fought hard to make a difference. Instead I have been insulated away into a comfortable non-policy making position. It was clear that Tibbles and Bits didn't want me remotely near you. . . . This was their political decision to veer away from the homegrown uphill path of your campaign.
I'm wired to make a difference Sarah, yet you put those who had been my adversaries (Bitney and Tibbles) in charge of placing me into a “thanks very much” job. Remember that I was constantly on Bitney's case for what I called “setting you up to fail” by spending his time talking with lobbyist when he should've been preparing debate points? Or remember the weekend before the primary? Who called Tibbles, got in his face on the phone, and asked how he could, with a straight face, put out a mailer so slanderous that was misleading and obviously not current? His comment to me was “I'm not going to share my strategy with you. . . .”
When we at your kitchen table in March were telling you “You can do this,” they were saying that you couldn't, and that you didn't have enough experience. . . . I just wanted to make a difference. I will, of course, continue to work hard and do my best as Special Assistant, but my wiring won't keep me here. I absolutely want to see you THRIVE and SUCCEED as our governor and I can't do that from my beautiful 19th floor office with a view. Maybe it sounds ungrateful, but really what it is, is me being real with you. I am totally grateful, but I didn't want a “thank you job.” I wanted to be a part of “Take a Stand” and “New Energy for Alaska” Again, I appreciate you taking me along for the ride and the appreciation you shared with many regarding my role with your campaign. I just really struggle with how I was handled in the end.
This letter while blunt is sent with respect Sarah. I look forward to your response.
In the subject, line, I asked Sarah to please treat this email as confidential, wanting especially to keep it from Todd, whose passions tended to run from overheated to scalding. Sarah, however, decided not to honor that request and sent my email and her response to Todd and Tibbles. Her blunt apology left me sensing that I had few Rag Tag days left:
From: Sarah Palin
Created: 3/8/2007 7:08:39 AM
FrankâI apologize for whatever I've done to make you feel you weren't “handled right” at the end. You know that's not my intention.
I will ask Todd about making you feel uncomfortable, for that “big blow.” I know Todd. He probably wanted to just get to the bottom of the issue and deal with it and skip all the peripheral partsâhe no doubt just wanted to ask the question and then state his case that there ARE SO MANY people everyday asking for something. . . . Many [requests] were reasonable, some make no sense if everyone truly has the same goal: to do God's will, to serve the people of this state in whatever capacity is available.
You accuse me of not “fighting for you” . . . believe me, I did.
I will go back to the drawing board and start asking around again about other positions. Frank, the job description you wrote for yourself wasn't going to work through in a newly-created position. The duties you described could work beautifully, though, in the special assistant assignment you were offered and accepted. I am reading a book right now called “You Don't Need a Title to be a Leader” and it can explain much better than I the principal that I'm trying to get across re: a person's ability to make a difference where you are today.
Additionally: I trust Tibbles . . . [and] Bitney. I will defend them against any accusatory toneâspecifically anything Tibbles did
in the campaign for the candidate who had hired him to get him elected. And I am thankful for Tibbles, and for Bitney, who have worked non-stop to un-do so many Murkowski blunders and help usher in needed changes so we can start to move forward. I thank God for them and everyone else God has brought together to build a team to serve. Including you and 'Neen.
And so, glad that I'd found the courage to express my heart, I returned to the Department of Administration, waiting for that call signaling either another job or a pink slip. But by late May, I realized rightly so that she had other priorities. At peace with that, I sought out options outside of state government. The Grace Alaska Foundation, a charity associated with my church, ChangePoint, approached me about becoming its executive director, and we entered into preliminary discussions that continued into July. In addition, Neen and I began a two-month process of purchasing two small coffee stands. All the while, my closest confidante from the past remained Kris Perry. Aware of my intention to return to the private sector, in mid-July she phoned, explaining that she'd told Sarah I was planning to leave.
“Frank, Sarah's upset. She doesn't want you to go.”
“Kris, I'm doing nothing for herâ”
“Sarah wants you to fly to Juneau with her. You two can talk this out.”
Kris explained that we'd all go and meet Michael W. Smith, a popular evangelical musician who'd been an inspiration of mine since the age of fifteen. I immediately agreed.
A few days later, Kris, Sarah, and I flew on the state's King Air to Juneau. Sarah spoke of old times, loyalties, friendships, and the need to keep her team together. When we arrived in the capital, we spent an hour or so with Michael W. Smith. Then, unexpectedly, Sarah had me attend a high-level meeting with her, Mike Tibbles, Kris Perry, Fisheries Policy Advisor Cora Crome, and Ivy Frye, the director of boards and commissions.
We discussed one judge appointment and a wide-ranging list of board appointees. After a short while, Ivy was asked to leave the room. The moment she was out the door, Sarah said, “Frank,
Ivy's done a half-assed job getting us input for this judge appointment, and she does not take criticism from me.”
She went on to explain her frustration with Ivy's process of vetting the most important appointments a governor gets to make: Alaska's judges. The way Alaska's judicial appointments are made is absolutely fascinating, and I quickly learned that the problem revolved around Ivy's workload more than her willingness to vet the candidates. Between 250 to 300 appointments that needed to be made per year and an office at the time of one (just her), her workload was insurmountable. Nevertheless, it was Ivy's turn to get frozen out.
Within a week of our Juneau trip, Mike Tibbles phoned. “Frank, Sarah wants to know if you'd consider joining the governor's office.”
I now owned two coffee stands and was sitting on a potentially exciting offer from the Grace Alaska Foundation. “Mike, I'm not sure I canâ”
“She wants to replace Ivy. Sarah wants you to take over as director of boards and commissions. Immediately.”
“I'll need a few days to discuss this with Neen.”
My wife and I were torn, especially knowing that this would put renewed burdens on her with family
and
a new business. Sarah, who had left me dangling for months, suddenly needed me “immediately.” At the annual Governor's Family Picnic only days later, she had Sean Parnell's deputy chief of staff, Kris Showalter, track me down. By the time Sarah caught up with me, she was all warmth and charm.
“So, Frank, does this mean you'll stay? You'll come, help us? We need you.”
She was practically begging me to take on a major responsibility.
Unable to resist, I said, “Yes, I'll stay.”
All my prior reservations vanished. Agreeing to return felt good. No, it felt
great
. Back in the game, my heart beat with the same anticipation I had the first day I met Sarah when she invited me to the paint-a-thon where I'd met her family and then went home in splattered jeans. In my eternal optimism, the disappointing pastâwhich was full of contradictions and compromise, false hope, and promisesâall vanished. All I saw was, once again, the brilliance of our future.
As I analyze those days of reconciliation, there is no question that plans to leave her played a part in Sarah's sudden need to bring me home. Maybe she feared letting go of someone so well versed in her darker secrets? It's possible.
