Going Rogue: An American Life (76 page)

Going Rogue

“destroy the McCain campaign.” Thete wete no such messages, of course, but the episode ratcheted up paranoia and distrust inside the campaign. The hacker later admitted he was looking for something damaging.
It
reminded many of us of a modern-day breakin of campaign headquarters.

The nationwide momentum that was building didn’t become clear to me until we stopped at The Villages, near Lady Lake, Florida, one of the largest retirement communities in the United States. The Villages is like a city urito itself, with testaurants, lakes, and shopping, and golf courses. The residents thete are very politically aware and active, so the community has become a must-stop sromping ground for politicians in the Sunshine State-especially for the GOP. Florida seniors tend to vote Republican. The place is also famous for golf carts. Instead of getting around in cars, most residents toodle around in carts, decorated aod jacked up to fit the owneis personality. My family and I had never seen anything like this and thought it was the Florida version of Alaskans congregating with’their boa,ts or snowmachines. The morning of our event, Jason and Doug McMarlin, the campaign’s advance guy in Florida, drove to the venue to take a quick look at the setup. ‘

“How many people do you think we’ll get?” Jason asked.

“Probably ren or twelve thousand.”

Jason was satisfied. That was a great number for a vice presidential candidate. A few hours later, he joined us on rhe bus as the whole crew headed down to The Villages for the rally. About an hour and a half before the event, Jason called

again. “How many

people do we, have now?”

Jason shared the number with rest of us: fifreen thousand.

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Twenty minutes later, he called Doug again. “Wow,” 1 heard him say.

The crowd had doubled ro thirty thousand.

“Wow;’ 1 said myself. Something big was happening. When the bus reached the edge of the retirement community, all 1 could see were golf carts. It seemed like miles and miles of them lined up along the side of the road. As we drove on, 1 could see and feel momentum building, energy radiating from the growing crowd of patriotic Americans who had gathered because they wanted to be involved. As we gOt closer to the venue, the strings of golf carts became a sea of golf carts, double-and triple-parked, bumper to bumper on the sidewalks, security teams with flags waving long chains of carts into makeshift parking areas. When 1 stepped off the bus at a Villages community center, humidity dropped over me like a hot, wet blanket. We trailed Jason into the community center, where he found Doug.

“How many people now?” Jason said.

Doug, an experienced campaign advance man, shook his head in wonder. “Fire marshal’s saying fifty to sixty thousand Jason’s jaw dropped and his eyes gre,w wide, and 1 was a little surprised myself. Obama had drawn a couple of similar-sized crowds to this point, but the McCain campaign had previously been averaging only a few thousand people. This was a rock concert-sized crowd. Some football stadiums didn’t hold that many people. What was going on?

The advance team had set up a walkway that led from the center’s door OUt to the stage. Jason opened the door to take a peek, and a huge, overwhelming roar crashed in like an ocean wave. Jason quickly let the door swing shut.

“Wow, this is going to be a blast!” 1 said. “1 can’t wait to meet these folks!”

Then Piper chimed in. “1 want to say something!” So Jason grabbed a handheld mic to take out onstage.

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Going Rogue

At go time, he opened the doot, and anothet tidal wave of sound tushed in. I looked out at the sea of people, so latge and stunning that I had nothing to compare it to. We walked our, and with all the hand shaking on the way, it took at least ten minutes to make our way to the stage. I had by that time been doing public speaking for going on two decades. Bur the only time 1’d ever seen a crowd this large, even as a spectaror, was at a Broncos-Seahawks game in Seattle twenty years before. When we finally reached the stage, I just wanted a moment ro take it all in, so I looked for a momentary savior, and there she was, standing four feet six.

“Piper,. do you have something to say ro the nice people of Florida?”

She grinned and waved and took the mic, and then she said, with a last-minute flush of shyness, “Thank you for letting us be
here!”

That was exactly how I felt.

I gave my speech with my face sliding off in the Sunshine State’s humidity and 90-degree heat. Then the kids and I wotked the rope line, grinning the entire time. It was overwhelming. It took us an hour and a half to make our way through all the people. In the campaign’s opinion, that was way too long. In one way I understood, because there were a lot of events each day and a schedule to keep. On the other hand, tens of thousands of everyday Americans had waired for hours in steaming tropical heat to share their day with us.

Women shouted out, “My husband’s in Iraq!” I knew how rhey felt.

“I have a special needs granddaughter!” I wanted ro hug that grandma.

“I want to stay in business!” A guy in coveralls hollered.

“I skipped school to see you guys!” one kid called out. I playfully scolded him, then gave him a big thumbsup.

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, Oil workers, schoolreachers, home builders, homemakers, doerors, rruck drivers, wairresses, police officers … how could I just blow by? I couldn’t, so I didn’t. Instead I zigzagged back and forth, shaking hands and signing everyrhing in sight,
It
drove the Secret Service a lirtle crazy, but I wasn’t worried about an assassinarion attempt on Sarah Palin from Wasilla. I felt the least we could do was spend some time really connecting with voters, promoting John McCain’s values and commitment, showing our appreciation for all of them, not just whisking through and dashing off a couple of autographs like Hollywood celebrities on a red carpet. We owed them.

After rhe rope line, the agellts and staffers hustled us onto the bus and it was just incredible to see: as we were driving out, people lined both sides of the street for miles, waving and shouting, holding up U.S. flags and lipstick tubes. Hundreds of golf carts followed the bus, honking their support. The kids were whooping and hollering on the bus because they’d never had so much fun, I didn’t consciously plan to, but we would treat the rope line crowds the same way throughout the campaign.
It
was not until after the campaign that I heard my spending so much time with

. the people who came out to see us had irritated the schedulers and made them think we were being “uncooperative.” I had hoped they might share my viewpoint, that the voters deserved that connection with the candidates. Throughout the campaign, the people’s response at these rallies was incredible. Our rallies continued to number in the tens of thousands. Once, during a bus trip from West Virginia through Ohio, we stopped at an Ohio Wal-Mart to buy diapers and formula for Trig. Nothing scheduled, just a necessary stop. It turned into a rally. Only when we got out of the bus did we learn that a caravan of 150

cars had been following us for six hours, all the way from West

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