Corn has broken stories on presidents, politicians, and other Washington players. He's written for numerous publications and is a talk show regular. His best-selling books include Hubris: The Inside Story of Spin, Scandal, and the Selling of the Iraq War.
On Wednesday, ABC News' Charlie Gibson interviewed John McCain. An excerpt:
GIBSON: Senator, since I've been following politics, every single presidential nominee has said that the first quality they look for in a vice presidential pick is the capability and the readiness to take over as president. Can you look the country straight in the eye and say Sarah Palin has the qualities and has enough experience to be commander in chief?
MCCAIN: Oh, absolutely. Having been the governor of our largest state, the commander of their National Guard.
Later in the interview, McCain said, "Governor Palin knows the surge has succeeded. She's the commander of the Alaskan National Guard."
We now interrupt the spin for some facts. After interviewing the service commander of the Alaska National Guard, McClatchy newspapers reports, "Palin has never personally ordered the state guard to do anything." Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It appears she has no command experience whatsoever. The news service notes, "The governor has granted [the service commander] the authority to act on his own in most cases, including life-or-death emergencies -- when a quick response is required -- and minor day-to-day operations."
So it's clear: when McCain and his surrogates talk about Palin's experience, the only honorable course is to not mention the Alaska National Guard.
The McCain campaign has informed broadcast media that they should block off an hour for McCain's acceptance speech on Thursday night. An hour? That's a lot of McCain. Or any politician. Is the campaign expecting his speech to be interrupted by numerous ovations? Does it want to prove to voters that McCain can pull off such a strenuous action?
McCain has never been accused of being a stem-winder. So even when it's time for the most important speech of his long political career, less may be more.
The first night of the Republican's hurricane-delayed convention didn't matter--thanks to John McCain's decision to place Sarah Palin on his ticket. By choosing the little-known Alaska governor, who a short while ago was mayor of a small town and who has come to the national stage with soap opera in tow, McCain made Palin the story of this shortened week. There's more anticipation for her acceptance speech (on Wednesday night) than for his (Thursday night). George W. Bush, Fred Thompson, Rudy Giuliani—forget about 'em, only Palin truly counts.
But the first night did reveal what McCain's strategists are thinking—or worrying—about. The speakers focused over and over on McCain's experience as a Vietnam prisoner of war and devoted little time to his 21 years in the Senate. It was almost as if McCain's two-and-a-half decades in Congress were a dirty secret. And one of the main speeches of the night—delivered by former Senator Fred Thompson—was full of 1980s-styled Republican red meat. (Democrats support abortion rights and will raise YOUR taxes.) It seemed as if the convention planners were so concerned about the Republican base that they had to go back to the future and plagiarize the Reagan playbook. And throughout the night, there was practically no acknowledgment there's any economic pain in the world outside the Xcel Energy Center. The McCain people say, this election is about character, not issues. Tonight really proved that: McCain doesn't need to feel voters' pain; they need to feel his.
The Republicans were somewhat fortunate they only have three evenings to program, due to Hurricane Gustav. How many times can McCain's "service" be praised before a well-behaved, not-very-excited crowd of well-dressed, older and predominantly white Americans who sit in neat rows beneath an electronic billboard bearing the phrase "Country First" and who hold on their laps placards that proclaim, "Service"? And how many Teddy Roosevelt references?
McCain may be the top of the ticket, but Palin has been the main attraction. After the news of her teenage daughter's pregnancy emerged—and smothered rumors that Palin had faked a pregnancy to cover up a supposed earlier pregnancy—the convention seemed to freeze. At receptions, during panel discussions, and in hotel lobbies, there was no talk of Bush's speech, which was first canceled and then rescheduled (as a video address on Tuesday). And no talk of what would be in McCain's speech. The one question is, how will she do?
Alaska's getting pretty crowded...with investigative reporters and scandal-chasers. Last night, at receptions, hotel bars, and restaurants, journalists covering the Gustav-delayed Republican convention were chewing on nothing but the Sarah Palin soap opera and discussing which reporters had been deployed to the northernmost state to dig for more dirt on John McCain's not-so-vetted running-mate. What might be most frightening for the McCain camp is that the National Enquirer reportedly has dispatched a scandal SWAT team to Alaska. Given the tabloid's success with the John Edwards scoop (and its ability to pay cash for tips and information), should Palin fans be biting their nails?
It is, of course, possible for Palin to rise above all the recent unpleasantness by wowing the convention--and the viewing public--with a heckuva speech on Wednesday night. It will probably be the most anticipated vice presidential acceptance speech in decades. But there will still be another ritual for Palin to go through: her first press conference with the national media.
In past elections, controversial veep picks have not fared well during these coming-out sessions. In 1992, Dan Quayle raised more doubts about himself after his first grilling by the national press. In 1984, Geraldine Ferraro flopped during a press conference that focused on her husband's controversial business dealings.
it was late into the night of September 2, 2004. I was in the near-empty bar of the Essex House hotel in New York City. George W. Bush had just delivered his acceptance speech at the gop convention at Madison Square Garden. Before a pumped-up crowd, the president had declared that Iraq had been "a gathering threat" before he launched the invasion. He blurred the line between the terrorists responsible for 9/11 and the insurgents in Iraq. He described John Kerry's vote against war funding as a vote to leave US soldiers unprotected. He claimed, "Our strategy is succeeding." As I sat in the bar writing my piece, the tables next to me slowly filled with senior reporters and top editors from the Washington Post. Typing away, I could hear them deride Bush's speech as a collection of misrepresentations. Their consensus was clear: Bush was trying to pull a fast one.