Tim Pawlenty, the former Republican governor of Minnesota, announced Sunday the end of his presidential candidacy.
Former Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty finished a very distant third in the Ames Straw Poll on Saturday. He canceled an appearance on Hannity shortly after that, and now we know why: He told ABC's Jake Tapper on Sunday morning that he's dropping out of the Republican presidential race.
The New Yorker's Ryan Lizza tweets that the lesson here is that presidential candidates should just skip the straw poll entirely if they don't think they can win (obviously, that was a successful strategy for Mitt Romney, who did not drop out this morning). But at some point, whether it's in Ames, or later on at the caucuses, candidates do have to hit the stump and court voters—and Pawlenty was a flop on that front.
Here's Pawlenty's announcement:
I saw the Pawlenty's problems up close on Wednesday when I watched him address a room of (mostly) undecided (mostly) senior citizens in Denison who were still smitten by Herman Cain's appearance two days earlier. The ex-governor sounded better on Friday at the Iowa State Fair when he was joined by his wife, Mary, but even then he drew maybe half as many folks as Michele Bachmann. Iowa voters followed the same logic John McCain did when he passed over T-Paw for the vice presidential slot in 2008: He's a safe bet and could "get it done" (to borrow a line from his stump speech), but you only get one vote, so why waste it? Bachmann captures today's conservative id in a way that Pawlenty never could, no matter how hard he tried.
Tim Pawlenty will be fine, though—he's finally free to grow another mullet. The real tragedy here has more to do with what Pawlenty did to position himself as a presidential candidate. Once he set his sights on the next level, he became a different kind of governor—doing a 180 on climate change and leaving a famed Arctic explorer out in the cold; denying gay couples hospital visitation rights; promising his support for an anti-bullying bill and then vetoing it. It's always tough to identify what politicians do for principle and what they do for their future prospects, but to the extent that ambition changed Pawlenty's politics, it was for the worse.
Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minn.) won the Ames straw poll on Saturday, sending a message to other GOP presidential contenders that she is a serious threat.
So it begins. Two months after kicking off her presidential campaign in her reclaimed Iowa hometown, Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minn.) scored a resounding victory in the Ames Straw Poll, a non-binding event that doubles as a fundraiser for the Iowa Republican Party. Texas Congressman Ron Paul finished just 150 votes back in second place (out of nearly 17,000 cast), but it was Bachmann's drubbing of her fellow Minnesotan Tim Pawlenty that immediately stands out—and raises questions about whether there's still room in the race for the formerly mulleted, former governor of Minnesota.
While today's event is technically meaningless—the votes won't count until the caucuses are held in December—it was the first serious test of the candidates' appeal and manpower. You could think of Ames as a sort of highly concentrated get-out-the-vote contest: The Bachmann and Pawlenty campaigns both bused in supporters from as far away as Davenport on the Illinois border and covered the $30/per ticket fee for supporters to cast their votes. Pawlenty spent the past week drumming up support across the state, but Bachmann's organizational dominance was obvious from the minute I parked my car. She employed a fleet of golf carts to shuttle elderly attendees to-and-from the parking lot and the voting booths, and an army of volunteers focused intently on sheparding supporters toward the polls.
Registering for the event was a prerequisite for entering Bachmann's cavernous (if somewhat pungent-smelling) tent, where she entertained voters with live Christian rock and a special performance from country music star Randy Travis (at that point, the crowd spilled well out of the tent and brought in dozens of supporters of other candidates). Bachmann's win also owes something to the underlying qualities that go unmentioned in her speech but which have made her a hit among Iowa conservatives. As I noted earlier, Wallbuilders co-founder Rick Green, a Christian Reconstructionist who believes Christians have an obligation to take over government, spoke on Bachmann's stage in the morning and revved up the crowd with a message that offered the audience a glimpse of the candidate's roots as a proponent of Biblical Constitutionalism. Christian values: good; Moral relativism: Bad.
The dreadlocked Bachmann supporter in the "Jesus is my Rock" t-shirt might beg to difer, but in Iowa, Bachmann demonstrated that, at least in this truncated version of the GOP field, she is a rock star. Bachmann commanded a crowd twice as large as anyone else's when she showed up at the Iowa State Fair to speak from the Des Moines Register "soapbox," and she was the only one who had a state police escort. At her speech in Ames, she whipped the crowd into a frenzy (Only Paul, who was an anti-government crusader before it was cool, could come anywhere close). This, from Sandra Beak of Illinois, was a typical reaction from the congresswoman's supporters: "I saw Michele Bachmann last night—Oh my gosh! That woman is energetic! She never stops! It's amazing!"
Those are four things no one has ever said about Tim Pawlenty. Leading up to the poll, Pawlenty continued to do all the little things that candidates are supposed to do—serving up the best barbecue and handing out Dairy Queen blizzards; fine-tuning his stump speech over the course of the week into one that, at least on paper, finally seemed to work; showing up on time and staying on message—but the enthusiasm just wasn't there.
On the day that Texas Gov. Rick Perry finally stepped into the ring, the Ames results carry with them a serious disclaimer: We're about to hit restart on the whole race. Mitt Romney, the presumed front-runner from day one, chose to spend the day in New Hampshire and skip the straw poll entirely. The results don't mean everything, but they weren't meaningless either. If nothing else, consider this: two-thirds of Ames voters chose candidates—Paul and Bachmann—who were decidedly in the fringe of the party in 2008. This is your new GOP.
Update: Here's the final tally. Out of 16,892 votes:
Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minn.) is running for president.
It's tough to get inside Michele Bachmann's tent at the Ames Straw Poll. Just a few yards away from Herman Cain's headquarters, where you can walk right up and grab a slice of Godfather's Pizza, the line stretches well out the door—and it's moving especially slowly because only Bachmann supporters are allowed in. It's also where I found Rick Green talking about "moral relativism."
Green, dressed in blue jeans, glasses, and an American-flag polo shirt, is the co-founder of Wallbuilders, the Texas-based organization that's "dedicated to presenting America's forgotten history and heroes, with an emphasis on the moral, religious, and constitutional foundation." The name is a reference to the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem in the Book of Nehemiah. If you know the organization at all, though, you know it as the home of David Barton, whose revisionist history about the faith of the Founders has made him a certified celebrity on the Right. (Mike Huckabee says Barton's he's one of the most important authors in America.) In their literature and on their radio show, they construct a clear narrative: America is a fundamentally Christian nation, divinely inspired.
That's the gospel Green is preaching today in the Bachmann tent. "We're not just gonna say, 'oooh everybody's equal and moral relativism for all!," he tells the crowd, cowbells ringing. Instead, we need to take a stand, and there is no one better to do that than Michele Bachmann: "She's got a backbone that'll make a freight train take a back road."
Green launches into a short allegory about the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and then, with members of the audience holding up their hands in prayer, revival-style, returns back to the situation at hand: "This is the hour, my friends, that you get to stand guard at the watchtower of freedom."
Darwin Hofmeister of Ackley, Iowa is standing just a few dozen feet away from the stage. He was a Tim Pawlenty supporter before he switched to Bachmann. "Are you familiar with the Family Leader?" Hofmeister asks me, referring to Iowa’s leading social conservative group. Last month the Family Leader unveiled a pledge that candidates would be required to sign to be eligible for the group's endorsement—in included, among other things, a vow to oppose gay marriage, fight pornography, and ban Islamic Sharia law (it also suggested that black families were more stable under slavery). "Her and Rick Santorum were the only ones that signed the pledge. And to me that made all the difference"
"I think that's probably one of the most important issues," Hofmeister tells me. "All you have to do is look at the riots in London and state fairs and you'll see a bunch of kids with no values." So does he agree with Green's statement that moral relativism is ruining America? "Definitely."
Yes, that's a stuffed buck in the background of this photo of Texas Gov. Rick Perry pointing at something.
The Values Voters Bus Tour kicked off with a good deal of hullabaloo on Tuesday with a rally in Des Moines starring Tim Pawlenty. But by the time the bus pulled up for at the central square in Atlantic, about an hour east of Omaha, it had petered out. Just 10 supporters showed up to hear Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Texas) speak along with representatives of the tour's sponsors—the Family Research Council, the Susan B. Anthony List, the Iowa Values Alliance Faith Family Freedom Fund, and the National Organization for Marriage. They were joined by 10 protesters (with signs like "if you cut off my reproductive choice, can I cut off yours?") who heckled the speakers and challenged them on their opposition to gay marriage.
And, as has been a trend at events here in Iowa for the last week, there were five volunteers for a campaign that does not currently exist—that of Texas Gov. Rick Perry. Nate Crain, the national finance chairman for Americans for Rick Perry, has been driving around an otherwise unmarked white van plastered with homemade "Rick Perry 2012" signs, attempting to sell Iowans on the candidate with whom (per FEC rules) he is allowed no formal contact. At Atlantic, Crain bounded out of the van in a button-down shirt patterned on the Texas flag and introduced himself. "This is a grassroots effort, man," he said. "Those guys, Bachmann, Pawlenty—those guys, they're busing people in. This is all grassroots. I mean, look at our damn signs! The kids made 'em with markers in the hotel room."
The kids, as he calls them, are his volunteers: Three female undergraduates from the University of Texas at Austin, all dressed in jogging shorts and identical burnt-orange, "Americans for Rick Perry" t-shirts. "People really love the shirts," Crain says. They are, save for one protester, the only young people in attendance.
Perry has not made any appearance in Iowa this week, but his presence has been felt at every event I've attended. "I'm really up on Rick Perry," said Thersa Wig of Des Moines when I asked her whom she'll be voting for at the Iowa State Fair. "He held the prayer thing, and I did see him on TBN. I dunno, I've got to see more, but he looks presidential. I think his physical looks are important." Wig voted for Fred Thompson in 2008, a candidate to whom Perry is (unfavorably) compared. Donna Oakley, a Missourian I spoke with a the Iowa State Fair, said much the same thing: "So far he looks the best. He's ringin' my bell. He just comes on strong to me on what my values are. I liked his record on the jobs in his state—and I like that he has God in his life."
One of the big arguments against the Ames straw poll is that the race is just too unsettled for the event to mean much of anything: Candidates haven't quite figured out how to connect, voters haven't really started paying attention, donors are still looking for something more, and the field isn't even set yet. Rarely has that problem been more pronounced than this year, with Perry scheduled to announce his candidacy today, some 1,500 miles away in South Carolina, right as the candidates are heading onstage at Hilton Coliseum to make their pitches to straw poll voters. That's why today's winner, whether it's Michele Bachmann, Ron Paul, or Tim Pawlenty, won't have much time to gloat; Perry's about to hit the restart button on the whole thing.
Say what you will about Rick Santorum (odds are people have said worse), but he has undeniably put an enormous amount of effort into the Iowa straw poll. As he tells anyone who will listen—at Thursday’s debate, and again on the soapbox at the Iowa State Fair on Friday—he has spent more time in the Hawkeye State than any other candidate. He has visited 51 cites over the last three weeks, and believes his message that liberals "will put you in chains" is finally starting to resonate. Ames, he tells supporters, is where he's going to shock the world.
So that's Rick Santorum's goal for the today in Ames. But as I mentioned yesterday, the Straw Poll is about much, much more than actual voting. It's like a mini-county fair, in which the various candidates try to offer the most enticing culinary and entertainment options. And Santorum has come up with…well he's come up with this:
Photo: Tim MurphyHe will host the "Santorum Summer Dance Party" with Big Bopper Jr. and The Crickets. The name of the event comes from the "Winter Dance Party," which was the last show that Big Bopper Sr. played before dying in a fiery plane crash. Apparently "Rick Santorum’s Custer's Last Stand" was too clunky.