racially incendiary by the Democrats, and was dropped. Shortly thereafter a Bush ad called “Revolving Door,” produced by Ailes, began airing. “Revolving Door” also attacked the Massachusetts prison furlough program, but it didn’t use a photo of Willie Horton. Ailes didn’t want to be charged with exploiting racial fears, as the NSPAC had. “At one point Lee Atwater [the hyperaggressive Republican campaign manager] handed me a picture of Horton and I tore it up,” Ailes says.
Still, the two ads became conflated in the mind of the media.
In 1990, the Ohio Democratic Party lodged a formal complaint with the Federal Election Commission, charging that the Bush campaign had coordinated with the National Security PAC, which would have been a violation of campaign finance laws. The FEC split 3–3, and the case was dismissed.
During the campaign, Ailes himself exacerbated the impression that the Bush campaign was connected to the NSPAC ad. A
Time
magazine profile at the time quoted him as saying that “the only question is whether we depict Willie Horton with a knife in his hand or without it.” Ailes doesn’t deny he said it to reporter David Beckwith. “We were supposed to be off the record. Beckwith and I were friends and I was just joking,” he told me. “Hell, I had no idea I’d be running a network someday.”
The controversy over the Horton ad had a predictable effect. The media picked it up and ran the ads over and over; the glowering mug shot of the black murderer-rapist became familiar to millions. Atwater bragged that “by the time we’re finished, they’re going to wonder if Willie Horton is Dukakis’s running mate.” At Harvard’s quadrennial electoral postmortem at the end of 1988—a seminar that includes the major professionals in all the campaigns—the Willie Horton ads were still a hot topic. Bob Beckel, a Democratic consultant who had run Mondale’s campaign four years earlier, conceded that Ailes might not have ordered the NSPAC ad, but noted that there had been “a lot of Republican money behind it.” Ailes responded by pointing out that the Dukakis campaign had run a similar commercial, featuring a woman in a body bag who had been raped and murdered by a Hispanic man on federal penal parole. Susan Estrich, Dukakis’s campaign manager, fired back that the Democratic ad had been simple retaliation. “You want to play to fear, you’ve got your ugly story of a black man raping a white woman. Well, we’ll tell you an even uglier story,” she said.
Ron Brown, who headed Jesse Jackson’s primary campaign and later served as Bill Clinton’s secretary of commerce, seconded Beckel’s accusation. “You knew what was happening,” he told Ailes. “Maybe you couldn’t control everything, but nobody stepped up to the plate and said, ‘This is divisive, it’s dangerous, it’s wrong.’”
“So you’re saying because he was black we can’t use the issue?” Ailes shot back. “Despite the fact that he was a murderer and a rapist, he should have been given special treatment because he was black?”
There were many disputes at Harvard, but very little doubt about Ailes’s crucial contribution to the Bush victory. Susan Estrich admitted that the campaign had been lost because the Republicans had seized control of the message and because “we didn’t have a Roger Ailes. I mean two things. First, a person of his talent, because it’s clear it doesn’t matter unless you have his talent. But second, and perhaps equally important, a person whose judgment and relationship with the candidate is such that he had his trust and respect.” Ed Rollins, who had been the campaign manager in Reagan’s reelection campaign, agreed. “As much money as we spent in 1984, nobody ever moved the entire course of the campaign,” he told his fellow participants. “There’s no presidential campaign in the age of television where one ad, or a series of ads, really made a difference. I mean,
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