Pragmatic loyalist Card in spotlight
TRANSITION 2000 WASHINGTON --It was 1991 when George W. Bush and Andrew H. Card Jr. sought separately to resolve the same crisis: How to persuade President Bush to oust the controversial White House chief of staff, John H. Sununu.
The task was especially tricky for Card, given that Sununu was his boss and mentor. And it got trickier when the president, pained, finally agreed to remove Sununu, but instructed Card: You tell him. So the soft-spoken native of Holbrook, Mass., delivered the news to the irascible former New Hampshire governor, easing an awkward moment for the president and fulfilling the wishes of the presidential adviser who is now the president-elect: George W. Bush.
For more than 20 years, to a far greater degree than may be realized, Card has played the role of protector for the Bush family. That was never clearer than last month when, even with the outcome of the 2000 presidential race still in doubt, George W. Bush picked Card to be the White House chief of staff.
"I don't think of Andy as an ideologue," said James Pinkerton, a former Bush aide who has worked with Card. "I never really associated him with any great cause or crusade other than helping the Bush family."
The ascendancy of Card to one of the most powerful positions in the US government has focused attention like never before on the career of the former state legislator and onetime Massachusetts gubernatorial candidate, and it may be time to discard the long-held view of Card as an ambitious young Boy Scout-turned-legislator who never reached his goal of high office.
Indeed, an examination of Card's life and career shows it has many more twists than is commonly realized. Card, for example, was forced to quit the Merchant Marine Academy when he disagreed with its rules. He dug up dirt on a man he says was once his "hero," Democratic presidential nominee Michael S. Dukakis. He had a much bigger role than is commonly realized in running the Bush White House as deputy chief of staff. And this onetime crusading reformer moved through the revolving door from US secretary of transportation to earn $600,000 per year as an auto industry lobbyist who frequently opposed environmental and safety proposals.
Moreover, there is the question, asked of all potential chiefs of staff, whether Card is up to the job. Trained as an engineer, and regularly described as one of the best-liked politicians in Massachusetts and Washington, he is known more for his congeniality than for the tough exterior that might be required at the epicenter of power within the White House. A successful chief of staff can save a presidency, and an ineffectual one can doom it.
Given Bush's inexperience in Washington, and the need for him to work with Democrats to accomplish most of his goals, Card's role is doubly important. Is he up to the job? And why did Bush pick this man who is little-known outside Massachusetts and Washington? The answers to those question say as much about the way Bush will likely operate as president as it does about Card.
Reputation as reformer
The Bush and Card families grew up in opposite parts of New England. Former president Bush, himself the son of a Connecticut senator, was born in Milton, Mass., and raised in Greenwich, Conn. Bush's son George W. was raised in Texas but went to school at Phillips Academy in Andover, and then Yale and Harvard. It was the very definition of a patrician path.
The Card family, meanwhile, was growing up on Linfield Street in working-class Holbrook, with three generations in one household. Andrew Card Sr. and his wife, Joyce, were only 17 years old when Andrew Jr. was born. The family was so young that they all lived with Andrew Card's grandparents.
Indeed, the original political star of the family was Card's grandmother, Elizabeth French Platts Card, one of the original suffragettes in Massachusetts who marched on Commonwealth Avenue around 1918 for the right to vote. "She was somewhat of a controversial figure," Card recalled in an interview. "She was passionate about the responsibility we have in a democracy."
Card's father, a math and science teacher and then an attorney, was a school board member who ran unsuccessfully for the Legislature. One of the father's passions was to be a Boy Scout leader, and the son labored many years to be an Eagle Scout. But Card was one merit badge short of becoming an Eagle, having failed to get the required award for - incredibly - citizenship and community service. (Years later, a local troop decided that Card had put in enough time as a public servant to earn the badge to be an Eagle.)
At the height of the Vietnam War, Card seemed headed for a comfortable four years at Vermont's Norwich University; his parents had even given him skis as a going-away present. But then, concerned about his family's financial condition, he took a four-year ROTC scholarship to attend the University of South Carolina, in exchange for which he planned to serve four years of active military duty.
Card did not serve the four years. After a brief time in South Carolina, he transferred to the Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, N.Y. While there, he promised his elementary school sweetheart, Kathleene, that he would marry her. It was a defiant act; at the time, the academy forbade marriage. "They said, `You have two choices,' " Card recalled. They were: resign or be kicked out.
A classmate urged Card to join a lawsuit, which was eventually successful, against the academy's no-marriage rule. But Card didn't want to fight the academy. "Obviously, I was scared," he said. "I chose to resign." So Card returned to South Carolina, got married, and became a father. He received credit for two years of active duty, with a combination of his time at the academy and his reserve duty, he recalled. He received an honorable discharge from the Navy, Card said, and paid for the remainder of his college.
Military officials said they could not provide immediate access to Card's military record, but his draft board records show that he received a 1965 deferment for being an ROTC student. Then, in November 1967, after the birth of his first child, he was "deferred because of extreme hardship to dependents."
After graduating and returning to Holbrook, Card worked for several years as a structural engineer, helping to design several buildings in Massachusetts, including the Patriots' football stadium in Foxborough. At 24, he decided to run for the state Legislature. Like his father, he failed - not surprising for a Republican running in one of the state's most Democratic districts. But two years later, in 1974, after Card and his father knocked on the doors of thousands of district residents, Card won the seat.
Card quickly established himself as a moderate Republican who worked well with liberal Democrats. He supported abortion rights, although not public financing of abortions, positions he still holds today. "Neither side likes me," Card said, when asked about his views on abortion. Card soon joined with a representative named Philip Johnston, now the chairman of the Massachusetts Democratic Party, to reform the Legislature and to form an anticorruption panel known as the Ward Commission.
Card had found his calling. "Frankly, we were rebels in the House," Johnston said. "We had a band of rebels with us. I watched Andy very closely during that period and he was completely independent in the good sense of the word; he wasn't controlled by anyone. He didn't get hung up on ideology."
Card was unabashed in pushing his cause and, not incidentally, promoting himself, seeking out reporters, editorial writers, and radio talk-show hosts.
While some found Card a self-promoter, the general view is that his work for the Ward Commission was invaluable. He earned reams of favorable press, and the commission changed the corrupt way contracts were sometimes awarded in the Bay State. "He really changed the face of Massachusetts government," said Nick Littlefield, a Democrat and supporter of Al Gore, who served as executive director of the Ward Commission. "Andy is someone who was a real hero in the anticorruption efforts in the late '70s and early '80s."
Kinship with Bushes
Democratic leaders did their best to get rid of Card, slicing up his district in the reapportionment process to make it even more Democratic, but Card won reelection three times. Recognizing his rising stature, the GOP candidates for president in the 1980 election came calling. Card was immediately taken by Bush's philosophy and personality.
Card joined with a small group of like-minded Republicans for Bush that included Ron Kaufman, who became political director of the Bush White House, and Paul Cellucci, now governor. Card was the ultimate go-fer, picking up the candidate at the airport and driving him around the state in his Chevy Chevette. That was when Card first met Bush's son, George W. Bush.
"I expected Yale and got West Texas," Card recalled. "He was wearing cowboy boots, chewing tobacco, and had on jeans. He was not what I expected, yet he was completely engaging." The senior Bush won the Massachusetts primary with Card's help, but he lost the nomination to Ronald Reagan, who eventually picked Bush as vice president.
Card believed his successes would propel him to the state's highest office. So he decided to take on the state's Republican leadership, running for governor in 1982 against an array of seasoned GOP leaders. He was in over his head. He had funds for just one television commercial, in which he crumpled dollar bills and said that votes counted more than money. Afterwards, he admitted the money was more important than he imagined. The 35-year-old came in third place in the primary with 22 percent of the vote. "I was appropriately naive," Card said.
A week after Election Day, Card's wife, Kathleene, who was five months pregnant, suffered a miscarriage. "I'm convinced to this day I led to the problem because she campaigned so hard for me," Card said, his voice quavering. The eventual GOP nominee, John Sears, lost to Dukakis in the general election.
Card, having failed in his gubernatorial bid and given up his House seat, received offers to become a lobbyist. Instead, he turned to a familiar figure for help: then-Vice President George Bush. Bush helped Card get a prized job in the Reagan administration, assistant to the president for inter-government affairs, acting as a liaison between governors and the White House. It was a job uniquely suited to building ties with Republicans across the country.
When Bush prepared to run for president in the 1988 election, he needed operatives in the crucial first-primary state of New Hampshire. So Card and Kaufman moved north to the Granite State. In a mission that only the most loyal Bush aide would accept, Card said he saw his wife for only 13 nights in the year before the New Hampshire primary.
"Ron and Andy slept on cots in the room above the campaign headquarters," recalled Alison Kaufman, Ron Kaufman's wife and Card's sister. It was the kind of dedication that is not forgotten by the Bush family.
Sununu, asked in an interview how much credit Card deserved for Bush's win in New Hampshire, responded: "All the credit."
"Andy was really a key part of that whole thing," Sununu said. "He understood New Hampshire's way of doing things."
Helps fight Dukakis
After Bush won the New Hampshire primary over Bob Dole and secured the GOP nomination, all eyes turned toward the general election foe, Dukakis. To the disbelief of Bush aides, the vice president was 17 points down in the polls. It wasn't long before the campaign called on Card for dirt on Dukakis.
Once upon a time, Dukakis had been Card's role model. "When I was a freshman in high school, Mike Dukakis was my hero," Card said. "He was a cross-country runner, in the Boy Scouts, a legislator, and played the trumpet. I was all of those things, too. He was a reformer and so was I."
When Card was elected to the Legislature, "I went in to see him. I said: `I'm Andy Card. Love to help you.' He basically dismissed me as a kid legislator. I became a very close observer of what his politics and policies were, and I became increasingly unhappy with him."
And so Card was happy to tell tales about Dukakis when contacted by Pinkerton, Bush's director of opposition research in the 1988 campaign. Pinkerton had been hearing stories about the way Dukakis had released inmates on weekend furloughs. There was talk about a convicted murderer named William "Willie" Horton who raped a woman while on furlough.
"That's a huge story here," Card said, encouraging the campaign to go after Dukakis.
Horton was just the start. Card provided information about pollution in Boston Harbor and many other Massachusetts controversies. "Wait until you hear about the Pledge of Allegiance," Card told Pinkerton. Thus was born Bush's effort to tar Dukakis as the governor who vetoed the mandatory recital of the pledge of allegiance in schools, released murderers from prison, and failed to clean up the harbor.
"Andy was the go-to person on Dukakis," Kaufman recalled in an interview. Dukakis later said he felt Bush was questioning his patriotism. Whatever its merits, the strategy was effective. Bush soundly defeated Dukakis. Dukakis declined an interview request to talk about Card.
When Bush became president, he rewarded Card, who became deputy chief of staff, and Kaufman, who became White House political director. Above it all was Sununu. On the surface, it seemed a good pairing: both Card and Sununu were trained as engineers and came from outside of Washington.
"He is trained as an engineer and that was the way he thinks, breaking down big problems and solving them," Sununu said.
One big problem was Sununu himself. The former governor was known as a sometimes difficult person, quite the opposite of Card. And for a while, this actually helped Bush, with Sununu's playing the "bad cop" and Card's playing the "good cop." When US Senator Edward M. Kennedy was trying to persuade the Bush White House to support an increase in the minimum wage, Sununu and Bush opposed it. But Card quietly opened negotiations with the Massachusetts senator and worked out a compromise that raised the minimum wage by 90 cents over a two-year period, nearly meeting Kennedy's demand for a $1.50 hike over three years. Bush eventually signed on.
Sununu, meanwhile, was dominating news coverage of the White House, as stories leaked about his clashes with the staff. When it was reported that Sununu had used a government vehicle to attend a New York stamp auction, the criticism grew intense. George W. Bush was a frequent visitor to Card's office. He would plop himself down on the couch and grill Card about what was going on within his father's White House. The bond between the two grew stronger as both focused on their common goal: protecting the president.
"I had great respect for Sununu but also felt . . . it was time for him to leave," Card said. "Governor Bush and I agreed on that point."
Today, Sununu insists: "I'm not upset at all. The way I ran my office, Andy and I became interchangeable. He has in essence already had the job."
Marlin Fitzwater, the former press secretary for the Bush White House, who had his share of run-ins with Sununu, agreed. "In many instances, it was Andy Card running the place," Fitzwater said.
In the wake of Sununu's departure, Card became secretary of transportation for one year, watching from afar as Bush's reelection campaign faltered and failed.
"I don't remember anything he did at Transportation," said a frequent critic of the department, Joan Claybrook, president of Public Citizen. "I think the most significant thing he did as secretary of transportation was to become qualified to be a lobbyist for the auto industry."
In Massachusetts, Card had balked at the idea of becoming a lobbyist. But now, feeling an affinity for the auto industry and taking advantage of his government experience, Card became a $600,000-a-year lobbyist and president of the American Automobile Manufacturers Association. The pay was high, and so was the price: Card knew it would be hard to fulfil his lifelong ambition of becoming governor if he had the title "lobbyist" on his resume.
As the Washington warrior for General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler, Card fought against Japanese competition and battled the Clinton administration's effort to increase fuel efficiency and cut auto pollution. In this role, far more so than in his public jobs, Card at times had to be strident and uncompromising. He called environmentalists "insatiable" and regularly traveled to Japan to complain about the trade deficit.
At one point, Card agreed to a radio debate about auto pollution with Peter Iwanowicz, the director of environmental health of the American Lung Association of New York. Iwanowicz backed a New York state law requiring that a small percentage of vehicles be pollution-free in a few years, a proposal that the auto industry wanted to confine to California.
As Iwanowicz recalled it, Card lobbied aggressively against the measure in Albany and condemned the proposal in the radio debate.
"He was pretty heavy-handed and strident in trying to do his best to kill this program for his client," Iwanowicz said. "His behavior on the radio interview was boorish. The public should be a little concerned about a guy like that at the helm who hasn't shown any sensitivity to the real lung health impacts of automobile pollution."
Card laughs off such complaints. "Yes, I did my job," Card said.
Earlier this year, Card left his latest job, as a vice president of General Motors based in Washington, to take a series of critical posts for George W. Bush, running the Republican National Convention and managing the presidential debates. Card excelled in both roles and on the day after Election Day, Bush asked him: "I've a got a big job for you. Would you be interested?"
Yes, Card would.
