HOW BUSH DID IT
NEWSWEEK's exclusive, behind-the-scenes account of the presidential campaign
• Introduction
• Chapter One: The Primaries
• Chapter Two: Bush's Inner Circle
• Chapter Three: Kerry Gets Cranky
• Chapter Four: The Prison Scandal
• Chapter Five: The Bush Daughters
• Chapter Six: Swift Boats
• Chapter Seven: The Debates
• Chapter Eight: The Endgame
One is
Down to the Wire, written shortly after the selection in November 2004, that has an accompanying photo gallery entitled
Long Night's Journey into Day that has the photo that you posted. It does not, however, have any of the text next to the photo.
The photo gallery is located to the right on the first page of the article, with the pic of the old guy in khaki uniform and it reads: "Long Night's Journey Into Day • After the wee hours: A too-close-to-call race becomes a narrow victory for the President"
Click there to see the photos.
Here's an excerpt from this article:
Down to the Wire
The Endgame: In the last weeks, Rove felt 'emotional stress' about getting out the vote for Bush. And where was the 'Comeback Kerry' of campaign legend?
~snip~
Volunteers or no (and lately, Rove had been hiring some get-out-the-vote professionals, as well as squadrons of lawyers), he wanted to maintain absolute control. He was obsessed with "metrics," with precise measurements of how the Bush-Cheney campaign was doing at any given moment. "Give me a date," Rove demanded of a NEWSWEEK reporter in mid-October. "Sept. 30?" He tapped into his computer to examine one of his "metric mileposts." "In Ohio we were supposed to register 1,119 voters that day. We registered 3,604!" he declared triumphantly.
Rove was feeling a little cranky about press reports that the Democrats were registering vastly more voters in swing states like Ohio and Florida. He blamed shoddy reporting by The New York Times (Rove considered the Times to be Pravda for liberals; he had just personally chewed out the Times's executive editor Bill Keller and Washington bureau chief Phil Taubman). The Times had measured only recent registration numbers, overlooking the fact, Rove protested, that the GOP had been working away at voter registration since the 2000 election. "Nationally, it's a wash," claimed Rove. Besides, the key to victory was not registration, but turnout—actually getting people to the polls. Rove scorned a story in that morning's Washington Post reporting that Rove had given up a more ambitious effort to reach out to swing voters in order to concentrate on mobilizing the Republican base. "Ridiculous," he said. "We need 51 percent, and the base is only the high 30s." Rove, who studies population-migration tracts the way baseball fans study box scores, said he was particularly focused on finding and securing the "exurban vote," city dwellers and suburbanites who had just arrived in new towns and had been too busy getting settled to register to vote. These were the real "persuadables," the key to the election. ("Carver County, Minn. Fifty percent population increase. We got 62 percent there last time," said Rove, spouting factoids while he thumbed his BlackBerry.)
~snip~
But McKinnon's own mood darkened when he arrived at the Bush-Cheney campaign headquarters in Arlington shortly after 5 p.m. In Pit Row, strategy boss Dowd was in his office with the door shut. McKinnon tucked his head in. Dowd looked serious, even a little exasperated. His phone was ringing constantly and e-mails were stacking up on his computer screen. Dowd was puzzled by the network exit polls. They were grim: Bush was getting crushed in Pennsylvania and losing in Ohio and Florida. But something was odd. The polls were based on a turnout of 59 percent women and 41 percent men. Maybe that was the actual turnout, but Dowd doubted it. Also, Bush seemed to be doing surprisingly well with Hispanics, winning 42 percent of their votes. But if that number was true, then Bush should be cleaning up overall. The numbers didn't seem to make sense.
~snip~
At the White House, Karl Rove had set up quarters in the family dining room. (He had joked to reporters that he would be working in the "bat cave.") National-security adviser Condoleezza Rice wandered in and out and joked that Rove was looking at way too many numbers. Rove was studying comparisons of results in Florida and Ohio with the poll data in the 2000 election. At about 10:30, he called over to the senior staff, nervously hovering around the Roosevelt Room, and told them that the president would win both Florida and Ohio. The cheers were so loud that they could be heard down the hall in the press briefing room. Then ABC News called Florida for Bush; another eruption. Only now did Karen Hughes finally admit that the White House had drafted two speeches—one for a concession. It no longer looked that the second speech would be necessary.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6420969/site/newsweek/And, from enlarging the picture you posted to see the author, Howard Fineman, I get this article,
Page 3: A Sweet Victory ... And a Tough Loss, with the same online photo gallery next to it at the link. Here's an excerpt:
The economy, which had ruined Bush's father's chances for re-election in 1992, cooperated just enough to give the requisite breathing room to his son. The recession, shorter and shallower than many that had preceded it, ended last year, and growth this year had by some measures been robust, despite soaring oil prices and worries over Iraq. Rove carefully targeted small-business owners, framing tax cuts and regulatory rollbacks as a gift to entrepreneurs, not Halliburton. In states such as Iowa--far gone from the days of rust-belt industry, without visible symbols of distress--the strategy worked. "In those states the key to growth is small business, especially among businesswomen," said GOP polltaker Frank Luntz. "The Bush campaign was very good at targeting those people."
Rove fed messages and demographics into what, for the Republicans, was an unprecedented turnout machine--modeled on the one the Democrats (and their union allies) had assembled back in 2000. Using their own organizational model--Amway--BC04 and the Republican National Committee top hands set strict, constantly updated turnout targets for every one of the nation's 193,000 precincts. As he traveled the country with Bush, Rove received detailed briefings from field lieutenant/sales reps. BlackBerry in hand, Rove rarely left Bush's side--and then only to spin a skeptical (but still listening) press corps on tarmacs at campaign stops.
In the end, the focus was where Rove had planned it to be all along--in Ohio. As the lengthy campaign neared a close, BC04 staged a huge rally in a hockey arena in Columbus. The roar was deafening--23,000 screaming fans/voters--but what rallied the president, his advisers said later, was the look in the eyes of the faithful: an intensity he didn't see in 2000, when he won the presidency in the Supreme Court. Only hours from Election Day, he was in Columbus with Arnold Schwarzenegger. A tape of Osama bin Laden had just been shown on American television. In response, Schwarzenegger and Bush posed as a two-man legion of superheroes. There can be no reasoning with a "people that are blinded by hate," said Arnold. "They are no match for the leadership of George W. Bush." Then it was the president's turn. In somber tones he recalled the day Al Qaeda struck. "On that day of tragedy," he declared, "I made a decision. America will no longer respond to terrorist murder with half measures and empty threats. We will no longer look away from gathering dangers and simply hope for the best."
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6400934/site/newsweek/And, from that series of articles,
Inner Circle, The President: Bush's team was upbeat: Karl Rove called the group "the Breakfast Club." They met at Rove's unadorned house in northwest Washington on Saturday, Dec. 13, 2003, the day Saddam Hussein was captured in Iraq.
~snip~
Rove was the unquestioned boss of the campaign to re-elect the president. Everyone reported to him; even local GOP bosses checked with him before making a move. The group he gathered around his dining-room table this December morning was the tight little inner circle—Dowd, campaign manager Ken Mehlman, White House Communications Director Dan Bartlett, campaign Communications Director Nicolle Devenish. The group was secret at first; other top staffers only gradually learned of its existence. As winter turned to spring, Rove would occasionally add other guests. For a Republican, there was no greater call to duty than an invitation from Rove to join the Breakfast Club.
King Karl, ruler of a vast domain, was held in awe by all (except Bush, who from time to time referred to his chief political adviser as Turd Blossom). Rove had never stopped campaigning since the 2000 squeaker. From the moment he walked into the White House in 2001, he had been building the Republican base, the vast Red State army of evangelicals; flag-waving small-town and rural American Dreamers; '60s-hating, pro-death-penalty, anti-gay-marriage social conservatives; Big Donors—the new Republican majority, or so Rove hoped. A steady wave of e-mails (appropriately studded with Rove-isms), notes, photos, anniversary cards and White House Christmas-party invitations stroked the faithful. But discipline was the key: Rove set up a reporting system designed to hold accountable party bosses and volunteers alike. He created the mystique of an all-seeing, all-knowing boss of bosses; if the emperor had no clothes, no one particularly wanted to find out.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6406880/site/newsweek/