By Tim Alberta
Tuesday, November 08, 2016
Port Orange, Fla.
— Right around the time Donald Trump brought his crowd of nearly 5,000 to its
feet in Jacksonville by pledging to bring “historic change” to the nation,
Marco Rubio walked into a brewery 100 miles south and scanned the premises.
Perhaps 200 people had gathered, most of them sipping iced teas — it was mid
afternoon — and watching highlights from Game Seven of the World Series on a
bank of televisions. They clapped a few minutes later when he took the stage,
and nodded quietly as he stressed the necessity of keeping the Senate under GOP
control. There was no soaring oratory, no made-for-TV moment. No one would
blame the audience for forgetting that this man once graced the cover of TIME magazine as “The Republican
Savior”; that he, not a 70-year-old reality-TV star, was supposed to be
rallying thousands of people the week before Election Day; that in an
alternative universe he would soon be elected president of the United States.
But they hadn’t forgotten. If anything, they seemed eager
for Rubio to acknowledge this much. And as he did — “When I was running for
another office earlier this year, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” —
they laughed and groaned and shook their heads. Some of the attendees, wearing
Trump apparel, said they were glad Rubio lost the presidential primary; others,
still sporting Rubio’s “New American Century” shirts, rued the day that Trump
took over the party. It has been jarring to watch Rubio campaign for reelection
in the shadow of a presidential nominee who knocked him from the race with a
shellacking in his home state. Gone were the bright lights and constant media
coverage and Reaganesque speeches; in their place was a candidate humping
across the state every day, speaking to crowds of 200 or 100 or sometimes 50,
trying to salvage the Senate majority — and, perhaps, his political career.
Yet even as Rubio receded into this supporting role,
there was no escaping the opportunity that had been lost — and the question of
how different things might look for the GOP if he were atop the ticket. Despite
Hillary Clinton’s vulnerabilities and historic unpopularity, she has
consistently led Trump and is poised to win the presidency on Tuesday. For
months, Republicans have moaned that they nominated the only candidate capable
of losing this election, and that Ted Cruz or John Kasich or even Jeb Bush
would be running circles around her. But the regret is especially palpable when
it comes to Rubio: Not only did polls show him to be Clinton’s strongest
opponent head-to-head, but, as the rhetorically moderate, 45-year-old,
bilingual son of barely educated Cuban immigrants, he possessed the singular
potential to remake the Republican party in his image. As Trump barrels toward
what looks like certain defeat by alienating the very groups Rubio could have
captivated, Republicans can only wonder what might have been.
“I had high hopes that Marco Rubio would become the
Republican nominee, redefine the Republican brand, and make the Republican
party far more open and attractive to non-whites — especially Hispanics — and
young people . . . while at the same time appealing to blue-collar whites and
others who feel left behind in this economy,” says Whit Ayres, Rubio’s pollster
and the author of a book on how Republicans should adapt to demographic changes
in the country. “I think he would have done that had he gotten the nomination.
I also think he would be five or six points ahead of Hillary Clinton right
now.”
With the Supreme Court hanging in the balance and
Republicans facing the prospect of a twelve-year Democratic run at 1600
Pennsylvania Avenue, this sentiment has echoed throughout the GOP establishment
in recent months. But in an interview with National
Review, Rubio swears that he — unlike many of his fellow Republicans —
doesn’t play the “what-if” game.
“I don’t think about that,” he tells me, seated at a
high-top table inside an Irish pub in Palm Coast, Fla. Asked whether the fantasy
of being five days away from the presidency ever crosses his mind, he shakes
his head. “It really doesn’t. First of all, I learned a long time ago there’s
nothing you can do about the past, so you really shouldn’t waste any energy on
things you can’t change. You can only try to influence the future,” he says.
“You learn from the past. But you can’t change it.”
The past few years have been a rollercoaster for Rubio,
and he certainly sounds exhausted — like someone who might be either elated
with a Tuesday victory or privately relieved with defeat. “If tomorrow I wasn’t
in public service, I’d still have a wife and four kids who love me,” Rubio
says. “This is what I do, and if people allow me to continue doing it, I’m
going to do it for another six years in the Senate. And if they make a
different decision, I’ll respect it and we’ll move on to other things. People
talk about the cover of TIME magazine
— I didn’t write that cover. I didn’t like the title of that cover. I don’t
consider myself to be the savior of anything.”
While Rubio says he doesn’t “agonize” over his failed
presidential bid, he’s clearly interested in rectifying its mistakes as he
wages a difficult Senate race — and, quite possibly, prepares for another shot
at the White House. It’s not unusual that there’s a hush-hush internal review
of what went wrong in Rubio’s campaign. What is unusual is how quickly the
recommendations are being road-tested, since Rubio’s political survival hinges
on recovering from a devastating Florida loss in March and winning reelection
to the Senate less than eight months later.
Sources close to Rubio commonly cite two fundamental
weaknesses to explain the presidential defeat: a lack of grassroots
organization and a light footprint in the early nominating states. Those
lessons have been absorbed, his allies say, and quickly addressed during his
Senate run.
Rubio’s first priority after he changed his mind and
decided to seek reelection was to build out an extensive volunteer network. It
had been missing in 2010, not that it mattered: He won an off-year election
against mediocre opponents on the strength of enthusiasm, momentum, and
narrative. Today, Rubio has 19 statewide offices, 25 field organizers, and more
than 500 grassroots team leaders — numbers that campaign officials say dwarf
his infrastructure of six years ago.
The second lesson was that Rubio had relied too heavily
on reaching voters via mass media rather than spending extensive time on the
ground. This fueled whispers among opposing campaigns that Rubio was lazy, a
perception that wasn’t helped by his patchy Senate attendance record. The
correction in his Senate campaign, especially down the stretch, has been
noticeable: Rubio has been hitting four or five counties each day, zig-zagging
across the state in a nondescript SUV. (It’s a “fourth gear” he says he didn’t
know he had before 2016.)
There’s one other lesson Rubio learned — and by the sound
of it, a regret he carries — from the presidential race. “You know, I’m
probably more involved in my campaign for Senate at the detail level. From our
message to where our ads are going to be placed, I’m much more involved at a
granular level of the day-to-day campaign than I was running for president,”
Rubio says. “That was probably a mistake, not doing it earlier, and part of it
was the nature of the race. . . . That’s
probably one of the things I’ve learned where, you know, you don’t want to
micromanage, but I think I have something I can contribute to that aspect of
it. And I think it’s made this a better campaign.”
Whether Rubio can apply these lessons to a future
presidential race might depend on Tuesday’s outcome in Florida. If he prevails
in one of the nation’s premier battlegrounds — where he was overwhelmingly
rejected by his own party’s voters earlier this year — it will signal a
resurrection of his prospects. And, if Trump loses, Rubio will suddenly find
himself positioned near the top of the GOP’s 2020 roster alongside the likes of
Cruz, Kasich, and Mike Pence. But if he loses Florida twice in 2016 — the first
time to a neophyte real-estate mogul with no serious organization, the second
time to a little-known Democratic congressman with no accomplishments to his
name — there’s a real chance Rubio’s career in politics could be finished. This
was apparent to his top advisers, all of whom urged Rubio not to run for Senate
and expose himself to such risk.
“Those of us who offered advice or were asked for advice
essentially said, ‘If you want to run for president again, don’t run for
reelection,’” recalls one top aide, describing private conversations on the
condition of anonymity.
At the time, his brain trust saw nothing but downside: If
he won, well, he was the incumbent — he was supposed to win; if he lost, his
presidential dreams might be dashed for good. “It’s great for Florida that
you’re running again. And it’s great for the Senate Republicans,” another top
aide recalls telling Rubio back in June. “I don’t think it’s great for you.”
That perception, however, has since shifted. Not only is
Rubio a heavy favorite to win reelection — his Democratic opponent, Patrick
Murphy, hasn’t led a single public poll the entire race — but Trump is heading
toward a likely loss because of a historic deficit with Hispanic voters. If
these trajectories hold, it’s possible that more Republican voters will finally
heed the call to expand the party’s demographic coalition — and look to Rubio
as the white knight party elites have long believed him to be.
“All’s well that ends well, and if he wins reelection in
Florida he’ll look very strong, especially if Trump loses there,” says Al
Cardenas, a former chairman of both the Florida GOP and the American
Conservative Union. “It’s a big comeback story. To go from having lost badly in
a presidential primary in your own home state to winning convincingly in your
reelection to the U.S. Senate — it’s a pretty dramatic turnaround, especially
without help from the top of the ticket.”
All things considered, that would be a happy ending to
2016 for Marco Rubio. But his team isn’t breathing easy. There’s still a chance
Trump could take him down twice in one year — first by beating him badly in the
presidential primary, and then by turning voters against down-ballot
Republicans en masse. It wouldn’t just crush Rubio’s career; it would provide a
symbolic setback to a party whose ambition to become more like Rubio has been
thwarted by the rise of Trump.
* *
*
Ironically, Rubio likely wouldn’t be poised for victory
on November 8 if he hadn’t suffered that lopsided loss in Florida on March 15.
Back then, the writing was on the wall: He’d gone winless in the first four
states, limped into Super Tuesday on March 1, and emerged on life support after
a lone victory in Minnesota. Internal polls forecasted a bloodbath in his own
backyard.
The problems with Rubio’s campaign were fundamental and
interconnected. Jeb Bush robbed him of a donor base, which forced him to launch
a lean campaign, which compelled him to hop-scotch the country in search of
cash, which deprived him of time campaigning in the early states, which led to
damaging narratives that he possessed neither the infrastructure nor the
relationships to compete in those states. Despite all of that — and in the face
of Trump’s unprecedented free-media presence — Rubio remained in the thick of
things. Low expectations led to the celebration of his third-place showing in
Iowa, and he was poised to parlay that into a second-place finish in New
Hampshire until he imploded during an unforgettable debate exchange with Chris
Christie.
As things went downhill — despite a rebound performance
in South Carolina — Rubio, a highly competitive former small-college football
recruit, knew there would be no storied comeback. But he bottled up his
disappointment, leaving it to subordinates to vent about how he’d faced more
negative-ad spending than all of the other candidates combined. “What struck me
was his calm, his steadiness. He was never too high, never too low, even in the
face of $20 million from Right to Rise in New Hampshire,” says Jim Merrill,
Rubio’s top operative in the Granite State. “In the middle of a maelstrom the
likes of which we’ve never seen, getting pounded by Jeb and others, he was
remarkably calm.”
Rubio’s campaign was robbed of two of its pillars —
momentum and narrative — and some allies suggested he drop out to save face in
Florida. He scoffed at the idea. “We had a lot of people working very hard for
us, putting in a lot of time and energy, and I wasn’t just going to abandon
them a week or two out given all the work they had done,” he tells me. “For us,
it was a natural endpoint for the campaign. I wasn’t happy with the outcome,
but I was at peace with it.”
Rubio was demolished. He lost 66 of Florida’s 67 counties
and watched Trump win 46 percent of the vote (to his own 27 percent) and all 99
of the state’s delegates. Yet somehow, this result was preferable to the
alternative: His advisers had warned that if he wanted to run for office again,
quitting would look worse than losing. Moreover, the additional two weeks spent
traveling his home state in a Rubio for President bus — pulling big crowds,
drawing major media coverage — undoubtedly made a positive impression on the
voters he’d need later in the year.
“If he had any thoughts of running for reelection, he
couldn’t quit that race and then run,” Cardenas says. “He had to take his
whupping and then mount his comeback.”
Rubio swears this wasn’t on his mind at the time, and by
all accounts it’s true. He had long since decided that he would retire from the
Senate and, if unsuccessful in the presidential contest, go into the private
sector. He had hired Washington superlawyer Bob Barnett to field job
opportunities, and according to people familiar with the process, was heading
toward an extremely lucrative payday in the 7- or 8-figure range. Everything
changed when Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell and his team grew concerned
about the little-known, poorly funded GOP candidates running to replace Rubio,
and began pushing him to reconsider.
Rubio, who was looking forward to making more money and
living with his family in Florida full time, wasn’t interested. But as the
lobbying effort persisted, Rubio’s potential rivals for the GOP nomination
could tell he was softening on the idea. “You could see it coming,” says Todd
Wilcox, a businessman and former CIA agent who’d been running for the seat.
“There were suddenly signs there — like an increased level of activity from his
constituent services — well before he actually decided to run. That told me,
okay, he’s going to get back in the race.”
Rubio says he was conflicted up until the week of
Florida’s filing deadline — ”I was 48 hours away” from retirement, he recalls —
but ultimately couldn’t ignore the chance to keep the Senate under Republican
control. “I knew I had an opportunity to make a difference, and if I didn’t I
might regret it,” he says. “I might regret waking up to see Chuck Schumer as
majority leader if we lost by one seat. I might wonder if it was my fault. So
that was tough.”
The decision became easier when the rest of the GOP field
cleared away. Rubio’s close friend, Lieutenant Governor Carlos Lopez-Cantera,
had struggled to gain traction and eventually asked Rubio to get back in. Two
congressmen, Ron DeSantis and David Jolly, had prepared separate filing packets
— one for Senate, the other to run for reelection to the House. And Wilcox, who
had already dumped hundreds of thousands of his own money into the campaign,
says he commissioned an internal poll testing the incumbent senator against
himself and a third remaining GOP candidate, businessman Carlos Beruff. “Rubio
got 72 percent of the vote,” Wilcox says, laughing. ”I got six percent and
Beruff got six percent.”
Wilcox quit the race and endorsed the incumbent two days
after Rubio’s announcement that he would run. “Then he raised about $3 million
in ten days,” Wilcox remembers. The sudden infusion of cash from Republicans
who’d grown concerned about losing Florida’s seat ensured that Rubio would
coast against Beruff in the GOP primary; it also coincided with a devastating
story about Murphy, the star Democratic recruit, embellishing his résumé. In
the span of two weeks, the race had been turned upside down — and so had
Rubio’s political future.
“I was very surprised,” says John Stemberger, president
of the Florida Family Policy Council and a longtime Rubio ally who had lobbied
him to re-enter the race. “We even had a ‘Draft Rubio’ page on Facebook, but it
didn’t look good.”
“Nobody could have guessed he’d change his mind,” says
Gary Marx, a Republican consultant who worked on the Rubio campaign. “I had a
conversation with his chief of staff about the future and what he was going to
do once the office closed. I mean, his people were looking for other
opportunities. He was leaving. And then a couple of weeks later, he’s running
for Senate again.”
Rubio’s about-face undoubtedly reeked of political
opportunism to some, especially since he had been so adamant that he would be
leaving the Senate. Yet there’s a complicating layer of nuance: Among the key
reasons Rubio’s team warned him against seeking reelection was that the Senate
is a dangerous place for a future presidential candidate, especially if there’s
a Democrat in the White House forcing votes on everything from immigration to
tax reform to infrastructure spending.
“He had a lot of nice job offers lined up. He could have
traveled the country helping other Republicans getting elected and putting
himself in position to run again in 2020,” one Rubio adviser says. “That’s a
much better position than taking a bunch of tough votes in the Senate.”
As another Rubio adviser put it: “The candidates who won
the most delegates in the Republican primary had the least amount of government
experience. It would have been a good idea to get far away from the Senate.”
Rubio, convinced that he was needed to save the GOP
majority, rejected their advice.
* *
*
If he wins another term, and if Clinton wins the White
House, Rubio’s every vote will indeed be under the microscope. The same will go
for Cruz, who consistently outmaneuvered his Florida colleague in the 2016
primary campaign and who’s making little effort to hide his plans to run for
president again in 2020.
What’s notable is that Rubio — who just finished going
back on one unequivocal pledge — is once again sounding a tone of certainty
about his future. He has repeatedly rejected the notion that he’ll run for
president four years from now, most recently telling WFLA-Radio, “If I wanted
to run for something else, I wouldn’t have run for Senate.”
On the other hand, he promised during an October debate
to serve a full six-year term “God willing,” which struck some as an
intentionally slippery turn of phrase. And friends say it’s noticeable in
subtle ways that he’s still got the presidential bug. (When I ask him how
waging a statewide campaign compares to running for president, he looks around
and smiles. “Events like today remind me of Iowa — you know, a lot of
hand-shaking and one-on-one with people.”)
Rubio is less than categorical about his future in our
interview. “I’ve told people — and I’m serious about it — I don’t have any
intention, any desire, any plan to run for anything in 2020,” he says. “There
are a lot of things I want to get done in the Senate. The Senate is an
important place to get things done, and I look forward to the opportunity to
make my mark.”
With Rubio’s obvious talents and outsized ambition, it’s
difficult to imagine him skipping the next presidential cycle if there’s an
open contest among Republicans to take on Clinton. One other intriguing
scenario does exist, in which Rubio climbs the Senate leadership ladder and
becomes the Republican leader. According to two Rubio confidantes, he has
casually spitballed about this very idea. “I think that would be a perfectly
plausible path for him to take,” one says.
Still, the near-universal expectation among friends and
allies is that if he wins reelection on November 8 — and if Trump loses the
White House — Rubio will jump at the chance to challenge Clinton in 2020.
“People perceive him as a political animal who likes to run for office, but the
truth is more that he’s a guy who loves ideas,” Marx says. “That said, my gut
tells me he will run again, and it will be four years from now against Hillary
Clinton.”
It would owe to the political laws of supply and demand.
If Trump loses because of a historically poor performance among Hispanics — the
fastest-growing group in the American electorate, and one that could soon single-handedly
turn red states blue — more Republicans are likely to cry out for someone with
unique appeal to that constituency. There’s nobody better qualified than Rubio;
not only does he share their heritage and speak their language, but he lives
among immigrants in Miami and has advocated a realistic approach to fixing the
nation’s immigration system.
Of course, it was his earlier approach — participating in
the failed Gang of Eight effort to pass comprehensive immigration reform — that
hurt him with the GOP base and made him a convenient foil for the likes of
Trump and Cruz. Having learned from that experience, Rubio spent the past two
years making the case that immigration reform can only happen incrementally in
a three-step process: securing the border, modernizing the current system with
internal enforcement mechanisms, and then finally dealing with undocumented
immigrants in a “very reasonable” way.
He understands, however, that a President Clinton will
have no interest in piecemeal legislation. If reelected, he says he’ll flat-out
oppose any sweeping immigration effort. ”I agreed to work on a comprehensive
approach [in 2013] because that’s the direction the Senate was going and I
wanted to have influence over it. But there have now been five attempts to do
it that way. It’s not going to happen,” Rubio says. “We’re wasting our time
trying to do it that way.”
At the same time, he recognizes the existential threat
facing his party as non-white voters continue to flock toward a Democratic
party that is perceived to be more inclusive. It’s a difficult needle to thread
— maintaining opposition to likely Democratic attempts to overhaul the
immigration system while simultaneously attempting to soften the party’s image
and expand its appeal.
There still exists, however, an almost messianic belief
in Rubio’s ability to deliver the party from this predicament. “The night he
suspended his campaign was the saddest night of my life,” says Maryanne Zinke,
a 64-year-old former educator living in The Villages, a sprawling retirement
community in Florida. She’s come to see the senator at an event there the
Friday before Election Day, and is proudly wearing her “New American Century”
shirt.
“The Republican party is broken, and it’s going to be a
long road back. We need him,” Zinke says of Rubio. “He is our version of ‘hope
and change.’”
Rubio doesn’t earn comparisons to Obama — who transformed
the electorate by appealing to a combination of its ascendant voting blocs —
because of his popularity with aging white women. He knows this. But he’s also
careful to discuss the GOP’s dilemma as a collective problem, casting aside the
role of savior that some allies believe did much more harm to him than good.
”Our message is somehow not penetrating one of the
fastest-growing groups in America, and that’s something we have to address,”
Rubio says. “Political parties have to grow. We don’t have to change our
principles to do that. But I think we have to make a concerted effort to reach
not just Hispanic voters, but African-American voters. A political movement is
either growing or it’s dying. You always want your message to appeal to more
people. You always want to grow your movement. And I think you do that by
consistently taking your message to people who don’t traditionally vote for
you, and being willing to do it even if you’re not rewarded right away in the
next election.”
Told that this is almost word-for-word what Republicans
preached in 2012 after Mitt Romney’s loss, Rubio replied: ”Well, it’s always
true. I mean, no political movement can survive and thrive if they aren’t
growing. If you’re stagnant and stale, you’re shrinking and losing. So we have
to do a better job of reaching people who aren’t voting for us.”
He pauses.
“And that takes time.”
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