What is usually omitted from this uplifting tale, as the CPI report explains, is the fact that although McCain eventually paid back Keating and the U.S. Treasury for various vacation junkets and other financial favors, the senator's wife and father-in-law only sold their interest in a Keating-sponsored shopping mall two years ago for a profit of between $100,000 and $1 million.
Meanwhile, McCain became the faithful friend of other monied interests. Those interests have reciprocated his affection with enormous contributions to his presidential campaign, understanding that even if he fails in his quest for the White House he will continue to serve as chairman of the Commerce Committee. That special-interest money pays for the Straight Talk Express, the campaign bus where McCain conducts heartfelt interviews about the nefarious influence of money in politics.
Disenchantment with McCain is growing as reporters covering him have been constrained to take note of topics other than his winning personality. (The next wave of negative stories will focus on McCain as a conservative ideologue with certain unsavory associates, such as his South Carolina coordinator Richard Quinn, a leading national purveyor of ultraright "neo-Confederate" propaganda).
Taking money from special interests hardly distinguishes McCain from George W. Bush, who is roasted to a turn in CPI's book. So is Al Gore, mostly by dint of his association with various Democratic fund-raisers and lobbyists, including campaign manager Tony Coehlo.
The vulnerability of Bush and Gore won't surprise voters, but they might be stunned to learn how cozy Bradley became during his Senate career with the financial, drug and chemical industries. Giant pharmaceutical and petrochemical firms were the influential New Jersey lawmaker's most generous supporters, and he assisted them by writing special tax and tariff provisions into bills that came before the Senate Finance Committee. Bradley could justify these deals by citing his commitment to free trade and to aiding companies in his home state -- but he gladly took their money, too.
What has dismayed Bradley's fans in the mainstream media, however, isn't his lifelong acceptance of the campaign finance system he now denounces so passionately. Instead, they seem troubled that the aloof insurgent is finally responding in kind to attacks by Gore. That is a silly complaint, even more ridiculous than Bradley's earlier posturing as a politician "above the fray." His quite predictable turnabout has come with bad news in the polls from New Hampshire and Iowa, and has included a couple of very cheap shots that seem to have shocked his more naive admirers.
Even at this early stage, the rhythm of the election cycle is as familiar as the lyrics of a pop oldie: breaking up really is hard to do, especially in the media. Whenever the pundits fall in love -- as they did with President Clinton at the beginning of the 1992 campaign season -- disillusionment is certain to follow.
Gore and Bush may have to live without valentines from the press corps. But maybe they're better off as wallflowers than as heartbreakers.
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