Reflections on '92

Tomorrow is the thirty-second anniversary of my keynote address to the 1992 Republican National Convention in Houston. I spoke two nights after Patrick Buchanan -- the one-time speech writer for Spiro Agnew and then Richard Nixon, and himself a failed presidential candidate in ’92 – launched a major assault in what is today known as America’s Culture War.

“There is a religious war going on in this country,” claimed an angry Buchanan, “a cultural war…a war for the soul of America.” He was all about righteous fury and that destruction (or slander) of anyone standing in his way.

The objects of Buchanan’s anger were immigrants, liberals, People of Color who protested police brutality and his two favorite terrors: “radical feminism” and “homosexual rights.” All these were seen by him as proof that the “real America” was dissolving, and they deserved to be driven from our shores. The late Molly Ivins found Buchanan’s harangue Nazi-enough to remark that she would have preferred it “in the original German.”

While Buchanan declared war that hot night in Houston, I spent my time on the podium a few days later calling for decency, kindness, courage and compassion. I thought of them as legitimate Republican themes in 1992. I had served President Gerald Ford as one of his “advancemen” and was honored that he was among those attending my address. And I had learned over the years from my friend and heroine, Betty Ford, that speaking the truth softly can deliver a powerful witness to others. She had taken on first breast cancer and then alcoholism without shame or pity. She wanted to save lives, and she did. As I approached the Convention in 1992, I sought her counsel and hoped I could serve with the courage and candor she embodied.

When my speech was over that night in Houston, Mrs. Ford was among the first to embrace me. She wasn’t concerned about culture wars or political attacks. What mattered to her was that I had told the truth, hoping to make a difference. Although the themes might not resonate with today’s Republican Party, they represent the values that are more than thirty years old.

I still miss both the President and Mrs. Ford. I doubt they would recognize today’s Republican Party. But I know what would matter most to them about my time on the podium in Houston: That I had told the truth candidly and consistently, with respect for all people regardless of party affiliation.

That wouldn’t have gone well at this year’s Republican convention in Milwaukee. But, frankly, I’m honored to serve in the Fords’ tradition – even if that makes me more comfortable in Chicago than in Milwaukee.