John McCain, you're no Barry Goldwater

I'm probably the wrong one to ask for an objective comparison between Barry Goldwater and John McCain. I'll always love Barry, despite the flaws and misjudgments that were as big as his accomplishments. Attending Kenilworth School in Phoenix -- where Barry himself had gone years before -- I remember being one of only two kids with the guts to wear Goldwater buttons in 1964. Such was the power of LBJ. But I loved Barry, even at age seven.

Nearly everyone attests to, at best, an arm's length relationship between the aging Goldwater and the newcomer McCain. John Dean and Barry Goldwater Jr. have a new book that looks at a true "maverick from Arizona." Although McCain brags about being a "Goldwater Republican," younger Goldwater family members are having none of it. Granddaughter Alison Goldwater told the Huffington Post, that Barry felt "deceived" by McCain. She says,  "I'm sure if we were to raise his ashes from the Colorado River...he would be going, 'What? This is not my vision. This is not my party.' "

McCain is an opportunist where Barry never was. McCain lands in scandals -- from the Keating Five to the latest property tax oops -- that Barry never would have contemplated. If McCain has principles aside from orthodox 1990s right-wing politics, with an occasional tilt to please the national press, I can't find them. Most of all, Barry was an Arizonan. He loved Arizona deeply, personally. Starting as a Phoenix City Councilman, he supported every bond issue to make the city better (his name used to be on the plaque at the old library, simply listed as a city council member). He was a true conservationist.

Yet McCain-as-Goldwater isn't another campaign distraction. It's a topic worth debate and contemplation, one that says much about the trajectory of America over the past 45 years.

It's always perilous to take a person out of his or her historical period to use as a prop in our times. We can do it in simple matters of, say, governmental criminality: Lincoln's first war secretary, Simon Cameron, bears a passing likeness to, say, Phil Gramm. Beyond that, beware.

Barry Goldwater was very much a man of his times: Munich, World War II, the Cold War and Arizona's rise from the frontier. His conservatism grew out of a reaction against the seemingly unstoppable rise of totalitarianism, as well as "in your face" overreaching by liberalism in America (remember busing, urban renewal, etc.). America faced what appeared to be a threat to its very existence from the Soviet Union. Such a different time.

Meanwhile, he was a young man barely removed from the frontier. His West was a fairly egalitarian place, the blank slate, unlimited room, few people, much more social and economic mobility than in the East. Ethnic cleansing and stealing the land of the Indians, and the predations of the railroads and mines were not what we Anglo kids were taught at Kenilworth School.

Goldwater's conservatism came from such a region, and therein lay one of its fundamental flaws. How could a pre-1933 federal government (if not pre-1860) respond to the complexities of modern society? It was a question that Goldwater never adequately answered -- and I used to carry a worn "Conscience of a Conservative" around with me in high school (back when all the pretty girls were Democrats). Indeed, Goldwater well knew, and supported, the federal government's huge investments in Arizona, especially the Central Arizona Project.

Goldwater and the entire conservative movement had the luxury of rebelling against the America created out of the the best elements of the New Deal and the broad liberal consensus between Democrats and Republicans. An America with a rising middle class and a still largely national economy, where the statement "what's good for America is good for General Motors and vice versa" could be given sincerely.

The perils of Goldwater conservatism were most distressingly on display with Barry's rejection of civil rights legislation in the 1960s. It was something he came to regret, but he fought based on his principles of limited federal power. Unfortunately, that world view had given us Jim Crow, lynchings and 100 years of additional proto-slavery. Even so, Barry was no racist, and I suspect, were he alive, that he would be intrigued by the candidate who went by "Barry" in college.

But to return to that peril of the historian: No one really knows how Barry Goldwater would respond to the facts on the ground today: global warming, corporate government, a hollowed economy, peak oil, the mess of suburbia, new national security challenges, bogged down in a bungled war of choice, Osama on the loose (well, I know what the hell he'd do about that..."lob one into the men's room of al Queda"). We'd like to imagine it, but it's just trying to hang our prejudices and dreams on a shadow.

Today's Republican Party is a big spending enemy of civil liberties. It endorses torture and a president answerable to no one. It stands for unlimited federal power. "States rights" is now a bloody shirt to wave only when it serves the broader purpose of what verges on a tyrannical central government. Just look at what happened to California's states rights when it tried to regulate emissions. It's a party of theocracy, intolerance and, most of all, corporations running the government. In some ways it harkens back to the GOP of the late 1800s; in other ways, it is infinitely more frightening. This is John McCain's party.

Goldwater wouldn't recognize it. I'd like to think he'd be like me, and echo Reagan's complaint about the Democrats of another era. "I didn't leave the...party. My party left me."

Comments

[soleri]

I remember Goldwater a bit differently. He struck me as cantankerous and proud, someone who seemed to experience slights too easily and who demanded special treatment. The 1970s, in particular, were a tough time for him. His sui generis opinions on various subjects were always interesting but fell outside any usable political matrix. Not only was he difficult to keep "on message", he frequently strayed far and wide.

He was both a nature lover and an anti-environmentalist. He was pro-integration and anti-civil rights. He loved the lush life and dourly made anti-hippie comments. Most perplexingly, he seemed a bit too comfortable with Vegas mobsters. He even opened a Goldwaters' store at the Desert Inn. When Kemper Marley died, Goldwater was at the funeral. When the Greenbaums were taken out, Goldwater spoke fondly about them.

It was a different era, of course. It's hard for most newcomers to understand the land fraud and frequent mob hits in the Arizona of the 60s and 70s. After the Don Bolles' hit, the IRE brutally ripped off the cover of our good 'ol boys network that ran things. The Goldwater name was close to the center of their investigation.

The power elite closed ranks, of course. The Arizona Republic refused to run the series (we bought the Arizona Daily Star instead). Still, the exposure highlighted the central paradox of power here. While "good government" was a mantra they often invoked, the deals and riches they made were often right behind the scrim.

In the 1980s, it began falling apart. The Bimsons retired, other local banks were sold, the movers and shakers slowly died off, and in that vacuum, a new elite was established that was no longer bound to downtown or even Phoenix as a city. When sports' mogul Jerry Colangelo emerged as the premier downtown player, it said something about downtown's power void. Richard Mallery was probably the last of the real dealmakers.

Goldwater was finally released from toeing the hard-right line after he left the Senate. His socially liberal viewpoints were refreshing although backbiters suggested dementia was the cause. John McCain inherited his Senate seat and its Show Horse pedigree. He played to the national media and, like Goldwater, frequently stepped outside his prescribed role. He loved good times, and played rough with the Republican yokels here. When it came time to finally inherit the GOP nomination, he turned his previous decade of Republican deviations into his maverick bona fides.

Goldwater as a political icon only makes sense when you factor in his marvelous personality. McCain, by contrast, does not have that gift but he does know how to manipulate journalists with access and his rough-and-tumble conversational style. In most respects, he's a first-rank jerk. But for journalists who got blurry-eyed with scripted pols, McCain did seem refreshingly candid. Can they carry him to victory? I tend to doubt it but McCain will fight every inch of the way. Unfortunately, he's up against a more agile and cunning opponent.

[Petro]

Being that I grew up "back East", ol' Barry was The Enemy, a caricature of what The Establishment might look like if given its head. After over three decades of living in the Valley, however, the caricature was fleshed out for me and I have come to admire the same qualities you discuss in this post, Jon. I also learned a few new things as well from you here as well, so thank you for that.

I'd like to thank soleri as well - your comment is like a bonus post! I moved to Arizona a month after Don Bolles was murdered, so my interest in local news and politics was rather violently jerked to. Your discussion aroused and informed my fading memories of those days. I know a relative of Max Dunlap, and the conviction (and credible narrative) this party has of his innocence, is very compelling.

Anyway, thanks for the great read - both of you. This is why I check here every day...

[Curt]

soleri,

I'm a Phoenix native, but that era was before my time. My father was a small time real estate developer and I remember hearing stories of contractors for things like plumbing where he was literally threatened with death if he did not hire certain contractors for the jobs. Unfortunately, my father passed away when I was only 9 (no, not a mob hit) so I was never able to talk to him about this era in Phoenix's history.

Are you aware of any good books about this topic in AZ history?

[Notsellingstuff]

i like this part of the blog:"The perils of Goldwater conservatism were most distressingly on display with Barry's rejection of civil rights legislation in the 1960s. It was something he came to regret, but he fought based on his principles of limited federal power. Unfortunately, that world view had given us Jim Crow, lynchings and 100 years of additional proto-slavery. Even so, Barry was no racist, and I suspect, were he alive, that he would be intrigued by the candidate who went by "Barry" in college." is very good