It’s quaint how high-stakes the 1988 election felt; it’s also hard to convey how Zeus-like Ronald Reagan seemed, even when it was apparent, at that stage of his presidency, that he was diminished. At the time, I did not have a sophisticated understanding of why he was the enemy, but he was, and now, I understand, especially, that Reagan and his loyalists were intent on reordering society’s priorities, and at the top of their list were the feelings and fortunes of the rich.
I never recall my dad bad-mouthing Republicans, not that he talked shop a lot at home—preferring to decompress while playing Nintendo—but he did warn me to beware of lawyers wearing shiny new cowboy boots. Austin has always crawled with them.
Reagan’s veep, George H.W. Bush, was not a shoo-in, but with the help of his sons, including a cocky George W., and the cynical campaign strategist Lee Atwater, he slowly waged a campaign that validated the prejudices of white voters. It was risky to stir up those dark feelings, but Reagan’s legacy was on the line, and Dukakis, while a decent man, was vulnerable because he, the son of immigrants, suffered from the Democrats’ greatest weakness, which is an inability to be mean as a rattlesnake on command.