Foreword
We were a motley crew, or so we told ourselves, assembled from a wide swath who were active in Arizona Republican Party politics, retired and active military, local business and community leaders – basically anyone who wanted to join us was welcome.
It began in the bottom floor family room in John and Cindy’s home on Lamplighter Lane in Tempe with four IBM Memory Selectrics, running round the clock, chattering out fundraising letters with their little round balls banging the typewriter ribbon. During the evening Cindy and I would reload the carriages, along with help from others working in shifts. More volunteers would arrive in the morning to type envelopes and/or fold and stuff the #10 McCain Congress envelopes. Organized by zip into big gray USPS bins, we would load our laborious letters into a volunteer’s car and head to the main post office.
Short of praying over them, we knew this operation was critical and everyone was a conscript when it came to folding and stuffing. New recruit, old recruit, did not matter. You found your corner of the room or at a table in the den upstairs, and folded-and-stuffed-and-cussed-and-discussed everything about the campaign and the competition – this was how our crazy crew would come to know each other so well.
We became like family with John and Cindy. Even the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, Senator John Tower, (a close friend of John’s from his navy liaison years,) vouched for this as he saw us in real time. Visiting for a weekend to deliver a fundraising keynote address, Tower, in a tone bordering on wistful and longing, shared at our staff meeting, “John, you and Cindy will bond with your first campaign staff more than any other over the course of time. Savor it. I’m still in touch with people from my first campaign and it means a great deal.” He made us feel exceptional by calling this out, reassuring that we would not be forgotten – a sage fortune teller he became with those words.
Now, 40 years later after John’s first swearing in as a member of Congress in 1983, those words could not be more prophetic. This “McCain’s Navy*”, this serious but tongue-in-cheek-start-up was certainly proud of our candidate -- but more importantly and we did not realize it then – this start-up team would bond for life. My shared experience and stories gathered from personal journals, scrapbooks and the catacombs of memory are offered here. May they be both helpful and hopeful to those embarking on new campaigns, new business start-ups or new crusades to change the world.
People who work on start-up causes, campaigns and business ventures share their wins and whiffs. Whether it be creating their own luck or withstanding hard-breaks – stories and experiences become folklore creating inexplicable bonds. Many campaign staffers and volunteers move on in their careers – having collected the experience and contacts that serve as launch pads and networks for their next opportunities. Alternatively, they may become staffers for a time or a lifetime, or come and go if they are the consultant types attracted to the heat of political battle.
After the first campaign and a few years in the district Congressional office, I ventured into career roles that helped entities establish brand image and build constituencies. Fortunately for my career, Phoenix was home and a start-up location to some well known national and regional brands. Each brand or expansion venture I worked on during my nearly 50-year career would need help enduring the onset and evolution of the early internet and social media. Each would deal with balancing traditional media scrutiny and investigative reporters, and handling the cultural, political or product crises commonly found in the mishegas of media handling.
Introduction
We were rookie teachers at Agua Fria High School in Avondale, AZ in the fall of 1978. I was a 22-year-old newly minted graduate in secondary education with a journalism major from Arizona State University and Cindy had graduated with a Master’s in Special Education from University of Southern California. Gravitating to one another on the first day of teacher in-service meetings prior to starting the school year, we were peers starting our first gigs as teachers. Anxious, nervous and excited, we were eager to demonstrate we had the right stuff. Cindy taught Special Ed, and I taught journalism and English. She started a zero hour dance club that kids flocked to and I was the girls’ golf coach, yearbook and student newspaper advisor. Any stipend helped.
As our friendship deepened, we would meet at watering holes for Friday happy hours with the other teachers in the break-room-crew. We’d laugh and eye-roll at the bad jokes lobbed by the seasoned salts (pre HR) and beg-off to leave early. Same with the smoke-filled teachers’ lounge – where backgammon was the thing and everyone contributed to the important coffee fund annually. During our first semester, there were teachers hosting fun house parties and potlucks, the planning of homecoming with the kids, the holiday get-togethers and teachers’ meetings – allowing the rookies to get to know one another and form a bond. Busy and exciting.
During that year’s spring break, while on vacation in Hawaii, Cindy and John met and began dating. The following spring they were married with many from her first year of teaching in the congregation.
Wanting to leave teaching because I had my eye on higher wages for the lifespan of my career, I combed the help-wanted ads during that year and customized my resume to fit. Public relations positions attracted me, but the conundrum was that I could not break my teaching contract until the end of the school term in May. Regardless, my gut told me there was wisdom in leaving education before my salary became too high and snagging an entry-level position in the private business sector became more difficult.
After her marriage to John and their relocation to Virginia, we exchanged letters through 1981 with anecdotes and news. In one missive, I wrote letting her know I was looking to leave teaching and wanted to start a new job after the school year ended in May.
The stars aligned.