George Bush: The Unauthorized Biography - Get a Free Blog

to stand with their Congressional leaders." Bush had now discovered that the deficit,
which he had ignored in 1989, was a "cancer gnawing away at our nation's health." The
plan he recommended, he pointed out with bathos, was a product of "blood, sweat, and
fears-- fears of the economic chaos that would follow if we fail to reduce the deficit." [fn
51] Bush's plan was supported by Alan Greenspan of the Federal Reserve, the voice of
the international central bankers.
Shepherding such a weighty affair of state through the Congress was considered a job for
a team headed by none other than Dan Quayle. Quayle quipped that he was like a friendly
dentist applying a lot of novocain and hoping for a few votes. Despite such boyish good
spirits, it was not to be. Republicans were incensed that Bush had given away the "crown
jewels" of their party just in order to get a deal. Right-wing Republicans lamented that
the package was a "road-map to recession" and a "cave-in to the liberal Democrats." "I
wouldn't vote for it if it cured cancer," said Congressman Trafficant. Democrats were
angered by the new excise tax, which was regressive, and by higher income tax rate
increases for lower income groups. When the plan came up for a vote in the House on the
fateful day of October 5, with the stopgap legislation about to run out, many Democrats
deferred voting until they could see that a clear majority of the Republicans were voting
against their own president's plan. Then the Democrats also cast negative votes. The
deficit package was soundly defeated, 254-179. Bush was humiliated: only 71
Republican stuck with their president, joined by 108 Democrats. 105 GOPers had
revolted, and joined with 149 Democrats to sink the accord Bush had pleaded for on
television. Even Rep. Newt Gingirch of Georgia, who as House GOP Minority Whip
should have superintended efforts to dragoon votes for Bush, had jumped ship on October
1, encouraging other GOP defections.
The Congress then quickly passed and sent to Bush a further continuing resolution to
keep the government going; it was now the Friday before the Columbus Day weekend.
Bush had threatened to veto any such legislation, and he now made good on his threat,
intoning that "the hour of reckoning is at hand." The federal government thereupon began
to shut down, except for Desert Shield and some other operations the bureaucracy
considered essential. Tourists in Washington noticed that the toilets maintained by the
National Park Service were shutting down. Bush, wanting to set a good example, decided
that Sunday that he would drive back from Camp David by car: he got a rude taste of how
the other half lives, ending up stalled in a typical traffic jam on the interstate.
The following week was a time of great political hemorraging for George Bush. His
problems grew out of a clumsy series of trial baloons he floated about what kind of tax
package he would accept. By one count, he changed his mind five times in three days.
First came the government itself. Any president, and especially an apparatchik like Bush,
has a healthy respect for what the Washington bureaucracy might do to him if it, like the
mercenaries Machiavelli warned about, were not paid. Bush accordingly relented and
signed a short-term continuing resolution to keep the paychecks flowing and the
bureaucracy open. Now Congressmen of both parties began to offer amendments on the
$22 billion tax bill that was at the heart of the new austerity package. First Bush indicated
that he would accept an increase in income tax rates for the most wealthy in exchange for