F. Clifton White, R I P - tribute to the late Republican Party leader - Editorial

National Review, Feb 1, 1993

POLITICIANS come in two varieties. Some are born candidates, addicted to applause and adroit at winning it. These are the men and women who run for public office, and whose names are therefore familiar to everyone. Others, equally devoted to the "great game," may never run for office at all, preferring to work in the campaigns of others, or to serve their party and their country in ways less visible still. F. Clifton White was one of the latter, and his career puts to rest forever the notion that a politician of this type cannot hope to have as much influence on events as a successful candidate.

Born in upstate New York in 1918 and educated at Colgate and Cornell, the tall, gangly youth (he reminded some people of Jimmy Stewart) served as navigator of a B-17 in 25 combat missions over Germany in World War II, and came home already planning a political career. After one unsuccessful primary battle for a congressional nomination in 1946, he taught political science at Cornell while extending his influence in the state and national Young Republican organizations. In a few years he was the undisputed leader of both, and had begun building a business as a political advisor to corporations and a consultant and campaign manager for political candidates. In the 1960 presidential campaign he ran Volunteers for Nixon-Lodge.

After Nixon's defeat the Republican Party, leaderless and dejected, was looking for a new direction. White had friends in the conservative movement, which had been launched by Bill Buckley and a handful of others in the early 1950s, and he shared many of their views. In the summer of 1961 he set out to transform this largely intellectual movement into a national political force, and in the process to do what no one had ever done before: literally draft someone (in this case Barry Goldwater) for a presidential nomination.

In his The Making of the President--1964 Theodore White (no kin) described Clif White as "a technician of politics--one of the finest in America." Just how good he was (and how powerful a force conservatism was becoming) Nelson Rockefeller and the other recognized leaders of the GOP had discovered at San Francisco's Cow Palace, when Goldwater was nominated for President on the first ballot with 883 votes out of 1,308. White's pre-ballot prediction was off by just one vote.

After his nomination Goldwater put various Arizona friends in charge of his campaign. He has since honorably acknowledged that "Not selecting White [as Republican national chairman] was a mistake. . . . Clif deserved the honor."

But if White was disappointed, he didn't let it slow him down. He went on to become the manager of Ronald Reagan's belated bid for the 1968 nomination, which despite the late start came close to defeating Mr. Nixon. In 1970 he directed James Buckley's successful campaign for a U.S. senatorship from New York on the Conservative Party line, beating both the Republican and Democratic nominees. In 1980 Bill Casey, Mr. Reagan's campaign manager, summoned White to his side at their Arlington headquarters as one of two full-time "senior advisors" (the other was James Baker).

During the 1980s White divided his time between his home in Greenwich, Connecticut, an office in Washington from which he directed the International Foundation for Electoral Systems, an organization that explains the techniques of democratic politics to nations belatedly becoming interested in the subject, and the Ashbrook Center for Public Affairs at Ashland University in Ohio. As director of the Center (where he was able to return to some extent to his first love, teaching), White built it into a highly respected forum for the study of public issues. President Reagan, as well as Vice Presidents Bush and Quayle and many other prominent conservatives, journeyed to Ashland at his invitation, to share their insights with the students and faculty and above all with his beloved Ashbrook scholars.

White genuinely liked politicians, and--sensing this--they responded by being truly fond of him. At a large dinner in his honor in Washington last June, Frank Fahrenkopf and Charles Manatt, former chairmen of the Republican and Democratic National Committees respectively, were among those who rose to offer their tributes.

Clif White's last years were dogged by ill health, which he faced with courage and the same quiet religious faith that informed and sustained his political convictions. In his last few weeks, there were phone calls from Presidents Bush, Reagan, and Nixon--and Barry Goldwater. White died on January 9, 1993, with Bunny, his wife of 52 years, at his side. Few Americans, if any, have done more to hammer the high-test ore of conservative principles into the gleaming metal of political victory.