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 ofthe 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 nonea lot of novocain and hoping for a other than Dan Quayle. Quayle quipped that he was like a friendly dentist applying 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 hiincome tax rate increases for lower income groups. When the plan came up for a vote in the Housegher (^)
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. Busjoined by 108 Democrats. 105 GOPers had revolted, and joined with 149 Dh was humiliated: only 71 Republican stuck with their president,emocrats 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 Washingtonnoticed 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 a cut in
the capital gains tax. Then he indicated that he would not. In a press conference, he said such a dealwould be "fine." Then a group of Republican Congressmen visited him to urge him to drop the idea
of any such deal; they came out declaring that Bush was now in agreement with them. But then
Bush drifted back towards the tradeoff. Richard Darman, one of Bush's budget enforcers, was asked
what Bush thought about the tax rates trade off. "I have no idea what White House statement was
issued," said the top number cruncher, "but I stand behind it 100%." By t14, there were at least three draft tax bills in circulation. Even hard-core Bushmen were unable tohe weekend of October 13-
tell the legislators what the president wanted, and what he would veto. The most degraded and
revealing moment came when Bush was out jogging, and reporters asked him about his position on
taxes. "Read my hips!," shouted Bush, pointing towards his posterior with both hands. It was not
clear who had scripted that one, but the message was clear: the American people were invited to