post-MoRteMs 229
who’d take the magazine out of his hand when he needed to talk with peo-
ple” rather than surrounding himself with policy-oriented staffers. Dave
Adams, a spokesman for the state GOP, noted that Gorton had worn sweat-
ers and gone tie-less during the 1980 campaign against Magnuson. Dark,
senatorial suits on his lean frame now made him look stiff.^4
ftLongoRt e it to the pundits, and they had no shortage of opinions.
Lou Cannon, the White House correspondent for The Washington Post,
said it was bogus to blame Reagan for Gorton’s defeat. The president
wasn’t about to say anything more about Hanford than he did, Cannon
said, and the Gorton campaign had only itself to blame for fanning the
flames by inviting him to the state. David S. Broder, another widely read
columnist, said the broader issue was the damage to civility. “All across
America voters have been inundated in a tidal wave of negative TV ads
which have polluted the atmosphere, cheapened the dialogue of democ-
racy and guaranteed that whoever wins office this year, the public has
been cheated of its chance to hear its would-be leaders address the issues
they must face.” Broder pointed to the “essentially unconstrained flow of
cash into congressional campaigns” and the ascendancy of consultants
and their pollsters.^5
Newman believes, however, that “if something is important, the Amer-
ican people know it, regardless of what campaign professionals advise.
The tail does not wag the dog.”
As a lifelong baseball fan, Gorton had to chuckle if he saw Martin No-
lan’s analysis in the Boston Globe. The 1986 campaign reminded Nolan of
Mickey Mantle’s next-to-last home run. In the twilight of his career, legs
aching, the Yankee slugger stepped to the plate against the Detroit Tigers
in September of 1968. Denny McLain was on the mound for the Tigers.
With a 6-0 lead, he was feeling mischievously magnanimous toward the
future Hall of Famer making his last appearance in Detroit. McLain
strolled to within a few feet of the plate and in a stage whisper told Bill
Freehan, the catcher, “Let’s let him hit one.” Mantle turned to Freehan
and asked, “Is that right?” Freehan nodded. When McLain delivered a
juicy fastball down the middle, Mickey sent it soaring for his 535th homer.
The Detroit crowd cheered.
When their eyes met as Mickey rounded third base, McLain winked.
Watching intently from the on-deck circle was Joe Pepitone, who strode to
the plate, waved his hand in the middle of the strike zone and said “Right
here!” McLain promptly knocked him down. The explanation to the puz-
zled Pepitone was simple: “You ain’t Mickey Mantle.”