New Hampshire is first in the nation. Everybody here says so. It is a point of particular pride. Most of the time, the so-called Granite State exists in relative obscurity – it has only four votes in the electoral college, compared with 55 for California, 38 for Texas and 29 for Florida.
It revels in the oddly threatening state motto “live free or die”, and has a corresponding libertarian, non-conformist streak. But otherwise it is politically unremarkable.
Except that New Hampshire, right now, is swarming like a kicked anthill with political candidates.
This is because New Hampshire’s primary – set for January 2016 – is the first to occur. It is the first furlong, the starting pistol. Winning here with enough momentum is crucial to any candidate looking to become their party’s nominee.
And with all signs pointing towards the Democrats preparing an anointment of Hillary Clinton, Republicans have flocked here this weekend, scrapping among themselves to be the one to face her in 2016.
In the sprawling, opulent Crowne Plaza hotel on the outskirts of the town of Nashua, almost the entire prospective Republican field gathered for the First in the Nation summit. All the big contenders are here; they have to be. In the audience are the people who can make or break their chances at the nomination.
Most important are the donors, who can usually be spotted by their swagger and the strong smell of cigar-smoke. They are shopping for the best place for their money. There are the vendors, direct-mail advertisers and website and poster designers, who have set up shop in the lobby, next to stalls advertising third-party support for third-tier candidates like Ben Carson, who couldn’t even get on the roster.
Sharp-tied, blue-suited political consultants, party grandees wearing expensive pearls, keen volunteers in kitten-heels and journalists in shirtsleeves carrying dog-eared notebooks shove past each other to glimpse the major players as each sweeps in with his entourage – past a life-size cardboard cut-out of Kentucky senator Rand Paul, which stands outside the ballroom wearing a fixed and glassy smile.
Rick Perry, the former Texas governor who flamed out during a primary debate in 2012, was relegated to a Friday lunchtime spot. Then came Chris Christie, the scandal-mired governor of New Jersey; then former Florida governor and dynastic scion Jeb Bush; then, over dinner, Florida senator Marco Rubio - the only one of Friday’s line-up to have officially declared his candidacy.
The schedule for Saturday included Paul, Donald Trump, Ted Cruz – the firebrand Texas senator who was the first to officially declare – and during dinner, Wisconsin governor Scott Walker, who is currently enjoying pole position in the polls.
The only direct attacks on Hillary came from Paul, who did a five-minute set on Benghazi. Other candidates focused their ire either on Obama, or on a nebulous ‘other’.
‘It’s going to be a shitshow’
On Friday, the aptly named Josh Whitehouse smoked cigarettes in the afternoon sunshine. He’s a state representative in New Hampshire, so he knows the terrain better than most, and he was here as a volunteer for Trump.
Trump was not scheduled to arrive until Saturday, but business cards were supposed to arrive on Friday morning, Whitehouse said. Sadly, UPS lost them in the mail. He didn’t seem to mind – more than anything, Whitehouse was having fun. He was going to a Young Republican event on Saturday, he said with a grin, adding: “It’s going to be a shitshow.”
In the lobby was Hillary Seeger, a volunteer for former Virginia governor Jim Gilmore. Her name tag read: “AKA the good Hillary”.
Hillary Clinton – the “bad Hillary”, who announced her campaign last Sunday with great fanfare – is, of course, the elephant in the room. “We’re built to beat Hillary,” said Sean Spicer, the chief strategist for the Republican National Committee and the man in charge of the Republican electoral machine after two humiliating presidential losses to Barack Obama.
“We’re prepared,” he said, while remaining grimly ambivalent about which politician his party machine would have to work with. “I don’t see anyone getting on stage who couldn’t face her.”
This was not entirely true. Faced with the audience, some of the candidates flourished; others withered. Bush, one of the presumptive front-runners, gave a flaccid performance that received only polite, tepid applause. Introduced awkwardly as “a member of one of the most decent families in the United States”, he stumbled over words, and mixed his metaphors.
“Behind the [president’s] desk, you can’t have an empty slate,” he said at one point.
Rubio and Christie, most of the attendees agreed, were the standout performers of the day, Rubio for his polished speech and Christie for his Q&A, which was engaged and engaging. At a pre-dinner cocktail party run by the RNC, Seeger – the “good Hillary” – said she was charmed by Christie too, but wasn’t all that disappointed by Jeb. She said she thought the expectations game was against him.
“At least he answered some questions,” she said.
Ultimately, despite Spicer’s confidence and the party’s storming midterm victory in November, taking back the Senate, the Republicans are in disarray at the top. Much as Jeb, in his speech, bemoaned the “coronation” that the Democrats look set to hold, the Republican field is gaping open like a battlefield wound.
Elections are about money; the number bandied nervously about in the room was that Hillary could raise a war chest of as much as $2.5bn before the Republicans have even picked a candidate.
“That’s a lot of Chipotle,” joked Rubio, and it says a lot about the event that it was probably the best joke of the night.
Maybe the lack of competition for Hillary means she has more than 500 days of campaigning ahead of her with a target painted on her back. Paul, on Saturday morning, roused the room with a pointed five-minutes on Benghazi. The idea is that prospective Republican candidates sharpen their game, forcing Hillary to play political whack-a-mole.
But more likely, as primary season draws nearer, the candidates will turn their sights on each other. A house divided will not stand against the Clinton juggernaut.
At Friday night drinks in a local chain bar later – an open bar, sponsored by Facebook – as rich, drunk young Republican volunteers in their uniform of beige slacks and navy blazers prowled unsteadily, and local hacks and flacks exchanged campaign gossip and jokes – “Commonwealth of Massachusetts? More like Commie-wealth of Marx-achusetts!” – the consensus was that Rubio was on top so far; and that Jeb didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell in the Granite State.
Whitehouse, sipping whisky with a local reporter named Kimberly, watched as the Young Republicans drunkenly made fools of themselves.
“Welcome to New Hampshire,” he said, with a wry smile.
