2004 Election: Inside The War Rooms

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To settle the matter, Kerry convened a virtual Cabinet meeting of top advisers one afternoon at the campaign's soulless McPherson Square headquarters in downtown Washington. He went round the big conference table and asked everyone in his inner circle what to do. And each time he got an answer--Do It or Don't--Kerry argued with it. The staff realized what was going on. Kerry was working through it. He argued passionately with both sides, telling the Do It crowd why it was nuts and then reminding the more reluctant side that it might work. It went on that way for 90 minutes. And when it was over, he said, "I'll let you know."

A week later the word went out: Kerry had decided against Gutsball. It would take him away from the battleground states when he could least afford it. But that meant August was still going to be a crapshoot, a five-week run through a gauntlet where Bush--or someone acting in his interest--would surely attack Kerry with a well-financed ad campaign. Kerry, meanwhile, would need to sit tight, take the hit and conserve his $75 million for the ad fight after Labor Day. "Opting in was an enormous calculated risk," said an aide. "It meant crossing our fingers. But we had to take that risk."

BUSH

The White House Springs a Trap

By early August, Bush was fighting to get back on offense, and in the conference room on Air Force One, he thought he had finally found a way. Nine days earlier, at his convention, Kerry had said he would never mislead the country into war, and so Bush would now force him to explain his vote authorizing it. "I'm going to keep after him," Bush told aides, "until he answers it."

What so tantalized the President was the chance to reanimate his most powerful charge: that Kerry didn't know his own mind. The Bush campaign had been pushing the story line since the Democratic primaries, but it was given neon prominence when Kerry's own remarks ratified the Bush message. In March, Kerry uttered what Bush adviser Karl Rove had called the most deadly phrase in politics: "I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it," said Kerry about his vote against supplemental funding for the war. The trap looked foolproof: If Kerry defended his vote, that would seem to be at odds with his four-day convention attack on the war. If he changed his position, he would undermine his convention's theme of strength. If he wiggled, the G.O.P. would use his running mate Edwards' devastating line during the Democratic primaries: "Senator, that's the longest answer I've ever heard to a yes-or-no question."

Bush was overdue for a score. Throughout the summer, every time his aides rustled up a notion about how to regain control of the race, their idea would be overtaken by events. May, June and July had been filled with spikes of violence in Iraq and new disclosures about abuse at Abu Ghraib prison. "We'd try [to change the subject], but even if the President said Iraq once, that's all people would talk about," recalled Rove. Though Kerry had seen no real bump in the polls, voters were viewing him as a more plausible Commander in Chief than they had before, and they were listening more closely to him than before the convention. "We couldn't believe it," says a top campaign official. "We were on defense on Iraq when Kerry had held 10 different positions."