Reagan Made Me a Conservative

Ronald Reagan made me a conservative. This is of little historical note compared to destroying the Soviet Union, uplifting the economy, and restoring American optimism from malaise, but Reagan changed my life for the better. My political transformation occurred on the most electric night I ever experienced — November 4th, 1980. What happened that night was so world-changingly memorable, I wish it had been included in the fine new movie, Reagan, starring Dennis Quaid as the greatest President of my lifetime.

I hadn’t thought much about politics in college — the University of Maryland — but instinctively leaned right. I remember a hot date I hoped to make out with babbling about The Women’s Room, and blew it when I said the heroine sounded like a witch (I used a stronger similar word). I didn’t know or care some new feminist wave was sweeping over the land, just that television had become unwatchably shrill and sexless with shows like Maude, Alice, One Day at a Time, and others. At least I had Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman as an option. (READ MORE from Lou Aguilar: Election 2024: Real Men vs. Feminist Women and ‘Men’)

I didn’t much care who was President — until I returned to school after Christmas break for the 1979 spring semester. Then I did find something on TV to watch, every single night, ABC News’ Nightline: America Held Hostage. The longer the Iran Hostage Crisis dragged on with no end in sight, the madder I got. How could a bunch of Third World fanatics humiliate the greatest country in the world? Jimmy Carter’s Mr. Rogers face and Andy Griffith drawl became increasingly intolerable to me.

But nothing made me angrier than the Administration’s unofficial response to the diplomatic violation blaring out of every radio in the country — Tony Orlando and Dawn’s 1973 hit, Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree. The snappy, sappy song’s resurgence originated from a statement by the wife, Penne Laingen, of U.S. Embassy hostage Bruce Laingen. When asked what Americans should do about the Iranian offense, Mrs. Laingen said, “Tell them to do something constructive, because we need a great deal of patience. Just tell them to tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree.”

Thus, for many more months, stupid yellow ribbons became the ubiquitous symbols of national impotence. Which red-blooded young American men like me, weaned on John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and Captain Kirk, felt personally. We would rather tie a prisoner collar around the ole Ayatollah Khomeini’s neck. When Jimmy Carter finally took military action, it resulted in a helicopter burning in the desert, eight servicemen dead, increased crowing by the Iranian militants, and more disgust in me.

That’s when I realized the U.S. presidential race was already in full swing, with two men vying for the Republican nomination. I took note of both candidates and quickly dismissed one — the goofy snob with a high-pitched voice and glasses. But the other intrigued me. He looked like a movie star, in fact had been one, and spoke in a warm friendly tone about the threat of communism and American weakness and about regular hard-working folk as if he knew them.

The Soviets had recently invaded Afghanistan, and Carter’s “powerful” response was to boycott the Summer Olympics. As Paul Kengor cites in his superb book, The Crusader Ronald Reagan and the Fall of Communism, the basis for the new Dennis Quaid film, candidate Reagan told The Washington Post’s Lou Cannon, “So far as an arms race is concerned, there’s one going on right now but there’s only one side racing.” It was the sort of witty yet brutally truthful quip I had not heard before. As a fan of John Le Carre’s Cold War fiction but annoyed by his Moral Relativism, that both sides were equally immoral, I found the clarity refreshing.

My preferred candidate won the Republican nomination, but he made one mistake in my new book. He picked the goofy snob for a running mate. I found out years later what a detriment it turned out to be.

Upon graduating in 1980, I took my first journalism job as an intern-newswriter for Washington D.C. station WTTG’s Ten O’Clock News. On September 4th, I was assigned to assist political reporter James Adams covering election night at Republican National Headquarters. Everyone there was hopeful yet tense. Many people were young, some no older than me, several of them candidates for office. I could feel their adrenaline pumping, then mine as well. They were ready for a long suspenseful night. (READ MORE: Snow White and the Witches of Hollywoke)

We began our coverage at 7 pm. There was a large electoral map on the wall, a precursor to today’s computerized variety. It lit up red right to left faster than a Christmas tree. The whole east coast turned crimson, except for Carter’s home state of Georgia and Senator Robert Byrd’s West Virginia. People gasped with shock and delight as every other state but Minnesota went red. I may have gasped with them.

By 8:15, the election was over. And so was my political ignorance. I was a Ronald Reagan conservative forever.

I watched the Reagan film last weekend, with frequent tears in my eyes. It’s not a David Leanian masterpiece or even a studio-rich production. But it tells a great American story about a great American hero and a wonderful real-life love story admirably well. And it beautifully captures some of the decisive moments of the 20th Century, culminating in the most magnificent speech — Reagan before the Brandenburg Gate of the Berlin Wall, wonderfully delivered by Dennis Quaid.

“General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev (applause), Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

I left the movie theater inspired. Then I got home and watched excerpts from Kamala Harris’s and Tim Walz’s word salad interview on CNN. And I got tears in my eyes once again — at how far we’ve fallen since Reagan.

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“Billed as ‘A Slade and Cork Mystery,’ The Washington Trail tells a gripping, twisting stand-alone story, while introducing us to characters we’d be happy to follow on many adventures to come.…

“They don’t make ’em any more,” says Slade of a poster for the John Wayne classic ‘El Dorado’ that hangs in his apartment. “Too triggering.” Fortunately, the same can no longer be said about the hard-boiled detective novel, thanks to this fine debut from Aguilar.”

                                                            Matt Himes, The Blaze

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