The defeat that made Ronald Reagan president.
Anyone who has spent significant time in and around political campaigns would have their own special understanding of the famous Wide-World-of-Sports descriptive: “The thrill of victory … and the agony of defeat.” And when it comes to “defeat,” that understanding often extends to the wisdom that within defeat can often come the seeds of future “victory.” Nowhere is that better illustrated than through the remarkable story of “Reagan ’76,” ripe to be remembered once again on its 50th anniversary this month.
August 1976 — precisely 50 years ago — marked a seminal turning point in the political career of Ronald Reagan, the man who would later serve two terms as America’s 40th president (1981-1989). During that year of America’s (1776-1976) Bicentennial, Reagan — a former California governor at 65 years old — spent eight months crisscrossing the country in a doomed pursuit of the 1976 Republican presidential nomination as challenger to the incumbent Republican president Gerald Ford.
In what was considered at the time to be his last best chance to win the presidency, Reagan suffered a painful defeat. But against many odds, he came back four years later to achieve an historic landslide victory. Political historians now agree that had it not been for the indispensable groundwork laid in his unsuccessful 1976 campaign, Reagan would not have had a chance of experiencing the “thrill of victory” to be elected president in 1980.
In 1976, it was a very close intra-party primary battle between Ford and Reagan, pitting the East Coast Republican establishment wing of the Party, led by Ford, against an upstart grassroots conservative insurgency led by Reagan. Throughout, there were many tumultuous twists and turns, and ups and downs. As the challenger, Reagan was the clear underdog. Ford had most of the VIP Party regulars and elected officials locked up on his side from coast to coast. At the national level, Reagan had the public endorsements of only one sitting governor, six senators, and just 10 congressmen.
The goal was to capture the majority of national convention delegates needed to win the nomination. The campaign played out through a combination of state primaries, state conventions or caucuses, and carefully targeted persuasion campaigns aimed at a smaller critical group of late-breaking uncommitted delegates. In some states, delegates were allocated proportionally in line with the primary vote percentages received by each candidate. In other states, it was winner-take-all.
In the battle for delegates, Reagan won 10 primaries (AR, CA, GA, ID, IN, NE, NC, NV, SD, and TX) and prevailed in 15 state conventions or caucuses (AL, AK, AZ, CO, HI, KS, LA, MO, MT, NM, OK, SC, UT, WA, and WY).
Meanwhile, Ford won 16 primaries (CT, FL, IL, KY, MD, MA, MI, NH, NJ, OH, OR, PA, RI, TN, VT, and WI) and prevailed in 9 state conventions or caucuses (DE, IA, ME, MN, MS, NY, ND, VA, and WV).
The magic number of delegates needed to win was 1130. It was all geared to culminate in mid-August at the Republican National Convention held in Kansas City.
By early July, six weeks before the convention and with the primaries over, both candidates were coming up short, with Ford slightly ahead. Unofficial approximate delegate whip counts reported in the media at that time showed Ford had about 1070 delegates (60 short) and Reagan had about 1020 (110 short), with roughly 170 uncommitted.
It was at this point that Reagan’s campaign manager, John Sears, confronted the harsh reality that if something drastic was not done to shake up the campaign’s inertial dynamic, any chance for a Reagan victory at the convention was about to completely evaporate. Thus was hatched one of the most remarkable “Hail Mary” passes ever thrown in the history of American politics.
On July 26, just three weeks before the start of the convention, Reagan announced the name of the vice-presidential running mate he would choose if he were to win the nomination. This was something that had never been done before. VP running-mates are always announced at the convention by the successful candidate only after the presidential nomination has been voted on and secured.
But in this case, Reagan’s premature announcement amounted to a largely transparent and somewhat desperate campaign tactic designed to shake up the race and win more delegates for Reagan while at the same time pulling a significant number away from Ford.
Reagan’s surprise choice for VP was Pennsylvania Senator Richard Schweiker, a moderate-liberal East Coast Republican considered to be much more in line with the Ford wing of the party than with the growing conservative movement led by Reagan.
At the outset, while controversial and derided by some Reagan supporters, the ploy seemed to make tactical sense by having a possible chance of seriously breaking up the large Pennsylvania delegation that was solidly in the Ford camp. Schweiker had a close relationship with the delegation’s chairman, Drew Lewis. If Lewis also flipped to Reagan, he could easily take a dozen or more delegates with him and even encourage other states to move in the same direction.
Well, it was a nice try… but no cigar. Lewis remained solidly loyal to Ford. Only four delegates switched to Reagan, but later even most of them switched back to Ford.
Meantime, in the realm of unintended consequences, the ploy seriously alienated many southern conservatives, including Mississippi’s venerable state Republican Chairman Clarke Reed. Reed had the power and the expectation to move Mississippi’s entire 30-member delegation (one of the last uncommitted blocs going into the convention) into the Reagan column.
Reed was considered a strong Reagan supporter, but he called Reagan’s selection of Schweiker “wrong and dumb” and showing “bad judgment.” That set off fierce behind-the-scenes lobbying efforts leading up to the convention by both Ford and Reagan — and their campaigns — trying to pull Reed in opposite directions.
If Reed could put his reservations aside and bring his state’s full delegation to Reagan, it would not by itself have been enough to put Reagan over the top in delegate votes. But the Reagan team knew it would mark a huge shift of momentum in the campaign that could have helped move many more delegates in other states as well. That was the key, and why Reed’s decision would be so critical for Reagan.
As the convention opened on August 16, the drama continued; tensions were high, and the outcome was still very much uncertain. While both candidates held delegation meetings and rallies in Kansas City during convention week, no one knew for sure what secret last-minute deals or pressures might be brought to bear to sway the remaining uncommitted delegates.
On August 17, in a final attempt to move the numbers, the Reagan team forced a floor vote on a proposed procedural change in party rules. The proposed Rule 16-C would require that all party presidential candidates name their V.P. choice before the final roll call on the presidential nomination. If passed, this would have forced Ford to name his vice-presidential choice and, by so doing, possibly alienating delegates on either side of the party, and giving Reagan a chance to win more delegates to his side.
But Rule 16-C was decisively defeated by a vote of 1069-1180. That, coupled with Clarke Reed leading the Mississippi delegation to cast its 30 votes against the measure, clearly demonstrated that Reagan did not have enough votes to win the nomination.
On Aug. 18, late in the evening, the final roll call vote on the presidential nomination sealed it: 1187 delegate votes for Ford, 1070 delegate votes for Reagan. It was a hard-fought victory for Ford. It was the proverbial “agony of defeat” for the Reagan side.
For those who were part of the Reagan team at that early time — many who had worked hard for months and had held out the hope of victory right up to the last minute — it was the kind of defeat that had a decisive finality to it. At the time, it was seen by many as the absolute political end for Reagan — indeed the climactic and cinematic “The End” for the ex-movie star — not as a stepping stone for a future comeback, not as a rallying cry to “go get’em” next time.
This was because all the smart sober logic pointed to the near certainty that there would be no “next time” for Reagan… and everyone knew it, everyone felt it. In four years, Reagan would be 69, and by any previous standard, too old to run. And if Ford won and served two terms, it would be eight years, making it totally out of the question.
The next day, Aug. 19, 1976, the final day of the convention, proved to be one of the most emotional, heart-wrenching, and — at the same time — inspirational days in the history of Reagan lore. But it was one of those things where maybe you had to actually be there to fully understand it.
Early that morning, the Reagan team of dedicated staff, volunteers, close friends and supporters — there from all corners of the country — gathered in a ballroom at the Reagan hotel to say their goodbyes and to hear a final personal word of appreciation and thanks from the Reagans before everyone scattered their separate ways home, likely, it seemed, never to see each other again in any similar setting.
Looking around the room that morning, it appeared that everyone there was caught up in the somber emotions of the moment. As Reagan and his wife stepped up on a small stage, Nancy took one look around and, seeing so many grown men and women crying (friends all), she had to turn her back for a moment to regain her own composure. Reagan himself, with his voice cracking slightly, managed a few words of condolence:
The cause goes on. It’s just one battle in a long war and it will go on as long as we all live… Stay in there with the same beliefs and same faith that made you do what you’re doing here. The individuals on the stage may change, [but] the cause is there. And the cause will prevail because it’s right. Don’t give up your ideals, don’t compromise, don’t turn to expediency, and don’t for heaven’s sake… get cynical. Because look at yourselves and what you were willing to do and recognize that there are millions and millions of Americans out there that want what you want, that want it to be that way, that want it to be a “shining city on a hill.”
Those brief remarks were lastingly memorable to the bleary-eyed Reagan supporters who were there or watching on television. But mostly in that moment, all they did was evoke more tears.
(Side note: According to a contemporary account in The New Yorker, Clarke Reed, who many Reagan supporters felt had betrayed Reagan, showed up at the gathering looking “almost distraught.” He approached Reagan and said, “I now feel I made the worst mistake I ever made in my life.” Reagan responded only with “That’s all right, Clarke.” Years later, by the time Reagan had served as president, Reed clarified that he still thought Reagan had made a mistake by naming Schweiker, but that he had come to believe Reagan was “the best president of my lifetime.”)
Later that evening, it was the convention finale. With Reagan watching from the audience gallery of Kansas City’s packed Kemper Arena, President Ford delivered his rousing convention-closing acceptance speech.
Then unexpectedly — in a magnanimous gesture of party unity as he was basking in the applause of a tremendous standing ovation — he looked up into the stands and waved for Reagan to come down to the stage and “say a few words.”
Without notes or a teleprompter, Reagan delivered a few short but powerful remarks that — as people would say — brought down the house:
…And suddenly it dawned on me, those who would read this letter a hundred years from now will know whether those missiles were fired. They will know whether we met our challenge. Whether they will have the freedom that we have known up until now will depend on what we do here. Will they look back with appreciation and say, Thank God for those people in 1976 who headed off that loss of freedom? Who kept us now a hundred years later free? Who kept our world from nuclear destruction? And if we fail, they probably won’t get to read the letter at all because it spoke of individual freedom and they won’t be allowed to talk of that or read of it. This is our challenge, and this is why, here in this hall tonight, better than we’ve ever done before, we’ve got to quit talking to each other and about each other and go out and communicate to the world that we may be fewer in numbers than we’ve ever been but we carry the message they’re waiting for. We must go forth from here united, determined, and what a great general said a few years ago is true, “There is no substitute for victory.”
Observers said that as Reagan was speaking, the hall went completely silent; you could hear a pin drop, and by the time it was over there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. News reporters at the time described a stunned reaction on the convention floor as if many delegates were asking themselves whether they had just nominated the wrong man.
(Side note: It was later reported that Reagan’s daughter Maureen, having come home from the emotional turmoil of the convention, said she had basically cried for two days straight. Consoling his grown daughter, the then-future president is reported to have said to her what he could have said to so many others all over the country: “Have you stopped crying yet?” It was time to turn the page and look to the future.)
But overall, at that moment in time 50 years ago this month, Reagan’s 1976 defeat was seen as the end for his political career. That was the conventional wisdom shared by most people, including most Republicans and especially most of the local and national media. Newspapers across the country actually printed the transcript of his Kansas City remarks under the headline “Ronald Reagan’s Farewell.”
Yet that five-minute speech — broadcast live on national television — reintroduced Reagan in a new light to millions of Americans. Far from being an end, it was a launching pad for what was to come.
By Spectator – https://spectator.org/reagan-76-a-campaign-to-remember/












