The macaca campaign: how George Allen fell.

THE last thin hope of Republicans not losing the Senate as well as the House was broken two days after the election when Virginia senator George Allen conceded a 9,000-vote defeat to Democrat James Webb. It was the perfect whimper to accompany the death of the GOP congressional majority--a once highly touted potential presidential candidate vanquished after a humiliating campaign that ended with a brief, hopeless post-election search for additional votes.

In George W. Bush's annus horribilis, it is only appropriate that Allen too got "thumped." His fate was tied to Bush's--as went Bush and the war in Iraq, so to a significant degree went Allen. Like Bush, Allen was dogged by negative press coverage, was the focus of an onslaught by left-wing bloggers, and saw what once had been considered political strengths--in Bush's case resoluteness, in Allen's a good-ol'-boy bonhomie--turn into liabilities.

Allen shared other Republican troubles. When the year began, Republicans were supposed to turn the issue of the Iraq War against the "cut and run" Democrats, but by year's end they were the ones getting pounded on the issue. They were supposed to turn the election into a "choice instead of a referendum," focusing on the vulnerabilities of their opposition. But in key races Democrats fielded candidates difficult to pin with usual liberal liabilities, and these contests never became about anything other than the Republican incumbent.

But the Allen campaign was also--to borrow from Tolstoy--unhappy in its own way. To talk about the campaign with Allen supporters and insiders is to hear a steady stream of withering scorn about the campaign's failings. One of the most frequently repeated words is "101." As in, "It is unbelievable that they blew that--it was Damage Control 101," or "Press Relations 101," or "Campaigns 101."

What wasn't wrong with the Allen campaign? It was insufficiently prepared, whether from looking ahead to 2008, or out of incompetence. "We would have been hard pressed to hand you a printed-out copy of our campaign strategy, because it didn't exist," says one insider. It was poorly managed day to day, and the "solution" was to raise a lot of money and throw it into radio and TV ads, so the ground game was neglected.

Most Allen insiders blame the failings on Dick Wadhams, a well-regarded GOP operative who had been imported to groom Allen for president. Eventually, Wadhams was pushed aside amid internecine staff squabbles, so at times no one seemed to know who was running the campaign. But all of that may have been of minor consequence compared with the harm done by the candidate.

With Allen's loss, left-wing bloggers have to be counted one-for-two in high-profile Senate races this year. They couldn't bring down Joe Lieberman, but they bagged Allen. "I have never seen a campaign that was more driven by liberal bloggers," says an Allen strategist. In an environment in which shrewd and quick-footed media management is more necessary than ever, the Allen campaign repeatedly delivered the opposite.

The turning point, of course, was Allen's moment of You Tube stardom, when he referred to an Indian-American staffer from the Webb campaign following him with a video camera as "macaca." The video clip instantly became famous. Instead of putting the incident to bed quickly--with a crisp explanation and rapid apology--the Allen campaign bumbled through days of shifting explanations, followed by serial apologies from Allen. "It was a textbook example of how not to respond to a gaffe," says an insider.

Macaca sounds like a French word that is used derogatively of Africans. Why Allen said it is a mystery. Like Bush, Allen is fond of nicknames, and he maintains he simply invented the word. But it's possible it was rattling around in the recesses of his brain from hearing his French-Tunisian mom say it. Whatever the truth is, it is inconceivable that Allen intended it as a racial slur.

But the incident changed everything for Allen. His wearing of cowboy boots, his dipping, his fondness for NASCAR and country music, his love for riding horses--all had once said, "unpretentious, personable guy." After macaca, they all screamed, "dunderheaded bigot." "Some of the most charming aspects of George Allen became problems," says the insider. It is hard to recover from a gaffe that makes your entire political persona toxic.

The controversy directly led to yet another--allegations that Allen had used the N-word 30 years ago. The allegers said his bullying in the macaca incident reminded them of the Allen they had once known. Allen repeated categorical-seeming denials that only served to invite more people to come forward. Even Allen staffers think Webb responded more appropriately to N-word questions of his own when he coyly admitted that he had said the word before.

By this time, the entirety of Allen's honorable career as a congressman, governor, and senator had been wiped out by the all-important Washington Post. All that was left was his fondness for the Confederate flag as a teenager, his alleged use of the N-word, and macaca. Even the Post's ombudsman twice acknowledged the paper's anti-Allen tilt. It was so bad that the paper's editors arguably should occupy the Virginia Senate seat instead of Webb, since they did more to defeat Allen.

Allen tried to remind voters of his accomplishments as governor. But his single term--Virginia governors can't serve consecutive terms--had ended in 1997 and was remote compared with his tenure in the Senate. Allen has an executive temperament and never enjoyed being in the Senate, where he didn't do much. His main accomplishment was a successful turn as chairman of the GOP senatorial committee in 2002. But that doesn't mean anything to Virginia voters. In retrospect, it might have been better for Allen to have run for governor again in 2001 instead of for Senate in 2000.

In any case, he had less margin for error than one might think. Virginia is a reliable Republican state in presidential elections, but otherwise it is more competitive. Democrats have won five of the last seven gubernatorial races, and Allen was hugely popular when he left as governor, but still won his Senate seat in 2000 by only four points.

Lots of new voters had moved into Virginia since Allen was governor and since his election to the Senate. Their introduction to Allen was macaca. These voters, especially those in Northern Virginia, were also much less inclined than traditional Virginians to be charmed by Allen's cowboy persona. "Northern Virginia is New Jersey," says a Republican strategist, who doesn't mean it as a compliment.

According to Larry Sabato, the University of Virginia political scientist, no one has won statewide in Virginia with as narrow a geographic base as Webb except Democrat Doug Wilder in his 1989 gubernatorial race. Webb won 22 cities out of 39, and 22 counties out of 93. But half of the cities and a fifth of the counties was enough to win. Wilder actually did better than Webb downstate. Webb merely matched Wilder's margins in Northern Virginia, but there are many more voters there now than 17 years ago.

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In addition to all of this, Bush was a drag. Allen underperformed in Republican Hampton Roads where even veterans and members of the military were souring on the Iraq War. One Allen strategist says, "We never got above Bush's favorable ratio in key markets." The Allen camp maintains that on Oct. 18, Allen's polls showed him leading 52-42. The next day Bush appeared at an event with Allen, and the senator's lead immediately dropped to one point, 47-46. He never again got above 50.

It's hard to see how one not-particularly-high-profile Bush visit could have hurt so much. But there is no doubt that Allen--not a very persuasive defender of the war--did all he could to hug fellow Virginia senator John Warner, whose political standing was only enhanced when he came back from Iraq to pronounce progress there inadequate and call for a new approach. Whatever benefit Allen might have gotten from his association with Warner was overwhelmed, however, by Democratic ads attacking the Bush "stay the course" strategy.

And so Allen lost and all the same Beltway insiders who touted him as a presidential candidate said they had never been impressed with him. This isn't fair, but such is politics. "Sometimes good people lose campaigns," Allen strategist Ed Gillespie says of the senator.

In the end, there was an element of psychodrama to the Allen campaign. The senator had repeated a pattern from his football-coach father. The senior Allen would initially win in the new town he arrived in, and become a kind of folk hero. Then, he would wear out his welcome--partly through avoidable mistakes--and lose his job in ignominy. Coach Allen usually had a second act. With time, his son might have one too.