For the first time in his presidency, Barack Obama stood in front of a room full of more Republicans than Democrats for his State of the Union address. After demanding higher taxes for high wage earners, the backlash from the GOP was almost immediate. The big question remains: can they find common ground?
Late last year — in the aftermath of the GOP taking control of the U.S. Senate in the fall elections — Obama said he would, “enjoy having a Kentucky bourbon with Mitch McConnell.”
Since the Republican leader is from the Bluegrass State, one must assume that McConnell can at least provide top shelf whiskey should such an event come to pass — though perhaps even the best stuff won’t erase the bitter aftertaste in the president’s mouth; “enjoying” a drink with McConnell were probably not easy words for Obama to utter.
Nevertheless, the fact that President Obama even says that he is willing to have a drink with the opposition, is at least a nod (or perhaps just a wink?) in the right direction. But as the 114th Congress begins its first month of work, is there any future — any real chance for political compromise — for it?
Such was not the case in 1840 when Senator Henry Clay, fellow Kentuckian John J. Crittenden (the 17th governor of that state) and some of their cronies invited President John Tyler for a drink or two — a thinly veiled gambit to coax Tyler into approving a national bank. Tyler — sensing a skulk of foxes — conjured up some blatant excuse, and then retired to the friendly confines of the White House for the evening.
Or so he thought. Clay and Crittenden, unwilling to let Tyler give them the slip, went to Plan B — “B” as in bourbon. They dispatched some wide-eyed, whiskey-plied underlings to the White House; their orders were to bring Tyler to the party that the president refused to attend the first time.
Consider that in the early 19th Century, still days of relative innocence in Washington City, one could actually walk up to the White House and knock on the door — no fences to be scaled, snarling guard dogs to dodge, or rooftop snipers to be feared.
The short version is this: A reluctant and sleepy-eyed Tyler did, in fact, trudge back to Crittenden’s house, the designated escorts no doubt simultaneously glowing with the success of their mission and the bouquet of bourbon.
Waiting in triumph, the cadaverous-looking Clay greeted his adversary at the door with a grin as wide as the Potomac and gregariously (as if they were true political pals) bellowed: “What shall it be, Mister President? Champagne or Kentucky whiskey?”
Feigning a smile, the aristocratic Virginian opted for the sparkling French wine (as the hard-drinking Clay suspected he would), but — and this is the bottom line — the Kentuckians got nowhere with the national bank issue. Tyler drank with them, yes, but he did not reconsider his veto. In fact, he did not budge one political half-inch. (Nor was he re-elected, but that’s another story.)
In more modern times, President Ronald Reagan once invited Tip O’Neill to the White House for the Democratic leader’s birthday. The invited guests drank (O’Neill had a talent for it) throughout the pleasant luncheon, then President Reagan ceremoniously stepped to the forefront as staffers scurried about, filling glasses with fine champagne — and proposed a toast to his so-called “frenemy.”
“Tip,” smiled the Great Communicator, “if I had a ticket to Heaven, and you didn’t have one, I would give mine away and go to Hell with you!”
The ruddy-faced O’Neill allegedly had eyes brimming with tears as Reagan’s good-natured, proverbial jab washed over the guests — two Irish-Americans flinging some blarney can have that effect even on the most hardened of politicians.
But — as Reagan staffer Michael Deaver later noted in more colorful terms than I can use here — the heartfelt champagne toast did not prevent O’Neill from wobbling out onto the White House lawn afterwards, bashing Reagan’s policies to an eager gaggle of reporters. (Among other descriptions, O’Neill was fond of calling Reagan “Herbert Hoover with a smile.”)
So, let those two historical “illumination rounds” serve as cautionary tales. Yes, bourbon (or champagne) can act as an icebreaker and, yes, sometimes these alcohol-laced affairs or summits can maybe lead to political compromise.
But even if President Obama and Mitch McConnell do hover over glasses of bourbon in the near future, and the Republican-controlled Congress sings “My Old Kentucky Home” (with contrite Democrats gleefully harmonizing in the background), don’t bet your 401K that any of it might actually lead to more than a photo op.
In fact, don’t think “Kentucky” on this one — think “Missouri.” As in: “I’m from Missouri — and you need to show me.”
Mark Will-Weber is a journalist and author of the recently released “Mint Juleps with Teddy Roosevelt: The Complete History of Presidential Drinking.”