Blind Allegiance to Sarah Palin (10 page)

With his voice quivering through the phone, I knew immediately that he had a shocking message. Kerm said he had been monitoring the email coming into the campaign account. Embarrassed, he explained that a pornographic picture of Sarah had popped up on one of the emails. The thought of such a thing sickened me; I can only imagine how Kerm, who'd known Sarah since she was in grade school, felt. Kerm forwarded the offending email, and I called Todd immediately to give him a heads-up. To my everlasting surprise, Todd's response was “Is it real?” He sounded amused.

Stunned, I said, “How the heck should I know, man?”

“Well, she walks around the house with her robe open and with all those windows we have, well, you know,” Todd said, seeming not to care much either way.

If it were my wife, fake X-rated photo or not, I'd be horrified.

When I assured Todd that it had probably been Photoshopped, I felt as if I'd wasted words. Naked photos: not such a big deal.

When the photo later appeared on Craigslist, the rest of us were less amused. A campaign staffer wrote,
“To Whom It May Concern: We have just been emailed a picture of a nude woman with the face of Sarah Palin on it. This is an altered picture and is not!!!! Sarah Palin. We want it removed immediately or there wil be repercussions.”

However, at the other end of the concern scale, if a radio host suggested that Sarah had misrepresented a fact in a speech, Todd's blood boiled. In particular, he came to loathe—as we all did—the Anchorage-based conservative radio host Dan Fagan. Fagan became in fact a top-lister on what eventually grew into an extensive enemies list. At first professing love—literally—for Sarah, he soon turned on her over issues that I believed became more personal than political and ultimately backed her opponent John Binkley in the primary. What this little man said about Sarah consumed us enough that we regularly wasted three hours in the afternoon listening to the radio for his barbs, slights, or criticism. When something was said that she didn't like, Sarah's mood would darken, or she might demand that we solicit friends and family to phone in and blast “evildoer Dan Fagan.” Finally, an infuriated Todd shot off an email to Sarah demanding that
she
take the upper hand in the battle with Dan and put him in his place. His tirade included suggesting that we make it known that Fagan was an
“unhealthy looking male that's not married . . . And his life is all about the next free steak and cigar. . . . He looks sick . . . no wonder he can't get a date.”
Words from a clownish radio commentator were declarations of war, but the prospect of nude photos of his wife?
Whatever
.

It didn't take long for me to realize the Palins' family and marriage were complicated. What went on in the privacy of their home sometimes leaked out, as when Levi Johnston—former fiancé of Bristol Palin and father of her son, Tripp—described chaotic scenes of family and marital turmoil in his many interviews after becoming a Palin pariah. Granted, Levi is hardly an unimpeachable source. But once in
2007, when Governor Palin was weighing a month-long reality show to be filmed in their home, Bristol said, in my presence, “They'd see some shit, that's for sure.” Sarah not only seemed not to react to the use of a four-letter word, she giggled in agreement.

Outside the home, there was further evidence of tension. At times, each spouse would separately instruct campaign workers to avoid informing the other of certain things, creating conflicting demands and a tough balancing act. Not only did Todd direct volunteers
not
to burden Sarah about everyday expenses and sign reorders, but he also demanded that we protect Sarah from certain types of emails as well.

For example, when a concerned parole officer wrote Sarah a lengthy list of recommendations on ways that he believed the division could improve its operation, Todd instructed us to take action that we all knew never would have met with Sarah's blessing:

Not only did I find this message demeaning, since we always sought to make Sarah's life easier by working seventy-hour weeks, but if Sarah discovered anyone shielding her from information—even if, as Todd suggested, it was for her own good—her reaction to my sign-ordering fiasco would have looked like a high-society double-cheeked kiss.

Similarly, Sarah phoned on at least three occasions and said, “Todd talks to lots of people. Be careful to tell him only what he needs to know.” Once, in the presence of Todd, Kris Perry, and me, and without an ounce of sarcasm, she spoke wearily of trust. “Yep, our circle of trust is just that much smaller. There are only two people in this room I can trust.” She then pointed to Todd and finished by saying, “And it's not him.” Kris, a senior staffer who'd known the Palins far longer than I had, privately worried that anyone stroking Todd's ego might
pull his talking string. And when Todd spoke, he sometimes volunteered information that was embarrassing.

At one point, Todd actually put the campaign at risk. Jerry Mackie, a lobbyist and part-owner of the Alaska Aces, slipped Todd several sets of free hockey tickets during the campaign. If Todd failed to report these, this would be a campaign violation. When I pointed out to Todd that if unreported, these were inappropriate gifts, he tried to explain them away by suggesting what a “coup” it was, being able attend a game at the packed Sullivan Arena where he and Sarah could hand out Sarah buttons and conduct free campaigning in front of 6,600 people.

Similarly, when the Alaska State Snowmobile Association (ASSA) sent the campaign a questionnaire with intentions of publishing our responses in an issue of its official publication, the
Alaska SnowRiders
, as well as on the association's website, Todd took a personal interest in assigning this task to me and John Bitney, then the issue coordinator and opposition researcher. He copied others as well, to make certain that this was a high priority. As with the receipt of unreported gifts, Todd had little compunction about marshaling resources toward Palin family interests.

From this message, it was clear how Todd wished us to answer the survey: let's get more parking near Safari Lake and open up the entire state, please, to motorized recreational vehicles. Dropping everything else on my lengthy to-do list, I lit a fire under sluggish John Bitney, and we got the survey completed as per Mr. Palin's urgent request.

In distrust for rules, Sarah mirrored Todd. For Sarah, less government
extended to liquor, gun, helmet, cigarette, and even seat belt laws (telling me, “Heck, I don't even agree with Click-it or Ticket seat belt laws, and I filmed the damn commercial for 'em”). Because they were kindred spirits, the issue surrounding Todd was not his opinions but his lack of discretion in mouth management. His dearth of interview face time was an intelligently managed tactic.

Anxiety over Todd's ability to remain discreet, however, did not preclude Sarah from protecting his back, particularly when criticism reflected poorly on her image. For example, when a letter to the editor on the website AlaskaReport stated that “her husband is in charge of production at a field on the North Slope” and suggested that he resign to avoid a conflict of interest, she circulated the following:

When Sarah saw a news story referencing a DUI of Todd's, in his defense she wrote of the hypocritical double standard:
“I saw another publicized slam of Todd's old 1980-something DUI again and wondered why does Obama get a pass for his drug use at the same time Todd got busted for drinking beer/driving in the ol' metropolis of Dillingham.”

For public consumption, she painted their relationship as perfect. When a voter wondered why her email went to Todd when addressed only to Sarah, the reply was typical Sarah:
“My husband is so wonderful, he helps go through emails so we don't miss any. We sure don't want to let any of the emails slide and not respond! Todd helps me keep them
straight. He's the best helpmate a candidate could ever have, considering the amount of emails we receive!”

Sarah's conflicting message to those of us on her staff was: don't always tell Todd what we're doing, but don't criticize him, either. These public proclamations of marital bliss, however, became what I referred to as pasting on a whole lotta frosting atop that cupcake to make it sweeter than it really is. I'm not suggesting that rumors of divorce had merit—I don't think they did—but this union for sure had its rocky side. Todd once wrote Sarah an email that he shared with me, saying she was
“once about taking a stand and shit,”
but that after being elected
“she wasn't any better than those she ran against.”
Todd's email went on to express his growing dissatisfaction with Sarah. This message so unnerved my wife that she wrote me,
“It almost sounds as if he is filing for divorce if she doesn't answer his email the way he wants her to.”

For all the frictions their relationship created, however, Todd returned to home base and demonstrated as much devotion to the cause as anyone. It was hard to tell if the Palins were a loving couple, or like many couples, if they drifted in and out of affection. But whatever they shared, it was built around furthering Sarah's career, with Todd willingly assuming a supportive position.

As the months wore on and Sarah's personality grew increasingly unpredictable, we felt a need to understand which Sarah would show up on a given day. In particular, Kris Perry (our campaign organizer for the general election) and I would phone each other on our commute into the office and discuss early morning communications with Sarah. “What kind of mood do you think she's in?” became the overriding question. This is where Todd came to provide a valuable service. Fully on board with our need to know, he would regularly relay his wife's demeanor as she left the house for headquarters. If something distressing was going on, he'd phone me with his concerns. Some time later, Todd even took to stealing Sarah's BlackBerry in order to read her emails for emotional clues. So thick were we in this plot to monitor mood, Todd went so far as to access one of her main email accounts while working on the North Slope.