“I don’t think it’s fair to judge my whole career by a rehash on Iran,” he said. “How would you like it if I judged your career by those seven minutes when you walked off the set in New York?”

Rather seemed stunned by the question, which referred to his most embarrassing moment as a journalist: A few months earlier, he had gotten so angry that his broadcast was being delayed by a U.S. Open tennis match that he stormed off the set to complain to CBS executives. When coverage of the match ended sooner than expected, the anchor desk was empty, and viewers across the country were left with dead air.

Dad called me from backstage to ask how I thought the interview had gone. There was no sense of triumph or bravado in his voice. It was not in his character to humiliate someone, and I could tell he was anxious about his tough retort to Rather. I, on the other hand, was thrilled with his performance.

“You knocked it out of the park,” I assured him.

Most viewers agreed. The phone lines at CBS lit up with callers objecting to Dan Rather’s rudeness. The Bush campaign was flooded with calls congratulating Dad. One thing was for sure: There wasn’t much talk about the wimp factor anymore.

For his part, Dan Rather’s coverage of Dad’s presidency continued to be negative. When I took office, he seemed to extend the grudge to me. The low point came in 2004, when he aired allegations about my National Guard service that were based on forged documents. Once again, the public outcry was intense. This time, Dan Rather resigned from his job at CBS.

—

DAD’S INTERVIEW with Dan Rather brought a surge in support, but it wasn’t enough to win the opening battle in the Republican primary season: the Iowa caucus. The favorite in Iowa was Senator Bob Dole of Kansas, Dad’s old rival from the 1980 campaign who had since become the Majority Leader of the Senate. Dole exploited his home-field advantage in Iowa. His ads stressed his farm-state roots and assured Iowa voters that he was one of them. As expected, Dole won in Iowa, collecting 37 percent of the vote.

The shock was that George Bush finished third, behind the televangelist Pat Robertson. Robertson had no experience as an elected official and held some extreme policy positions. Yet he organized effectively in Iowa, and he correctly predicted that an “invisible army” of supporters would turn out to vote for him—25 percent of the Iowa caucusgoers, to be precise. In retrospect, the 1988 campaign provided the first glimpse of a bloc of voters whose top priority was values. Those voters later became an important part of the constituency that made me a two-term President.

Dad took 19 percent of the vote. The only major candidates who came in behind him were Jack Kemp, a dynamic Congressman from upstate New York who had first made his name as a quarterback with the Buffalo Bills, and Pete du Pont, a brainy former Congressman and former Governor of Delaware. Al Haig, the former Secretary of State and White House Chief of Staff, also picked up a few hundred votes.

Despite the defeat, Dad remained upbeat. On caucus night, he assured his supporters, “I wanted to do better, but I’m a fighter. I’m going to come back.”

As the campaign shifted to New Hampshire, Dole had the momentum. The first polls after Iowa showed that he had narrowed Dad’s lead in the Granite State. A few days later, Al Haig dropped out of the race and endorsed Dole. Dole also picked up an endorsement from Don Rumsfeld, President Ford’s former Chief of Staff and Secretary of Defense. Dad did not panic. As he knew better than most, Big Mo from Iowa did not always translate into success in New Hampshire.

As in his past campaigns, Dad resolved that no one would outwork him. The morning after his loss in Iowa, he showed up in New Hampshire before dawn to greet factory workers in Nashua. He embarked on an exhausting schedule of meet-and-greets organized by his effective New Hampshire campaign Chairman, Governor John Sununu. His approach reminded me of his early campaigns in Texas, where he worked hard to develop a personal connection with as many voters as he could.

Campaigning for President while serving as Vice President required a delicate balance. On one hand, traveling with the vice presidential entourage brought comfort and prestige. On the other hand, the trappings of the office could make him seem detached and aloof. Dad made it a point to combat that image. He shrunk the size of his entourage and held events at small local venues. He spent one morning at Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonald’s, and a pancake house meeting with voters. (Fortunately, he also made time for jogging.) Dad drew on the network of friends and political allies that he had spent his whole career cultivating. He had been loyal to them, and now they returned the favor. One of the highlights of the campaign was a rally with Dad’s friend and fishing buddy Ted Williams (to whom Dad later awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom). In Red Sox Nation, it was hard to beat an endorsement from the Splendid Splinter.

—

IN A HEATED political race, the intensity of the campaign trail has a way of bringing out raw emotions. One of those emotions, it seemed to me, was Bob Dole’s resentment of George Bush. Dole attacked Dad as an elitist with “rich and powerful parents” who had not “made a decision in seven years,” while presenting himself as a self-made man who rose up from his hardscrabble roots in Russell, Kansas.

“Nobody ever handed me anything,” Dole said.

I wondered whether their different experiences in World War II led Dole to harbor resentment toward Dad. Both had been wounded, but Dad had been able to return to his unit after being shot down, while Dole’s serious injury left him confined to a hospital for the remainder of the war.

Dad hesitated to turn negative against Dole. Lee Atwater often called to express his frustration that he could not get Dad to sign off on any ads drawing a contrast with Dole. When Dad asked what I thought, I told him that I agreed with Lee. I thought it was important to put Dole on the defensive. Eventually Dad relented, and the campaign aired an ad portraying Dole as “Senator Straddle” for his shifting position on taxes. It was not a particularly harsh attack, but it succeeded in getting under Dole’s skin and providing a clear contrast on an issue that mattered to New Hampshire primary voters.

As the primary approached, Dole looked bitter and irritable. He told a voter who disagreed with him, “Go back to your cave.” On the night of the primary, Dad won with 38 percent of the vote. Dole finished second with 29 percent. In his victory speech, Dad compared himself to Mark Twain because reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated. When Tom Brokaw asked Dad if he had any message for his rival, he said, “Just wish him well and we’ll meet him in the South.”

When Brokaw asked Dole the same question, he snapped, “Yeah, stop lying about my record.”

Eight days after the disaster in Iowa, the momentum had swung back to George Bush.

Fortunately, the bitterness of the 1988 primaries dissolved with time. Bob Dole and my father were both men of character, and they were able to set aside their differences and work together closely during Dad’s presidency. The two old warriors grew not only to respect each other but to like each other. Shortly after Dad lost the presidential election in 1992, he attended a dinner hosted by Senate Republicans, where Minority Leader Dole gave him a warm and tearful embrace. “No President was more committed to getting the job done,” Dole said. “Your place in history is secure…. George Bush helped change the world and that’s very important to all of us.” Bob Dole earned the Republican nomination for President in 1996, and Dad supported him strongly.

—

AFTER NEW HAMPSHIRE, the focus of the campaign shifted to South Carolina, the first primary below the Mason-Dixon Line and a bellwether for the delegate-rich South. As a native South Carolinian, Lee Atwater knew the political landscape and had assembled a powerful campaign apparatus. With its conservative electorate, South Carolina represented Pat Robertson’s best chance to secure a major win. But he didn’t have a strong organization, and Dad won handily with 49 percent of the vote.