John McCain concedes victory on stage during the election night rally at the Arizona Biltmore Resort & Spa on November 4, 2008 in Phoenix, Arizona.
John McCain ended his campaign as he began it: On his own terms, in front of a relatively modest crowd.
Before hundreds of Republican activists, the Republican nominee refused to play to partisan passions or score political points. In blunt terms, he praised the historic significance of Barack Obama's victory and embraced the pain of his own defeat. "Though we fell short, the failure is mine, not yours," he told the crowd, earning jeers along with cheers.
He pledged to help Obama lead the nation through the dangers ahead, and praised his victory as a civil rights breakthrough of particular significance for black Americans. "Let there be no reason now for any American to fail to cherish their citizenship in this the greatest nation on earth," he told the crowd, flanked by his wife, Cindy, his running mate, Sarah Palin, and her husband, Todd.
The lawn at the Arizona Biltmore Resort and Spa never filled to capacity. A space that might have held 2,000 or more, stood about one quarter empty. And many of those present took poorly to McCain's praise of Obama's achievement. They booed at times, and one loud man swore at the stage, evoking the excretions of various farm animals. The fireworks the campaign had purchased to celebrate victory never fired off.
For McCain, the defeat has clearly been painful. But as he has in past bouts with adversity, the Arizona senator evoked his love of country as the thing that made it all worthwhile. "I would not be an American worthy of the name should I regret a fate that has allowed me the extraordinary privilege of serving this country for a half a century," he said, as the crowd booed. He acknowledged the strain his aspirations had put on his family. "I promise more peaceful years ahead," he said.
Written on Tuesday by McCain's close aide Mark Salter, the speech also evoked a constant theme of McCain's life, his absolute conviction in his own personal fortune, a run of luck that allowed him to survive five and a half years of imprisonment in Vietnam, multiple cancer scares, and repeated brushes with death as a U.S. Navy fighter pilot. "I have always been a fortunate man," he said.
The great irony is that throughout his second campaign for the presidency, McCain rarely seemed to catch a break. Time and again, outside events hampered his electoral chances, first with an ill-timed debate over immigration in the primary and then with this fall's financial crisis, which ultimately sunk his campaign. "It is entirely doubtful that anyone will have to run in a worse political climate than the one John McCain had to run in this year," Steve Schmidt, McCain's political guru, said earlier in the day.
At the moment Lehman Brothers collapsed in September, McCain led the campaign, riding high on a post-convention bounce. But as approval of President Bush plummeted to historic lows, and the electorate rejected a tainted Republican party, McCain found himself unable to control his own destiny. In the final weeks, he ran a hard race, refusing to give up in the face of daunting polls. "It's the only way to finish anything that you do in life, that's a competitive venture, which is full speed," explained Schmidt.
Shortly after McCain left the stage, the crowd began to thin and the oversized speakers began to pipe in a new addition to the McCain soundtrack, Move Along Now, by the pop-punk band All America Rejects, a group whose age, if added together, would place them in McCain's generation. "All you have to keep is strong, move along move along, like I know you do," go the lyrics.
This is surely the plan for McCain. He has failed in achieving his life's ambition. But there is little doubt that he will carry on as forcefully as ever.
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