Sarah Palin at her home in Wasilla, Alaska.
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Palin and her Alaska circle find evidence for their suspicions about the White House in the person of Pete Rouse, who lived in Juneau for a time before he became chief of staff to a young U.S. Senator named Barack Obama. Rouse, they note, is a friend of former Alaska state senator Kim Elton, who pushed the first ethics investigation of Palin, examining her controversial firing of the state's public-safety commissioner. Both Rouse and Elton have joined the Obama Administration. White House press secretary Robert Gibbs scoffed at the theory. "The charge is ridiculous," he said. "Obviously there is no effort ... From my vantage point, a lot of the criticism she is getting from others seems to be generated from self-inflicted wounds."
Something else might have been eating at Palin too. Call it boredom or impatience: Juneau must seem awfully small compared with the national stage. A state representative from Anchorage, Democrat Mike Doogan, recalls the traditional opening of the legislature on a January day--the same day Obama was sworn in as President. Doogan was chosen to pay a ceremonial visit to the governor to announce that the session had begun. Dressed in his best suit, with a plastic iris in his lapel, he waited in Palin's office as she finished a meeting. "She wasn't particularly happy to see us or interested in anything other than getting the ceremony over as quickly as possible," he says. "And this from a woman who had served cupcakes for my birthday at the mansion just six months earlier." That was the last he saw of the governor in Juneau.
Born to Run
Her departure was a distillate of all things Palin. It packed the same gob-smacking wallop as her arrival on the GOP ticket. Sunlit against an Alaskan waterfront, it was as telegenic as her boffo acceptance speech. Rambling along in Palinesque fashion, she didn't quite tell us where she's headed, but she left no doubt that she remains in a hurry to get there.
Where does Sarah Palin go next? To the bank. She has already announced plans to write a book; her advance is reportedly in the millions. A celebrity of her wattage commands huge money on the lecture circuit, and at as much as $100,000 per speech, she can exceed her official salary in a couple of days. Attractive and garrulous, Palin seems born to host a cable-TV show.
She also has a standing invitation to a lovefest with America's social conservatives. Like opera or scrapple, Palin is something of an acquired taste, a phenomenon loved by some, detested by others, with an uncomprehending vastness in between. But for those who don't get it, here's a thumbnail sketch of her rightward appeal: For the pro-life movement, this cheerful mother of a Down-syndrome baby is a rousing affirmation. For the gun-rights movement, she's a glamorous, moose-hunting shot of adrenaline. She hates on the media, never forgets the troops and is a walking middle finger to the BosNYWash élite. As Rush Limbaugh interrupted his vacation to declare, "She is going to continue to fire up people in the conservative Republican base as often as she speaks to them."