Vanity Fair has a profile of John Ashcroft coming out, that's probably only flattering if you think George Bush is God's chosen one. When you read this, remember that this man is the Attorney General of the United States.
Quite frankly, there's very little more that I can say here, so I'll let things speak for themselves:
At 61, he is a devout member of the Assemblies of God, a Pentecostal denomination that disapproves of drinking, dancing, and pre-marital sex. As a boy, he never went to the movies, because, he has said, his parents told him, "If you pay 15 cents to get into a movie, 7 cents of that will go to support a Hollywood lifestyle we disagree with." But he is not indifferent to power and its trappings — indeed, he harbored strong presidential hopes as late as 1998 — and it is in his nature to combine piety with ambition.
(...)
His wife, Janet, he explained to the small group, had recently been bumped by an airline but was rewarded with extra frequent-flier miles and a free ticket, leading a delighted Ashcroft to conclude, "God is working for her."
Then, according to Carrie Griffin, a young Justice Department intern who was at the prayer meeting, the attorney general turned to another matter. He wanted to make clear that forgiveness, while perfectly fine in religion, had no place in the Justice Department. "The law is not about forgiveness," he said. "It is oftentimes about vengeance, oftentimes about revenge."
That was before 9/11.
(...)
Visitors to the governor's mansion often found themselves expected to join in prayer, and on one such occasion — it was a dinner gathering of lawyers, waited on (as is customary in the Missouri governor's mansion) by local prisoners who had earned the privilege — Ashcroft gave a family values speech. "In the course of this he said, 'Women in the workforce have become so prevalent that a man's role has been reduced to a sperm donor,'" reports one of the guests.
No one could believe it, says this lawyer. Everyone knew Janet Ashcroft had written a textbook on business law with her husband indeed, she would later teach law at Washington, D.C.'s traditionally black Howard University. Even their daughter, Martha, was attending law school. And yet, says the dinner guest, "he was serious. He didn't mean to be amusing."
Only the governor's wife appeared unfazed. Perhaps she was used to such opinions. (Last year, she declared in Missouri, "I have to behave myself, and I have to spoil him rotten, and that makes my life unbelievably stressful.") The night of the dinner, she was dressed girlishly, in a floral summer dress, with matching flowery sandals. Her earrings were roses modeled out of pink clay. The young lawyer complimented her on a particularly decorative artifact. "It's bolted down," Janet Ashcroft said meaningfully.
"Bolted down — I'm sure you know who the waiters are," echoed the governor, giving a swift glance at the prisoners, all within earshot, who served them. "You know how they are."
And the waiters? I wonder. What was their reaction?
"Stone-blank," replies the lawyer. "Stone, stone, stone. The waiters, who were all African-American, had to have heard. I love to pray, but what business did we have praying in the governor's mansion? That night I thought, We started this out with a prayer to God, and this is the way you end the evening? It makes me sick to think I prayed with him."
(..)
Campaign workers initially felt "it was over and we should pack up and go home," says Marc Farinella, who was Carnahan's campaign manager. But "Ashcroft's conduct over the next several days of the campaign was an important factor in my not going home when Mel died." Carefully, the Carnahan family let it be known to Ashcroft that he was welcome to come pay his respects at their home — they understood his political desire to show sympathy during a tough campaign; in fact, a statement would be put out thanking him. However, they added, they didn't want him at the funeral services, where his presence might prove distracting. Ashcroft never responded to their request. He came to the services anyway. And his picture was in the papers.
"For Ashcroft to come to Carnahan's services over the family's objections — we felt that was despicable," says Farinella. "And then the icing on the cake! Ashcroft says he has to work through his grief over Mel by working at soup kitchens. He does this for exactly 12 minutes at one kitchen, showing up with cameras in tow. It was a photo op.
"At this point we said, The hell with it! So for the first time in the history of the United States, a dead man was elected to the Senate." Farinella struggles for speech, swallowing hard. "I can hardly talk about it."
(via Making Light)
Posted by the Fourth Man at February 23, 2004 05:47 PM