When historians write the story of how the Internet transformed American politics, McCain’s New Hampshire fund-raising blitz could well be the opening chapter. Using a creative mix of computer-age technology and old-fashioned political spin, McCain’s computer wizards parlayed their man’s victory over George W. Bush into an overnight bonanza. By 7:30 Wednesday morning, more than $162,000 in new credit-card contributions had been recorded via the Web. Down in South Carolina, aboard McCain’s “Straight Talk Express,” manager Richard Davis and media adviser Michael Murphy shouted out the latest numbers to a horde of captive reporters. Before long McCain’s Internet momentum was feeding on itself: TV reports about the surge generated more clicks on the Web site. At the end of the week, campaign officials told NEWSWEEK, McCain2000.com had logged a staggering 10 million hits. More than $1.4 million in contributions poured in–nearly as much money in three days as McCain had raised over the Web in the previous nine months. The average take: $119. Since contributions up to $250 are matched by the Feds, McCain’s total haul last week, thanks to the Internet, was more than $2 million. “In terms of using the Internet to its maximum potential, we’ve made history,” gloated Max Fose, the 28-year-old Web manager.
To be sure, all of this year’s presidential candidates have Web sites on which they post the candidates’ position papers and schedules and try to raise money. But McCain’s Webheads have been more aggressive. Overwhelmed by the Bush money machine and its high-octane fund-raisers, McCain’s Web managers months ago plotted a long-term Internet strategy to counteract the competition. The plan called for generating a large bank of computer “volunteers”–more than 70,000 had signed up by the end of last year–and peppering them with regular “Mission of the Week” e-mails. Typical “missions” were writing letters to the editor, collecting ballot petitions and showing up for rallies. Some-times the assignment was just to spread the campaign’s e-mail to their friends. “Everybody’s got a joke list,” said deputy campaign manager Wes Gullett.
Briefed by the techies in campaign headquarters last December, McCain immediately grasped the Web’s importance. Assuming that he won in New Hampshire, only the Internet could generate cash quickly enough to allow McCain to compete in the hectic rush of primaries in February and March. “If we’re going to win,” McCain told his staff, “it’s going to be because of the Internet.” The irony is that McCain himself is no computer whiz. “He can barely log on,” one adviser says.
None of this means that McCain has abandoned more traditional means of collecting cash. This week he returns briefly to Washington for a $500-a-ticket fund-raiser at the Willard Hotel. The honorary hosts for this fund-raiser include top lobbyists for railroads, airlines and telecommunications companies, industries regulated by the Senate Commerce Committee that McCain chairs. Last week, some hosts said they were deluged with phone calls from their colleagues in Washington’s K Street lobbying community, many of whom had already donated to the Bush campaign. Anticipating an overflow crowd, staffers were scrambling for a larger ballroom. “It’s going to be an absolute mob scene,” said lobbyist John Timmons, one of the hosts.
But the techies won’t be out in the cold. While the K Street crowd jams the Willard, the campaign will stage a simultaneous live Web event for supporters willing to donate $100. Cindy McCain, the candidate’s wife, will take e-mailed questions and feed them to her husband for an online chat. The campaign claims it is the world’s first “cyber fund-raiser”–and it may well change the way campaigns are run from now on.
