They rubbed elbows with Beth Myers, who is running Mr. Romney’s vice-presidential search, in the packed lobby bar of the Chateaux at Silver Lake, over $15 glasses of Scotch.
And they mingled with Mr. Romney’s wife, Ann, during an intimate “Women for Romney victory tea,” held on an umbrella-shaded patio in this resort town.
The Romney campaign, whose fund-raising prowess has defied assumptions about President Obama’s financial advantages, offered wealthy donors and bundlers an extraordinary level of access to the candidate, his staff members, advisers and family this weekend at a three-day retreat that even seasoned political contributors said dwarfed previous presidential powwows.
Mr. Romney’s political operation seemed to all but shut down and relocate to the mountains of Utah. At least 15 senior campaign figures flew in for what blue-blazered guests from Texas, North Carolina and New York dubbed Republicanpalooza, delivering briefings on the effectiveness of Mr. Romney’s and Mr. Obama’s commercials and spinning them through the latest polling data, which they said showed the race as a dead heat.
“Everybody was completely accessible,” said Anthony Scaramucci, a New York financier and Romney fund-raiser who said the candidate took the time to warmly greet and thank him by his nickname, Mooch, at a dinner on the first night of the retreat.
Yet for all the political and financial firepower assembled here, the Romney confab was not the only, or necessarily the most exclusive, gathering of ultrarich Republicans this weekend. In a simultaneous demonstration of the party’s fund-raising might, the industrialist billionaire brothers Charles and David Koch held a conference for conservative megadonors at a resort outside San Diego. Over the past few years, their high-dollar strategy sessions have been the marquee events of the Republican campaign finance set.
The Koch conference touched off an unexpected — and for the Romney campaign, somewhat unwelcome — competition for top-flight moneyed supporters. While Mr. Romney’s campaign officials have made it clear that they appreciate the efforts of wealthy backers like the Kochs, there was consternation among some on his finance team that the brothers decided to move forward with their conference after Mr. Romney scheduled his for the same weekend. As one fund-raiser noted, Mr. Romney is, after all, the candidate.
The Romney campaign offered donors who gave $50,000 or raised $100,000 intimate seminars and discussions featuring leading Republican lights, past and present: Karl Rove, Condoleezza Rice, James Baker III, John McCain and Jeb Bush, whose presence represented a symbolic embrace of a candidate who struggled to win over the disparate elements of his party in the bruising primary.
“Everyone is coming here to rally around the Romney flagpole,” said Cheryl Halpern, a filmmaker who attended with her husband, Fred, a real estate developer from New Jersey. The pair went to a special Sabbath dinner at the retreat featuring kosher fare.
At times, the scene here at a compound of high-altitude ski lodges seemed like an imitation Republican National Convention. In the span of a few moments, William Kristol, the editor of The Weekly Standard, greeted Michael Chertoff, George. W. Bush’s secretary of homeland security, at an outdoor cafe as Mary Matalin, the conservative commentator, whizzed by in an extended-cab golf cart and Mr. Romney’s brother, Scott, approached in a pair of shiny black pants from Prada. (Guests noted that Scott Romney’s current and ex-wives were in attendance.)
Brenda LaGrange Johnson, a former United States ambassador to Jamaica who previously attended donor retreats held by President George W. Bush in Texas, said there was no comparison with Mr. Romney’s event here. “This is much more thorough,” she said. “This is much more extensive.”
Donors were unabashed about their desire to have face time with those who might constitute the brain trust in a Romney White House. David A. Wish, a Florida doctor and Romney fund-raiser, said that in order to sell the candidate to potential contributors, “we need one-on-one time with the people who make decisions.”
Soon after, Mr. Wish cornered Eric Fehrnstrom, a senior adviser, for a brief chat.
Mr. Romney, of course, is not alone in granting his donors special treatment. Mr. Obama has invited major contributors to state dinners, put them on his Job Council and, as visitor logs show, allowed them into the White House for meetings with advisers.
The Romney campaign took pains to personalize the experience. Arriving guests received beige Vineyard Vines canvas bags embroidered with the campaign slogan “Believe in America.” Inside was a Romney-branded navy blue baseball cap and pins that designated donation levels. The campaign’s fund-raising chief, Spencer Zwick, signed 450 welcoming letters.
Donors attended policy discussions and round tables (like “Innovation in America” co-hosted by Ken Langone, a founder of Home Depot) that were tailored to their interests, both political and financial. Representative Connie Mack of Florida spoke at a session on energy policy. Ms. Matalin talked about the media, humorously recalling her conversation with Vice President Dick Cheney after he accidentally shot a friend on a hunting trip. And Ms. Rice addressed the need for renewed American leadership around the world, in a speech several guests called “electrifying.”
At times, the discussions took on a partisan tone, as when Mr. McCain scolded the Obama administration for security leaks and its foreign policy toward Russia, attendees said.
“Mr. President, how many times are you going to hit that reset button on Russia?” Mr. Scaramucci, the New York fund-raiser, quoted Mr. McCain as saying in a speech.
At another seminar, Mr. Romney’s pollster, Neil Newhouse, disputed a recent Bloomberg News poll that said Mr. Obama had pulled well ahead of Mr. Romney, telling donors to look at different surveys instead.
Mr. Romney mixed with guests at an elaborate dinner at the foot of steep ski jumps and a winding bobsled course used in the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics. Over barbecued beef, chicken and salmon, guests whispered advice on swing states and asked him about his chances against Mr. Obama, whose name was employed in an acronym by several attendees — “A.B.O.,” anybody but Obama.
Mr. Baker, the secretary of state under the first President George Bush, said the retreat reminded him of a conference that Gerald Ford held in Vail, Colo., as he laid the groundwork for his campaign against Jimmy Carter in 1976.
“That’s what I see going on here,” Mr. Baker said in an interview. “We are going to have a different result. This year we are going to win.”
On Thursday night, Mr. Rove held court on a hotel balcony with about a half-dozen financial executives, who peppered him with questions about Mr. Romney’s chances.
“You have to focus on Northern Virginia,” a donor advised Mr. Rove, who is not working on the Romney campaign but has helped raise tens of millions of dollars and map out strategy for a pair of political groups attacking Mr. Obama.
Mr. Rove playfully mocked a Wall Street banker for his casual wardrobe: a baseball cap, gray hooded sweatshirt and a pair of worn bluejeans.
“You’re the most underdressed banker I’ve ever met,” Mr. Rove told him.
After Mr. Rove walked away, the gaggle of men excitedly recounted the conversation, reveling in their access.
“That’s the price of admission right there,” one donor said to another. “Your six minutes with Rove.”
Original Article
Source: ny times
Author: MICHAEL BARBARO
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