This is #CruzCountry
Republican presidential candidate Ted Cruz comes to Tulsa
Ted Cruz speaks at a campaign rally August 13 in the Union High School Performing Arts Center
Casey Hanson
The rally looks and feels like a church service: the 15-piece Tulsa Praise Orchestra on one side of the stage, a choir of elderly singers on the other. Our worship co-leaders—a brunette in red, vaguely Sarah Palin-ish, and an older man in a black, boxy televangelist suit—entertain the standing-room-only crowd of conservatives, mostly white and skewing older.
We’re gathered in the Union High School Performing Arts Center, which tonight is hosting a campaign stop for Republican presidential hopeful Ted Cruz. A giant digital banner flanks the worship team—“TED CRUZ 2016: Courageous Conservatives Reigniting the Promise of America. #CruzCountry.”
The music winds down, and KFAQ talk show host Pat Campbell takes the stage.
“This is a pivotal time in our nation’s history,” Campbell says, after encouraging the crowd to donate to Cruz’s campaign. “We either come out of the darkness, or we don’t. Let me tell you what’s at stake here: If we don’t win this one, I don’t think we get another chance.”
The crowd hollers “Amen!”
***
Just a few years ago, the idea of the junior senator from Texas becoming president, or even winning the Republican nomination, would have been laughable.
But today, the GOP is a damaged brand, plagued by infighting, incompetence and shrinking relevance. Cruz, the anti-establishment outsider, is ascending in the polls as more moderate Republican National Committee favorites Jeb Bush, Marco Rubio and Scott Walker plummet. The latest CNN poll shows Cruz in third place (of 17) among potential Republican voters, bested only by a bigoted reality TV star and a neurosurgeon with zero political experience.
In contrast to the spectacle of Donald Trump and the affability of Ben Carson, Cruz possesses few charms. Republican leaders in Washington despise him; he’s often referred to as “the most hated man in the Senate.” He’s combative, arrogant and driven by an absolutist ideology that says the Bible is the immutable word of God and the Constitution is the immutable word of our forefathers, inspired by God. He promises to defund Planned Parenthood, repeal Obamacare and abolish the IRS. On national security, his hawkishness makes John McCain look like a hummingbird; he’s made it clear he’d have no compunction starting a devastating war with Iran.
Cruz’s popularity lies almost exclusively with a formidable minority of angry, panic-stricken conservatives, mostly older and white, who are watching America’s demographics grow darker, gayer and less religious. His Tea Party-inspired approach to fiscal responsibility is a red herring—if that’s all his supporters really cared about, they’d get behind Scott Walker, the dead-eyed Wisconsin governor who gutted teachers’ unions in the name of balancing the state budget.
Cruz offers significantly more: the impossible promise to turn back the clock, to remake America into a nostalgic utopia of white Protestant privilege, one where the unregulated free market reigns, there are no more abortions (save for back alleys), armed schoolteachers lead students in prayer every morning, the IRS is a distant memory, and insurance companies are again free to deny cancer patients care under the banner of “pre-existing conditions.”
To be sure, many of the other candidates have made similar promises. What sets Cruz apart is that he might actually do it.
***
Jim Bridenstine, the charismatic young congressman from Tulsa who once compared himself to Patrick Henry, is now on stage working the crowd and buying time as Cruz addresses the overflow of supporters in the parking lot outside.
“Senator Ted Cruz is not only going to win Oklahoma, he’s going to win the primary for the United States GOP nomination!”
Bridenstine works the crowd into a frenzy as he speaks of Cruz’s election as a certainty.
“We want to take Oklahoma off the table. We want this to be Ted Cruz Country!”
By the time Cruz saunters out to a raucous standing ovation, the tone of the rally has morphed from a plea for votes into a coronation.
Cruz looks like a nebbish high school civics teacher, with khakis and a light blue oxford half-a-size too small. He’s dressed down for his Tulsa visit, selling himself as the humble everyman, save for that slick, angular, vaguely Transylvanian haircut.
“I’m pretty sure the first democratic debate will consist of Hillary Clinton and the Chipotle clerk,” he says, to riotous laughter.
After five minutes of jokes, he starts tossing out the red meat, a comically lofty list of first-day promises.
“If I’m elected president, let me tell you what I intend to do on my first day in office,” he says. “The first thing I intend to do in office is rescind every single illegal and unconstitutional executive action!”
He doesn’t give specifics on how he intends to do that or which of Obama’s executive orders he considers illegal and unconstitutional. The laundry list continues. If Ted Cruz becomes president, he will do the following: repeal “every word” of the Affordable Care Act, institute a flat tax and do away with the IRS, open an investigation into Planned Parenthood, end the “persecution of religious liberty,” move the American embassy in Israel to Jerusalem, and, finally, “rip to shreds” the “catastrophic” Iranian nuclear deal.
On this last issue, he’s especially incendiary, doubling down on an accusation he made weeks ago: “If this deal goes through, the Obama administration will become the world’s leading financier of radical Islamic terrorism!” He screams this last point, his voice becoming a growl, quivering with the intensity of a fire-and-brimstone evangelist.
“The single biggest difference between me and the other fine gentlemen in this race is that when I tell you I will do something, I’m going to do exactly what I said!”
***
After the rally, I work my way outside through the exiting crowd to gauge Cruz’s reception.
“I’m just beginning to search, so I can’t say I’m here for him,” a Broken Arrow woman in her 60s tells me. “After tonight, though, he’s up there. Honestly speaking, I’ve always been a Trump supporter. It’d be great if that was the ticket—Cruz and Trump together.”
What is it that she likes about the two of them?
“Honesty. I feel in my heart that they’re both honest.”
A woman surrounded by three small children recalls that she and her husband became supporters of Cruz in 2013 during his famous 21-hour filibuster against the Affordable Care Act.
“I like that he’s actually going to do what he says he will do,” she says. “He’s definitely not going to back down to anyone.”
What issues are most important to her?
“Social issues.” Like Planned Parenthood? She smiles at her surrounding brood. “Well, yeah. And national security. My husband’s a former Marine—” the honk of a car horn interrupts her. “Oh, that’s him right there.”
“Let’s go!” the husband yells.
An older gentleman who says he’s undecided offers a more measured opinion.
“We trust Jim Bridenstine; his endorsement says a lot. But to me, Cruz sometimes comes off as a professional debater.”
His wife is more enthusiastic.
“We like how he stands up to the Washington cartel!”
The husband reconsiders his reluctance.
“He has been on the floor and shown his true colors. That says a lot. Everyone goes up to Washington and they talk the talk, but they don’t walk the walk. This guy has walked the walk.”
For more from Joshua, read his articles on Tulsa Artist's Service and new media startup The Frontier.