Jason Miyares is the current attorney general of the Commonwealth of Virginia — the top cop in the state. That’s a little funny to me because I used to buy him beer when he was underage. (Hmm… anyone know when the statute of limitations expires for giving booze to minors? I probably should’ve done some research before making this announcement. Sigh…)
But it wasn’t Jason’s fault: The year was 1994; he was a lowly freshman. And he had just joined the College Republicans of James Madison University, located in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia — the largest, wildest, most insane College Republican club in the country.
Wanna know how crazy we were? Consider this: they elected me club chairman. (Gulp.) Talk about the blind leading the blind.
As far as I know, we were the only College Republican club in history to be threatened with a $3 million lawsuit for a “hostile takeover” of a rival political club. (More on that in just a sec.)
A pair of documentary films featured us: The Emmy-nominated movie, “A Perfect Candidate,” and “Ollie’s Army,” which the Academy Award-nominated director Brett Morgen directed. (I got to fly into NYC for the premier at the Lincoln Center.) Our shenanigans were covered by The Washington Post, The New York Times, CNN, and more.
Not a bad way to learn about PR, eh?
With over 750 members at JMU, we had a grassroots army of conservative activists and/or troublemakers at our beck and call. And in 1994, we put them to good use: Ollie North was running for the senate in Virginia, and Newt Gingrich had just released his Contract with America. For the first time in 40 years, we were on the cusp of a GOP takeover of the entire legislative branch! But no candidate was generating the media attention on the level of an Ollie North. Nobody was even close.
In many ways, Ollie North was Donald J. Trump, pre-MAGA.
The Left hated him with a fiery passion. The mainstream media despised him, too. Even the Republican establishment turned on him: Sen. John Warner (R-Va.) — a country club Republican if there ever was one, Warner made his name by being Elizabeth Taylor’s ex — refused to support North.
So it all came down to North’s grassroots army. Folks like the JMU College Republicans. Fortunately, we had a few creative ideas.
An organization called “Clean Up Congress” was founded in 1990 to focus on environmental issues. Well, some deep-pocketed liberal activists decided to use the Virginia chapter of Clean Up Congress to oppose North. And since North was challenging the incumbent, Sen. Chuck Robb (D-Va.), it made absolutely no sense for an organization claiming to “Clean Up Congress” to oppose a person who was actually trying to clean up Congress. It was a bait-and-switch con-game, designed to trick the voters of Virginia.
Well, we looked-up their club constitution, and the only requirement to be a member of Clean Up Congress was to show-up at their meetings. Okay, fine. Long story short: On their election day, a really weird thing happened. My roommate somehow got elected the new president of Clean Up Congress!
All their new officers were JMU College Republicans, too. (Seems that a whole bunch of “new” Clean Up Congress members showed up to vote that day. Very odd!)
And my roomie — entirely on his own, mind you (cue Nelson Muntz laugh) — decided to change the focus of Clean Up Congress. No longer were they here to oppose Ollie North; their new mission was to educate citizens about politics. Hey, that’s my roomie’s prerogative as club president, right?
The former leader of Clean Up Congress, Brian McEntire, was outraged. But as my roommate told the JMU paper, “McEntire has said he wants his group back. I was elected. It’s our group. I hope Mr. McEntire will respect the democratic process.”
Shortly thereafter, the founders and funders of Clean Up Congress got involved, threatening us on the phone with a $3 million lawsuit. How they came up with that figure, I have no idea. Even at the time, it seemed like an outlandishly random figure. I assumed they did it to intimidate us.
Which I was okay with. And so later that week, my roommate — along with the entire executive board of newly-elected Clean Up Congress officers! — called a major press conference. We tearfully noted that we’re just poor, young, wide-eyed college kids trying our best to make a difference in our country. But golly gee, we can’t afford a $3 million lawsuit! So instead, we all resign.
Congrats, Clean Up Congress: You successfully scared a bunch of kids away from politics. Well done, guys!
But it was a Pyrrhic victory. From that point on, they were a total nonfactor in the election. Their credibility never recovered.
The documentary “Ollie’s Army” showcased our behind-the-scenes takeover of Clean Up Congress, and it later opened in theaters across the country, including JMU’s campus theater. (Brian McEntire actually attended the JMU premiere with me. I've gotta say, in fairness to him, that he was a kind and generous person, and I certainly hope he holds no ill will.)
For the film’s cover poster, we tried to recreate the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ nude photo for Rolling Stone Magazine, but alas, Morgen opted to promote the film by sending that photo to Out Magazine — a publication for gay people — where the photo received a two-page spread, and we were labeled as straight, leggy Republicans. (My grandma went to buy Out Magazine at a newsstand. The salesman was like, “Lady, do you know what kinda magazine this is?!” “Oh, it’s okay,” she told him, “my grandson is in it.”)
Over the years, the film has become legendary. Because “Ollie’s Army” wasn’t owned by a studio and was entered in numerous independent film festivals, it hasn’t been streamed. Lots of people in Virginia have heard of it, but very few have seen it. (Jason Miyares must be eternally grateful!)
We did much more than take over rival clubs: We launched initiatives to remove affirmative action from JMU student applications, tipped the scales at local elections, hosted conservative speakers, hung out with heavy-hitters like G. Gordon Liddy, William F. Buckley, and Bob Dole, and did our best to fulfill our mission statement of being “The best party on campus!”
We weren’t perfect, of course. (Let’s face it, ANY club with a nitwit like me leading it is gonna have LOTS of problems.) I was an immature, 20-year-old knucklehead who still had a lot of growing up to do. Far too often, I behaved stupidly and recklessly.
But the friendships we forged — and the experiences we shared — are priceless.
If there are any current College Republicans reading this, I hope this column rekindles the fire under your derrière: The JMU College Republicans wreaked havoc 30 years ago. We desperately need new blood.
We need you.
It’s time for the next generation of College Republicans to up the ante.
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