By Carol Olechowski
If one can say anything about the electoral process during the past century, it's this, notes Kathleen E. Kendall: �In almost every presidential primary, there have been candidates who have used brilliant rhetorical strategies — and/or new technologies – to offset the power of wealthier opponents and of the news media.�
Kendall drew this conclusion while researching her latest book, Communication in the Presidential Primaries: Candidates and the Media, 1912–2000. The Department of Communication associate professor studied presidential primaries beginning with the 1912 campaign — the first year in which such contests were widely held.
Communication in the Presidential Primaries has its roots in a course Kendall taught at UAlbany in the 1980s. That course, she explains, �got me more interested in presidential primaries,� so Kendall and a colleague, Paul E. Corcoran of Australia's University of Adelaide, embarked upon a research project focusing on the 1912 primary elections. Based on their findings, the researchers collaborated on an article, �Communication in the First Primaries: The �Voice of the People� in 1912,� for Presidential Studies Quarterly.
Kendall, an Oberlin College graduate who earned her Ph.D. in speech and theatre at Indiana University, was still intrigued by the topic of primaries, and continued her research. Using a �systematic approach� of pinpointing, at 20-year intervals, �major primaries that were contested,� she launched a study of how presidential contenders connected with voters through advertising, speeches, and debates, and of how the media covered the candidates.
In Communication in the Presidential Primaries, Kendall presents the results of her research — which revealed �patterns and trends and factors in common� in primaries throughout the 1900s. The 1912 primaries �established precedents for future elections,� the author writes. Theodore Roosevelt, �a popular former president, a self-styled hero, and an internationally acclaimed man of peace and derring-do,� campaigned against incumbent President William Howard Taft and Wisconsin Senator Robert M. LaFollette, Sr., for the Republican nomination. The Democratic race pitted New Jersey Governor Woodrow Wilson against Speaker of the House of Representatives Beauchamp Clark of Missouri. On page 13, Kendall suggests that �. . .presidential primaries served as vehicles for long-established national party leaders in a struggle for power rather than as openings for new candidates to emerge from a process of democratic selection to express and represent interests previously suppressed by party organizations.� The 1912 races, she adds, also introduced the presidential primary as �a dramatically new situation: a contest of aspirants, including even the president of the United States as a mere �candidate� for the people's votes.�
Perhaps even more interesting, however, were the ways in which those �aspirants� reached out to the public. In 1912, for instance, �personal representatives� hit the campaign trail to make speeches on behalf of some of the candidates. Among them were Louis Brandeis and William Jennings Bryan, who made appearances to drum up support for LaFollette and Wilson, respectively. In a scene oddly reminiscent of today's media coverage, hordes of newspaper reporters followed the candidates, dutifully filing reports each day on campaign speeches and rallies.
The candidates also found another use for newspapers: advertising. Ads, which carried appeals from the political hopefuls and endorsements from party officials, got their points across through the use of boldfacing, font size, borders, and other graphic design elements. Some were formatted to look like newspaper articles, and many carried instructions about how to vote. Others were the forerunners of present-day �negative ads.� Still others pointed out a particular candidate's worthiness to hold the nation's highest office. Taft, for example, was extolled as a man of �deeds — not words,� while Clark was portrayed as �fair� and �kind.�
Ensuing campaigns expanded communication venues to include radio and television — and even direct mail appeals. Franklin Roosevelt, in 1932, used the latter most effectively through the miracle of 20th-century technology: The invention of the addressograph enabled him to �send out wave after wave of mailings to Democratic party leaders throughout the country,� according to Kendall. In turn, the politicians would �write back and give FDR intelligence� about his prospects for a successful campaign. Twenty years later, Dwight Eisenhower became the first presidential aspirant to recognize the potential of television; he reached the nation�s 19 million viewing households by purchasing airtime for both ads and speeches. And in 1992, former California governor Jerry Brown established another technological precedent by running an �800� number voters could call to make contributions to his campaign. As a result of that strategy, says Kendall, �he stayed in the race long after many other candidates had dropped out.�
Kendall�s book also presents an engrossing look at the impressions — both positive and negative — that advertising, news coverage, and personal appearances have communicated to voters over the years. �Reporters,� the author comments on page 165, �labeled the candidates, based on personal observations, interviews with voters, talks with party leaders, the language of the candidates, and polls.� In the 1972 campaign, former New York City mayor John Lindsay was described as �charismatic,� while Hubert Humphrey, who had served as vice president from 1963 through 1968, was deemed a �has-been.� Washington Senator Henry Jackson was seen as a �hawk�; Senator George McGovern of South Dakota as a �compassionate man of convictions�; and former Alabama governor George Wallace as �typically jaunty� and �rustic.� Edmund Muskie, senator from Maine, went into the campaign hailed as a �cool and controlled exponent of New England reserve and restraint.� After he publicly broke down in tears when the Manchester [New Hampshire] Union-Leader printed an article insulting to his wife, however, �the media interpreted this event as a sign of weakness in character,� writes Kendall, who has taught at UAlbany since 1964. And Richard Nixon, already under suspicion for allegedly benefiting from a $400,000 corporate donation to the Republican National Committee and for prolonging the Vietnam war, was generally perceived as less than forthright. Nixon battled back against his detractors, though, scheduling visits to the Soviet Union and China to bolster his reputation as a statesman.
Communication in the Presidential Primaries concludes with information about media portrayals of the candidates in the 1992 and 1996 presidential contests, and with some predictions about the 2000 primaries. Kendall anticipates that emerging technologies will continue to have a great influence on voter perceptions of the candidates. And she cautions that, while �wealth can create the impression that no one else has a chance� to win in the primaries, that isn't necessarily the case. �Having a huge bankroll doesn't guarantee anyone's nomination,� she writes, citing the failed campaigns of H. Ross Perot in 1992 and Steve Forbes in 1996, among others, as evidence.
Kendall researched and wrote Communication in the Presidential Primaries over an eight-year span — a much longer time period than she had anticipated. To gather the information for the work, she read candidates� papers; watched videotaped advertisements, newsreels, and news broadcasts; and read radio scripts and newspapers. A sabbatical leave and a faculty research grant from the University at Albany made it possible for Kendall to pursue her research. Other support came from the Shorenstein Center on the Press, Politics and Public Policy at Harvard University; Kendall also received from Harvard a Goldsmith Award for Research in 1994 and a Research Fellowship for the Fall 1997 semester.
The writing process afforded her a rare opportunity to work with a very gifted editor: her dad, 91-year-old Ronald B. Edgerton of Florida. Kendall�s original draft was well over the 100,000-word limit required, so she called upon the skills of the retired editor for Boston-based textbook publisher Ginn & Co.
�He helped me cut the word count and polish the book,� says Kendall, who dedicated the volume to her father and to her mother, Alice King Edgerton, who passed away last fall. �It was a real pleasure working with him!�
