Big Changes in National Political Conventions!
Thursday, August 30th, 2012
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
FORTY EIGHT YEARS OF
POLITICAL CONVENTIONS
Some 4000 Republican delegates and party
officials are converging in Tampa this week, with Democrats heading for Charlotte
next week. Network television stations are allowing only three hours of
national coverage for each convention. So voters apparently are just not tuning
in, at least for now. And it’s not just some guy named Isaac who is trying to
dampen the political enthusiasm. Political conventions just do not stir up national
interest the way they have in the past.
The old process of picking national
candidates in the proverbial smoke filled room has gone by the wayside in favor
of party primaries. In the old days, candidates would spend years wooing state
party leaders, who would then select delegates and tell them whom to support. The
old system produced Presidents Dwight Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy. The
current process gave us George Bush and Barack Obama. You be the judge as to which system has
worked out better.
My first Democratic convention was in Atlantic
City in 1964. On a summer break from Tulane Law School, I was driving my
twelve-year-old Volkswagen convertible up to New York for a summer job, and I
stopped in Atlantic City on the way. The Democrats were gathering there in the
old civic auditorium on the boardwalk, which for many years was the site of the
Miss America pageant.
I was able to park my car about half a block
from the auditorium and walk right up to the front door. A guard asked me where
I was going, and I said I wanted to join the Louisiana delegation.
“Are you supposed to be with them?” he
asked.
“I sure am,” I said. I might have exaggerated
a bit, but I really wanted to get in the door.
“Well, then, welcome to Atlantic City, go
right in.”
I stood about fifty feet away from the stage
where President Lyndon Johnson kept the crowd in suspense until he announced
that Senator Hubert Humphrey would be his running mate. Johnson was a cinch to
be re-elected, and the Democrats pulled together as one big happy family. What
a contrast to what happened four years later.
Four years later, the Democratic convention
was held in Chicago. I was living in Ferriday, Louisiana at the time with my
wife and our two-month-old daughter, Campbell. On the spur of the moment, we
decided to travel to Chicago and visit old friends, so we packed up the car and
headed north.
The main party headquarters was at the
Sheraton Hotel, which faces Lake Michigan in downtown Chicago. I spent my first
day at the convention people watching in the lobby, and reading the scores of
brochures being passed out by the lobbying delegates of special-interest groups.
Major opposition to the Vietnam War was building,
and a large number of protesters had gathered in Grant Park across from the
Sheraton. Confrontations were breaking out between protesters and police
officers all around the hotel.
I ran into an old friend from Tulane who was
working for Congressman Hale Boggs, a New Orleanian who was the Majority Leader
of the House of Representatives in Washington. Off we went to the close by Blackstone
Hotel for dinner. The restaurant at the Blackstone was in the basement. Just as
we started our meal, I looked up to see white smoke seeping down the stairs
into the dining room. My experience in the military told me immediately that it
was tear gas, and I knew we had to get out quickly. The waiter had just put
down my filet mignon. I grabbed the steak off the plate, slapped it over my
nose and mouth, and dashed up the stairs through the tear gas, losing my friend
in the confusion.
By the time I reached the street, riots were
breaking out up and down Michigan Avenue and all over Grant Park. I knew I
could get a better view from the top of the Sheraton, so I headed for the elevator
in the lobby. When the doors opened, there were two people inside: Senator
Russell Long, and Louisiana Governor John McKeithen. Rumors had been
circulating around the convention that McKeithen was under consideration as a
possible choice for Vice President on a Hubert Humphrey ticket.
Sticking my hand out, I introduced myself.
“Governor, I’m Jim Brown from Ferriday.” McKeithen smiled. He was visibly
surprised.
“Why Jim, what are you doing up here?” he
asked.
“Governor,” I said, “I came all the way up
here to support you for vice-president.”
McKeithen laughed, slapped me on the back,
and told me he could not be more pleased.
I later learned that the Senator and the
Governor had been on their way up to Vice President Humphrey’s suite to urge
him to put McKeithen on the ticket. When he was not tapped for the job, the
Governor left in a huff and headed back to Louisiana.
In 1988, the GOP gathered in New Orleans at
the Superdome to pick their nominee. An old friend had a box suite and invited
me to join him there to watch the festivities. The President to be, George H.W.
Bush, had just completed his acceptance speech and the suite emptied out. I
lingered to watch all the celebrating, when the door opened and Senator. Bob
Dole walked in.
Dole had lost the nomination to Bush in a
heated battle marked by some sharp exchanges. The Kansas Senator had won the
first battle in the Iowa Caucuses, with Bush finishing third. But Bush
recovered and was unopposed for the nomination at the convention.
“Sorry, I must be lost,” he said. “There’s
supposed to be a suite where I can sit a bit, but I’ve forgotten the number.”
“Senator, you’re welcome to relax here.” I
offered him a drink and we sat and watched the jubilation and TV commentary. You
could tell he was wishing he could have been the nominee taking on Governor Dukakis
in the coming fall election.
“Dukakis is leading in the polls now.” I
asked, “Can Bush win?”
Dole paused for a moment, and said: “Yes, I
believe he will. But that promise about ‘read my lips -- no new taxes.’ That
may come back to haunt him in the future if he is elected.”
The Senator was right on the mark. That
promise was a big factor in Bill Clinton’s victory over the incumbent President
four years later.
As for me, 10 different political
conventions are enough. I’ll join millions of Americans at home watching the TV
circus, and anticipating a knock down drag out campaign in the weeks to come. And
a note to Isaac -- please don’t rain on our parade.
*******
“A political
convention is not a place where you can come away with any trace of faith in
human nature.”
Murray Kempton
Peace and Justice
Jim Brown
posted by Jim Brown @ 6:58 PM
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