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LONG HISTORY OF DEBATES?

 

With the fate of tonight’s first presidential debate still uncertain, it is a good time to look back at when the tradition of holding presidential debates first began.   Because the names “Lincoln” and “Douglas” can barely be mentioned without an association with debating, one might assume that the practice of holding presidential debates goes back at least 150 years.  

Presidential debates are actually a relatively recent practice.  The Lincoln-Douglas debates attracted the attention of the entire nation since much of their subject matter had to do with free vs. slave states which was of heightened interest at the time, but Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas were actually vying for a senatorial seat in Illinois, and the debates were held in 1858 at seven sites throughout that state.  Douglas was the incumbent, and Lincoln lost the senatorial race to him, but of course, Lincoln went on to beat Douglas in the 1860 race for the presidency. 

While there were intra-party debates in the mid-twentieth century, the first scheduled presidential debate did not occur until 1960.  The idea of a debate as a method for letting voters hear for themselves what candidates thought had been floated out in 1956 by a University of Maryland student by the name of Fred A. Kahn.  What is sometimes forgotten about this first debate between Richard Nixon and John Kennedy is that there were two versions of who “won.”  Nixon had been hospitalized earlier in the month for a knee injury and looked haggard and worn to the television audience, and those who watched the debate felt Kennedy had presented himself  admirably.  Those who heard the debate on the radio felt as though Nixon presented as the better candidate.  Certainly this was one of the first signs of the major influence television would have on all future campaigns.

 

Presidential debates were not held in 1964, 1968, and 1972, though there were some intra-party debates held during the primaries.  In 1976 Democratic candidate Jimmy Carter and Republican incumbent President Gerald Ford agreed on a schedule of three debates, each one devoted to a separate topic.  The debate focusing foreign policy was considered a “game-changer.”  Ford noted that “there is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe and there never will be under a Ford administration.”  Ford was unable to recover from this blunder, and Carter went on to win the election. 

 

The debates are currently sponsored by the Commission on Presidential Debates, a group that is made up of former chairs of both the Democratic and Republican National Committees, but some of the earlier debates had been sponsored by the nonpartisan League of Women Voters, which sponsored the debates in 1976, 1980, and 1984.  The League pulled out in 1987 with a very pointed announcement, noting that the debates were no longer an “independent” event, with the candidates’ organizations pushing and pulling to make the debates best suit their needs: “It has become clear to us that the candidates’ organizations aim to add debates to their list of campaign-trail charades devoid of substance, spontaneity, and answers to tough questions...” The statement concluded by saying that the League could no longer be an “accessory to the hoodwinking of the American public.”

 

There is no more important time than now for voters to hear the candidates answer tough questions.  What will happen tonight?

 

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
Women Participate in Convention for the First Time

Though the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution giving women the right to vote was not ratified until 1920, women in Colorado —along with several other states in the West—had earned the right to vote before this time.  Colorado gave women voting privileges in 1893; it was one of the earliest states to do so.  

For the first time in the history of the Democratic Party, women participated in the convention.  Two women were delegates (one from Utah and one from Colorado); three were chosen as alternates. The article about them in The Rocky Mountain News (July 7, 1908) provides an eye-opening glimpse of the times.

Delegate Mrs. Mary C.C. Bradford of Denver, a former New Yorker, had lived in Colorado for 13 years.  She is described as being politically active, and her “illustrious ancestry” is noted: Her great-grandfather was Daniel Carroll, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

The other delegate was Mrs. Henry J. Hayward of Salt Lake (we never learn her first name) is described as being “a Mormon and a native of Utah.”  She was the founder of the Woman’s Democratic Club of Salt Lake that was organized immediately after Utah was admitted to the Union (1896).  She is the mother of nine and the wife of a politically active Mormon who believed in equal suffrage.

The Rocky Mountain News reporter must have asked if voting interfered with her other duties, as the article (7/7/1908) quotes her as saying: “Of all ridiculous ideas,” said Mrs. Hayward. “the very silliest is that suffrage interferes in any way with household or maternal duties.  It is just the other way.  An interest in the questions of the day brightens a woman, takes her out of the daily rut of dishes, dusting and sweeping and gives her a common bond of interest with her husband.

“She can help to make conditions right for her children and can guide them with more wisdom.  Then, too, a child must naturally respect a mother more when that mother is allowed a voice in the government.  Woman suffrage is bound to spread and it makes one feel proud to live in a state that early recognizes the justice of giving woman the ballot.”

The descriptions of the alternate delegates were definitely not P.C.:  Mrs. Charles K. Cook of Brighton was educated in Colorado, “took a course at the Chicago Normal school, taught in Colorado and is now serving her second term as county school superintendent of Adams County.  Mrs. Harriet G. Hood of Thermopolis, Wyoming, is described as age 38, but “looks younger than most women of 25, and is of medium height and build.” The final delegate, Mrs. Sara L. Ventress of Salt Lake City, was age 66, and is described as being “of portly frame, weighing 200 pounds, and of gentle demeanor.”  It is noted that she runs a boarding house and is “one of three Gentiles in the Woman’s Democratic Club” in Salt Lake City. The reporter also mentions that both her husband and her daughter were very much against suffrage for women.

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
The Hillary Factor

Now that Barack Obama and the DNCC are talking about the convention schedule, we have learned that Hillary Clinton’s name will be placed in nomination in the roll call votes.  The air waves have been filled with newspeople and pundits voicing strong opinions on the decision.  Some are saying “this is normal and gracious and the right thing to do,” while others are blasting away at Obama saying that this makes his future administration look like they’ll be “pushovers” because he has opened the door to Hillary and Bill. (Remember Bill? If we think hard enough we can recall he was a former Democratic president who led the country into a time of economic stability, not just the petulant and churlish Potential First Husband who has been on the campaign trail for Hillary.)

While Denver was no “good luck” charm for the 1908 nominee since William Jennings Bryan evetually lost the presidency for yet a third time, the Democrats and the newspeople might be heartened to be reminded of how the nomination unfolded.

By June it was understood that Bryan would be the nominee so everyone attending the convention already knew the intended outcome of the proceedings.  When Bryan’s name was placed in nomination, the party organizers helped orchestrate a one hour, 10-minute demonstration for Bryan, and they  did all they could to keep it going (the goal was to be sure the demonstration ran longer than the one for William Taft at the Republican Convention earlier in the summer). Just as the crowd was tiring, the band would start up with a new song that would get the delegates cheering again. Finally convention chairman Clayton was ready for the crowd to calm down.  He pounded the podium with the gavel to bring order, but the crowd simply clapped and cheered to the timing of the gavel pounds.  Feeling desperate to restore order, Clayton instructed the electricians to turn out the lights in the hall.  Then and only then everyone finally quieted down.

Moments later, another nominee, Minnesota Governor Johnson A. Johnson’s name was put in nomination with a speech that should have made Bryan’s people’s blood boil:  “...If there is one in our party great enough and good enough to be made our candidate, upon whom all within our ranks can agree, and around whom no internal strife has raged, one who can better than any other unite all the factions and all the divisions of the Democratic Party...” and with that, Johnson’s name was placed in the ring.  There were loud cheers from the Minnesota delegation.  The galleries took up the shout, and a demonstration for Johnson began similar in its inception to that of Bryan... this time however the Chairman became very busy pounding the gavel and the band was told to keep still.

The Johnson enthusiasts were not easily stifled, and after 15 minutes the lights were dimmed. It took another seven minutes—for a full 22 minutes—for the crowd quite down.  One other candidate, former Delaware Senator George Gray, was nominated.  By this time it was late, and the gallery was less attentive. Gray was offered up as the candidate who was most electable because he would sway the Atlantic Seaboard, but the crowd was content with a minute or so of applause after Gray’s nomination.

Ultimately, the Party nominated William Jennings Bryan for the third time, and John Kern of Indiana was selected as his running mate.

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
If Candidates’ Families Could Answer Honestly...

John W. Kern, a well-liked Democratic politician from Indiana, became his party’s choice for vice president in 1908:  On July 11, 1908, The Rocky Mountain News ran this story about what happened when the reporter called his wife in Indianapolis for her reaction:

“I had hoped,” said she, “You would give me the news that Mr. Kern had not been nominated.  I, of course, appreciate the honor conferred upon Mr. Kern, but I cannot understand what conditions at Denver have arisen that would cause him to have accepted the nomination.  Mr. Kern has injured his health in past campaigns by his activity, and as he means vastly more to me than any political honors, I am sincerely sorry, although I suppose I should not say so.”

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
Where is the Candidate?

As was customary in 1908, the candidates themselves did not attend the nominating conventions (the first president to attend a convention was FDR in 1932 who appeared to accept the nomination to dispel rumors about his health).

However, just as in 2008, whenever there is no candidate present, there are representatives to do his bidding.  In 1908, Charles Bryan, came to represent his brother, William Jennings Bryan, who was expected to be the Democratic nominee:  On July 6, 2008, The Denver Post reporter, Samuel G. Blythe, writes: “Charles Bryan’s vocabulary seems to be comprised of the phrase: ‘Bill says to do this,’ which he repeats to the men who think they are running this convention with monotonous regularity.  At that, other words could seem to be superfluous, for what Charles says Bill says to do is generally done and forthwith.”

During the convention, William Jennings Bryan stayed on his farm, Fairview, near Lincoln, Nebraska.  During the day he cut some alfalfa, and area farmers dropped by to visit with him.  That night he sat with his family and one or two close friends to listen by telephone to the convention.  (Organizers had rigged a megaphone to a telephone in the convention hall, and this was connected to a long-distance telephone line.)  In this way Bryan heard the roaring of the delegates, when his nomination was made official at about 3:40 the next morning.  For the third time, the Democrats turned to the popular candidate from Nebraska, and John W. Kern of Indiana was selected as his running mate.

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
The New York Delegation Arrives

Like other travelers, I often try to identify those traveling with me who are returning home and those who are visiting for pleasure or business.  My fellow New Yorkers are usually “road warriors,” so they tend to gravitate to the front of the plane boarding lines, and the stereotype of New York women primarily wearing black generally holds true for plane travel; the men, whether wearing sweats or suits, are recognizable for a pulled-together look (without the coiffed “do’s” of Dallas businessmen.)   

New Yorkers of 1908—and to be fair, the Chicagoans—were also recognizable by their “look.”  A New York Times reporter describes these urban dwellers as  “..noticeably better dressed than the average. ... The delegates from the larger cities, easily distinguishable because of their clothes, are apparently held in some awe by the multitude.  Most of them don’t seem to like the distinction.  They travel in groups of three and four, and if left alone for a few minutes are obviously ill at ease.”

And the arrival of the men from Tammany Hall was a much-anticipated event.  The Rocky Mountain News said: “Five trains bulging with 600 Tammanyites shed their enthusiastic cargoes in the morning...”  Another newspaper, The Denver Republican, wrote:  “With a rumbling purr that was distinctly heard out by City Park, the Tiger, the Tammany Tiger, whose switching tail has lashed the voters of so many historic elections into line, stuck his head out of the Union Depot yesterday morning, shot a rapid fire of penetrating glances to right and left, and finding the place to his liking, moved majestically up the street.”  The article went on to describe them as the men with the “molting bank rolls.”

After the convention, The Denver Republican reported that 50 Tammany Tigers took the Union Pacific to Yellowstone “for the purpose of verifying the report that up there one can see things that spout more persistently than a bunch of Democratic spellbinders seconding presidential nominations at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
“The More Things Change...”

In the “more things change, the more they stay the same” department, The Denver Post of July 6, 1908, wrote:  “If a man intends to get to Denver from any point in the near West he looks over the time table and then allows twenty-four hours for luck.”   Train travel was obviously no more dependable than today’s airline schedules.

With a population of 200,000, Denver was the commercial center of the Rocky Mountain region, and the city wanted to put itself on the map so that more commercial enterprises would come their way.  The newly built convention hall was part of what landed Denver the Democratic commitment, and both the press and the delegates admired it for its cool, spacious interior and formal exterior.  Built at a cost of $550,000, the auditorium seated 12,000 people.  Denver’s government had also had built a “Welcome” arch to greet the delegates as they emerged from Union Station.  It was made of bronze-coated steel that illuminated by hundreds of lights, and The landmark stood at the foot of Seventeenth Street for 23 years until it was torn down in 1931.

But 24 hours before the convention was to start, The Denver Post noted problems:  “It is almost impossible to get a telephone connection within twenty minutes.  The food supply ran out at about 9 o’clock this morning, and all this afternoon they have been diluting coffee and handling dried peaches to people who wanted cantaloupe or grape fruit.”

Denver's DNC Past [cbs4denver.com]

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
White vs. Green Conventions

As the Democrats of 2008 prepare for the “greenest” (most environmentally conscious) convention ever, people might like to know that in 1908 the goal of the convention organizers, with access to Rocky Mountain snow in July, was to make it the “whitest” convention.  The citizens of Denver had great masses of snow brought in by rail and piled in ten-foot mounds near the brand new civic auditorium where the convention was to be held.  The snow was under police guard, and while natives were to leave it untouched, out-of-state visitors, many wearing white suits and Panama hats, plunged their arms in the cool white pile, rolled snowballs, washed each other’s faces with it and “rolled it into small marble-sized balls in order to suck the coolness.”

Workmen had been busy all weekend to decorate Sixteenth and Seventeenth Streets with buntings and flags, and the stores in the surrounding area featured political themes in their display windows.  As the delegates arrived, each group was met by a marching band that escorted them to their assigned hotel, and everywhere there were city residents sporting, “Ask Me” buttons.

From the moment the delegates arrived, the city offered plenty to amuse them.  Bands played at various locations throughout the downtown area, and stump speakers addressed whoever would listen. Gilpin County arranged for sightseeing trains to visit the mine around Central City and Black Hawk.  Denver had also arranged for a flatbed car with “a band of forty real Indians.  The red men gave war dances and all sorts of other dances, intermingled with war whoops that struck momentary terror to the hearts of Easterners.”  (The Denver Post, July 8, 1908.)

The delegates themselves did not come empty-handed.  Most arrived with promotional items from their home states.  It was particularly noted that the California delegation gave away small packages of California prunes wrapped in the American flag.

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
Heightened Security in 1908 Equaled Sixteen Extra Officers
(and Some Help from Tammany)

Currently the Denver municipal authorities of 2008 are busy securing the city for the Democratic National Convention next week.  In preparation for public protests, mammoth traffic tie-ups and any threat to convention security, the Denver Police will add an additional 1,500 officers from around the state to double the size of the current force.  They’ll also be getting help from the Secret Service and the FBI.  This environment is in stark contract to the city in 1908 when the Denver Police hired sixteen additional officers to help out.  But perhaps that was because in ’08, it was not uncommon for men to take security issues into their own hands.

The Denver Post (July 7, 1908) reported that the Tammany delegation, traveling by rail from New York to Denver, was angered by a pickpocket who lifted from one of their men a wallet containing $500 and train tickets.  Once the theft was realized, an alert was sent out, and all passengers and crew on the train were searched.  The wallet was recovered, and the owner received the return of his $500 and the train tickets as well as “$8.35 in silver, a Waterbury watch, and the gold fillings in the thief’s teeth.”

The train was passing through Ohio when the transgression occurred, so the Tammany fellows held on to the crook until the train had “reached a point in the wilderness about eighty miles from anywhere and then they threw him into a river.”  The Denver Post reporter concludes: “The next time that a pickpocket starts out to rob a delegation of prominent Democrats he will skip the men from Tammany Hall.”

The Democratic National Convention, Denver 1908:
Why Denver?

By the early twentieth century Denver had only been around for about 50 years, but it had gone through times of both boom (gold was found) and bust (more gold was found elsewhere; everyone moved on), so the city fathers knew the importance of creating broad commercial appeal.  They wanted a way to demonstrate that Denver had the potential to be the “Paris on the Platte” and realized that hosting a political convention would provide a great showcase.  They would have been happy with either the Democrats or the Republicans, but for the Democrats, the Mile High City offered a particularly good fit.  William Jennings Bryan, who had been a big “free silver” advocate when that had been a big issue in earlier elections, was likely to be the parties’ candidate, and he was especially popular in the area because so many towns in the Rockies mined silver.

But educating the Democratic National Committee took some doing.  Denver citizens made a trip to Washington in 1907, and reporters of the day noted that the city representatives had to “disabuse” the Washingtonians of their belief that wild Indians roamed the streets and the men all dressed in buckskins.  One reporter noted: “....I don’t know a woman in Denver who carries more than one revolver when she comes down town shopping.”

But ultimately, it was money that sealed the deal. The two other cities being considered were Louisville, Kentucky and Chicago, Illinois.   Realizing that the greater travel distance for easterners (where most of the population still resided) could be a major obstacle, the organizers offered a hard sell—and big bucks—for the business. Denver was constructing a brand new civic auditorium that would seat 12,000 people, and they offered the use of it to the Democratic Party rent-free, with $100,000 added in “for expenses.” Louisville pledged $30,000, Chicago; the weaker contender all along, offered only $25,000.

One member of the DNC, a congressman from Alabama, raised the issue that accepting such a large sum of money was tantamount to “buying” the convention, and unused funds should be returned to Denver.  “Wiser heads” prevailed, and the full contribution was accepted by the committee.

Were they happy with their choice?  One reporter certainly seemed to think the right decision was made:  With a heading of “No Wilted Collars,” The Rocky Mountain News reported this on July 5, 1908:

“Looking down on the crowd in the Brown lobby, I thought of the leaking Wigwam in Chicago, where people sweltered and suffered. I thought of Kansas City, where the hungry horde passed over the town like the locusts and everybody was dusty and sticky, and St. Louis—well, St. Louis should not be spoke of...”

“...But this convention is different.  Not a wilted collar, not a palm-leaf fan, nobody apologizing for his shirt sleeves and carrying his coat over his arm, the picture of moist misery.  Nobody sitting in a corner, wishing he had remained at home next to the refrigerator and ice-water pitcher, nobody mopping his steaming countenance and saying, “Is this hot enough for you?”