by Ben Shapiro
Favor-seekers often left Coolidge’s presence disappointed. One day a small bank president came to Coolidge, asking him if he would place a deposit of any size in the bank for publicity purposes. “Why don’t you make me an honorary depositor?” asked Coolidge. As compensation for the joke,Coolidge later deposited some money with the bank.66
During his time as governor of Massachusetts, a state legislator whined to Coolidge that he had been told by another legislator to go to hell. Coolidge replied, “I’ve looked up the law. You don’t have to go.”67
Coolidge got away with such taciturnity because his thrift with words signaled an inner toughness while betraying a quick wit and vibrant humor. He was careful with words, and he was careful with taxpayer money. “Nothing is easier than spending the public money,” he averred. “It does not appear to belong to anybody.”68 “More nearly than any other body of our citizens,” said Coolidge, “the wage earners are the public.”69 Still, Coolidge was no worshiper of the simple dollar: “Prosperity is only an instrument to be used; not a deity to be worshiped.”70 Coolidge was one of the last presidents to believe fervently in the idea of a natural law: “Laws must be justified by something more than the will of the majority. They must rest on the eternal foundation of righteousness.”71
These were not the words of a mere simpleton. But Coolidge carefully balanced his deeply American philosophy with a deeply American humor. He hated snobs. In an exchange everyone outside of Boston can enjoy, a rather imposing and snooty Massachusetts woman accosted Coolidge, a native Vermonter. “I come from Boston,” she proclaimed. “Yes,” Coolidge replied, “and you’ll never get over it.”72
Coolidge was immensely popular in his own time; his popular margin of victory in 1924 is the second largest in modern presidential history. His electoral landslide lends credence to another Coolidge anecdote. A man approached Coolidge and greeted him, sneering, “I didn’t vote for you.” Coolidge’s response: “Somebody did.”73
Millions did. Coolidge combined an air of removal with a quick wit and an earthy, if Puritan, ethos. He may not have been a typical “beer buddy” president, but the public treated him like one.
WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO BUY FDR A BEER? The man was garrulous, amiable, upbeat. While FDR’s 1932 campaign theme song became “Happy Days Are Here Again,” Republican incumbent president Herbert Hoover’s campaign became linked with the Rudy Vallee hit song “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” FDR made himself the candidate of optimism.
FDR made a habit of smiling incessantly; Mencken labeled Roosevelt’s grin a “Christian Science smile.” But FDR’s constant smile rubbed the American people the right way. As one reporter put it, “Roosevelt smiles and smiles and smiles and it doesn’t get tiresome. He can smile more than any man in American politics without being insipid.”74 “He was the first president since his cousin Theodore to smile regularly and act as if he were enjoying himself,” wrote Jonathan Alter.75
FDR also employed the most effective campaign prop since Lincoln’s top hat: a cigarette holder. FDR employed a cigarette holder because he suffered from sensitive gums,76 but the holder, constantly angled upward, signaled a jauntily pugnacious attitude that provided visual encouragement for Americans.
Roosevelt’s optimism infected his speeches. In accepting the Democratic nomination, FDR boxed Republicans’ ears—but he also offered hope. There was a Hegelian light at the end of the tunnel; he said, “Out of every crisis, every tribulation, every disaster, mankind rises with some share of greater knowledge, of higher decency, of purer purpose.” Then, in one of the most famous conclusions in all of American speechmaking, FDR promised that he would lead America out of the tunnel. “I pledge you, I pledge myself, to a new deal for the American people,” he stated. “Let us all here assembled constitute ourselves prophets of a new order of competence and of courage. This is more than a political campaign; it is a call to arms. Give me your help, not to win votes alone, but to win in this crusade to restore America to its own people.”77
FDR dismissed attacks with the sort of casual aplomb so effective in politics.When 1928 Democratic nominee Al Smith attacked Roosevelt for his class warfare, Roosevelt refused to address the criticism. “Attacking me?” he asked a reporter. “I haven’t read the papers, not closely . . .” When another reporter insisted that FDR must have heard about the attack via radio, Roosevelt simply answered, “My radio isn’t working now.”78
This strategy served Roosevelt well throughout his political career. During the 1944 election, Republican nominee Thomas Dewey attacked Roosevelt for allegedly sending a destroyer to the Aleutian Islands to pick up Roosevelt’s forgotten dog, Fala. FDR riotously engaged the allegation in a speech to the Teamsters Union:
These Republican leaders have not been content with attacks on me, or on my wife, or on my sons—no, not content with that, they now include my little dog, Fala. Well, of course, I don’t resent attacks and my family doesn’t resent attacks, but Fala does resent them. You know, you know Fala’s Scotch and, being a Scottie, as soon as he learned that the Republican fiction writers in Congress and out had concocted a story that I had left him behind on an Aleutian island and had sent a destroyer back to find him—at a cost to the taxpayers of two or three or eight or twenty million dollars—his Scotch soul was furious. He has not been the same dog since. I am accustomed to hearing malicious falsehoods about myself—such as that old, worm-eaten chestnut that I have represented myself as indispensable. But I think I have a right to resent, to object to, libelous statements about my dog.79
Dogs have been indispensable political tools ever since.
It was all part and parcel of FDR’s warm image. FDR’s fireside chats revolutionized the art of politics, bringing presidents closer than ever to the people. His first fireside chat took place in 1933. Robert Trout of CBS introduced him: “The president wants to come into your home and sit at your fireside for a little fireside chat.” Alter described the speech: “His speaking voice was a beautiful and relaxed tenor, not the contrived basso profundo of pompous politicians . . . A leader who began each radio speech by calling the people ‘my friends’ must be . . . friendly.”80 Of course, that voice was carefully prepared: before each fireside chat, Roosevelt had his nasal passages swabbed with ointment to improve that “beautiful and relaxed tenor.” Roosevelt’s aide, Tommy Corcoran, said that Roosevelt “looked upon a speech with the same care that a prima donna would take care of her voice before a singing appearance.”81
Throughout his career, the press was exceedingly kind to FDR. Aside from protecting FDR’s paralysis from the intrusive eye of the camera, the media also saw FDR as a savior of sorts. After his election in 1932, the Cincinnati Free Press praised FDR’s optimism in glowing terms: “There is something contagious about the cheery smile and innate confidence.” The New York Daily News went further, simultaneously labeling FDR an incipient American dictator but praising that dictatorship: “A lot of us have been asking for a dictator. Now we have one . . . Dictatorship in crises was ancient Rome’s best era . . . The impression we get from various quarters is that practically everyone feels better already. Confidence seems to be coming back with a rush, along with courage.”82
FDR was an aristocrat, but he was a “second-class aristocrat,” in the words of a young lawyer of the time. He connected with the people on their level, with humor, good cheer, and a peppy bravura that would guide America through the Depression and World War II.
THE ELECTION OF 1960 pitted one of America’s wittiest presidential candidates, John F. Kennedy, against one of its gloomiest, Richard M. Nixon. JFK’s sparkling repartee contrasted sharply with Nixon’s dogged issue pounding. After Kennedy was able to counter Nixon’s “experience” advantage in the debates, his personality made him a stronger candidate than the darker, more foreboding Nixon.
Kennedy’s humor was subtle and stylish. In 1958, Kennedy humorously twitted President Eisenhower’s optimism about the economy. “As I interpret [President Eisenhower],”
said Kennedy, “we’re now at the end of the beginning of the upturn of the downturn. Every bright spot the White House finds in the economy is like the policeman bending over the body in the alley who says cheerfully, ‘Two of his wounds are fatal—but the other one’s not so bad.’ ”83
He was a master of disarming one-liners. JFK’s father, Joseph, was an ultra-wealthy mover and shaker, an anti-Semite, and a proNazi defeatist. He was also a brilliant politician. He informed Jack that if he wanted to be president, he would have to “get yourself plenty of laughs . . . keep smiling whenever you take a crack.” And that’s precisely what JFK did. During the 1958 Gridiron Dinner, JFK sat through a lampooning at the hands of a speaker who credited Joseph with attempting to buy the 1960 election for his son. When it came JFK’s turn to speak, he pulled out a note from his “generous daddy” and read it aloud: “Dear Jack . . . Don’t buy a single vote more than is necessary—I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay for a landslide.”84
JFK would use that same wit to great effect during his shortened presidency. Early in his presidency, Kennedy read answers to press inquiries from note cards. When asked why he did so, Kennedy quickly responded, “Because I’m not a textual deviant.” After Kennedy appointed his brother attorney general, the media demanded an explanation. “I’ve been criticized by quite a few people for making my brother Bobby attorney general,” he stated. “They didn’t realize that I had a very good reason for that appointment. Bobby wants to practice law, and I thought he ought to get a little experience first.”85
But JFK didn’t solely rely on his own wit. During the 1960 campaign, JFK’s tremendous speechwriters also pulled their weight. Before the Gridiron Dinner in 1958, JFK speechwriter Ted Sorenson called together the entire speechwriting staff to come up with humorous material. In one session, the team voted on 112 jokes and anecdotes.86 It worked to perfection. During the speech, JFK told a joke written by speechwriter Clark Clifford targeting one of the 1960 frontrunners, Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson.
“I dreamed about 1960 the other night,” said Jack, “and I told [Missouri Senator] Stuart Symington and Lyndon Johnson about it yesterday. I told them how the Lord came into my bedroom, anointed my head, and said, ‘John Kennedy, I hereby anoint you President of the United States.’ Stu Symington said, ‘That’s strange, Jack, because I had a similar dream last night in which the Lord anointed me President of the United States and outer space.’ Then Lyndon Johnson said, ‘That’s very interesting, gentlemen, because I, too, had a similar dream last night—and I don’t remember anointing either one of you!’ ”87
Many of JFK’s jokes targeted Nixon’s political opportunism—and his image as a greasy, unshaven, evil manipulator. Throughout his political life, Nixon was cast as Machiavellian. In 1959, journalist Philip Potter described Nixon as “the scientific pitchman of politics, who coldly tries to figure what will sell, packages his products neatly, and then goes out to peddle them.”88 And Frank Holeman wrote, “His own voting record, his speeches, ‘fund,’ jowls, heavy stubble of beard, and ski-nose have been thoroughly exploited by enemy orators, cartoonists, and propagandists.”89
JFK exploited Nixon’s image to the fullest. During the 1960 campaign, JFK spoke at the Al Smith dinner in New York along with Nixon. Earlier in the campaign, Nixon criticized Democratic stump speakers for using profanity. JFK used the material to wonderful effect. A Republican supporter, said JFK, approached Nixon about one of his speeches.
It was a “damn fine speech,” the man stated.
“I appreciate the compliment, but not the language,” Nixon supposedly replied.
“Yes sir, I liked it so much I contributed one thousand dollars to your campaign,” said the man, undeterred.
“The hell you say,” cried Nixon.90
JFK also made fun of Nixon’s “Herblock” look. Herb Block, a cartoonist for the Washington Post, routinely (and rather cruelly) drew Nixon with heavy stubble, and a grimy look. When Nixon accused JFK of telling a “barefaced lie,” JFK seized on the Herblock imagery: “Two days ago, Mr. Nixon, in that wonderful choice of words which distinguishes him as a great national leader, asserted that I told a barefaced lie. Having seen him four times close up in this campaign, and made up [in the TV debates], I would not accuse Mr. Nixon of being barefaced.”91
Nixon, for his part, went relatively easy on JFK. He had two particular disadvantages. First, he did not want to look mean during the 1960 campaign. Paul Boller wrote, “In 1960 Nixon was criticized by some people for the ‘kid-glove’ campaign he was waging against Kennedy. ‘I have to erase the Herblock image first,’ he explained.”92 His mildly sinister look haunted him throughout the campaign, particularly after the disastrous first television debate with Kennedy. “People keep asking me, ‘why can’t you do something about your face?’ ” Nixon told an audience. “Well, if I grew a beard they’d say I was trying to look like Lincoln. A mustache might make me look like Dewey. And if I let my hair grow, they’d say I was trying to look like Bobby [Kennedy].”93
Nixon’s second disadvantage was that he didn’t have much of a sense of humor. One of his congressional contemporaries described him as “conscientious, intelligent and perceptive, but . . . too intense.”94 During the 1960 election cycle, Nixon did little to mitigate the public perception that he was somewhat of a killjoy. It was a mistake he would not repeat in 1968 and 1972, when his campaign deliberately attempted to create a “new Nixon,” demonstrating Nixon’s softer side with panel shows, humorous footage, and jolly photo ops.95
Why did JFK win the 1960 election? Personality had a lot to do with it. JFK’s vice president, Lyndon Baines Johnson, opined that JFK “had a good sense of humor and . . . looked good on television, but his growing hold on the American people was simply a mystery to me.”96 JFK’s hold shouldn’t have been so mysterious—the two qualities LBJ mentioned were, and are, quite important to the voting public.
AS GOVERNOR OF CALIFORNIA (1967–1975), Ronald Reagan loved battling it out with student demonstrators. The student demonstrators posed a real threat to the functioning of state universities; they also provided Reagan with rich political material. During one rally, college antiwar demonstrators surrounded Reagan’s car and held up a sign reading, “We are the future.” Reagan grabbed a piece of paper and wrote something on it, then held the paper up to the window. The paper read, “I’ll sell my bonds.”97
When shaggy-haired students protested at another Reagan appearance holding signs like “Jane Wyman Was Right” and “Impeach Bonzo and His Co-Star,” Reagan told the media, “Their signs say make love, not war. But they don’t look like they could do much of either.”98 When similarly unkempt students informed Reagan that they would precipitate a “bloodbath,” Reagan told them to take a bath.99
Reagan stood up to members of the younger generation who attempted to cite their age as authority for their radicalism. “You grew up in a different world,” one student complained to Reagan. “Today we have television, jet planes, space travel, nuclear energy, computers.” “You’re right,” Reagan quickly shot back. “It’s true that we didn’t have those things when we were young.We invented them.”100
Reagan was a man of wit and class. His opponent in the 1980 election, incumbent President Jimmy Carter, had neither. While Carter campaigned in 1976 as a kindly Southern fellow with a toothy smile, the real Carter came to the fore during the 1980 election. Carter was essentially humorless; his tongue was acidic, and he used it to lash both political opponents and members of his own staff. Carter micromanaged constantly, and he read staffers the riot act if they failed to give him what he wanted.
“Sometimes his mean streak, which was undeniable, surfaced publicly,” wrote Edward J. Walsh of the Washington Post. “Sometimes he seemed like Charlie Brown, the hapless hero of the Peanuts comic strip, who was forever being victimized by people and forces less virtuous than himself. At other times, he seemed more like Lucy van Pelt, the crabby little girl of the same comic strip, who angrily a
nd defiantly shouted her philosophy of life: ‘I love Mankind; it’s people I can’t stand.’ ”101
Throughout the 1980 campaign, Carter savaged Reagan, who simply rode above the fray. Carter accused Reagan of racism and warmongering; of “shooting from the hip” and threatening world peace. “Thus was born the issue of Jimmy Carter as a ‘mean’ mudslinger, as a ‘ruthless and reckless’ political opportunist,’ ” penned Richard Harwood of the Post.102
Though Carter pledged to excise viciousness from his campaign in the aftermath of a particularly virulent attack on Reagan,103 he did no such thing. On October 7, Carter announced that Reagan was attempting to separate Americans, “Black from White, Jew from Christian, North from South, rural from urban.”104 Reagan sadly responded, “He’s reaching a point of hysteria that’s hard to understand.”105
In the debate between Reagan and Carter, Carter reinforced the public perception that he was a loser. He went after Reagan hard and often—and Reagan responded with the most disarming debate tactic in presidential history. After one particularly strident attack on Reagan’s past position on Medicare, Reagan shook his head and sighed, “There you go again.” When the camera cut to Carter, Carter looked like he was “about to slug” Reagan, as one of Carter’s aides put it.106 Reagan later described the exchange: “The debate went well for me and may have turned on only four little words . . . ‘There you go again’ . . . The audience loved it and I think Carter added to the impact of the words by looking a little sheepish on the television screen.”107
Reagan’s 1980 campaign featured him as warm, caring, and funny. His campaign commercials were homey, praising the virtues of family and small-town life. His campaign speeches invoked themes of renewal and strength.
Reagan also used his wit to dramatic effect, directing his ripostes at big government. “There’s enough fat in the government in Washington that if it was rendered and made into soap it would wash the world,” Reagan gibed.108 It was a theme Reagan harped on throughout his career. Government was like a baby, went one cherished one-liner—“It is an alimentary canal with an appetite at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other.” A government program, Reagan was fond of stating, “is the nearest thing to eternal life we’ll ever see on this earth.”109