The Political Interest

By Michael Kramer

Ross Perot, the king of content-free sound bites (whose favorite, of course, is "I could sound bite it for you, but I won't"), is preparing his first wave of television commercials. Though filming has yet to begin, Perot's ads will probably ape his insistence that campaign promises are made to be broken, so he won't make any. In other words, as befits the man who seems so far to be running for President of Hallmark, there will be lots of homilies and little else.

Welcome to the beginning of The Big Act, Campaign '92 -- The General Election. The candidates will appear on the TV talk shows for as long as they can, but the big-bucks paid-TV campaign is coming, and it promises to resemble its predecessors. A review of political commercials since they began 40 years ago (currently on display at New York City's American Museum of the Moving Image) is instantly familiar. The themes and techniques are timeless. Sophistication varies, but the efforts of all the candidates routinely combine soft biography and positive ads with a whole lot more of the other kind -- the attack spots designed to skewer an opponent.

In 1948, when only 400,000 U.S. households had TV sets, Tom Dewey called political commercials "undignified" and refused to run them. Nineteen million homes had television by 1952, and Dwight Eisenhower didn't need convincing. The predominant feature of Ike's $1.5 million effort (which had as its slogan the nonincumbent's perennial favorite: "It's Time for a Change") was forty 20-second spots called "Eisenhower Answers America." In tone and substance, the same ads have been run by almost every candidate since the '50s (including George Bush and Bill Clinton during this year's primaries) -- softball queries served up by ordinary voters that the candidates hit out of the park. By today's standards, Ike's spots were crude, but they had a bit of Perot about them. Corruption was an issue in 1952, and Ike said (as Perot would) that while he didn't know "how many crooks" there were in Washington, he would "find out" and "get rid of " them. No specifics, just the inchoate hope that a "man of action" would act.

Adlai Stevenson was appalled. "This isn't Ivory soap vs. Palmolive," he said. "I think the American people will be shocked by such contempt for their intelligence." With four years to rethink, Stevenson got the message. In a technique repeated subsequently whenever the "outs" face an incumbent, Stevenson in 1956 recounted Ike's unfulfilled 1952 promises. "How's that again, General?" Stevenson intoned endlessly, adding, "Yes, it's time for a change."

In a swipe at Stevenson, who was divorced, Ike's spots targeted the women's vote by portraying the President as a "traditional family man." Mamie was used repeatedly; her "smile and modesty and easy natural charm make her the ideal First Lady," said the G.O.P. spots. Bush may be more subtle, but Barbara will undoubtedly surface as the Republicans seek to remind voters of Clinton's once troubled marriage.

In commercials that may foreshadow yet another aspect of Bush's offerings this year, Richard Nixon in 1960 turned every question toward the strength he and Bush share -- foreign policy. Even civil rights took on a foreign dimension in Nixon's hands. "When we fail to grant equality at home," he said, "it makes for bad news around the world." John Kennedy couldn't match Nixon's experience, so (as Perot and Clinton might do) J.F.K. used a jingle to say that he too was "seasoned through and through, but not so doggone seasoned he won't try something new."

Negative commercials have run the gamut from benign to sledgehammer. Kennedy ran a tape of Eisenhower's inability to recall anything significant that Nixon had done as Vice President. In 1964 Lyndon Johnson became the first candidate to use the words of his opponent's challengers in the primaries, replaying what they had said as they considered the horrific prospect of Barry Goldwater's ascendancy. Does anyone doubt that Bush will find some use for Paul Tsongas' derisive description of Clinton as a "pander bear"?

"Weather vane" commercials, attacking an opponent's flip-flops, are a decades-old staple. Goldwater had changed his mind on a range of issues; Nixon said the same of George McGovern in 1972; and everyone this year will strike at his opponents' waverings -- and probably over the same issue, taxes, where all three have bobbed and weaved at one time or another.

Another oldie but goodie destined for recycling is the man-in-the street commercial, in which residents of Arkansas will trash Clinton's governance. Similar spots failed against Carter in '76 and against Reagan in '80, but Bush will be sorely tempted to try again.

We may not see any Willie Hortons in 1992 (the voters seem wise to such blatant manipulation), but there is little cause for optimism. A survey of Bush and Clinton media mavens confirms that only a fool would ignore the lesson of 40 years. As a Bush aide puts it, "Negative works. Everything else is fluff that cushions the impact. We'll be down in the gutter again -- and probably sooner rather than later." To which a smiling Clintonian says, "Yep, that's right. History teaches that the high road only takes you home."