Nineteenth-century presidential campaigns have evolved from years of restrained candidate participation to the dawn of 20th century’s media driven contests.
In seeking to persuade the citizenry for their vote in the 1800s, some nominees’ tactics have been “momentous, history-rattling, while others were more mundane, but each one was captivating in its own time and its own way,” according to Bob Riel in his book “Quest for the Presidency.”
Without any opposition in 1788 and 1792, George Washington had no need to politick to be elected to the highest office in the land. After he retired to Mount Vernon, his two unchallenged elections were assigned to the history books as political parties emerged, forever altering presidential stumping.
While modern Oval Office seekers unabashedly promote their own leadership capabilities, nearly all 19th-century presidential candidates considered self-aggrandizement activities loathsome. “Most simply stayed home after they were nominated and awaited the results … but this behavior did not apply to their supporters who fought a vicious battle in the press on their behalf,” remarked Geri Zabela Eddins on ourwhitehouse.org.
In the two presidential contests between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, the practice of mudslinging and dirty tricks was fomented by their advocates.
In the 1800 election, PBS reports that Jefferson’s partisans “accused the incumbent President Adams of having a hideous hermaphroditical character.” Not to be outdone, Adams’ team fired back, calling Jefferson “a mean-spirited, low-lived fellow, the son of a half breed Indian squaw.” These vile campaign recriminations severed their long-time friendship; it requited two decades later.
Soon after the disputed 1824 balloting that ushered John Quincy Adams into the White House instead of the popular vote winner Andrew Jackson, the 1828 redo campaign between the two rivals soon began. It was one of the bitterest presidential contests ever.
With Adams personally staying idle during the reprise face off, Jackson also “maintained the customary pose of aloofness in public, but privately plunged energetically into campaign work,” noted Paul F. Boller Jr. in “Presidential Campaigns.” Jackson energized his admirers to launch the first-ever grass root political movement that featured parades, rallies and campaign tokens.
Adams’ backers were less effective. In one slur where they called Jackson a jackass (donkey), the pejorative moniker backfired. Old Hickory incorporated the appellation into his hype to symbolize his stubbornness. It went on to become the unofficial logo of the Democratic Party. In the end, Jackson’s crusade produced a landslide victory.
Political ploys were taken to another level in the 1840 race between incumbent Martin Van Buren and former general William Henry Harrison. In “The Carnival Campaign,” Ronald Shafer declared that “it was the mother of modern presidential contests … that changed campaigns forever.”
Harrison initially made no public appearances until Van Buren’s proponents attacked him. He reversed course and “became the first presidential candidate to campaign for himself and give his own speeches to support his election,” according to Shafer. In addition, Harrison’s backers created a false image for this scion of a notable Virginia family portraying him as a western folk hero from a humble background of a “Log Cabin and Hard Cider.”
There was a proliferation of souvenirs, entertaining rallies and a promotional song titled “Tippecanoe and Tyler too,” honoring a battle Harrison won and his VP running mate, John Tyler. Harrison’s electrifying appeal won the election, but he died one month after his inauguration.
For much of the remainder of the 19th century, “taking to the stump as Harrison did remained the exception rather than the rule, but the notion that the people had a right to know where a presidential nominee stood on the issues was rapidly becoming accepted,” observed Richard Ellis and Mark Dedrick in an article for “Perspectives on Political Science.”
Abraham Lincoln in 1860 stayed in his hometown of Springfield, Illinois, corresponding with friends and seeing visitors while his promoters supplied stories of his views for various publications. Parades, banners and songs were also a part of the electioneering. Cigar box labels with an image of “Honest Old Abe” often introduced his face to those that had not previously seen his likeness.
As railways developed in the last decades of the 1800s allowing easier travel, some candidates were conflicted about directly communicating their views to the voters for fear of displaying improper ambition. James Garfield in 1880 decided to avoid the conflict by remaining on his home’s front porch. While his wife served beverages to visitors on the lawn, he “sat cross legged and looking wise until after the election.”
The 1896 presidential clash saw major changes. William Jennings Bryan mounted a massive speaking tour across 27 states. Although his opponent William McKinley used the same “front porch” strategy as Garfield, it was on a much larger scale. He gave over 300 speeches in carefully masterminded events at his home in Canton, Ohio. His staff pre-approved visitors to avoid rambunctious crowds, and McKinley was counseled on the subjects to discuss.
This last election of the 19th century established that “the nominee was expected to be the primary spokesperson and central figure of the campaign,” asserts Ellis and Dedrick. It also was a benchmark for large political contributions to support surrogate speakers and advertise using souvenirs. While metal campaign medallions were available in 1860, the 1896 match saw the first use of mass-produced pin-backed metal buttons.
The emergence of radio in the 1920s followed by the mid-century introduction of television revolutionized presidential campaigns. While these technological advances spawned new politicking models, many of the elements established in the 19th century quadrennial contests remained except for one; candidates were now expected to actively solicit the populace’s support and not hide from the voters by sitting on their front porch.
Jonathan L. Stolz is a resident of James City County.
