Checkers Anyone? The 60th Anniversary of Richard Nixon's Iconic Speech (September 23, 1952)

What was the deal?  U.S. Senator Richard Nixon was nominated for vice-president in 1952, as General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s running mate.  The two Republicans ran against Democratic candidates Adlai Stevenson and John Sparkman.  Nixon had earned a reputation as a strong anti-Communist crusader, which he believed was an asset to him during the campaign.  Nixon also criticized Stevenson and the Democrats for being unethical, corrupt, and out of touch with the average American citizen.  

In the middle of the autumn campaign a newspaper reported allegations that Senator Nixon was hiding an $18,000 secret political fund, paid for by millionaire supporters.  After criticizing the Democrats for corruption and a cozy relationship with wealthy donors, these accusations made Nixon appear, at best, hypocritical and, at worst, corrupt himself.  Many urged Nixon to quit the campaign.

Knowing that his vice-presidential candidacy and political future were in sudden and serious jeopardy, Richard Nixon chose to defend himself.  The Republican National Committee (RNC) bought thirty minutes of NBC evening airtime for September 23rd.  Hours before the broadcast, one of Eisenhower's top advisors directed Nixon to end the speech by announcing his withdrawal from the ticket.  With the pressure growing and a nation waiting, Nixon appeared on stage at the El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood in an attempt to save his political career with one of the most famous and influential speeches in U.S. political history.

What did he say?  A full transcript and audio of Nixon's speech, delivered 60 years ago tonight, can be found here and the first part of the speech video can be found at the top of this post and Part 2, including the famous passage about Checkers, is here.  

How did he do?  Knowing that his bosses seemed to want him to fail, the Senator from California brought the house, as they say in football.  At least a dozen different self-defense strategies are employed and most were pretty effective with 1952 Americans.  The speech has a three part structure with each part performing an important rhetorical function.  First, Nixon addresses the merits of the scandal--the fund.  In a straightforward and clearly supported series of denials, he claims innocence on three key points: (1) The fund was not secret; (2)  The fund was not for Nixon's personal use; and (3) Nixon paid no political favors to fund contributors.  For many citizens, these issues constituted the heart of the matter and Nixon's lack of equivocation in his denials early in the address probably eased viewers' minds and made them receptive to the rest of his argument.  This section also serves as an extended use of differentiation strategy, as Nixon sets forth the conditions under which such a fund would be "morally wrong" and then indicates that his behavior falls far short of each condition.  Nixon ends this first section by quoting from a Price Waterhouse independent audit and legal opinion that confirms Nixon's innocence.  The latter was rendered by the law firm of Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher, which is still going strong as can be seen here, although Crutcher apparently is no longer needed.   

The second part of the speech is a remarkable recounting of the Senator's financial status, which he, somewhat breathlessly, reminds viewers was "unprecedented in the history of American politics."  He launches into "a complete financial history, everything I've earned, everything I've spent, everything I own."  "Complete" is an understatement as Nixon literally begins with "I was born in 1913" and continues on...and on...and on...working the family grocery store, marriage, military service, and a listing of assets and debts that includes an Oldsmobile car and specific dollar amounts, right down to the 4 percent interest he pays on a loan from his parents.  But his accounting saves the best for last.  After concluding that what he has "isn't very much," Nixon adds that his wife Pat (who actually is sitting about 10 feet away from Nixon during the entire speech, as is seen in the video) "doesn't have a mink coat. But she does have a respectable Republican cloth coat, and I always tell her she'd look good in anything."  This line reveals both (1) how much the GOP brand has changed in the last six decades, and (2) that "Tricky Dick" had some "Slick Willie" in him at this early stage in his career.  This entire section operates as one giant bolstering strategy, as Nixon connects himself to the positive appeal of the common and humble self-made man.  This works both as a contrast to Stevenson and Sparkman and offers further evidence that he had not feathered his own nest (Nixon's phrase) with millionaire slush fund cash.  

And then it happens.  Nixon has one last financial revelation up his sleeve and he sets it up like a seasoned storyteller:  "One other thing I probably should tell you, because if I don't they'll probably be saying this about me too."  If you watch the video, you'll notice master thespian Nixon wearily touch his forehead in a pained expression that underscores his inner turmoil.  As the audience ponders what terrible transgression the VP nominee is about to confess, Nixon relates the now-legendary tail tale of the little dog bequeathed by "a man down in Texas" to Nixon's two children.  But let the Senator paint the word picture for us:  "We got a message from Union Station in Baltimore, saying that they had a package for us. We went down to get it. You know what it was?  It was a little cocker spaniel dog...black and white, spotted. And our little girl Tricia, the six year old, named it 'Checkers.'  And you know, the kids, like all kids, love the dog, and I just want to say this, right now, that regardless of what they say about it, we're gonna keep it."  Okay, let's unpack this short but amazing passage.  Loving, sacrificing father?  Check.  Painstakingly honest man of the people?  Check.  Cute puppy?  Check.  I mean, Checkers. This may be the greatest example of irrelevant bolstering ever attempted in an apologia effort.  At this point, Nixon could have just stood up, shout "Good night, everybody!," and walk off the El Capitan stage.  His work was done. 

There is a third part to this speech, but at this point Nixon, having established his populist, puppy-loving cred, pivots to campaign attack mode, linking his Democratic rivals to the spread of corruption and Communism in Washington.  It's a heaping helping of attack the accuser strategy served with a side of transcendence strategy as Nixon makes his puny little slush fund troubles pale in comparison to government-wide political graft and worldwide Soviet domination.  By the time the speaker generously refuses to cash a $10 check mailed in by a 19 year old soldier's wife, Nixon is running up the score and showboating his oratorical genius.  If you watch the video, it's interesting to note how during this part of the speech Nixon is no longer seated behind the desk but is standing out front, his delivery more dynamic and passionate, marking the shift from personal humility to political hatchet man.   

Final Call?  Cakewalk.  Nixon left it to the RNC to decide whether he should remain on the ticket with Ike but also urged viewers to let the party chiefs know how they felt (jurisdiction strategy).  Letters and postcards supporting Nixon flooded the RNC and the Senator was soon elected vice president.  This speech worked because Nixon abandoned all ego and left nothing to chance--a lesson lost on many public figures.  Despite the rather quaint (by today's standards) amount of money at the center of the scandal and the silliness of family pet references, the "Checkers" speech had enormous ramifications for our country.  First, it saved Richard Nixon's political career, without which the U.S. would have been spared the national trauma of Watergate.  Okay, maybe there's a bit of "butterfly effect" in that linkage but I think it's reasonable.  Second, as communication scholars Stephen E. Lucas and Martin J. Medhurst rightly point out in their excellent book Words of a Century:  The Top 100 American Speeches, 1900-1999:  "At a time when Americans were beginning to fall in love with television, [the Checkers speech] also demonstrated the potential power of the new medium for political communication, a development fraught with implications for the future of American public discourse and civic life."    
     


        

The Map Room Speech: President Bill Clinton Finally Admits Monica Lewinsky Affair (August 17, 1998)

I'll dispense with the usual format and just link to an analysis posted on the old blog marking the tenth anniversary of this infamous speech, delivered 14 years ago today.  The post can be found here.

How Low Can He Go? John Edwards Admits Infidelity in ABC Interview with Bob Woodruff (August 8, 2008)

What was the deal?  John Edwards rose to political prominence as the vice-presidential nominee alongside John Kerry in 2004 and ran for the top spot himself four years later before dropping out of the Democratic primary in early 2008.  Edwards had been viewed as a strong presidential candidate based on his commitment to fighting poverty and benefited from an outpouring of public support during his wife Elizabeth's battles with breast cancer.  However, tabloid rumors circulated that Edwards had an affair with Rielle Hunter, a documentary filmmaker hired to work for his campaign.  The rumors included allegations that Edwards fathered Hunter's child and secretly provided Hunter with financial support.  In August, 2008, Edwards finally admitted his infidelity.  The admission stunned the public and media for several reasons:  (1) Edwards had long presented himself as an upstanding family man and champion of the impoverished, (2) the timing of the affair suggested that it occurred while his wife, a tireless and effective campaigner for Edwards, battled cancer, and (3) committing adultery while running for president seemed like a very reckless act.  Soon after his public admission, Edwards accepted an invitation from ABC for an interview with Nightline's Bob Woodruff on August 8, 2008.  Knowing that his reputation and credibility had been, to put it mildly, severely damaged, Edwards chose to answer questions about his behavior in an attempt to improve his public image and salvage his political career.

What did he say?   Transcript excerpts and video of the Woodruff-Edwards interview, conducted four years ago today, can be found here.

How did he do?  Because this is going to be pretty unpleasant, let's at least recognize a few things Edwards tried to do well.  First, he quickly engages in mortification, taking responsibility for his "mistake" and seeking forgiveness from his wife and God, although offering an explicit apology would help.  Also, although he doesn't deny the Hunter affair, Edwards does deny other troubling allegations, including the fathering of Hunter's child and the payment of "hush money" to keep Hunter quiet--behavior that would suggest a deeper level of recklessness and deception.  The Democrat reinforces his denial through use of attack the accuser strategy by making three references to "tabloid" journalism as the source of the supposedly false charges.

The thing about the denial strategy, however, is that its effectiveness is guaranteed only to the extent that one is not lying through their teeth.  Eventually, Edwards would admit paternity of Hunter's child and, frankly, even at the time of the Woodruff interview, I'm not sure a lot of people bought his denials.   For example, the way in which the former Veep nominee expresses his willingness to take a paternity test seems...oh, I don't know, a bit too eager ("I would welcome participating in a paternity test, would be happy to participate in one....Happy to take a paternity test and would love to see it happen....I can only do one side of the test, but I'm happy to participate in one.").  A person in Edwards's uncomfortable position, even if he thinks he's not the daddy and is willing to take a DNA test, probably wouldn't "love" to take one.

To his credit, Woodruff asked Edwards point blank the question most wanted to hear:  How could he cheat on his cancer-stricken wife?  Edwards gives two answers and they're both awful.  First, he uses a differentiation strategy by making the despicable distinction between cancer adultery and remission adultery.  I'm sorry, but there's just no other way to put that.  He states:  "First of all, it happened during a period after she was in remission from cancer."  I really don't need to delve into how troubling that statement is, so let's move on to his second explanation.  Edwards then launches into a surreal soliloquy about growing up a "small town boy in North Carolina" who "came from nothing" and "got some acclaim as a lawyer."  He goes on:  "People were telling me, oh, he's such a great person, such a great lawyer, such a talent, he's going to--no telling what he'll do."  Okay, for fans of the original The Office (UK) television series, Edwards is totally doing David Brent at this point, which is probably not a great choice for a real-life, high stakes rhetorical strategy.  Remember the question asked how he could cheat on his seriously ill spouse.  This cocky musing seems woefully misguided.  Anyway, Edwards basically gives a "too much, too fast" spin on his life, leading to "a self-focus, an egotism, a narcissism that leads you to believe you can do whatever you want." This bolstering strategy, in which Edwards tries to positively associate himself with his past success and with small town values, essentially argues that he did a bad thing because, well, he's become a really bad person.  Yeah, it's pretty weak.

As was often the case in his political rhetoric, Edwards comes across as too slick and lawyerly here.  On several occasions, he reframes Woodruff's questions to make them less incriminating as can be seen in the exchange about whether Edwards's associate Fred Baron paid hush money to Hunter:  Woodruff:  "Do you think it's possible he was trying to protect you?" Edwards:  "Do I think he was trying to help me?"  Or when discussing whether he informed Elizabeth about visiting Hunter in L.A.:  Woodruff: "That was a secret?" Edwards: "You mean did I tell her before I went?"  And so on.  The ex-veep nominee seems more concerned with being careful than contrite.

Final Call?  Bloodbath.  Under the circumstances, Edwards needed an extraordinary performance to have even a chance of improving his public standing.  His interview responses were extraordinary but for the wrong reasons, relying on a lethal combination of silly psychobabble, self-absorption, and straight-out lying.  He may have beat the rap this past May when a federal jury could not convict him of using campaign contributions to keep Hunter's silence.  However, it's impossible to envision a scenario in which he could revive his political career and his public reputation remains in tatters.  Finally, Edwards has to live the rest of his life in a world that knows he vehemently denied his own infant daughter on national television when trying to explain why he cheated on his cancer-stricken wife while running for our nation's highest office.  It doesn't get much worse.  So let's give the last word on all of this to the now-departed Elizabeth Edwards, who wrote a memoir in 2009 called, fittingly enough, Resilience.

  

Sen. Edward Kennedy's Chappaquiddick Speech (July 25, 1969)

One of the most (in)famous and disturbing apologia speeches of all time.  U.S. Senator Edward Kennedy, 43 years ago today, attempts to explain his behavior on the night of the car accident killing Mary Jo Kopechne.  A full transcript and partial video of the speech can be found here and an interesting CNN article about how today's press media would cover the speech is here.

Bully Pulpit: Schwarzenegger Calls California Democrats "Girlie Men" (July 19, 2004)

What was the deal?  At a rally on July 17, 2004, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, addressing shoppers at a megamall rally and frustrated at delays in the budget process, called state Democrats "girlie men" for their refusal to publicly embrace their special interest loyalty to unions and trial lawyers.  The phrase alluded to a then well-known Saturday Night Live skit in which two Schwarzeneggerian (just go with me on that) weight lifters named Hans and Franz regularly wielded the term against the unbuff and unmanly.  An example of the routine can be found here.  Democrats objected to the remark as sexist, homophobic, bullying, and beneath the dignity of the governorship.

What did he say?  Not much.  The governor responded only through his staff in the days after the rally.  A report about the incident can be found here and a video clip here.

How did he do?  Well, no one was exactly shocked by Schwarzenegger's bluster.  One spokesman scoffed at the the idea of an apology (mortification strategy) but did employ a few image repair strategies, such as correction (the line was dropped at a subsequent rally) and denial (the term was not intended as a comment on the masculinity or sexual orientation of Democratic lawmakers).  The actual intent was explained as the governor's "way of saying they're wimps" for giving in to special interests. Okay, I'm pretty sure that differentiation doesn't help the quality of political discourse in our country, but I guess it's less offensive...?  In response to the criticism that the line is not typical of U.S. political rhetoric, Schwarzenegger's camp even offered the controversy as further evidence of his popular outsider brand (bolstering strategy) by arguing that "there are a lot of things that are not normal in politics about the governor."

Final Call?  Cakewalk.  Although the "girlie men" remark may have been beneath the dignity of the governorship, it probably wasn't beneath the dignity of the mall food court where Schwarzenegger delivered the line.  Frankly, Schwarzenegger probably could have ignored the flap altogether and still emerged unscathed, as evidenced by the fact that he used the term again later that summer during his high-profile speech at the 2004 Republican National Convention.  No, really he did, as you can see here, although his newly-coined "economic girlie men" was a bit awkward.  Yes, this case appears somewhat silly at the surface, but it clearly illustrates Democrats' precarious standing in the post-9/11, post-Iraq invasion world of 2004.  Positioned as outsiders on national security and military issues, the party endured endless attacks for being "weak" and is still struggling to break free of that easy-to-tell media narrative.  There's also probably something to say about a parody subject's appropriation of parody for political attack.  But I think I've probably written enough about this...

The Ridiculously Good Wife: Sen. David Vitter Linked to the "D.C. Madam" (July 16, 2007)

What was the deal?  A federal investigation into an escort service run by Deborah Jeane Palfrey, a/k/a the "D.C. Madam," turned up the phone number of U.S. Senator David Vitter, a Louisiana pol who built his career on moral issues, family values, and the sanctity of marriage.  Uh-oh.  When the news broke, husband and father Vitter released a statement admitting calling Palfrey's service prior to his election to the Senate in 2004 and while serving in the U.S. House of Representatives.  Following this admission, Vitter went into seclusion for a week during which subsequent media reports linked the senator to a prostitution case in New Orleans.  The fresh charges and Vitter's hiding intensified the media scrutiny until, finally, the senator, along with his wife Wendy, called a press briefing in Metairie, Lousiana.

What did he say?  A transcript of the Vitters' statements, delivered five years ago today, can be found here and the video here.

How did he do? There's both good and bad in David Vitter's relatively brief statement.  He gets to an apology (mortification) quickly enough:  "I want to, again, offer my deep, sincere apologies to all those I have let down and disappointed with these actions from my past. I am completely responsible. And I am so very, very sorry."  The senator also explicitly denies the New Orleans allegations.  The most sophisticated strategy in Vitter's speech is to emphasize the framing of his misconduct as a private matter from a distant past and, therefore, not warranting public concern in 2007.  He often reminds the audience of the age of his dirty deeds ("actions from my past," "no matter how long ago it was," "dealt with this personally several years ago," "my past failings").  He further stresses the private nature of his situation when he states:  "Wendy and I dealt with this personally several years ago. I confronted it in confession and marriage counseling. I believe I received forgiveness from God. I know I did from Wendy, and we put it behind us."  The suggestion is that, if God and his wronged wife can forgive Vitter, the public should move on as well.  The senator ends with a transcendence strategy, focusing on a greater purpose which by turn makes specific misconduct appear smaller.  For example, he justifies his unwillingness to offer specifics to the press by citing "a lot of important work to do for Louisiana" on water resources, hurricane and flood protection, immigration, and transportation issues.  This "important work" is so important, in fact, that Vitter claims that from the press briefing he will "go immediately to the airport and to Washington for votes" (emphasis added).  

What doesn't work is Vitter's continued stonewalling and press criticism (attack the accuser strategy).  The senator peevishly frets:  "I'm not going to answer endless questions about it all over again and again and again and again."  See what he did there?  Vitter used "again" four times which shows he's pretty mad about all of the questions he hadn't answered yet because he was in seclusion.  And his whole "no questions" = "endless questions" move makes him look pretty unreasonable.

The most fascinating part of this apologia effort is when Vitter steps away and his wife, Wendy, takes the podium and pretty much shows up her husband.  She does a better job executing both the "private life" and attack the media strategies.  Speaking "as a mother," she chides the press for being "camped at our church--at our home, and at our church every day."  Hard not to sympathize at least a little bit.  Then Wendy goes on about how the couple dealt with this years ago, her forgiveness and love of her "best friend," and the increasing strength of their marriage.  Then, for good measure, she declares, "I'm proud to be Wendy Vitter."  Whether there were other feelings seething inside which contradicted her words, Wendy's show of support hit all the right notes and may have made it easier for the couple to escape the briefing without answering any questions while also encouraging the public to move on as well (similar to Hillary Clinton's support of her husband during the Lewinsky scandal).    

Final Call?  Speedbump.  Although Vitter got plenty of grief in the short term for his skeevy misdeeds and hypocritical posturing, he has endured.  Louisiana voters reelected him in 2010, and his marriage to Wendy is intact to this day.  Granted, the Pelican State historically boasts a high tolerance for roguish behavior in its elected officials.  Also, the Vitter scandal occasionally resurfaces in media coverage when public officials get caught consorting with courtesans, such as the recent Secret Service prostitution case, so this incident most likely will stand as the senator's most lasting political legacy.  However, Vitter remains an outspoken national lawmaker to this day.  And he should probably thank Wendy for that.

Big Ol' Jet Airliner Definitely Carried Him Too Far Away: Governor Mark Sanford's Extramarital Affair (June 24, 2009)

Another apologia from June 2009.  And this one just doesn't know when to stop.

What was the deal?  At the start of 2009, South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford enjoyed a swiftly rising reputation in national politics.  He won praise for his tough stands against government spending and was emerging as a promising presidential candidate for 2012.  On Father's Day weekend, Sanford's wife, Jenny, reported the Governor missing.  Responding to media inquiries about Sanford's whereabouts, his staff issued a statement that he was hiking on the Appalachian Trail.  Rumors surfaced, however, that Sanford was not hiking but rather was visiting a woman in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  When Sanford flew back to the United States, a reporter met him at the airport and confronted him about the allegations of an affair.  Awkward.  Sanford admitted that he had been in Buenos Aires.   Scandal, as they say, erupted and "hiking the Appalachian Trail" took on a whole new meaning.  Soon after, the Governor held a press briefing in the rotunda of the South Carolina statehouse during which he admitted having an affair with an Argentine woman.  Questions emerged immediately about whether Sanford had ended the illicit relationship, whether he lied to his staff or ordered his staff to lie about his whereabouts, and whether he would resign as Governor.  With both his national presidential prospects and governorship in serious jeopardy, Sanford used the press briefing as an opportunity to explain his actions.

How did he respond?  A transcript of the briefing, delivered three years ago today, can be found here and the video here.

How did he do?  Um, well, let's just say his approach is highly unusual.  Sanford does draw on typical apologia and image repair strategies, such as bolstering (references to attending "Christian Bible study" and being "a person of faith all [his] life"), denial (when asked if he directed his staff to help him cover up his whereabouts, the reply is a definitive "absolutely not"), and a high-concept provocation argument that the "zone of politics," whatever that is, required him to seek counsel, and apparently sex, far from the halls of Washington.  Still, these defenses stand little chance anyway, because they are not his priority in the briefing.

The Governor starts the speech in oddball fashion.  In attempting to admit that he suggested to his staff that his destination was the Appalachian Trail, Sanford spends the first few minutes discussing his trips to the trail as a high schooler, his work as an Eastern Airlines rep during college, and more vaguely described "adventure trips" throughout his early years in politics.  Other than establishing Sanford's extended career as a somewhat shady vagabond, these stories come off as a weird kind of wistful bragging.

Even his many apologies and requests for forgiveness (mortification strategy) are grating.  Sanford apologizes to everyone.  He apologizes to his wife, his four sons, and the people of South Carolina.  Okay, no problem there--that's what people want to hear.  But then he spends a looooong time apologizing to his staff, his "good friends," his father-in-law, the "people of faith across South Carolina" (just in case his apology to the entire state wasn't enough for God), and finally threatens to go "one by one and town by town...across this state...asking for their forgiveness."  Such absurdity makes one wonder if the Governor is serious about any of his contrition.

Two-thirds into his statement, Sanford finally admits his specific misbehavior:  "I have been unfaithful to my wife.  I developed a relationship with a--what started out as a dear, dear friend from Argentina.  It began very innocently, as I suspect many of these things do..."  At this point, Sanford seems to be offering a teaser of the bad romance novel going on inside his head.  Which brings us to the most critical flaw in Sanford's self-defense--he wants desperately to talk about his new girlfriend instead.  While we may tolerate this behavior for a while with our close friends, we don't really want to hear how our chosen leader and his mistress met cute during an innocent chat when Sanford tried to talk her into going back to her husband, from whom she was separated at the time, only to fall in love with that very same woman.  Wait.  Maybe this would make a good romance novel.  The Governor continued with his tale:  "About a year ago, it sparked into something more than that.  I have seen her three times since then, during that whole sparking thing."  That whole sparking thing?  Really, Governor?  I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I just can't go on with this...       

Final Call?  Sinkhole.  Oh, where to begin?  Maybe with more Steve Miller:  "I've got to go out and make my way/I might get rich you know I might get busted/But my heart keeps calling me backwards/As I get on the 707/Ridin' high I got tears in my eyes/You know you got to go through hell before you get to heaven."  In fact, if you read all the lyrics of Jet Airliner in the context of this scandal, the entire song comes across as a bizarre but prescient cautionary tale about Mark Sanford.  Theatre aficionados may be more inclined to go the Evita angle (Sanford actually admits:  "I spent the last five days of my life crying in Argentina."  And I won't even delve into the whole "adultery-on-Father's-Day" issue.

The Governor apparently thought that if he could convince the public that the relationship was more than a one-night stand, it would be more understandable.  However, trying to convince us that it's The English Patient in Dixie was probably a miscalculation.  Needless to say, the scandal did not go away; ethics charges and public ridicule dogged the Governor for some time.  Sanford did finish his term but his political future remains cloudy.