One Giant Goody Bag : Corporate and Politically Driven Souvenirs Have Turned Convention-Goers Into Collectors

So many agonizing decisions for the Republican delegates: abortion, immigration, affirmative action and, most important, whether to buy the souvenir Bob Dole hand puppet or the $600,000 diamond-studded elephant pin at Neiman Marcus.

In addition to being overrun by politicos, journalists and fat cats, this city is now awash in convention kitsch, memorabilia and free, corporate-sponsored gift bags.

Just about every product imaginable is here: Bob Dole pineapple soap, red-white-and-blue gun racks, topiary elephants, life-size Newt Gingrich cardboard cutouts, $10 convention cigars, Bill Clinton cat toys and $150 Ronald Reagan Stetson hats.

There’s even a GOP escort service: Rent three girls, get the fourth free! (GOP in this case stands for Good Old-fashioned Pleasure.)

The cache of goods is so extensive that the National Museum of American History has sent two staffers to hunt trinkets for its 50,000-item collection of political memorabilia.

“Each convention has its own personality and gimmicks,” says museum official Harry Rubenstein.

Houston’s 1992 Republican bash, for instance, was heavy on Texas and George Bush motifs. Products included chocolate shaped like cow pies, canned armadillo road kill, George Bush baseball cards and limited-edition prints of First Dog Millie. There were also a Bob Dole prostate cancer testing center and commemorative chunks of the convention platform, chopped up afterward and sold for $159.95 per piece.

Judging from the merchandise in San Diego, the recurring theme this year is satirizing the Clintons.

Examples include the $20 tear-apart Bill Clinton doll, with detachable head and limbs ($25 for the “anatomically correct” version), the “Wicked Witch of the West Wing” Hillary button, “Clinton Happens” bumper stickers and “Hotwater,” the board game in which “three to six unscrupulous adults compete to find the missing files.”

Other wares focus on more generic GOP themes. Elephant hats, buttons, kites and stuffed animals are everywhere. The priciest pachyderm, however, is Neiman Marcus’ $600,000 lapel pin, sprinkled with more than 630 pink diamonds from Australia’s Argyle mine.

It’s unlikely that the brooch will find its way into the American history museum collection.

“Basically, we have no budget,” Rubinstein says. “We try to convince people to give things to us in the national interest.”

Among the trinkets going on display later this month at the museum’s “We the People: Winning the Vote” exhibit will be inaugural buttons from George Washington’s swearing in, an eagle torch from an Abraham Lincoln campaign parade and sunglasses worn by Clinton in 1992.

Memorabilia from the 1996 election will be kept on ice until after November.

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Some souvenirs are available to delegates (and media) free of charge.

The San Diego Host Committee distributed some 18,000 goody packets containing, among other things, Hefty freezer bags, a commemorative box of Kraft macaroni and cheese, Budweiser “Roll back beer taxes” acrylic mugs, polo shirts, pins and--of course--Dole brand raisins.

The most loot--31 items--went to the 4,000 delegates, while the 13,000 media and 1,000 VIPs and sponsors had to make do without such trinkets as Arco flashlights and Warner Bros. hats.

For the privilege of getting a product into the bag, sponsors had to contribute at least $100,000 to the host committee. The goods were then shipped to a 10,000-square-foot room in the former General Dynamics plant, where 65 volunteers spent six full days packing them into duffel and tote bags for convention attendees.

Not surprisingly, some companies opted to distribute freebies on their own. Sprint, for example, is handing out phone cards emblazoned with photos of various post-Civil War Republican presidents. (Democrat versions will be produced later this month.)

Those who wish to use the official convention logo on products must pay a 15% royalty to the host committee, which has licensed the insignia from the Republican National Committee. (By law, the RNC cannot receive money from official sponsors; royalties may go only to a city welcoming committee.)

The cheapest route, of course, is to bypass the logo altogether and come up with some other attention-getting gimmick. The possibilities, as exhibited by merchants in and around the convention center, are limitless.

The San Diego City Store at nearby Seaport Village, for example, is peddling officially licensed shot glasses, watches and shirts, but also a logo-free sign that says “Warning. Politically Incorrect Area . . . Rampant Insensitivity Authorized.”

Other entrepreneurs offer everything from sequined red, white and blue vests to Rush Limbaugh commemorative steins.

Last but not least is the Slick Willy magnet set, featuring a boxer-clad Clinton with accessory French fries, confidential FBI files, saxophone and Whitewater real estate sign.

Will there be a Bob Dole equivalent at the Democratic convention later this month?

“If we can pull something together in time, we’ll go,” says Jim Tsukahira, a salesman hawking wares from a booth at the convention hall.

And what would be included in the Dole kit?

“Probably a walker,” Tsukahira says. “And maybe some Ex-Lax.”