Taking Measure of the Woman Behind the Man

While convention coverage of Elizabeth Dole’s well-rehearsed huzzahs for the man she loves and Hillary Rodham Clinton’s discourse in defense of children was unprecedented in modern times, alas, the more things change the more they stay the same.

The wives of presidential candidates have long been analyzed, scrutinized and conferred celebrity status by the media. But political pundits persist in discounting their capacity to influence voters. Interesting theater, we’re told, but scarcely a blip in the polls.

Take that, Hillary and Liddy. And Lady Bird, Rosalynn and Barbara.

You could have stayed home.

It’s a president we’re electing, of course. But we get a twofer whether we like it or not. His wife may be perceived as an asset or a liability, a myopic cheerleader or savvy confidant, personally ambitious or a calculating shrew, or, as Kitty Dukakis observed, as welcome as an unwanted pregnancy. But inconsequential in garnering votes? History turns our heads the other way.

It’s hard to believe, for instance, that Lady Bird Johnson did not secure votes for LBJ in 1964 when she took her whistlestop tour through the segregated South to show the flag for his civil rights bill. She gave 47 speeches in four days and sweet-talked five reluctant governors and four senators, dozens of delegates and several hundred national and international reporters into coming aboard.

In the 1968 campaign, Muriel Humphrey stumped solo across the country delivering speeches in union halls and service clubs about pocketbook issues and idealism in public service. She’d rest for an hour during “As the World Turns,” then stake out strategic communities to paper with her color photo postcards and recipes for Hubert’s favorite “hearty beef soup”. Even in those days, she mentioned that if she’d expended such effort on a business career, she’d be a millionaire.

In 1980, when Jimmy Carter remained “in the Rose Garden” to deal with the national and international repercussions of the hostage crisis in Tehran, his wife took his place on the campaign trail. According to him, Rosalynn was as familiar with the issues as anyone around him, helped plan strategy, spoke for him with authority and raised funds, conducted news conferences and answered “searching questions” presented to all “serious candidates.”

For decades, first ladies have defined themselves as eyes and ears and sounding boards for their husbands. They’ve been supportive, protective, constructive, humanizing, critical or all of the above. They’ve evolved and adapted from personal drive and political lineage: For example, Eleanor Roosevelt’s overly modest assessment of her role in the 1944 presidential campaign was thanking workers and making speeches about getting out the vote; Nancy Reagan mocked herself as an unpopular “lightning rod,” yet forged ahead to campaign in what she described as “very intense and close” experiences with inevitable letdowns; and Barbara Bush’s grandmotherly demeanor belied the stiletto acumen with which she was nudging her husband to be a kinder, gentler candidate. None of this mattered?

The media haven’t kept up with the aspirations of political wives. Since the demise of traditional women’s pages, newspaper editors don’t know in which department these women belong: social and lifestyle, local and good works, national or international affairs. And television assignment editors, clamoring for sensational footage, frequently resort to the type of coverage of more unenlightened days when, say, Mamie Eisenhower appealed to family voters by restaging a photo op in hair curlers and bathrobe for a tardy photographer; when other wives were asked to walk hand in hand through a boat show with a chimpanzee or do a headstand in the yoga position.

In spite of such cavalier treatment in recent decades, by their own accounts most wives think they made a difference. Certainly the spouses of our current candidates are deadly serious about their roles. Is it conceivable that what they say and do will not matter, that negative and positive feelings toward them will not rub off on ballots?

Is it possible that lingering sexism in the media and patronizing attitudes of politicians mistakenly denigrate the power of these women to influence the electorate?

What if Hillary and Liddy stayed home?