The Stepford Reporters

With apologies to Nicole Kidman (I think), let’s banish any further mention of “The Stepford Wives.”

Lately, it’s popped up annoyingly on the campaign trail, where cliches are as common as photo ops (and far less imaginative). In a recent profile of Teresa Heinz Kerry, Time magazine resorted to this description of the wife of Democratic front-runner John F. Kerry: “Not even Hillary Clinton strayed so far from the dutiful, adoring Stepford spouse as Teresa.”

In January, when Dr. Judith Steinberg Dean earned headlines for insisting that her professional life was preferable to glad-handing on the campaign trail (so much for that resolution), the New York Daily News pointed out that “the six other wanna-be first ladies aren’t Stepford Wives, either.” (That was, of course, when there were six other married Democrats in the race.) The Orlando Sentinel chimed in: “These are no Stepford Wives.”

What’s the point here?

For today’s voters, the concept of a wife having her own career (and life) isn’t exactly news. That a good many of them juggle their own interests as well as those of their husbands -- amazing, isn’t it? -- shouldn’t be news, either.

Maybe the problem isn’t with the candidates’ wives. Or even the American public. Maybe it’s with the media, which use a cliche as a crutch. My job is to read campaign reporting, and I regret to note that on some days it seems that we’re afflicted with a whole generation of Stepford Reporters, whose prose is more robotic than it is rooted in any kind of reality. What’s sacrificed is accuracy and fairness to readers. Cliches blur distinctions and homogenize issues, eventually assuming a meaning of their own long after their original context has been forgotten.

Remember “the wimp factor” that haunted the first President Bush? (And which, some say, still haunts his son?) How about this season’s favorite, an “anger management problem” ascribed to candidates Howard Dean and Wesley K. Clark? (Most of us would just call that a “bad temper.”) What about 1994’s “angry white male” -- a previously unrecognized voting bloc -- apparently not to be confused with “Joe Six-Pack” or the current favorite, “NASCAR dads?” Or what about the insidious “limousine liberal” of the 1970s? Or this fall’s “Birkenstock liberal,” who seemed to slip away on little cork soles? Or the ever-popular “soccer mom” (who could either be married to a NASCAR dad or, alternatively, collecting alimony from a limousine liberal). Catchy, but please, folks, could we talk about real people for once?

Sometimes one wonders if campaign reporters could write a declarative English sentence if they were stripped of their cliches. As USA Today’s Walter Shapiro recently observed, “If horse racing didn’t exist, political reporters would probably have to invent the sport.” Imagine. How would we get through an election year without “neck and neck,” “down to the wire,” “starting gates,” “finish line” or “dark horse”?

The cliches start appearing in the media about the time the first candidate forms an exploratory committee. By this point in the primary cycle, they’ve become part of the daily diet. “Gain traction” has been popular this season. Reporters have speculated repeatedly when and if the candidacies of Sen. Joe Lieberman, Rep. Dennis J. Kucinich and the Rev. Al Sharpton were going to obtain it. Are these politicians or SUV drivers?

And need we mention the “I Have a Scream” speech? That’s how a Newsday headline writer described Dean’s fabled exhortation in its Jan. 21 issue; two days later, the phrase appeared in the press 27 times. Originality, where art thou? (Somebody else proposed “Whoop Loop.” That, thank goodness, died aborning.)

But let’s get back to the Stepfords: What’s a Stepford Wife anyway?

Ira Levin, who wrote the 1972 book of the same name, offered this definition: “An obsessed perfectionist homemaker” whose husband is about to replace her with a robot. In other words, a bloodless helpmate. Filmgoers may recall the 1975 version of the book, which acquired a cult following. If they don’t remember, no matter; the remake, starring Kidman, is due out this summer.

The media at one time branded Nancy Reagan a Stepford Wife; so too Laura Bush. Hillary Clinton was deemed Not-a-Stepford-Wife (its own form of criticism) until she stoically “stood by her man” (let’s scrap that chestnut too) during the Monica Lewinsky scandal, like, well, a Stepford Wife.

Could it be that the news media, which at last count included a goodly percentage of women, not only are language-lazy but also simply can’t accept the candidates’ wives for what they are -- real people who plan to continue being real people even if they reside at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.? Could it be that the reporters think the public isn’t ready to accept them and thus want to diminish their personalities somehow?

The fact that these potential first ladies have briefly pushed the pause button in their own lives (or, some might fairly argue, gone into fast-forward mode) during the hectic months on the campaign trail is no indication they’ll stay in some suspended state of animation when hubby takes the oath of office. Let’s hope not. That’s a lot of wasted talent.

Teresa Heinz Kerry, who has generated most of the recent media speculation, says that regardless of the November outcome, she plans to continue to chair the Heinz Family Philanthropies, with its billion-dollar endowment. Otherwise, she says: “I would dry up. That’s what keeps me alive and excited.” (Note to media: Your description of her as a “ketchup heiress” -- 57 times in the last six months -- is about as demeaning as “Stepford Wife.”) The spouse of Sen. John Edwards, Elizabeth, a former bankruptcy lawyer who is currently a top strategist in her husband’s campaign while tending to two youngsters, hasn’t been as vocal about her plans if the voters send her husband to Washington, but it’s unlikely she’d throw in the intellectual towel.

So, if we have to continue with the cliches, what should we call a Teresa Heinz Kerry or Elizabeth Edwards? Here’s a suggestion: “Wonder Woman.”