The Democrats and the Republicans convened in Chicago in July 1952 at the start of the most prosperous decade in the history of any country on Earth.
The great social and political divisions and world traumas or war and depression that marked conventions from 1860 to the 1940s had been resolved. The aftermath of World War II found America unchallenged as the world’s leader, and the pace of invention spurred by the collective effort to destroy fascism opened a magic new world of technology that spread luxury from the exclusive realm of the very rich to almost anyone who drew a paycheck.
In 1952 America talked of tail fins and the Bomb. Walt Disney took an option on some orange groves in Anaheim to build an amusement park, and Sugar Ray Robinson destroyed Jake LaMotta at the Chicago Stadium.
In Chicago, plans were approved for a four-lane highway from the Loop to Oak Park, the first major expressway in the city. County Clerk Richard J. Daley paid for the year’s first wedding license out of his own pocket. Thousands of young Chicago families were leaving the city for exotic places such as Arlington Heights and Elmhurst and Elk Grove Village. Blacks paid $12 to ride the Illinois Central from Arkansas and the Mississippi Delta to the Randolph Street station and arrived at a rate of 1,000 a day. No one counted them and no one seemed to notice.
But more than anything else, the 1950s were about television. There were fewer than 1 million television sets in America in 1949, the first full year of programming by three networks called CBS, ABC and NBC. By the end of 1952, 20 million homes had televisions, and one reason was the political conventions held by the Republicans and the Democrats in Chicago’s International Amphitheatre in July.
These storied events had been broadcast nationally on radio for only two decades, and they still held the promise of mystery and surprise for the American public. The two political parties of 1952 had vastly divergent philosophies and equally divided loyalties. There was still passion in politics, and there were few independents.
The 1952 Republican National Convention was the first ever broadcast nationwide on TV. It was a primitive broadcast with cameras focused mostly on the podium or providing long shots of the delegations. Television reporters were heard but rarely seen.
Television also sponsored the conventions. Betty Furness gave the Westinghouse commercials. There were ads for Admiral, Crosley and Philco and Zenith and RCA. Television had captivated audiences the previous summer when Sen. Estes Kefauver of Tennessee convened hearings into organized crime and provided the memorable television picture of Manhattan boss Frank Costello’s hands, clasping and unfolding. A judge had ruled that the camera could not show his face.
Now the spectacle of choosing the men who would be put before the voters was going to be shown as it unfolded, and Americans went to saloons or visited neighbors to watch.
Robert H. Taft, the son of President William Howard Taft, had been the conservative choice in 1940 and 1948 but had lost to Wendell Willkie and then Gov. Thomas Dewey of New York, who also had been the GOP nominee in 1944. Dewey had no chance at a third try, but he was determined not to allow the GOP to sink back into its conservative agrarian roots, and the Wall Street wing had persuaded World War II hero Dwight D. Eisenhower to run for the nomination.
“Ike” had turned down a similar opportunity offered by the Democrats in 1948 when party notables such as Col. Jake Arvey, head of the Cook County Democratic Party, and New York Mayor William O’Dwyer were convinced that Harry Truman could not win. Eisenhower rejected the appeal.
Truman, unchallenged for the nomination, made history with the whistle-stop campaign that defeated the confident Dewey. But in 1952, Eisenhower, bitter at the isolationist posture of Taft and other conservatives, accepted the Republican overtures and headed for Chicago virtually deadlocked with Taft in delegates but miles ahead in bipartisan popularity and universal admiration.
For the first time, television had covered the New Hampshire primary in 1952, and there was quite a bit to report. Kefauver, the first political television star, had surprised everyone by almost defeating Truman, and Eisenhower captured 50 percent of the vote. As the Republicans arrived in Chicago on the Fourth of July weekend, Taft had 458 delegates and Ike had 406, with 604 needed for the nomination.
Signs in the windows of Goldblatt’s and Polk Brothers urged: “Get your TV set. See the conventions!”
The odorous International Amphitheatre had installed air conditioning so that the nation’s politicos would seem cool and collected in their televised appearances. The shirtsleeve, loosened-tie look and sweat-covered jowls would be unseemly. Immediately, television had an impact. The keynote speech, which for 100 years had immediately followed the selection of a permanent chairman, was scheduled for the evening so America could watch.
The Taft forces had selected Gen. Douglas MacArthur, who had stirred the nation the previous year after his firing by Truman when he lamented to Congress that “old soldiers never die, they just fade away.”
But MacArthur’s rhetoric at the convention opening was demagogic, predictably anti-Truman and uninspired. Of the big states, only Illinois was holding out for Taft and California for its favorite son, Gov. Earl Warren.
On Wednesday night, the rancor between the party factions erupted for all the nation to hearand see.
As the floor debate on credentials closed, the final speaker was Sen. Everett Dirksen of Illinois. Dirksen asked the delegates to search their hearts one more time before seating the Georgia and Texas delegates supporting Eisenhower and de facto the Eastern leadership. Even Democrats who didn’t care and political novices understood the bitter division that filled the Amphitheatre when Dirksen pointed a bony finger down toward Dewey and into 20 million homes. “We followed you before and you took us down the path of defeat. Don’t do it to us again!”
A storm of booing and jeering filled the hall, some directed at Dirksen, some at Dewey, some at the Old Guard, some at the Ike supporters. There was scuffling and more than a few punches were thrown in the 20-minute melee that followed Dirksen’s admonition.
The parties hadn’t prepared for television and in 1952 allowed any delegate to ask for a roll call of his state’s delegation. The first few times it occurred at the Republican gathering, the states were small and the viewers quickly understood there would be a tedious calling of obscure names until the opportunity for more speeches and volatility could return. But on one roll call, a New York delegate, believing (correctly) that the Dewey forces had given themselves too many votes, stood and asked to be recognized by the chairman.
A collective “oh, no” echoed in 20 million homes, where viewers knew they would have to wait for each member of the largest delegation to be polled.
Eisenhower, Taft, Warren and Harold Stassen were put in nomination on Thursday, July 10, and the balloting began Friday.
The phenomenon of actually watching the official nomination of a presidential candidate negated any lack of suspense for most Americans. The first ballot ended with Eisenhower ahead 595 votes to 500 for Taft, 81 for Warren, 20 for Stassen and 10 for MacArthur.
Ike needed only nine votes for the nomination, and almost every delegation in the hall was frantically trying to get the chairman’s attention to put Ike over the top officially. The honor went to Minnesota and Harold Stassen.
The Republicans were left only with a choice of a running mate. The Ike brain trust had wanted a Westerner, someone younger than Ike and someone who would campaign vigorously. It was agreed that the junior senator from California, Richard Nixon, fit the bill, and Nixon was nominated by acclamation.
Two weeks later, the Democrats came to town.
For the first time since 1932, the Democrats faced a truly open convention. It would also be the last truly open convention of the 20th Century, even though many Democrats would not believe it for another 30 years.
Truman had made it an open convention by declaring on March 29 that he would not be a candidate. The 1952 aspirants were plentiful and had excellent credentials. Sen. Richard Russell of Georgia was back, with a more moderate outlook on civil rights. Tennessean Kefauver had pulled a surprising vote in the New Hampshire primary. Robert Kerr of Oklahoma was the “log cabin” candidate, the first since Lincoln to boast that he had been born there en route to his oil millions. Averell Harriman of New York, worldly diplomat and White House troubleshooter, was available and so was lovable, aging Vice President Alben Barkley.
The man who kept saying he wasn’t available had been alternately the favorite and the dark horse throughout the year: Gov. Adlai Stevenson of Illinois.
Few Democrats at the Amphitheatre, even Jake Arvey, expected to win the presidency in 1952, but Arvey desperately wanted to be the kingmaker. Arvey’s failure four years earlier to persuade Eisenhower to take the Democratic nomination proved doubly troubling now that Ike had been nominated by the Republicans and seemed a sure winner in the fall. But the Democrats who had left Philadelphia in 1948 were convinced that Truman couldn’t win, and he proved them wrong. Anything could happen. Arvey was desperately trying to vindicate his reputation as a party powerhouse in what he knew would be his last chance. He had consulted with Truman about Stevenson’s acceptability and had become as frustrated as the president with Stevenson’s reluctance to declare himself.
At 4 p.m. Sunday, July 21, the Illinois delegates gathered at the Morrison Hotel for their caucus where Stevenson, a member of the delegation, addressed them. “I just don’t want to be nominated for president. I just couldn’t . . . wouldn’t . . . didn’t want to be a candidate. I have no ambitions, no fitness either mentally, temperamentally or physically for the job as president. . . . What I personally wanted is to run for governor. I ask you to abide by my wishes and not to nominate or vote for me should I be nominated.”
Arvey told the caucus he would do whatever Stevenson wished and therefore Illinois would not nominate its own governor. He added that if someone else nominated Stevenson, he personally would vote for him on the first ballot. After the caucus, reporters asked Stevenson if he would accept a draft in the event of a deadlock. “Show me the deadlock first,” he replied.
Arvey later said, “Everybody thought it was an act, but it wasn’t an act at all. That night after the caucus, Stevenson came to my apartment and said, `You got me into this, now get me out.’ ” Arvey did no such thing. The Chicago Daily News reported, “Arvey was in a ticklish situation. If he worked outwardly for Stevenson, the governor might suspect that the draft was being arranged. He continued to avoid seeking votes, but he did the next best thing. He made himself available all over town. He was always on the convention floor, available to talk to anybody. . . . He always left the door open wide enough that his questioner had no doubt that Adlai could be had.”
The convention opened the following day and, as host governor, Adlai Stevenson delivered a superb speech that convinced all the fence sitters that this was the man to take on Eisenhower and the Republicans. The nominating process began Thursday, July 24, and Indiana Gov. Henry Schricker placed Stevenson in nomination, setting off the traditional dancing and demonstrating.
At the conclusion, a floor fight occurred that had all the ingredients of the legend that surrounds that period in America when chicanery and deals and tactics and strategy melded into the politics that produced presidents.
Convention Chairman Sam Rayburn, the speaker of the House from Texas, gaveled for a roll call on whether to seat the three Southern delegations that were refusing to accept a loyalty pledge to support the nominee of the convention. The Northern liberals had created this rule to prevent another Dixiecrat walkout like the one Strom Thurmond led in 1948. Illinois voted 45-15 against seating the Southern delegations. Other Northern states, assuming Arvey was acting in Stevenson’s best interests, followed suit.
Once again, the omnipresent eye of television played a major role in its first presence at a Democratic conclave. President Truman, watching on television in the White House, called Rayburn on the platform and told him he wanted the Southern delegations seated. Rayburn sent messengers scampering after Arvey, who had gone to the Stock Yard Inn restaurant in the Amphitheatre complex.
Arvey now grasped what Truman had understood immediately. If the three states with 64 votes walked out of the convention, the total required for nomination would be reduced and Kefauver, who figured to have almost 500 votes on the first ballot, would be within striking distance of the nomination.
Moreover, the Southern states that were about to be banished figured to switch to Stevenson rather than Kefauver or Harriman now that Vice President Barkley had dropped out of the running.
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Arvey quickly sent word to switch Illinois’ vote to 52-8. That stemmed the tide, and other states followed until the vote to seat the Southern delegations passed 615-589. Television commentators called it an Arvey-Dixiecrat alliance and forced Stevenson to deny any personal role in the Illinois switch. Harriman and Kefauver made last-ditch efforts to tar Stevenson as the puppet of the big-city bosses, the Dixiecrats and the national committee.
The vote on nomination took place Friday. On the third ballot, after midnight, Stevenson was nominated. Jake Arvey got his absolution. Stevenson picked Sen. John Sparkman of Alabama as his running mate and began one of the most thoughtful and inspiring presidential campaigns in history.
It was the first television campaign, and neither Eisenhower nor Stevenson was comfortable with the new technology. Stevenson’s speeches often were longer than the allotted camera time, forcing him to race to the end of his delivery. Eisenhower objected to the Madison Avenue advertising types who massaged his thoughts into the brief, pointed paragraphs they had recently learned worked so well in peddling aspirin and toothpaste. Besides, his advisers had simple messages: I Like Ike. Time for a Change.
They invented the sound bite, although in that first television campaign the networks provided more time for the candidates to go on at length than they ever would again. An hour of national TV time cost $85,000 and both candidates made several appearances.
Stevenson always lamented the intrusion of television, but it certainly afforded him the instant national recognition that his opponent already had from his World War II years. It was television that gave him the national forum to build his legacy of statesmanship. And it was television that saved Richard Nixon for a future that would be both glorious and ignominious.
On Sept. 18, 1952, the New York Post reported that millionaires had provided Nixon with a secret slush fund. The Democrats quickly attacked, and Ike’s inner circle suggested that Nixon immediately be dropped from the ticket. Eisenhower eventually ordered Nixon to take his case to the nation via television, and the result was the famous “Checkers” speech in which Nixon first declared to the nation, “I am not a crook.” The response was favorable, and Eisenhower kept him on the ticket.
With or without television, there is no doubt the Republicans would have won the presidency in 1952. Twenty years of Democratic rule was enough for America. But Ike’s personal appeal turned it into a rout. He broke the Democratic grip on Dixie and effectively ended the Roosevelt coalition of the South, the big-city machines, big labor and the rural poor.
The splitting of the mammoth urban vote into the new, white-collar, Republican suburbs appeared for the first time although it was not vital and went almost unnoticed. But that vote would grow increasingly critical in the next four decades while millions of black migrants moving quietly into Newark, Detroit, Cleveland and Chicago would change big-city voting patterns forever.
Four years later, Adlai Stevenson and the Democrats were back in Chicago, but this time it was different. Their host was Mayor Richard J. Daley, chairman of the legendary Cook County Democratic Party, chairman of the Illinois delegation and chairman of just about anything he wanted to be in Chicago.
THE SERIES
SUNDAY: 1860
Favorite son Abraham Lincoln becomes the man to save the Union.
MONDAY: 1896/1920
Passionate speeches and smoke-filled rooms.
TUESDAY: 1932
Franklin Roosevelt displays a mastery of convention tactics.
WEDNESDAY: 1952
Television puts voters in the middle of the action.
THURSDAY: 1968
A tumultuous convention marks the end of political machine power.
FRIDAY: 1996
Powerbrokers give way to media spinmeisters.
PHOTO (color): (Adlai Stevenson campaign button.)
PHOTO: It didn’t take delegates long to learn how to use TV to aid their candidates. Tribune file phooto.
PHOTO: Richard and Pat Nixon greet Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower outside the Conrad Hilton Hotel in July 1952. Tribune file photo.
PHOTO: At times Illinois Gov. Adlai Stevenson may have appeared to be the people’s choice in 1952, but he was reluctant at first to become the Democratic candidate for president. Chicago Historical Society.
PHOTO: (Dwight D. Eisenhower.)
PHOTO: (Adlai Stevenson.)
PHOTO: (Television set.)
GRAPHIC: THE CONVENTIONS OF 1952
REPUBLICAN
NOMINEE
Dwight D. Eisenhower
After turning down both parties in 1948, war hero Eisenhower began angling for the 1952 GOP nomination. Despite trailing Robert Taft at the convention’s opening, Ike’s enormous popularity won him most of the undecided delegates and the nomination on the first ballot.
CONVENTION DATE: July 6-11
LOCATION: International Amphitheatre, 4300 S. Halsted St.
OTHER CANDIDATES: Robert Howard Taft, Earl Warren
NUMBER OF BALLOTS: 1
VICE PRESIDENTIAL NOMINEE: Richard M. Nixon
DEMOCRATS
NOMINEE
Adlai Stevenson
President Truman threw open the race when he announced he wouldn’t run. Many Democrats believed the reluctant Stevenson was their best chance for victory, and he accepted a draft at the convention.
CONVENTION DATE: July 21-26
LOCATION: International Amphitheatre, 4300 S. Halsted St.
OTHER CANDIDATES: Estes Kefauver, Robert Kerr, Richard Russell
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NUMBER OF BALLOTS: 3
VICE PRESIDENTIAL NOMINEE: John Sparkman
CHICAGO IN 1952
While Chicago keeps bustling and growing, many families after World War II move to the suburbs, where planned communities offer affordable housing and promises of a better life.
POPULATION: (1950 3,620,962
MAYOR: Martin H. Kennelly (D)
IKE AND ADLAI TUNE IN
Both candidates recognized the power of television, although they took different approaches to campaigning on TV.
STEVENSON’S SPEECHES
Declaring he would not be merchandised ”like a breakfast food,” Stevenson used his purchased TV time to sit before the cameras and deliver half-hour speeches on the issues.
EISENHOWER’S ‘SPOTS’
With the help of a top ad agency, Eisenhower unleashed a barrage of 20-second com-mercials. Fifty ”spots” showed Ike giving ”I-can-handle-it” answers to citizens’ concerns.
MAP: (Chicago; Downtown, International Amphitheatre.)