Jack Kennedy - Chris Matthews [122]
However, before he could go head to head with Nixon, Kennedy first needed to deal once again with the religion issue, which, despite his facing it head-on in West Virginia, had never really gone away. The need to do so once again came in early September, as he was whistle-stopping his way down the Pacific coast from Portland to Los Angeles. Suddenly, at one stop, he was peppered with questions about a meeting of 150 ministers just held at Washington’s Mayflower Hotel. The purpose of the gathering, called Citizens for Religious Freedom, had been to band Protestant clergymen together to work against the election of a Roman Catholic president.
The meeting’s organizer, Norman Vincent Peale, the longtime pastor of New York’s Marble Collegiate Church and author of the best-selling The Power of Positive Thinking, also hosted his own radio program, The Art of Living. Thus, he was a popular and influential figure, now committed to using his clout against Jack Kennedy. “Our freedom, our religious freedom,” he proclaimed, “is at stake if we elect a member of the Roman Catholic order as president of the United States.” He worried that the pope was poised to assert his authority over any Catholic aspirant to the White House. His mission was convincing his fellow Americans of that risk.
As the waiting reporters clamored for a statement, Kennedy’s initial response was curt: “I wouldn’t attempt to reply to Dr. Peale or to anyone who questions my loyalty to the United States.” Later, though, he’d remark to Ted Sorensen—after hearing Peale had claimed “the election of a Catholic president would change America”—“I would like to think he was complimenting me, but I’m not sure he was.”
Yet, as he traveled on, it was becoming increasingly apparent that his responses to date still weren’t enough to put the issue to rest. He decided to accept an invitation to speak to the Protestant ministers of Houston. When he stood there in front of them, he intended to address thoughtfully what he’d actually come to view as legitimate questions about his loyalty. The effect of it, he hoped, would be enough to arouse the loyalty of all Americans, not only Catholics, who’d felt the sting of prejudice. Though it’s true he was sending mixed signals, telling Protestants not to vote their religion at the same time he was courting the Catholic vote, still, the eloquence he brought to bear upon bigotry cut deep and created a watershed moment in American politics.
The math, in fact, was straightforward enough. Kennedy understood the electoral power his religion actually gave him. While just one voter in four was Catholic, these citizens had sizable leverage in the states with the most electoral votes. So he needed, first off, to minimize the anti-Catholic vote by hanging the “bias” tag on any Protestant vote against him. Jews and other minorities would then get the picture, he hoped, and rally to the cause.
He also had to keep it light; he couldn’t allow himself, ever, to get publicly defensive. When Harry Truman, campaigning for Kennedy and sounding only like himself, let loose at Nixon-loving Southerners, telling them they could “go to hell,” the profanity earned him a pious rebuke from the Republican candidate himself. Kennedy, though, dispatched a clever telegram to the highly partisan, and also Nixon-hating, former chief executive. “Dear Mr. President,” he wrote, “I have noted with interest your suggestion as to where those who vote for my opponent should go. While I understand and sympathize with your deep motivation, I think it is important that our side try to refrain from raising the religious issue.”
En route to address the Greater Houston Ministerial Association, he made a stop in El Paso. Look magazine’s Bill Attwood, who was friendly with Jack, saw him there and has recounted a telling exchange. “It was night and we were late, and a crowd of 7,000 people had been waiting at the airport for hours. They