Kup's Chicago - Irv Kupcinet [69]
And then, when it’s all over, the whole city heaves a huge sigh of relief – and continues to talk about the convention for weeks.
During the 1960 Presidential campaign, however, the excitement in Chicago didn’t end when the Republican convention closed. Our Town was selected as the site of the first televised debate between the candidates. It took place in the CBS WBBM-TV studios, in what was formerly the Arena, at the corner of Erie and McClurg Streets on the Near North Side. The room in which the candidates debated is one which I know well. It is from that studio that my program At Random has been telecast since its inception.
Only a handful of political reporters, chosen on a “pool” basis, were allowed in the room with the candidates during the program itself, but I was able to see both of the principals before the debate began. I witnessed Dick Nixon’s arrival at the building’s front entrance, and I saw him enter the studio after leaving the make-up room. There is no question about his being the victim of a poor make-up job. I remarked at the time that he had looked much better before the make-up had been applied. Others noticed it, too.
During the “debate” – which was really not much more than a joint press conference or question-and-answer session – I sat with other reporters in a viewing room adjacent to the studio and followed the proceedings on a monitor. It was the consensus of those with whom I talked that both men had been well prepared for the program, as one would expect of professionals, but that Mr. Kennedy had been just a little bit better prepared than Mr. Nixon.
After the telecast, I joined Nixon in the dressing room, where he was changing clothes. He was completely relaxed. At that time, I invited him to appear on At Random.
“I promise you I’ll do that,” he said. “After the election.”
“Win or lose?” I asked.
“Please,” he said, feigning seriousness. “Don’t mention that word lose.”
When I saw him again, later in the campaign, Nixon looked even more tired than on the night of the debate. He was visibly wan.
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give for twenty-four hours’ sleep!” he said.
John F. Kennedy, of course, looked the same way at several stages of the race. Campaigning for the Presidency is a terrible ordeal. If you doubt it, ask any reporter who has covered a campaign. The reporters generally end up more exhausted than the candidates themselves.
Incidentally, I feel that there is no question that television was a decisive influence in that campaign, and that, in ensuing years, it will prove even more important. On the other hand, I doubt that President Kennedy will engage in similar debates with his Republican opponent in 1964. After the election, I put this question to Robert Kennedy, the President’s brother and campaign manager. He shook his head and said:
“There will be no Presidential debates in 1964.”
He pointed out a significant fact: in 1960, neither candidate was the President, and therein lies the difference from 1964.
When you consider it, Bobby Kennedy’s statement seems reasonable. Any incumbent President would have to enter the campaign with one arm tied behind him, because his main job would necessarily be to defend the record of his administration, and to justify its existing policies – a position which is automatically a handicap in any debate. Then, too, the President might be challenged on questions that