Barbara A. Perry, Associate Professor of Government

My introduction to John F. Kennedy came at the tender age of four. On a fall day in October 1960, my mother loaded my brothers, a neighbor, and some cousins into our '56 chevy and drove to downtown Louisville, Kentucky, to attend a Kennedy campaign rally at the county courthouse. Alas, not recognizing what the experience would mean to my future career as a political scientist, all I can remember is that my mother lost an earring, which was later discovered by my cousin in a pile of confetti, and slightly bent from having been trodden upon by the throng of people! I relate this personal enecdote, however, to illustrate the hold that John Kennedy had on the average American. My mother abhors crowds, is only vaguely interested in the details of public policy, and to this day avoids driving downtown whenever possible. Yet, also to this day, she tells the story -- as if it happened yesterday -- of how we arrived early at the rally and took our places directly in front of the platform where JFK ultimately addressed the crowd. Like so many Americans, she was utterly captivated by the personality, looks, charm, wit, and youth of the 1960 Democratic candidate for president. As a Roman Catholic, my mother was also inspired by Kennedy's religious affiliation. After his assissination, our parish church distributed holy cards with the slain president's portrait on the front and traditional Catholic prayers for the dead on the back. My mother still keeps that card in her missal -- the long-defunct prayer book of pre-Vatican II Catholic worshipers. And like so many other Americans, she can relate in minute detail where she was and what she was doing when she heard that her political hero had been shot in Dallas on November 22, 1963.

Thus, the fundamental problem of assessing the Kennedy presidency is attempting to disengage myth from reality, image from substance. In fact, the endeavor is almost impossible because JFK and his supporters perfected the art of presidential image-making to such an extent that it is linked inextricably with the essence of his administration. Therefore, while one can provide an assessment of the Kennedy presidency based on his successes and failures in foreign and domestic policy, his most abiding legacy (for good or bad) was making image a crucial component of governing, indeed so much so that his successors have often been judged on whether they have attained the "Camelot" standard. Sotheby's spring 1996 auction of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis's estate proved once more how wedded to the Kennedy legend America continues to be. Just as 13th century French kings acquired expensive relics purportedly from the life of Christ, so Americans flocked to New York to bid on Kennedy memorabilia or at least view it in the pre-auction exhibition.

The Kennedys were quite adept at image-making long before their second son, John (known by his nickname Jack), ran for president in 1960. (His more handsome and talented older brother, Joseph Kennedy, Jr., had been groomed for public office but died tragically when his plane exploded over the English Channel during World War II.) In his first bid for public office in the 1946 race for the U.s. House of Representatives from Massachusetts, young Jack Kennedy's campaign emphasized his war record, including his heroic rescue of his crew of the ill-fated PT-109 after it was sliced in two by a Japanese destroyer. In fact, his father, Joseph P. Kennedy, Sr., commissioned author John Hersey to write the story of JFK's remarkable World War II exploits and publish it in the New Yorker.

Although he suffered from chronic back pain and the debilitating effects of Addison's disease, John Kennedy presented himself to the American public in 1960 as a hail and hearty 43-year-old United States senator who would lead the country into the "New Frontier." The contrast with the elderly incumbent president, Dwight Eisenhower, and by extension, his controversial vice president, Richard Nixon, was a key component of the Kennedy campaign for president.

Despite the benefits of a youthful image, an enormous family fortune, and a superb campaign organization run by his younger brother Robert, John Kennedy's nomination as the Democratic candidate for president in 1960 was not a foregone conclusion when he tossed his metaphorical hat into the rign. (In fact, Kennedy despised how he looked in hats and usually refused to wear them -- despite howls of protest from haberdashers whose hat sales took a precipitous downturn in the 1960s. Kennedy's bucking the tide of traditional men's wear provided another point of contrast between him and older politicians who were usually seen in public sporting old-fashioned fedoras or homburgs.)

JFK faced his stiffest primary election challenge from Senator Hubert H. Humphrey of Minnesota and from a host of anti-catholic bigots, with the latter arguing that members of a faith owing allegiance to the pope should never serve in the white House. Indeed, only one Catholic, New York governor Al smith, had ever run for president, and he had lost decisively to Republican Herbert hoover in 1928. Yet Kennedy's victories in Humphrey's neighboring state of Wisconsin and, significantly, the Protestant state of West Virginia, derailed HHH's nomination bid. Lingering support for Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson of Texas and the sentimental favorite Adlai Stevenson, the two-time loser as the Democratic presidential nominee in 1952 and 1956, evaporated ultimately as JFK and his well-oiled campaign machine engineered a first-ballot victory at the Democratic nominating convention in Los Angelas in the summer of 1960.

Conducted at the height of the cold War, the 1960 presidential campaign between Vice-President Richard Nixon and Senator John Kennedy focused in the foreign policy realm on the United States's preparations for thwarting Communist regimes around the world. Kennedy accused the Eisenhower administration, with Nixon's participation, of allowing a "missile gap" to develop between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, which allegedly put the former at a distinct disadvantage in the arms race. (Subsequently, it was discovered that the Soviets had been bluffing about the size of their arsenal.) Moreover, under Ike, the United States had failed to prevent the establishment of Fidel Castro's Communist dictatorship in Cuba, a mere 90 miles from the nation's shores.

In the domestic realm, JFK was also on the offensive in portraying the eight years of the Eisenhower years as a period of economic stagnation for the United States. The Kennedy campaign theme was a call to "get America moving again." Once more, image and message meshed perfectly for the Kennedy candidacy. His World War II heroism seemingly prepared him to lead a new generation of Cold Warriors. And the constant swirl of activity around Kennedy, from those now-famous family touch-football games to afternoons sailing off the family compound at Cape Cod, portrayed JFK as an energetic leader who could indeed get the country moving again.

Nonetheless, Nixon was an able opponent, with his authoritative bearing, breadth of knowledge, and invaluable experience gained from occasionally substituting for Eisenhower, who suffered from frail health duringg much of his presidency. As in all campaigns, several turning points probably shifted the tide in Kennedy's favor. One was his definitive response to anti-Catholic bias against his candidacy at the Greater Houston Ministerial Association in September 1960. There Kennedy declared that the would not be elected either despite of or because of his religious affiliation. Sounding a separationist theme, he argued, "I believe in an America where the separation of Church and State is absolute, where no Catholic prelate would tell the President (should he be a Catholic) how to act and no Protestant minister would tell his parishioners for whom to vote." He concluded dramaticaly, "If this election is decided on the basis that 40 million Americans lost their chance of being president on the day they were baptized, then it is the whole nation that will be the loser in the eyes of Catholics and non-Catholics around the world, in the eyes of history, and in the eyes of our own people."

By all accounts, a more determinative event in the 1960 campaign was the series of four debates between Nixon and Kennedy in September and October. Kennedy boosted his chances by holding his own with Nixon in exchanges on foreign and domestic policy issues. Interestingly, polls of voters who listened to the debates on radio gave the victory to Nixon based on his demonstrated knowledge and the pleasant bass quality of his speaking voice, which, due to his California roots, was accentless. On the other hand, some radio listeners found Kennedy's rather high-pitched voice and highly accented Boston English grating to the ear. Yet the visual image made all the difference for Kennedy. Appearing handsome, tanned, and relaxed, he presented a positive portrait of himself via the visual airwaves, whereas Nixon was ill before the first debates and appeared haggard, nervous, and heavily perspired in the initial broadcasts. Even at the peak of health, Richard Nixon, with his perpetual five-o'clock shadow, dark eyes, ski nose, and awkward gestures, was never going to be a match for the urbane attractiveness of young John Kennedy. It is impossible to know how many votes were decided by the Nixon/Kennedy debates, but in an election won by Kennedy's slim margin of 118,550 ballots, every vote counted. The final tally was 34,227,096 votes for Kennedy (49.7%) and 34,108,546 votes for Nixon (49.5%). JFK received 303 electoral votes to Nixon's 219.

To be continued...