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Xerox University Microfilms 300 North Zeeb Road Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106 74—3106

ADAMS, Michael Fred, 1948- A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF THE RHETORICAL STRATEGIES OF SENATOR HOWARD H. BAKER, JR. IN HIS 1972 CAMPAIGN FOR RE-ELECTION.

The Ohio State University, Ph.D., 1973 Speech

University Microfilms, A XEROX Company , Ann Arbor, Michigan

Copyright by Michael Frod Adams

1973

THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEEN MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED. A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF THE RHETORICAL STRATEGIES OF SENATOR

HOWARD H. BAKER, JR. IN HIS 1972 CAMPAIGN FOR RE-ELECTION

A DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate

School of The Ohio State University

37- Michael Fred Adams, B.A., K.A. • * * * *

The Ohio State University

1973

Reading Committee: Approved By

William R. Brown Wallace Fotheringhara (J Adviser Department of Speech ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To complete successfully any major endeavor requires the aid and encouragement of other people., This work is no exception.

I am indebted, first of all, to my wife Mary Lynn whose thoughts of improvement and words of encouragement proved invaluable throughout the research and writing of this paper. Ky sincere appreciation is offered to Professors James

Golden, Wallace Fotheringham, and William Brown. Professor Golden has been, and continues to be, a primary force in my academic devel­ opment.

Similarly, I owe a debt of gratitude to Senator Howard H. Baiter, Jr.; his Press Secretary Ron McMahan; and staff members David

Lauver and Bill Gibbons. The openness and honesty of Senator Baker are particularly encouraging in these times of governmental secrecy and bureaucratic enclosure.

iii VITA

March 25, 19^ Born - Montgomery, Alabama June, 1966 Graduate, Chattanooga High School Chattanooga, Tennessee 1966-1970 B.A., Lipscomb College Nashville, Tennessee 1970 International President - Circle K International Chicago, Illinois

1971 M.A., Ohio State University Columbus, Ohio 1972 Candidate for Ph.D. Ohio State University

1973 Minister and Instructor Columbus, Ohio

FIELDS OF STUDY Rhetorical Theory. Professors James Golden, William Brown, and Good­ win Berquist. Political Communication. Professors James Golden and William Brown.

Educational Administration and Methodology. Professors Hugh Laughlin and John Makay.

Methodology in Communication. Professors Franklin Knower, Wallace Fotheringham, Jack Douglas, and Robert Monaghan.

Broadcasting. Professor Walter Eknery (Deceased).

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Page

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Hi

VITA AND FIELDS OF STUDY . iv TABLE OF CONTENTS v

Chapter

I. INTRODUCTION 1

Election Focus 1972 1 Definition of the Study 5 Justification of the Study . . 13 Related Works in the Field 21 Problems Inherent to the Study 2k Procedural Methodology 28 Critical Methodology 33 Dissertation Progression ... U2

HISTORICAL RECONSTRUCTION

II. PERSPECTIVES OF CAMPAIGN '72 5*±

Situational Factors National Politics 55 Situational Factors -» Southern Politics 6l Situational Factors — Tennessee Politics .... 70 Source Characteristics — Howard II, Baker, Jr. . . 79 Baker's View of Rhetoric . 90 Source Characteristics — Ray Blanton ...... 9^ Audience Characteristics — The People of Tennessee 115 Chapter Summary .123

III. DEVELOPMENT OF CAMPAIGN «72 135

Campaign Progression 139 Development of Rhetorical Effort 155 Overriding Rhetorical Concerns 177

EXPLICATION AND ANALYSIS IV. MESSAGE - CENTERED COMMUNICATION 197

Primary Rhetorical Strategies 201 Types of Appeals 233 Coimriunicative Style and Delivery 2'*1 Rhetorical Strengths and Weaknesses ...... 256 Effect of Baker's Rhetoric « 261 Summary 267

v TABLE OF CONTENTS (continued) Pago

Chapter V. PERSON-CENTERED COMMUNICATION 276 Why Ethos Is Important 277 Credibility as an Ethos Factor 282 Additional Elements of Baker'3 Ethos ... 287 Projection of Baker's Image 292 Summary 298

CONCLUSIONS VI. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS 305

The Election Results 305 The Role of the Incumbency 307 Rhetorical Implications — Characteristics of Incumbency Rhetoric 312 Conclusions 320

SOURCES CONSULTED * 32^

vi CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION

When Tennesseans went to the polls on November 7, 1972, they re-elected a Republican U. S. Senator for the first time in the state's history. This single event is a telling demonstration of the changing nature of the traditional southern political alignment.

For Howard H. Baker, Jr., the recipient of the peoples' man­ date, it was the pinnacle of a still-young political life that has its roots in three generations of southern Republicanism. In the immediate past the GOP has capitalized on the right-wing orientation of the South to build a foundation from which national candidates might be elected.

While there are unquestionably voters in the state of Tennessee who view Howard Baker as the fulfillment of such a movement, the roots, philosophy, and general tone of this campaign are much older than the immediate past.

Election Focus 1972

If one operated simply on the basis of historical precedent, he would have to say that the 1972 election year contained significant paradoxes. The "Solid Democratic South" became the "Solid Republican

South." The normally visible American President was hardly seen at all, and the candidate of the nation's majority party was rejected almost totally in traditionally Democratic union halls, ethnic groups,

1 2 and court house gatherings.

While the candidate of the Democratic Party at the national level was clearly more liberal than his Republican counterpart, the situation in the state of this study is exactly reversed. Howard

Baker is far from a liberal, but he projected a more moderate image than his Democratic opponent, former Congressman Ray Blanton.

For some years the political alignment in Southern America has been experiencing increasing strain. The Democratic coalition of southern white and middle class workingmen ably forged by Franklin

Delano Roosevelt has been showing signs of beginning to crack. As early as 19^*8 when J. Strom Thurmond and Fielding Wright headed the States' Rights ticket, a few normally sure Democratic electoral votes went to an "independent" column. In that year Thurmond and Wright carried Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and South Carolina. In 1952 Dwight Eisenhower won in Florida, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia for the Republicans, a task he repeated in 1956 while also adding

Louisiana. As a matter of fact, the South has been anything but solid since 19^8 with at least four states outside the Democratic fold in every Presidential election. These defections have taken the forms of States' Rightism, Republicanism, or American Partyism, but in every instance there has been significant discontent with the Democrats in

Southern America.

Furthermore, the one Presidential candidate who was popular in the South in 1972 stayed just as far away from Dixie as did unpopu­ lar "liberal" George McGovern. Except for one heavily secured and extensively programmed journey to Atlanta, the South did not see 3 Richard Nixon at all. As Bill Moyers said in an article in Newsweek.

"The President seemed to be lost in the Presidency."^-

Even more significant, however, was the fact that George McGovern was "lost" among traditionally strong Democratic figures.

The defection of AFL-CIO President George Meany, the restrained opti­

mism of perennial Democratic financial backers such as Jewish business­ men, and the overt reluctance of local Democratic political leaders

across the nation left McGovern's position precarious at best. As

might be expected, these circumstances led to his ultimate defeat. With paradoxes so evident on the national scene, it would

seem no surprise that Tennessee had its own share of unusual circum­

stances. For the first time in history the Republicans were the es­

tablishment.

Incumbent Senator Howard Baker was considered an easy winner

by all polls in early Spring 1972. As the Spring training Democratic primaries headed to an August conclusion, however, some state politicos

suggested that Baker could be defeated. The Nixon administration's failure to halt court-ordered busing in the state's two most populous

cities, Memphis and Nashville, plus the fact that the Senator had nomi­

nated Federal Judge Clure Morton for the post from which he handed down the Nashville order to bus, began to erode Baker's strength. Ray Blanton, an articulate West Tennessee Congressman, refused

even to mention his Democratic challengers and gained an easy August

primary win. He garnered seventy-six percent of the vote. Blanton, who had been seeking the nomination for almost two years, decided to k run partly on his desire to win a Senate seat and partly because re- districting based on the 1970 census meant that his Congressional seat would be eliminated or heavily changed. The '?0 census meant the reduction of Tennessee's seats in Congress from nine to eight. In the general election, the Baker forces conducted a well- financed, superbly planned, "I-aia-the-Senator" type of campaign.

Blanton, on the other hand, relied heavily on person-to-person contact at shopping malls, factory gates, and public meetings. He called on the people of the state to support a "Democrat for all Tennesseans."

The underfinanced nature of his own campaign, the McGovern philosophy of the national party, the erosion of support among Blacks and other Democratic groups, plus the personal popularity of Senator

Baker himself, ultimately led to Blanton1s defeat. Final reports showed Baker with 710»790 votes, or sixty-two percent, to Blanton*s p ^39,678, and thirty-eight percent. Even more important than the vote totals, however, was the fact that Republican Baker carried all three areas of the state, in­ cluding heavily Democratic Middle Tennessee. At the same time he received sixty-seven percent of the youth vote and almost forty percent of the Black vote, putting hira among the top Republican vote- getters in the nation in both categories.^

Although the political results of such an activity are in­ teresting, such is not the major thrust of this work. It will be the task of this writer to report and analyse the rhetorical strate­ gies employed by Senator Baker in his campaign for re-election. This historical reconstruction and critical analysis is being done with the hope of more clearly defining the role rhetoric plays in contem- orary political campaigns.

Definition of the Study Three major elements in the title "A Critical Analysis of the Rhetorical Strategies of Senator Howard H. Baker, Jr. in His 1972

Campaign for Re-election" merit further explanation. They are the terms rhetorical, strategies, and campaign.

Historically, a large number of definitions have been attri­ buted to the term rhetoric. Plato called rhetoric the "art of winning the soul by discourse." Aristotle said that it was the counterpart of dialectic and might be defined as "the faculty of discovering all the available means of persuasion." Quintilian called it the science of b speaking well.

During the period of British prominence in rhetorical analysis

Francis Bacon defined rhetoric as the application of reason to the imagination "for the better moving of the will." George Campbell called it "the art or talent by which a discourse is adapted to its end," while Hugh Blair suggested that "true rhetoric and sound logic are very nearly allied." In his mind rhetoric consisted of written and oral discourse, composition, and criticism.^

In today's mind rhetoric continues to be given numerous pro­ perties. I. A. Richards has delineated it a "study of verbal under­ standing and misunderstanding." Philosopher Kenneth Burke says that 6

"wherever there is persuasion, there is rhetoric, and wherever there is meaning there is persuasion." Contemporary speech critic Donald Bryant says rhetoric is "the rationale of informative and suasory dis­ course, both written and oral."** Senator Baker, the subject of this work, admits that when he hears the term rhetoric he usually associates it "as a buzz word, a word thrown around in popular lingo." He says, "If I know what you're getting at, however, let me say that I do consider persuasion to be a highly important concept. I do think people are persuaded sometimes by what I say or do.nf7

In the development of this work, those things that will be called rhetorical will be the speeches, position papers, media clips, press releases, inner staff memos, personal interviews, or printed publications meant to have persuasive impact by either Senator Baker, his staff, or both. In essence, rhetoric will be equated with persua­ sive intent in situations where an appeal is made to a specific or uni­ versal audience comprised of readers or listeners who have the choice of reacting to a rhetorical event. While this equating of rhetoric and persuasion is akin to the definition of Kenneth Burke, I intend to invoke tighter reins on the use of the term than would he. Cloth- ing, personal signs, band music, platform structure, etc. usually have some effect on a political audience, but such will not be analyzed as far as campaign rhetoric is concerned.

There are two basic reasons for limiting rhetoric in this way. First, such political maneuvering was almost never seen as rhe­ 7 torical by Baker or his staff. Even in situations where the quality of band music, platform location, or personal placards, for instance, were questioned by the staff, there was nothing they could do to change the situation. Second, as the author of this work, I freely admit that I am unqualified to gauge the rhetorical impact of ouch variables. It is my belief that rhetoric should be defined only in terms that can be coped with by the person making the definition.

For these two reasons, then, crowd size, clothing, music, architect ture, etc. will be treated as situational elements in which the rhe­ toric occurs, but will not be equated with rhetoric itself.

The second term that needs additional clarification is the term "strategy." The paucity of explanations of strategy in speech works is just as impressive as the multiplicity of definitions given rhetoric. When the concept of strategy is employed, it is usually equated with the term tactic. Perhaps the connotations often given tactic explain the reason why the terminology is vacant in contempo­ rary speech texts. Many have historically viewed a "tactic" as a

"trick" or foible by which one wins the agreement of another. In many cases, such agreement takes place without the respondent act­ ually realizing what has happened.

Vance Packard in his Hidden Persuaders derides the adver­ tising men and subliminal experts who attempt to short-circuit the memory sequence through affective design. Furthermore, political

"experts" who buy and sell a candidate are castigated for their lack of ethius, gross misrepresentation, and shallow presentations.8 8

At the same time, speech "hucksters" have often promised to make a young man an orator, a successful executive, a popular person

if he will merely learn and employ certain tactics. Articles with

titles akin to "What Makes Joe Go" and "Human Engineering is a Ticket

to Anywhere" have sometimes brought speech into disrepute with the general public.^ Such ideas have, however, seldom been perpetuated

by professionals of the speech field. What then is a strategy? The term strategy in this work can

in no wise be equated with the colloquial meanings of "trick" or

"foible" just mentioned. Strategy, by sociological definition, "should be used in reference to principles and doctrines concerning

methods or techniques of action and not to designate the ways of

action as such."^® Contemporary sociologist Rudolf Heberle suggests

in his work Social Movements; An Introduction to Political Sociology

that such use of the terms tactic or strategy are best suited for

political action only when a movement or party has developed a "set of principles concerning ways and means. Like Heberle, this writer

is not concerned with the methods and techniques as much as with the

persuasive doctrines that are employed. This in no way suggests that such important methods as speechwriting, speech preparation, and speech delivery will be overlooked, but merely that the basic thrust of the work will be to explain types of appeals, reasons for persuasive impact, argumentative positions on issues, or, in essence, the rhetor­ ical strategies that are employed. Speech Professor Virginia Holland in an article on Burkeian criticism argues that a critic should not 9 content himself with what often appears to be a confusing dichotomy of logical versus emotional categories, but should rather combine the important answers to both areas by asking, "What were the speaker's strategies?"12 Such is the intent of this work.

The traditional speech concept most closely identified with rhetorical strategy is the term rhetorical stance. Stance usually indicates a balanced state between a speaker, a message, and an au­ dience. Wayne Booth, Professor of English at the University of Chicago, was one of the first scholars to use the term.

The critic, however, who has offered the most penetrating in­ sight on the concept is Kenneth Burke. In his Rhetoric of Motives Burke describes a rhetoric that springs from a division existing between a speaker and a listener. The division may result from diff­ erent existing attitudes toward the communicator, his message, or an auditor. Burke's concern is that rhetorical stance be achieved by putting the speaker, audience, and message into harmony with one another. According to him, this can best be accomplished through identification, or consubstantiation.^

While such theories played a major role in the senatorial contest of this study, they are not the only means (strategies) by which harmony was sought. In essence, a rhetorical strategy is the principle or doctrine by which Baker sought rhetorical stance with his listeners. For such harmony to exist, the man, the message, and sometimes the audience had to be altered,, Indeed, one of the chief goals of the senatorial campaign was to create an image of 10 harmony between Baker and his constituents whether it existed in reality or not. Certain strategies, colloquially called tactics, were then used to effect that harmony.

For clarity, the term strategy rather than tactic will be used here. It is my intention to help elevate the concept of strat­ egy to the position it rightly deserves in denoting persuasive intent.

A rhetorical strategy, then, is a persuasive doctrine employed by Baker or his staff to move the will of the people.

Such persuasive doctrines will take on two forms. First, there are certain overriding rhetorical concerns that enter into the planning and execution of any political communicative effort. Such questions as "How do I refer to my opponent, if at all, what media image do I want to project, and what types of communication do I want to emphasize" are within the province of overriding rhetorical concerns. A full explanation and discussion of such concerns will be tendered at the end of chapter three. Second, there are specific rhetorical questions such as "How do I stand on the busing of school children, why did I vote for a social security increase, and how soon do I think the war can be ended," that must be given complete rhetorical development. Such questions will be answered in chapter four. All in all, then, the overriding rhetorical concerns are the persuasive elements incumbent to the planning of the campaign, while the rhetorical strategies per se will

be those ideas developed and delivered during the election itself.

With so much emphasis being placed on the campaign, it is important to define the way that term will be used throughout the work.

In recent years the campaign concept has often meant a rhetorical period of development during which certain stages of a movement might be noted. Contemporary scholar Leland Griffin, writing about the rhe­ toric of historical movements, says that three stages of development can be noted within each movement; a period of inception, a period of rhetorical crisis, and a period of consummation. The period of incep­ tion is a time when "the roots of a pre-existing sentiment, nourished by interested rhetoricians ... (is able to) disturb the balance between the groups that had existed in the mind of the collective audience."

The consummation period is the time at which new alliances are formed, new organizations develop. Aggressor rhetoricians "abandon their efforts, either because they are convinced that opinion has been satis­ factorily developed and the cause won, or because they are convinced that perseverance is useless, or merely because they meet the press of 14 new Interests."

While Senator Baker's movement has probably passed through these stages at some time between 196k and 1972, such is beyond the scope of this work. If one were to delineate where the Baker campaign fitted into the continuum, he would have to say that it was well into the organizational, or consummation period, when this work began.

There is a rhetorical use of the term campaign, however, that does seem aptly suited for this work. Professor Wallace Fotheringham sees persuasion as a campaign, "a structured sequence of efforts to 12 achieve adoption, continuance, deterrence, or discontinuance, rather than as a one-shot effort.Indeed, the Baker campaign was invol­ ved in such a structured sequence of events in 1972. The staff wanted the general electorate to adopt the positions of their candidate. They wanted their past supporters to continue their support. They wanted to deter members of the opposition in their support for Baker's opponent. They regularly asked independents and Democrats to discon­ tinue their previous way of voting and side with Republican Baker.

A well-planned, highly-structured rhetorical campaign was initiated to accomplish these goals. The term campaign, however, also takes on political meanings.

There was a primary campaign in Tennessee that culminated on August

3 and a general election campaign that concluded on November 7. This work is a rhetorical analysis of the general election campaign. Al­ though periodic allusions will be made to the primary effort, the basic thrust of this work deals with the period between September 1 and November 7, 1972. Unless specifically stated otherwise, all rhetorical statements fall within that time boundary.

In summary, then, HA Critical Analysis of the Rhetorical Strategies of Senator Howard H. Baker, Jr. in his 1972 Campaign for

Re-election" should take on increased significance. The rhetorical strategies are political doctrines of persuasive intent that will evidence themselves in terms of overriding rhetorical concerns and specific rhetorical positions. The campaign is a structured sequence 13 of persuasive efforts between September First and November Seventh,

1972.

Justification of the Study

It is important for every writer to understand the reasons leading him to undertake a study. Both political and rhetorical in­ fluences played major roles in initiating this particular effort.

The political reasons for such an interest are fourfold.

First, many of the problems facing the people of Tennessee in 1972 were also of common concern to people throughout the United

States. Tax reform, the Vietnam war, the busing of school children, the state of the economy, and the basic nature of government are as important to the people of Michigan and Massachusetts as they are to the residents of Tennessee and Texas. While local personalities and issues undoubtedly play a major role in statewide campaigns, United States Senators are held responsible for their share in the state of the country as well. Psephologists Richard Scammon and Ben J. Watten- berg recently suggested that the social issue, the issue relating to the domestic health of the country, has outdistanced foreign policy and hard economics as the determinant along which votes are cast.^

Universal concern in these matters has become the rule rather than the exception as opposed to the fragmented interests between regions in the past. When Gloria Steinem indicts the nation for what she calls "sexual politics" she is accusing the country as a whole. When Black Power advocate Imamu Amiri Baraka says that "no political development has taken place in this country in the twentieth century except by assassin's decree," he means that for the people of Harlem as well as the people of Mississippi. When Harvard Professor Daniel P. Moynihan describes an "emerging American consensus," he mentions the Wallace phenomenon as well as the suburbanites of Connecticut.17

Perhaps, Thomas D. Clark best describes it in his Emerging South when he says, "Tremors which (used to) rattle middle American and world market places only, now disturb windows along southern 18 main streets as well." Granted, there are still regional differ­ ences in the way Americans talk, dress, and sometimes react, but politically as well as socially, we are becoming more and more one people.

Second, the potential future importance of Senator Baker to the nation has become increasingly apparent. Baker has in many ways inherited some of the old political ties of his late father, a seven- term Congressman, and his wife's father, the lato Republican Minority leader, Everett McKinley Dirksen.

In 1969i upon the death of Dirkson, Baker was urged to run for minority leader and did so only to lose to Hugh Scott of Pennsyl­ vania by three votes. Two years later Baker again challenged Scott 19 and this time he lost by two votes. v When the ninety-third Congress convened in January, 1973» there was again speculation that Baker might seek the minority leader post. Although he told me near the end 20 of the campaign that he had no intention of seeking the minority post, he said in Washington on November 15 that he had not "closed the door 15 21 on an attempt to take Senate Republican leadership from Scott."

Speculation had it that two newly-elected Southern Senators, Scott of Virginia and Helms of North Carolina, would support Baker, while several former Scott supporters were not re-elected. Among them were

Mundt of South Dakota, Smith of Maine, Miller of Iowa, Boggs of Dela­ ware and Allott of Colorado. Many thought this situation would lead

Baker to reconsider his earlier position. In the end, however, Scott's support remained strong, and Baker chose not to make the race. There has also been serious mention during both of President

Nixon's campaign-planning periods that Baker would be the Vice-Presi- dential choice. The Ralph Nader Congress Report begins with such a reference in regard to 1968. 22 Likewise, there was moderate mention of Baker for Vice-President in early summer 1972 when some Republicans were calling for the President to replace Spiro Agnew. Senator Robert Taft of Ohio said, "The President should find a younger man with more appeal to young voters." When questioned who such a person might be, 23 the only person Taft would suggest was Baker. Third, the results of this particular Senatorial election are evidence of the inroads the GOP has made in Tennessee, as well as an

evidence of the success of Nixon's alleged southern strategy in the state. Leading politicians in both parties recognized the campaign not only in the context of winning an election, but also in light of establishing a "new day" in Tennessee politics. Tennessee Governor Winfield Dunn, for instance, who joined Baker's campaign train for its final stop at Memphis, said in his address to the crowd, "This election year is turning politics around in Tennessee and will give new life to government. It is a historic moment in Tennessee when a 2if. united Republican Party can continue to gain great successes."

Senator Baker pledged, "For the first time in Tennessee politics we

(Republicans) are going to carry Middle Tennessee as well as East and West Tennessee. We are seeing the dawn of a new day in Tennessee 25 electoral history." ^ Even Democratic opponent Ray Blanton often mentioned this election as crucial in regard to the future alignment of Tennessee voters. He told a group to middle-aged delegates to the

Tennessee Electric Co-Op Convention in Nashville, "If we want to be a part of a Democratic Party as we have always known it, then we must do all within our power to make Tennessee a two party power in the

Senate again." 26 Even the leading newspapers of the state and region agreed with the politicians in this regard. Political writers for the Atlanta Constitution, long-time leading Southern newspaper, alleged,

"The (senatorial) race is seen as an indication of whether the GOP has really established a foothold in Tennessee for the first time since reconstruction, or whether the Republican victories have only come because the Democrats were badly divided along liberal and conservative 27 lines and fielded unpopular and generally liberal candidates." The basic argument by all concerned was that the Baker-Blanton contest was a signal expression of the continuing impact of GOP successes.

Fourth and finally, this election was seen by Republicans as an indication of the stability and unity of the party within the state. In most political situations, success brings with it disunity. The candidate defeated in party primaries, the benefactor unsatisfied with his patronage appointment, the dissident uninvited to "offi­ cial" party functions can all create disarray. At the same time, a multitude of elected officials from the same party, all sensing their individual importance, inevitably offend one another as all are accustomed to having "their" way considered law. It is no secret, for example, that the philosophical bases of Baker and junior Repub­ lican Senator William Brock are critically divergent. Baker sees himself as a moderate and only lukewarmly approaches the conservative

"Wallace vote," recognizing the segregationist base which gave it birth. In 1972 Baker's opponent was openly endorsed by Wallace as

"representing the 'average American citizen' by taking a strong stand 28 for those things in which we all believe." Although Brock, on the other hand, was never publicly endorsed by Wallace, a Democrat, there is little doubt that the Wallace people were instrumental in helping him overcome incumbent Senator Albert Gore in 1970. Another striking difference between Brock and Baker is Baker's open seeking of the state's potential 200,000 black votes. In populous Shelby County, for instance, Baker received almost forty percent of the black vote in 1972, as opposed to less than five percent for Brock in 1970.29

There is little correlation between the Baker and Brock organizations, and it is likely to become less in the future. Likewise, Governor Dunn's failure to support funds for a medical school in heavily Republican East Tennessee was suggested by 18 many as an Achilles heel to GOP efforts in that area. Some suggested the chances of Baker, as well as Public Service Commission nominee's, 30 Tom Garland's, chances would be hurt as Republicans defected in protest.J

In the final analysis, however, Republicans did present a united front in 1972. In the Eastern part of the state where defections were 31 most feared, Baker garnered seventy-one percent of the vote. Although there are signs that Republican unity is little more than a surface symbol, such a presentation was completely adequate in '72.

Along with these political reasons for analyzing the Baker cam­ paign, there are some even more important rhetorical reasons for exe­ cuting such a study. A close inspection of the total rhetorical effort of Baker and his staff yield benefit to the field of speech communica­ tions in several ways. First, this study will provide a penetrating insight to the background conditions that highly influence political rhetoric. As Wayne Brockriede has noted in his "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetor­ ic," "Although a theorist, critic, or practitioner may focus his attention on a (single) rhetorical act, such an act must be viewed as occurring within a matrix of interrelated contexts, campaigns, and processes.0-^ Through personal contact with Baker and the campaign staff, as well as having a general working knowledge of Tennessee politics, I will be able to explain fully the interrelated contexts which create a situation out of which rhetoric grows. Lloyd Bitzer suggests that these background characteristics create a rhetorical situation which, in essence, calls rhetoric into being.^ For example, during Senator Baker's campaign a press release was always meant to coincide with the area in which a particular problem was consid­ ered most crucial. Although the Senator might visit several cities in a single day and say practically the same thing in each, a state­ ment released to the media on the day's activities always listed the city where such a statement might be "most needed."

The fact of the matter often was, however, that the same statement was made in several cities, or in some instances, in places other than the one designated on the press release, if at all. Fur­ thermore, such programmed statements were always written and usually released before the statement was ever made.

Along with delineating what the situations in a particular locality were in light of newspapers, newsreels, public opinion sur­ veys, and other secondary sources, this work will offer insight into how Baker and/or his staff personally viewed a rhetorical situation.

In some instances their analyses were unwaveringly accurate. In other situations, crowd reaction indicated they had misread audience interests completely.

Second, the work will indicate the methodology of speech development for a major candidate on a statewide level. James L.

Golden in his work "JFK and the Ghosts" suggests three roles that

President Kennedy played in the development of "his" rhetorical efforts. Golden suggests the President functioned on occasions as an outliner, an editor, and a creator in the development of his speeches. An enormous staff aided the President as he functioned 20 in these roles. Golden indicates that prior to the famous Nixon-

Kennedy debates the Kennedy Staff worked around the clock to "reduce

the material on thirteen major issues to fifteen pages of copy." ) Furthermore, his staff often worked and reworked, worded and re­

worded, a major speech some five or six times before a draft was ever

given to Kennedy,35 For a United States Senator, however, staffs are much smaller

and usually less experienced in the field of political oratoiy. Such

conditions create an entirely different situation as far as speech writing is concerned. A full explanation of the development of

Baker's speeches will be made in chapter three.

Third, an effort will be made to offer at least a surface look at how a major political candidate views rhetoric itself. Throughout

the campaign the Senator and I talked about the role rhetoric played

in his effort. He has had no formal training in public speaking other than cursory attention paid delivery in law school. He does, however,

understand quite well many important persuasive principles. These

will be discussed in chapter two. Fourth, this effort will be one of the first, if not the first,

comprehensive field studies on a Southern United States Senator. Similar

works have been done on public figures in other sections of the country. Some of these efforts will be mentioned later in this chapter.

Fifth, perhaps this work will provide an archetype by which

other public figures might be evaluated by means of their rhetorical strategies. The rhetorical situation in which Baker is cast is one 21 which Bitzer calls a persistent situation. By this he means that some situations recur, that is, they existed in the past, exist in the present, and will probably exist in the future. Often these com­ parable situations prompt comparable responses and give birth to 36 comparable rhetorica], forms. Therefore, this work may be of use to others if Baker's strategies can be identified and evaluated.-

Sixth and finally, a chance will perhaps arise whereby this work can be the basis for a comparison between Baker as a "state politician" and the same man as an important national figure in the future. It will be interesting to note the changes, if any, in rhetorical style, subject matter, and general tone as his national prominence increases.

Related Works in the Field Particularly during the past decade, it has become acceptable and academically advantageous for students in the area of rhetorical criticism to be present when communicative efforts are delivered. Such a student collects all tho available evidence from every source that can help him explain the event he is studying. He notes crowd size, staff planning, media exposure, audience reaction, and a myriad of other variables to explain better the totality of a rhetorical event. As opposed to experimental analysis, such a process involves

Interviews with the rhetor and audience, tape recordings of rhetorical efforts, notetaking on a political activity, and detailed analysis of the event under study. Although the advantages of close contact with the event being studied are universally recognized, only a few such works have been completed in the field of speech communications# • In 1968 Jerry E. Mendel of Purdue University completed a doctoral dissertation entitled "A Critical Analysis of Three Forms of Oral Communication in Charles H. Percy's 1966 Senatorial Campaign. Mendel's work focused on Percy's "whistlestop" tour of October 27-30,

1966; selected "crucial" public speeches; and radio and television interviev; programs. At the same university in 1964 Donald J. Shields completed a study of the 1962 campaign of Senator Birch E. Bayh. Shields travelled with Bayh, as this writer did with Baker, almost contin­ ually between Labor Day and the election. He observed the candidate1 speaking, attended planning sessions of the speech staff, conducted interviews, secured letters, and investigated newspaper and public T8 opinion research during the campaign. The methodology of this writer is closely akin to that used by Shields ten years ago.

Several other works have been done on important Senatorial figures without focusing on election campaigns. Josephine Biden at the University of Denver has studied the dissenting role of former

Senator Wayne Morse in regard to the Vietnam conflict. She concludes that Morse's influence, at least in part, can be attributed to his role as a communicator.^ Closely aligned to Bidens' study, Steven

Lemley of the Ohio State University has studied the anti-Vietnam rhetoric of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee with particular JiQ emphasis on the role of Chairman J. W. Fulbright.

Other efforts of a similar nature include: Patrick Devlin's study of the general audience speaking of Hubert H. Humphrey, Wayne State, 1968; Ray Ewing's analysis of Senate speeches of former

Senator Robert S. Kerr, Southern Illinois, 1968; and Jerry M. An­ derson's work on the "humane" rhetoric of former Senator Paul H.

Douglas at Michigan State in 196^.

With the exception of the aforementioned studies by Mendel and Shields, however, none have been a field analysis of campaign rhetoric. Most works analyzing Senatorial rhetoric have relied on texts supplied by a legislator's staff or government records. In addition to these doctoral dissertations, several schol­ arly articles on political rhetoric relate to this study. In 1970

James Holm published an article in the Ohio Speech Journal on the . iLl i960 campaign of Spiro T. Agnew. Holm discussed the prerequisites a candidate must possess in order to be an effective political

communicator. Similarly, Austin J. Freeley in the Spring, 1958, Central States Speech Journal discusses the role Dwight D. Eisen- ||2 hower's ethos played in his 195° campaign for re-election. Eisen­ hower's ability to captivate a crowd on personal appeal is similar to that displayed by Baker within his home state.

Other scholarly works having great impact on this effort include Wayne Brockriede's "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetoric,"

Donald Bryant's "Rhetoric: Its Functions and Scope," Ray Dearin's

"Philosophical Basis of Chaim Perelman's Theory of Rhetoric," Paul

Rosenthal's "Concept of Ethos and Structure of Persuasion," and Karl Wallace's "The Substance of Rhetoric: Good Reasons."^ Zk Problems Inherent to the Study

Ernest G, Bormann suggests in his Theory and Research in the

Communicative Arts, "In observing directly, the speech researcher must decide on the explanation he will give for his presence, the extent to which he will become involved in the events under study, V* and the method that he will use to record his data." By so doing

Bormann outlines the three most important problem areas relative to this particular study.

First of all, there is one major advantage to justify my presence during the campaign and one major disadvantage that need be minimized for the best possible situation to accrue. Unquestionably, in a fast-moving political campaign the presence of a researcher enables him to gain insight unavailable from secondary source mater­ ials. Contemporary sociologist Severyn T. Bruyn says that the aim of such activity is to understand people from their own frame of refer- he. ence. ^ Variables such as crowd size and composition, stylistic traits of the rhetor, variations from a prepared text, and conditions under which a communication is delivered, are seldom, if ever, report­ ed in secondary sources. Even when they are, there are almost always personal prejudices and political predispositions that color the analysis of such reports. Bruyn makes it clearer when he says: The observer . . . must learn to move in and make his home, so to speak, in the culture of the observed, and yet as he studies and reports his findings, he must move out of the culture and find his home again in the culture of his pro­ fessional world. 25 The main problem that must be overcome, though, is insuring that the people who are being observed do not change their normal manner of doing things simply because of a researcher's presence.

There is an inherent tendency on the part of every person to "pose" visually and/or verbally when he senses he is being photographed. Re­ search into this problem indicates that on occasion the presence of 7 observers can modify behavior. if.

Several paths were followed to minimize the potential "change" feature in the people being observed. My first explanation to the

Senator and his staff members regarding my purposes was brief, simple, and general enough to indicate what I was doing without going into every detail. In my initial request for permission to travel with the campaign entourage, I clearly indicated my goal was to ana­ lyze the rhetorical thrust of the campaign, attempting neither to condemn nor approve the political effort.

Furthermore, I limited joint travel to a reasonable degree, often providing my own means of transportation. I never indicated my time schedule to either the Senator or his staff, and often appeared unannounced at rhetoivical functions. There are many eye­ witness accounts throughout this work where neither Baker nor his staff were aware of my presence.

Secondly, a researcher engaging in a field study must be aware of the extent to which he becomes involved in the events under study. Often a student becomes so immersed in a campaign per se that he is unable to analyze the impact of the rhetoric on a general audience. Campaigning becomes his "normal" way of life while it is regularly an intrusion into the life of an average citizen. To combat such a problem as much as possible, I made regular attempts to get lost in the crowds and listen to their reactions. I both eavesdropped on and asked questions of Tennessee voters in every section of the state. There is, of course, a limitation to the extent on which one can rely on such answers. These answers do, however, enable one to become familiar with a myriad of influences affecting selected people. Even more important than the campaign itself is the possi­ bility that a researcher might become so enthralled with the man and/or situation he is covering that all semblance of objectivity dissipates. In the subjective analysis of rhetorical criticism, there is no foolproof formula for either insuring or determining total objectivity. Objectivity is at best a value judgment in the mind of a writer and those who critique him.

No attempt will be made in this work to suggest total ob­ jectivity. In the mind of the writer such is a practical impossi­ bility. At the same time, however, every reasonable attempt has been made to insure objectivity of the highest degree possible. No favors were accepted from either candidate throughout the campaign unless they were absolutely essential. Such favors included ad­ mittance to events and/or transportation between such events. These 27

situations numbered fewer than five. A conscious attempt was made to follow the media exposure of both men, although the major thrust of this work is concerned

with only one. Furthermore, the campaign techniques of each con­

testant were analyzed daily over the last two months of the campaign.

Every reasonable attempt was made to analyze secondary material,

primarily newspapers, within the context of known political biases.

All in all, a concerted effort was made to stay aware of the need for and importance of scholarly objectivity. Only the reader can be a final judge of the degree of success of that effort. Third and finally, the methods of recording these data are as exact as current technology practically allows. Every speech used in

this effort was tape recorded and then transcribed to insure factual

accuracy. Bormann is correct when he says, "Such recordings are of great value when they can be made, and when they are supplemented by hA the recollections of the observer." As might be expected, there are some differences between what is reported on press releases and what is actually said at the time of utterance. Since manuscripts were usually not produced by the Baker staff, such variables as

punctuation, fluency of thought train, and audience responses are inserted by the writer as directly observed. In most instances, such punctuation and composition simply enhanced the readability of Baker's speeches. A change in phraseology or content is never pur­ posely inserted. In conclusion, then, the writer was present to gain addi­

tional insight to the political process unavailable from secondary

sources. He was involved in the campaign procedure to the extent

that he periodically travelled with the Senator and his staff, yet hopefully retained objectivity. All rhetorical transactions were

tape recorded simply because such provides the most accurate record

for rhetorical analysis.

Procedural Methodology

I made an initial request to Senator Baker regarding the development of this study as a field project in early summer, 1972.

A field study is simply a project in which the examiner analyzes a

variable or a series of variables in a "real life" situation. I

requested that permission be given to undertake the study; that news releases, speaking texts, and travel schedules be made available to me; that I be allowed to interview him and his campaign staff mem­ bers; and that I be permitted to move about freely within the normal structure of the campaign as I deemed essential. In essence, what I requested was that I be allowed to take on the role of a non-parti­ cipant observer. V. 0. Key indicates in his work on Southern politics that there can be "no genuine understanding of the electoral process (in the South) without intimate acquaintance with the day to day practice." He goes further to suggest that the raw material for interpreting the Dixie situation must be gained from extensive field Lq interviewing and local observation. 7 What I really asked of the Senator, then, was that I be allowed to come in contact with this day-to-day practice by way of local observation. Baker granted permission in each of the areas requested and remained fully coop­ erative throughout the election year.

My first contact with the Senatorial contest was made the third week of July, 1972, two weeks before the August primaries.

The trip was basically an exploratory one to get a feel for the campaign and to make as many acquaintances as possible with people who might be able to assist in the fall general election. Only cur­ sory attention is given either primary race since there is no evi­ dence that either primary seriously influenced the outcome of the general election. Congressman Blanton subdued three inexperienced opponents by achieving over seventy-five percent of the Democratic vote. Baker, at the same time, had only token opposition, receiv­ ing ninety-seven percent of the Republican vote on the same day.. To put the historical party alignment in the proper perspective, it might be notea uiat Blanton's seventy-five percent Democratic total equalled 291,047 votes, while Baker's ninety-five percent Republican total equalled only 240,445 votes, 375.874 votes were case in the

Democratic primary; 247,979 in the Republican. The actual campaigning for the general election officially began on Labor Day and continued right up to the election. Between

Labor Day and November 7, I was in direct contact with the Baker campaign sometime during every calendar week. In mid-September I 30

participated in a car tour throughout Middle Tennessee. Late Sep­

tember provided a similar activity in the western part of the state, and the first week in October was spent touring East Tennessee with

the campaign group. The climax of the election was a four-day

whistle stop train tour the week of October 30 that took the campaign

effort some six hundred miles over twenty-six stops. Other than these

formally outlined trips, I intersected the Baker effort on numerous

other occasions in all areas of the state. All in all, I attended over fifty public speaking situations

in a two-month period. In every instance Baker's remarks were taped, later transcribed, and analytically criticized as an integral part of this effort. Included in the group are campaign speeches to persuade,

epideictic speeches such as high school dedications, discussion ses­

sions such as occurred with special interest groups and college audiences, media efforts, and formal addresses. Included are speeches

made before youth audiences, professional and civic groups, political

rallies, and open forums for the general public. Daily for two consecutive months I asked questions incessantly

of everyone I met. An attempt was made in almost every speaking

situation to get some indication of the audience's reaction. This was accomplished through direct observation, monitoring applause on

the tape recorder, and asking questions of audience members with whom

I came in contact. Wayne Brockriede has suggested that "a rhetorical act will be perceived quite differently by each person who observes

and criticizes from 'the outside.*n He goes on to say that "Here, 31 as elsewhere, meanings are in people, not in discourses."^ At no other place is this more evident than in political situations. It is often extremely difficult to read reactions on the faces of a political audience. For this reason personal interviewing was used extensively.

To monitor more accurately the background sentiment regard­ ing the election, I enlisted subscriptions with major newspapers in every part of the state. These included daily studies of the

Chattanooga Times, Chattanooga News-Free Press. Nashville Banner.

Nashville Tennessean. Memphis Commercial Appeal. Memphis Press- Scimitar. and Union City Daily Messenger. Additional intermittent study of the following newspapers increased a sense of awareness for the general attitude throughout the state: Knoxville News- Sentinel , Clarksvllle Leaf Chronicle. Dyersburg State Gazette.

Jackson Sun. Athens Post-Athenian. Dunlap Tribune, Columbia. Herald, and Knoxville Journal. Careful comparisons were regularly made between press releases from the Baker campaign and the way those releases were reported in the various newspapers. Such a wide range of newspapers was examined in the hope that all political philosophies, all sections of the state, and all classes of people might be reflect­ ed to some degree. In addition to these local newspapers, the New York Times and Time. Newsweek, and U. S. News news magazines were studied to put the Tennessee campaign within the framework of the national electoral situation. To analyze more clearly the viewpoints of the framers of the

Baker rhetorical effort, I had regular discussions with these people throughout the campaign: speech writers David Lauver and Bill Gibbons, Press Secretary Ron McMahan, and the Senator himself. Along with these regular opportunities for discussion which close contact pro­ vided, formal interviews were conducted with Mr. Lauver, Mr. Gibbons, and Senator Baker. These were free-response interviews in the hope that such a method might reveal unexpected data as the discussions developed. The free-response interview is usually considered most useful for in-depth studies such as this. Other discussions were held with almost everyone who played a major role in the campaign, but the above three with Mr. McMahan were primarily responsible for the rhetorical effort. A formal interview with Baker was held on

September 19 early in the campaign and again on November 1, only five days before the election. The initial interview dealt primarily with what rhetorical strategies he planned to use in the campaign. The final interview focused on analyzing how well these goals had been achieved. In the final analysis, the procedural methodology employed was intended to accomplish two goals. They were: (l) to become closely associated with the campaign staff members to the extent that their interpretations of the rhetorical situation might be understood; and (2) to regularly align myself with audience interests to the extent that their interpretations of the rhetorical efforts might be taken into account. This work, then, is basically a critical analysis of how well the message was adjusted to the people and the people adjusted to the message.

Critical Methodology

In determining the methodological approach that best suits a situation under study, the rhetorical critic must ask himself, "What are the primary elements in my selected project?" When he answers this question he must then seek the best means by which the chief characteristics of these elements can be critiqued. The pri­ mary elements to be studied in this work are the man and the message.

The chief responses of Tennessee citizens time and again after hear­ ing Baker were either "I like him" or "I like what he says." Lest such responses be considered pedantic, it might be pointed out that listeners could have responded to the Senator because of his party affiliation, his style of saying things, his political heritage, his geographic location in the state, or even his experience. But such was not the case. The voters liked Baker and uiey liked what he said. It is not unusual for political respondees to answer in such a manner in our day. At a time when three or four men hold within their hands the power to create a holocaust from which there is no sanctuaxy, the personal characteristics of such people have taken on increased importance. Additionally, the technology of our day dictates a situation where an "average citizen" is exposed to the personal mannerisms as well as the ideological positions of national politicians at almost every turn. y*

Furthermore, in the contest of this study, both men made concerted efforts not only to present positional content palatable to the citizens of Tennessee, but also to portray an acceptable image to what they considered a majority element of the state's voters. In order, then, to understand fully the rhetorical impact of campaign '72, one needs to examine both the man and the message.

Paul I. Rosenthal in his 1966 Speech Monographs article "The Con­ cept of Ethos and the Structure of Persuasion" demonstrates how the man and the message are often the dominant response determinants in a rhetorical situation. Rosenthal says: When a speaker delivers a speech with the intent of influencing the behavior of his auditors in a particular direction, we may conceive of the communication per se as presenting two distinct objects as potential foci of listener reaction: (1) the message ~ the subject matter, its de­ velopment, and the policies entailed — and (2) the total personality of the speaker. That is, rather than concern himself with the policies or arguments propounded, the listener may focus upon personal factors such as appearance, intell­ igence, and sincerity. 'When this occurs, we say that he is responding to the image, or in the traditional terminology, the ethos of the speaker.53 He goes further to suggest that such a model has been proven parti­ cularly effective in regard to political communication.

As a conceptual framework for rhetorical crit­ icism, this system could be most advantageously employed in studies where the critic is able to acquire data on all aspects of the communica­ tion, and especially data indicating the char­ acter of the audience reaction. It has been successfully used for the study of contempo- rary political speaking and conceivably could be applied to historical investigations if^ the necessary information were obtainable.^ 35 In this situation such information was readily available because of the presence of the researcher as an eyewitness critic.

As previously explained, all aspects of the various communication exercises have been noted, and particular attention has been paid to the character of audience reactions. A full record of the mess­ ages as well as salient characteristics of the messenger have been preserved. The message will be analyzed in three ways. First, the main riietorical strategies used by Baker to confront the issues will be analyzed. Second, a study will be made of the types of appeals he makes to his audience. Third, a judgment will be rendered re­ garding Baker's style and delivery of the message. In regard to the man, the importance of Baker's image as a rhetorical strategy will be explained. The emergence of credi­ bility as the single most important factor in his ethos will be de­ veloped. And the additional constituent elements that comprise Baker's "person" will be presented. All in all, it will be demon­ strated that Baker's message and Baker the man are the chief elements that merit attention in the 1972 campaign. While primary focus will be given the man and the message, considerable attention will also be paid the political and socio­ economic conditions in which the man and the message function. An attempt is made to describe accurately the Tennessee political cli­ mate in 1972. The end result of any critical analysis, however, should 36 b© larger than description. The critic must also render judgment.

This writer will analyze and evaluate the Baker campaign by answer­

ing the following five summary questions: 1- What were the significant political, personal, and cultur­

al factors in Tennessee in 1972?

2- What were the most important characteristics of message dissemination evidenced by the Baker organization?

3- What were the primary rhetorical strategies employed by

Baker in his campaign? 4- What role did Baker's ethos play in his electoral success?

What were the constituent elements of his ethos?

5- Why did the election turn out as it did? Each of these questions will be answered and analyzed in five succeed­

ing chapters in the hope of discovering trends and standards in poli­

tical communication. At the same time an attempt will be made to determine what elements contribute to the success or failure of

political rhetoric.

Thonssen and Baird have suggested that such criticism serves four functions. It "clarifies and defines the theoretical basis of

public address, (2) establishes 'standards of excellence,1 (3) serves

as an instrument in interpreting the 'function of oral communication

in society,1 and (4) insofar as it relates to scholarship, indicates the limits of present knowledge."-'-'

For such functions to be completed, however, there must be some standard by which tho rhetorical effort is judged. Several 37 standards have been offered in recent years. In this study, the primary way the rhetoric of Howard Baker will be judged is by eval­ uating its effect. The primary question that will be answered is,

"Wbre his rhetorical strategies effective? Did he accomplish what he set out to accomplish?" In their previously mentioned volume, Thonssen and Baird state: A rhetorical judgment is a composite of data and interpretation that is intended to reveal the effect of a given speech upon a particular group of listeners. The word effect, or response, is all important. It suggests the central rea­ son for rhetorical criticism.5° In politics the concept of effect is even more important than with other forms of communication. David Broder, a capitol reporter for the Washington Post has observed, "A candidate's words may ring down the ages, but it is more important that their impact be measured on the voting machines.Undoubtedly, people such as Senator Baker would rather be known as good public servants than as great orators if they had to make a choice. Although the effect standard will be the primary rule of judgment, this in no way means it will be the only standard. Every critic should guard against using any one standard to the total ex­ clusion of others. Though all methods of criticism have their ad­ vantages, they lack universality by themselves. The most competent critic pluralistically blends several standards into a structure by which the rhetoric he studies can be most judiciously critiqued.

In that light, I will examine Baker1s addresses in terms of their credibility, structure, style, delivery, and content as well 38 as their supposed effect. It is hoped that the writer can express a happy medium between too much reliance on personal opinion and too much systemization according to fixed rules. Such an approach represents no major shift in critical methodology, but merely shows an intention to focus upon the political variables of the situation as well as the rhetorical imperatives inherent to the message. In most cases the primary effect of a political address is a political effect. Such rhetoricians usually speak from a politi­ cal background and seek political ends. Therefore, it seems that the chief determinants of the "effect" of such rhetoric would be those normally associated with political results. The most obvious end of political rhetoric is oriented toward the ballot box. In this study Tennessee voting habits statewide, regionally, and by county have been examined for each senatorial and presidential vote in the twentieth century. At the same time, an in-depth analysis has been made of the voting trends in 1972 in the hope of analyzing the vote by region, county, political party, education, race, and interest groups. Significant change in any area between 1972 and past votes would seem to indicate some impact from the personalities and rhetorical doctrines involved.

Second, statements of personal opinion have been sought from members of almost every group who were receivers of a Baker message. Such individual listener responses often give an inter­ viewer clearer insight to the nature of audience values and pre­ ferences. 39 Ihird, I have studied the audiences in attendance at Baker's speeches through direct observation. Notes to indicate general re­ action, overt audience response, and the tone and content of ques­ tions in question-answer sessions have been recorded. At the same time, the responses of opinion leaders such as political columnists were used to supplement the reactions of other citizens in attendance.

In most cases, the opinions of such writers are more important to the outcome of an election than are the immediate opinions expressed by political audiences. In most instances, those in attendance at such functions are already favorably inclined toward the opinions of the speaker. Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, I have personally re­ corded, observed, and critiqued every form of public address given by

Senator Baker during the campaign. Mannerisms, phraseology, facial expressions, audience rapport, audibility, appearance, and other variables have been noted in over fifty instances.

Each of these four techniques is recommended by Lester Thon- ssen and/or Wayne Thompson as helpful determinants of the "effect" of a communicative event. 53 Admittedly, such determinants are sub­ jective, but as Severyn Bruyn has noted: In some ways (such an approach) has been dem­ onstrated to be more reliable than other formal empirical methods . . . (In an empirical situa­ tion) the subject may not know how to respond to formal situations, may unconsciously or in­ tentionally err, or may have a faulty memory. In contrast, the observer is in the social setting about which the empirical interviewer may be seeking to discover knowledge, and has the opportunity to record what actually hap­ pens when the "experiment" or formal question­ ing is over. In the subject's natural setting the observer is in a unique position to evalu­ ate any rationalizations which the subject may make in response to a questionnaire or formal interview.59 Furthermore, rhetorical criticism itself is a humane study that elicits material often not available through empirical analy­ sis. Daring the past few years some impressive studies have been produced using quantitative methods such as content analysis, for instance.^® Such empirically-based methodologies, however, fall far short of achieving the most advantageous results for the con­ ditions of this study. Political communications is a humane activity. The primary thrust of political rhetoric is to influence the will of human beings. In many cases particular courses of action or lines of argument are undertaken because of prejudicial or favorable feel­ ings on the part of the electorate. By totally immersing himself in the historical situation of the day, the rhetorical critic is often better able to explore and explain such attitudinally-based decisions. This is even more true in the case where the observer is present in a participant or non-participant role, as I was. This is not to suggest that a quantitative analysis, upon interpre­ tation, could not yield similar insights, but simply that the rhe­ torical critic is perceptibly trained to recognize such activity. In the final analysis, either interpretation is somewhat subjective, but the rhetorical critic is trained to develop an acute sense of analyzing such situations. Professor Ole R. Holsti says in the in

Handbook of Social Psychology. "Content analysis may be considered as a supplement to, not a substitute for, subjective examination of documents."^" Also, a quantitative interpreter must possess the dual talents of understanding quantitative methodology and rhetorical theory.

Methods of quantitative study are simply data-summarizing and clari­ fying tools, Raymond G. Smith has argued: No statistician can design a sound experi­ mental investigator in the field of rheto­ ric unless, in addition to possessing ade­ quate statistical sophistication, he is al­ so thoroughly at home in the field of rhet­ oric ... The corpus of classical rhetoric combines a description of speech-making with a body of hypotheses and generaliza­ tions induced from the evidence of some twenty-five centuries of successful prac­ tice, Familiarization with this accumula­ tion of knowledge is a condition of sound experimental scholarship.

In the situation of this study a quantitative researcher would also have had to possess a working knowledge of Tennessee political rhe­ toric, similar to the one I have acquired over the past ten years.

Empirical methodologies, such as content analysis, are very useful in determining "what was said." They are less useful, however, in denoting "why" or "with what effect." Holsti admits that few content analysis-based studies have attempted to answer the question of effect. It is imperative in political situations, where effect is the key end of rhetoric, that some judgment be offered in that regard. Rhetorical criticism, not empirical meth­ ods, seemed to be the most advantageous tool to highlight such effectiveness. kZ

In summary, then, this study will focus on the message- centered and person-centered communication of Baker's Tennessee campaign. The chief standard by which the rhetoric will be judged is the effect standard. This is so because of the rhetorical sig­ nificance and political necessity of recognizing effect. Voting trends, free response interviews, overt audience response, and direct analysis of the rhetorical event itself will be used to evaluate effect. Also, the rhetorical activities of this campaign will be critiqued in terms of their truthfulness, artistic quality, and positional content. Five overriding questions will be answered in full to explain the totality of Baker's campaign effort. They concern socio-economic and political factors, campaign organi­ zation, basic rhetorical strategies, image projection, and overall election results.

Dissertation Progression

In an article on the study of rhetorical criticism, Richard

B. Qregg contends that three distinct operations comprise the act of criticism. He says that they may be discussed separately for the purpose of clarity, but they must blend into one another when the critic conducts his analysis. They are: "the operation of historical reconstruction; the task of explication and analysis; and the final act of judgment." While elements of any two will unquestionably intersect a third, each of these three areas will be used to differentiate the progress of this work. Part I k3

(Chapters 2 and 3) will deal primarily with the historical recon­ struction of the rhetorical situation in which campaign '72 takes place; Part II (Chapters k and 5) will explain and analyze the rhetorical strategies of Senator Baker; Part III (Chapters 6) will render judgment on the successes and failures of the campaign ef­ fort. To explain more fully the intent of this activity, each of the succeeding five chapters will now be delineated,.

Chapter two, "Perspectives of Campaign '72," will define and explain the situational factors, source characteristics, and receiver attitudes that influenced the outcome of the election. Im­ portant situational factors include the national political, scene, the recent political scene in the South, and more specifically the recent political situation in Tennessee. Source characteristics of both Senator Baker and Congressman Blanton will be recreated.

An attempt is also made to explain the rhetorical efforts of Con­ gressman Blanton in his attempt to sway voter opinion. At the same time, the audience, the people of Tennessee, will be examined.

Demographic data, political attitudes, and past political reactions will be observed to enable the reader to understand the ideals and values to which the rhetors appeal.

Chapter three, "Development of Campaign '72," will recreate the day-to-day operations of the Baker effort. First, five stages of the progression of the campaign will be outlined. It will be shown how former political allies are exhorted and unified, how the prerequisites of broad based support are created, how an aura of a bandwagon effect is developed, how the campaign is orches­ trated toward a significant climax, and how the Senator touches crucial political bases immediately prior to the election.

Second, the development of the rhetorical effort will be explained. A description of campaign literature will be offered, an overview of the role of mass media advertising will be given, an explanation of the role of Baker's staff will be made, and the methodology by which the staff developed its rhetorical content will be defined. At the same time, mention will be made of the rhetorical efforts of "outside" people such as National Committee

Chairwoman Anne Armstrong, Congressional Minority Leader Gerald Ford, and Vice-President Spiro T. Agnew.

lhird, and most importantly, the overriding rhetorical concerns given consideration by the Senator and his staff will be fully explained. This will create a substantial base from which the positional content can be described and critiqued in chapter four. Chapter four, "Message-centered Communication," will ob­ viously focus upon the main rhetorical strategies of the campaign.

Campaign issues will be developed and Baker's response to these issues will be recorded. The rhetorical content of the Senator's addresses will be analyzed according to the standards previously mentioned in this chapter. Judgments will be rendered regarding the effect of speeches during the campaign.

Chapter five, "Person-centered Communication," will feature Filmed as received without page(s) 45

UMIVERSITY MICROFILMS. the man as a rhetorical strategy. The primary thrust of this chapter will be to explain the image that Baker projects and the dimensions of that image. Credibility will be explained as the single most important element in the Baker ethos. Furthermore, methods of image projection employed during the campaign will be analyzed. Judgments will again be offered regarding the effec­ tiveness of Baker's image projection. Such judgments of the con­ tent and the man will provide material by which the entire rhe­ torical effort can be analyzed. Chapter six, "Summary and Conclusions," will list the deciding factors in Baker's re-election. Campaign strength?, weaknesses, and reasons for victory will be mentioned. The role the incumbency played in the re-election effort will be developed and certain characteristics inherent to the rhetoric of the in­ cumbency will be presented as rhetorical implications. Finally, the conclusions reached at the end of each chapter will be sum­ marized.

It should now be clear that rhetoric is a much broader province than many have traditionally accepted. It touches every facet of human endeavor and is the social coordinator by which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation. Donald

Bryant accords it a four-fold status which he develops in the following way:

So far as it is concerned with the management of discourse in specific situations for prac­ tical purposes it is an instrumental discipline. It is a literary study, involving linguistics, critical theory, and semantics as it touches the art of informing ideas, and the function­ ing of language. It is a philosophical study so far as it is concerned with a method of in- vestigation or inquiry. And finally, as it is akin to politics, drawing upon psychology and sociology, rhetoric is a social study, the study of a major force in the behavior of men in society.

This work is concerned with the role of rhetoric in each of these areas. So far as it is concerned with the management of discourse in a specific situation for future practical appli­ cation, it is an instrumental study. So far as it analyzes crit­ ical techniques and linguistic factors, it is a literary study.

So far as it criticizes the bases of political thought, it is a philosophical study. So far as it recognizes important psycholog­ ical and sociological principles of today, it is a social study. All in all, however, it is a humane study. Before man can ever expect his dreams and aspirations to reach maturity, he must first understand the political language that serves to ex­ pedite those ends. 48

Notes for Chapter One "'•Bill Hoyers, "Losing the President in the Presidency," Newsweek. November 6, 1972, p. 21. p Grady Gallant, "Senator Baker Sweeps 3 Grand Divisions," Nashville Banner. November 8, 1972, p. 1. toward Baker Campaign Staff, Election Results, released November 15. 1972. 4 See Plato's Phaedrus trans, by H. N. Fowler in Thomas W. Benson and Michael H. Prosser, ed., Readings in Classical Rhetoric (Bloomington; Indiana University Press, 1972), p. 34; Aristotle's Rhetoric trans, by R. C. Jebb, Ibid., p. 56; and Quintilian's Institutlo Oratoria trans, by H. E. Butler, Ibid., p. 118« ^Francis Bacon quoted in James L. Golden and Edward P. J. Corbett, The Rhetoric of Blair. Campbell, and Whately (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1968), p. 6; George Campbell, The Philosophy of Rhetoric in Ibid., p. 145; and Hugh Blair, Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. Ibid., p. 117.

£ I. A, Richards, The Philosophy of Rhetoric (New York: Oxford University Press, 1965), p. 3; Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), p. 46; and Donald C. Bryant, "Rhetoric: Its Functions and Its Scope," Quarterly Journal of Speech. XXXIX (December, 1953)» P» 404.

7 Howard H. Baker, Jr., private interview held on campaign train in Eastern Tennessee, November 1, 1972, hereafter referred to as East Tennessee interview. Q Vance Packard, The Hidden Persuaders (New York: Pocket Books, 1957), pp. 1-7.

^Cavett Robert, Human Engineering and Motivation (West Nyack, N. Y,: Parker Publishing Company, 1969), p.. 21.

"^Rudolf Heberle, Social Movements: An Introduction to Political Sociology (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., 1951), P. 359. "•Ibid. 12 Virginia Holland, "Rhetorical Criticism: A Burkeian Method," Quarterly Journal of Speech. XXXIX (December, 1953), p. 444. 1*9

"^Kenneth Burke, Rhetoric of Motives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 19^9), pp. 20-23. ^"\eland Griffin, "The Rhetoric of Historical Movements," Quarterly Journal of Speech, XXXVIII(April, 1952), p. 136,

^Wallace C. Fotheringham, Perspectives on Persuasion (New York: Allyn and Bacon, 1966), p. 3^. ^Richard Scammon and Ben J. Wattenberg, The Real Majority (New York: Coward, McCann and Geoghegan, 1971), p. 39. "^Gloria Steinem, "Sexual Politics," Newsweek (July 10, 1972), p. 32; Imamu Amiri Baraka, "Black and Angiy," Ibid., p. 35; and Daniel P. Moynihan, "Emerging Consensus," Ibid., p. 22. 1A Thomas D. Clark, The Emerging South (London: Oxford Uni­ versity Press, 1968), p. 9. ^Steven Saferin, "Howard H. Baker, Jr.," Ralph Nader Congress Pro.ject (Washington: Grossman Publishers, 1972), p. 12.

20 East Tennessee interview. ^United Press International wire story, "Scott's Leadership May Be Challenged," Columbus Dispatch, November 15i 1972, p. 12A.

Saferin, p. 1.

^George Embrey, "Dem Ticket Linked to Nixon's Choice," Columbus Dispatch. July 19, 1972, p. 3A.

^Winfiold Dunn, "Address in Support of Howard Baker," Memphis, Tennessee, November 2, 1972.

2~faoward H. Baker, Jr., "Address at Smyrna, Tennessee," November 1, 1972, hereafter referred to as Smyrna Address. oA Ray Blanton, "Address to Tennessee Electric Co-Op Convention," Nashville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972.

^"Race is Close in Tennessee," Atlanta Constitution. October 5, 1972, p. 2-G. ^Wallace Endorsement of Ray Blanton, Memphis Press-Scimitar. November 3» 1972, p. 15.

2^Null Adams, "Clement, Baker Score Big Wins," Memphis Press- Scimitar. November 8, 1972, p. 16. 50 •^William B. Street, "Both Blartton and Baker Use Issues with Skill," Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 24, 1972, p. 3« -^"Howard Baker Campaign Staff, Election Results, released November 15, 1972. •^Wayne Brockriede, "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetoric," Quarterly Journal of speech* iilil (February, 1968), p. 1. •^Lloyd F. Bitzer, "The Rhetorical Situation," Pnilosophy and Rhetoric, I (January, 1968), p. 4. -^James L. Golden, "JFK and the Ghosts," Quarterly Journal of Speech. L1I (December, 1966), pp. 348-57.

35Ibld., 350.

^Bitzer, p. 13. 3''jerry E. Mendel, "A Critical Analysis of Three Forms of Oral Communication in Charles H. Percy's 1966 Senatorial Campaign," (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Purdue University, 1968).

•^Donald J. Shields, "The 1962 Campaign of Senator Birch E. Bayh, Jr. of Indiana: His Speech Staff and Addresses," (unpub­ lished Ph.D. dissertation, Purdue University, 1964). •^Josephine G. Biden, "Wayne Morse and Vietnam: A Study of the Role of the Dissenter," in Max Nelson's "Dissertation Abstracts," Speech Monographs. XXXVI (August, 1969), p. 231. hQ Steven S. Lemley, "A Movement Study of VietNam Rhetoric of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 1962-1972," (unpublished PhD. dissertation, Ohio State University, 1972).

^"James N. Holm, "The 1968 Campaign: Spiro T. Agnew," Ohio Speech Journal. VIII (1970), pp. 9-13«

^Austin J. Freeley, "Ethos, Eisenhower, and the 1956 Elec­ tion," Central States Speech Journal. IX (Spring, 1958), pp. 24-26.

^^Wayne Brockriede, "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetoric," Quarterly Journal of Speech, LIII (February, 1968), pp. 1-12; Donald C. Bryant, "Rhetoric: Its Functions and Its Scope," Quarterly Journal of Speech. XXXIX (December, 1953» pp. 401-24; Ray Dearin, "The Philo­ sophical Basis of Chaim Perelman's Theory of Rhetoric," Quarterly Journal of Speech, LV (October, 1969)» PP« 213-24; Paul I. Rosenthal, "The Concept of Ethos and the Structure of Persuasion," Speech Monographs. XXXIII (june, 1966), pp. 114-26; and Karl Wallace, "The 51 Substance of Rhetoric: Good Reasons," Quarterly Journal of Speech. IL (October, 1963), pp. 243-49. iiii- Ernest G. Bormann, Theory and Research in the Communicative Arts (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, Inc., 1965)1 P^ 360. hK ^Severyn T. Bruyn, The Human Perspective in Sociology: A Study of Participant Observation (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1966), p. 23. 46 Ibid., 171.

^Bormann, p. 360. 48 Ibid.. 362. ^V. 0. Key, Southern Politics (New York: Vintage Books, 19^(9), p. vi. co Howard Baker Campaign Staff, August Primary Results, August 25, 1972, p. 1. ^"Brockriede, p. 11.

-^Bormann, p. 351• 5^•"Paul I. Rosenthal, "The Concept of Ethos and the Structure of Persuasion," Speech Monographs. XXXIII (March, 1966), p. 119.

^Ibid., 124. "^Lester Thonssen and A. Craig Baird, Speech Criticism (New York: Ronald Press, Co., 1948), p. 21.

~^Ibid.. 9. (While I will focus on the concept of effect, I reject the notion of a one-shot rhetorical effort yielding a one- shot rhetorical effect. As previously explained, Baker's rhetoric is view­ ed as a campaign, and his effect will be viewed as the result of that campaign — not as the result of any single speech.) -^David S. Broder, Washington Post. March 29, 1964, Sec. 6, p. 24, quoted in F. Marlin Connelly, "A Rhetorical Analysis of Select­ ed Speeches of Lyndon Baines Johnson on the War in Vietnam,11 (un­ published Ph.D dissertation, Ohio State University, 1967). CO Thonssen and Baird, p. 448; and Wayne Thompson, "Contemporary Public Address: A Problem in Criticism," Quarterly Journal of Speech. XXXVIII (February, 1954), p. 25. 52

-^Bruyn, p. 180. ^See Ole R. Holsti, The Handbook of Social Pshychology. Volume Two, (Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, 195^)» PP. ol0-44, 673-92.

6lIbid., 602. ^^Raymond G. Smith, "Rhetoric, Experimental Research, and Men of Good Will," Southern Speech Journal, XXX(Fall, 196*0, P* 10»

63Holsti, p. 607. ^Richard B. Gregg, "The Study of Rhetorical Criticism," Keith Brooks, ed. The Communicative Arts and Sciences of Speech (Columbus: Charles K. Merrill Books, 1967), p. 40.

^Bryant, "Rhetoric: Its Function and Its Scope," p. kZk. HISTORICAL RECONSTRUCTION

53 CHAPTER II

PERSPECTIVES OF CAMPAIGN '72

Source materials from which the Tennessee Senatorial campaign

of 1972 is born are (1) situational factors influencing the election,

(2) personal characteristics of the two people in the contest, and

(3) receiver attributes of the general populace of Tennessee. Speech Professor Wallace Fotheringham has correctly observed:

Messages occur inseparably in conjunction with other stimuli, other influences. Every inter­ personal persuasive event involves essential components, such as source, receiver, situa­ tional factors, as well as message. These can be collectively thought of as context. Even in its simplest form it is difficult to con­ ceive of a persuasive event without them and with­ out their influence. Such contextual factors can serve to facilitate or inhibit message effect, or be of sufficient significance to the receiver that they become the major determinants of res­ ponse rather than the message.1

Such a consideration led me in chapter one to pose the ques­

tion: "What were the significant political, personal, and cultural

factors in Tennessee in 1972?" Only by answering that question

can one fully understand the background against which Senator Baker's

rhetoric occurred. Such an explanation is the purpose of this chap­

ter.

At the outset certain political factors will be explained.

9 55 The national political situation, recent southern political history, and the contemporary state of Tennessee politics all influenced the

Baker-Blanton contest. Second, the personal characteristics of the two men themselves will be explored. In a day when personality dominance is an accepted part of political elections, the personal traits of the candidates have become more and more important. Third and finally, the characteristics of the Tennessee voters will be defined. If electoral theory proves accurate, a populace should select leaders who reflect its own attitudes, beliefs, and values. An attempt will be made to approximate the way Baker and Blanton re­ flected the Tennessee ideology.

Situational Factors — National Politics

Af might be expected in a presidential election year, the national political situation influenced, at least to some extent, statewide races across the country, Tennessee was no exception.

The campaign of Richard Nixon and George McGovern had at least token impact upon the result of the Baker - Blanton election.

From the time that McGovern became the leading Democratic presiden­ tial contender until the final results were tallied on November 8, there was little doubt in anyone's mind that Tennesseans would side with Nixon. They had given him a plurality in 1968, although third party candidate George Wallace was a close second. Democratic nominee Hubert Humphrey was a distant third with only twenty-eight percent of the vote.2

In 1972 Nixon was a two-to-one winner in the state. He polled 80*1,081 votes, or sixty-seven percent, to McGovern's 352,829 and twenty-nine percent.*' American Party nominee John Schraitz re­

ceived only four percent of the state's votes in spite of the fact

that his vice-presidential nominee, Tom Anderson, is a native h, Volunteer.

It is important to note that Nixon's total in 1972 closely

approximates both in numerical vote and percentage vote the totals for himself and Wallace in '68. After the Alabama Governor was

critically wounded in a May assasination attempt, the way was clear

for Nixon's statewide landslide. Tennessee Democrats were critically

divided over McGovern's "liberal" candidacy and this, too, contributed

to the Republicans' success.

Even if one eliminated these extenuating Democratic circum­

stances, however, Nixon would have probably still been successful.

The 1972 election was the fifth time he had been on the Volunteer ballot; he was successful on each occasion. In 1952 and 1956 Dwight Eisenhower carried the state by approximately 3000 votes with Nixon

as his Vice-Presidential running mate. In i960 Nixon was successful in his bid against John Kennedy, although Kennedy won the nationwide

election.

With a man heading the national ticket who had been success­ ful four previous times, it was little wonder, then, that Nixon's candidacy created a favorable background against which Baker's rhe­ toric might be aired. Time and time again the Senator identified with the Nixon campaign. While admitting that he "sometimes die- 57 agreed with the President," ho nonetheless concurred vocally and legislatively. As a matter of record, the periodic c-irtipai^n state­ ments that he "sometimes disagreed" with Nixon were probably inten- ded to confront his opponent's charge that he was a "rubber stamp

Senator," rather than to indicate any substantial philosophical differences between the President and himself.

In a press release regarding the Vietnam situation publish­ ed only six days before the election, the Senator said:

The lasting peace that seemed so distant four years ago is indeed close at hand. I'm proud to have supported President Nixon's efforts dur­ ing his first term to attain that peace. And, with your help, I shall support the President's efforts for a continued lasting peace during the next four years. Despite the discouraging climate abroad when Mr. Nixon took office four years ago, the President has taken bold initia­ tives to deal with those problems,5

The Senator's relationship with the Republican President was a topic of prime concern to the many college audiences whom he faced. On October 3 at Bryan College, a student asked Baker, "Do you support President Nixon's policy of bombing the Worth Vietna­ mese until they give up their fight in the Soutn?" Baker's response was:

Now I'm not sure that's what the bombing policy is. That may be one of the results of it, but I do support the President. I support the President in his reduction of troop levels. I support the President in his insistence that we do not stand by and see the North Vietnamese in naked aggression subjugate the South. And then having arrived at that point, if I had my choice between bringing new troops back to Vietnam and bombing, I will bomb. It's preferable to what President Johnson did,-in sending half a million troops to Asia ... 6 58

With almost seventy percent of the state's voters clearly favorable to Nixon, it is not surprising then that Baker closely identified with him. Tennesseans have a political heritage in­ dicating that they are perhaps the most avid ticket-splitters in the South. In 19?2, however, Nixon's advantage was so overwhelm­ ing that it could bo considered nothing but a plus for Baker.

On the other hand, the McGovern candidacy was clearly detrimental to Blanton's hopes. Such is somewhat ironic when one notes that on many issues Blanton was more conservative than Baker.

Two of tho state's leading progressive newspapers, The Chattanooga

Times and The Nashville Tennessean, both endorsed Baker, noting Blanton's more pronounced conservatism. Both newspapers had earlier endorsed McGovern.7 Baker voted for open housing; Blanton was against it. Baker voted for tho eighteen-year-old vote; Blanton voted against it until its final stages when it was clear it would pass. Baker voted for the expenditure of money in the clcan water act; Blanton 0 voted against it. When McGovern was nominated for President, and even more im­ portantly, when the McGovern platform was adopted at the convention, it made the Blanton candidacy much less potent. The people of Tenn­ essee are overwhelmingly against forced busing, amnesty for draft dodgers, and additional cash assistance for welfare recipients. All g were important planks in the Democratic platform.' Blanton divorced himself from McGovern's candidacy as much as possible but still suffered significantly from it. The Baker forces seldom mentioned either McGovern or Blanton by name, but there was at least some attempt to create guilt by association be­ tween the two. On a couple of occasions when he was questioned re­

garding Blanton's charge that he was a rubber stamp Senator, and therefore a detriment to the Tennessee spirit of individualism.

Baker did vocally indict the two while still refusing to mention

Blanton by name. Answering such a question at Lambuth College in Jackson, Tennessee, the Senator said:

(I feel better) I suspect than he (Blanton) would feel at being labelled a rubber stamp of George McGovern ... I think my record stands for itself. I have no apology for the fact that I've known Richard Nixon twenty-two years. He's my friend and I helped nominate him, and I think I helped elect him as Presi­ dent of the United States. He's the only President I've ever known and known well, and I'm proud of him. We agree on many things, we disagree on some things, but we've always done it in good grace in both cases.

To Blanton's ethical credit, it must be noted that he never openly admitted he would vote against McGovern, even though he was pressured by some Democrats to do so. When asked on occasion if he supported the McGovern - Eagleton (or Shriver) ticket, he would reply, "I've been a Democrat all my life and I'll vote for Democrats from top to bottom."^ On some occasions, however, the Congressman made it clear that he had little concern for the nominee and his policies. He said at a press conference on July 1^: I face an extremely tough campaign for the United States Senate. If I tied my Senate 60

campaign to McGovern's presidential campaign, it would amount to an abandonment of the ma­ jority of Tennesseans to a continuation of ,2 Republican domination of our state offices.

Not only did Blanton fail to tie his effort to the McGovern candidacy, but he also requested that the national Democrats stay out of Tennessee. Quoted in the Chattanooga News Free Press on

September 20, Blanton said, "We're running our own race, and I haven't asked either of them (McGovern or Shriver) to come." •>

With Vice-President Spiro Agnew, GOP committeewoman Anne Armstrong, and Republican Minority Leader Gerald Ford all making trips to Tennessee on Baker's behalf, Blanton lacked the national leadership thrust which could have equalized the contest.

Quite often the Congressman's response to a question re­ garding McGovern was one of homespun humor. When asked if he were voting for McGovern or Nixon, he sometimes said, "My father taught me three things; don't argue with a fool, fight with a cripple, or lit vote for a Republican." Immediate laughter often followed. In the final analysis, however, Blanton was never able totally to divorce himself from McGovern's candidacy. This is not to suggest that he would have been successful with another man heading the

Democratic ticket, but merely indicates that the South Dakotan was just one more obstacle that Blanton had to overcome. It is wrong to say that Nixon and McGovern played decisive roles in the Baker -

Blanton contest, but it is correct to assert that they influenced the rhetorical situation to which both men's rhetoric had to be adapted. 61

Situational Factors — Southern Politics

Along with the intrusion which the national race made in the campaign, the general climate of Southern political thought also in­ fluenced the Senatorial election. In spite of the fact that Tennes- seans have on numerous occasions bolted the Dixie political alignment, there are a multitude of reasons why the state has to be viewed as an integral part of the entire South. First of all, Tennessee, like the rest of the region, exudes a basic rural conservatism. Since Civil War days when more fighting was done in Tennessee than in any other state, the citizens have been overwhelmingly adamant against rapid change, especially forced change.

This is in spite of the fact that a great mass of southerners no longer know a deep dependence on the soil and the agrarian standards that accompany it. Change comes slowly south of the Mason-Dixon line, and while vocations and homesites sometimes revolve quickly, values and attitudes are usually stable. It is this basic conservative bias that the Republicans have tried to cultivate in the past few years.

As some GOP strategists have aptly put it, "Philosophically, the

South ought to be Republican, It is still the Bible belt and people believe in strong defense, in patriotism, in the Protestant work ethic, In 19?2 as in no other election, an attempt was made to iden­ tify the South with the dominant Republican philosophy. Making a campaign trip to Atlanta in mid-October, Mr. Nixon told a cheering audience, "We're coming to the South because we consider it part of 62

the country. The idea of dividing tho North from the South is over forever. ... We are seeing the beginning of a new political align­

ment."'''^

Whether or not such an alignment actually takes place will have to be determined by history, but few would argue that at least

in 1972 the South moved in the direction of Nixon's conservative

philosophy. Hewsweek columnist Stewart Alsop suggested during the campaign that an historic shift to the right is taking place in

the country, much like the shift to tho left in the thirties that 17 made the Democrats the majority party. If he is correct, Republi­ can domination of tho South, and perhaps the nation, at the President­

ial level could be a reality for some time to come.

Even though, as already indicated, Congressman Blanton is, in some ways, more conservative than Baker, the Senator still had

the most to gain from the movement of the region toward Republican

conservatism. GOP platform planks against the busing of school child­ ren, for an overhaul of the welfare system, and for the return of more power to the states and localities through federal revenue sharing, were encouraging tenets to maqy white southerners. The overwhelming majority agreed with the President on each of thase issues. Undoubt­ edly, there are still advocates of "separate but equal schools," "work or starve" welfare, and "states' rights instead of federalism" in every section of the region; but it- is wrong to assert that all, or even most, of the southerners who agreed with the President would em­ brace the above philosophies. Many people who are moderate-to-pro­ 63 gressive southerners still agreed with Hixon that busing was wrong, that welfare needed to be revised, and that some power should be returned to the states. Most based their beliefs not on a return to segregation, nor on an abolition of welfare, nor on a rejection of power in Washington, but simply on the idea that things have re­ cently moved too rapidly, and therefore a slowdown is advisable. Moderation might be the key tern. Clark in his Emerging South says,

"Moderation is an inherent part of the best of the southern tradition.

It has long symbolized the South's honor and dignity. The very heart of the regional heritage is hospitality, graciousness, Christianity, 18 and humaneness, all of these imbedded in moderation."

Senator Baker consciously attempts to embody this sense of moderation and usually stays in the mainstream of southern thought, which puts him a little right of center as far as the national pic­ ture is concerned. On each of the above mentioned issues, he attempt­ ed to present such a stance. He neutralized his opponent's concern with busing by noting that he, too, was an anti-busing advocate. At the same time, though, in over thirty speeches where busing was dis­ cussed, a statement was always included which denoted the importance of quality education for all. In his press conference of May 19 when he announced his plans for re-election, Baker combined busing and quality education in the same breaths

It is absolutely mandatory that we provide qual­ ity education for all children in neighborhood schools without the burden of massive busing. To be against busing is not to be against a quality education for every child, black and white. To be against basing is not to be for turning back the 6k

clock of social progress and equal opportunity for every citizen of the land. To be against busing is just plain common sense. That is why I have led the fight against busing and met with the President to urge his support for prompt action against busing. It is ray intention to con­ tinue to press for the Baker Amendment, a measure defeated by the narrowest of margins, which would have eliminated massive busing, and to pursue every other course — including a Consti­ tutional Amendment - - which will bring relief from busing.19

On the topic of welfare and welfare reform, Baker again, in the southern tradition, presented a basically conservative yet still moderate tone. He sometimes called for a "complete overhaul of the welfare system" as he did on the Marion County Court House grounds on October 2, but usually he chose to deal with specific problems related to welfare. Under the general banner of a "need to improve 20 the quality of life," Baker offered formal statements on housing, the elderly, Appalachia, crime, and health care. He refused to make the failure of the welfare system a whipping point, but still de­ manded a re-evaluation of the current means of caring for the im­ poverished. It is impossible to go very far in any direction from the East Tennessee hillside home of the Baker family and not be con­ fronted by poverty. Perhaps this regular association with people who are genuinely in need has tempered his criticism of the welfare process. Questioned by the editor of the Memphis Commercial Appeal regarding his stance on welfare reform, the Senator said that two elements are essential. (First), there must be some work requirement if work is feasible, and second, there must 65

bo a positive incentive to get off welfare instead of remain on it ... In summary, I think the present system of welfare is a hodge-podge. It should probably be tied in with all the social welfare programs so^that there is commonality of administration.

Another issue the Senator used to identify with moderate conservatives was his role in implementing federal revenue sharing. More than any otner issue Baker mentioned this proposal as helping restore the Constitutional balance between Federal ana State-Local power. Every campaign speech included some mention of his role in sponsoring this proposal. Baker told a group of leading religious figures in the Church of Christ at a private luncheon on Septem­ ber 20: In my honest judgment revenue sharing is one of those watershed events that will reverse the trend of federal centralism that set in forty years ago ... I hope that as this money is returned to the states and the cities the re­ sult will be that when anybody has a project they want done instead of finding a federal program that will serve them — instead of go­ ing to Washington or Nashville, they will go to the City Hall or County Court House like you used to do.22

So, on each of these issues—busing, welfare reform, and revenue sharing—the Senator was in the mainstream of moderate con­ servative thought. So firmly entrenched was he in this central position that it was impossible for Congressman Blanton to dis­ lodge him to the extent that he might capture the main body of

Tennessee votes. Along with this basic conservatism present in the South, 66

two other situations influenced this and every other southern elec­

tion. They are the fact that Dixie politics is, in many ways, still a closed system and that the central concern of politics for the last one hundred years has revolved around the race issue. Both are showing signs of change, but they are still dominant enough to be considered an integral part of the 1972 rhetorical climate.

Even though Baker won his first senate seat in 1966 by over

100,000 votes, ho often vocalized the realization that it is far from certain that Republicans can expect to win statewide in Tennessee. He told the Fifth District GOP Women's Caucus in Nashville near the outset of the campaign:

The forces of change that brought about our Republican accomplishments in the last six years . . . are pei-fectly capable of devour- ing us. Today in Tennessee the fundamental political facts arc that the people of the state still haven't decided on a permanent, or a long-terra, political alignment.^3

What Baker was saying was that long-term political adjustments, like long-term social changes, do not occur in the South overnight.

National columnist Joseph Kraft has suggested that ideo­ logically the South is really moving very little, and is perhaps even standing still. He points to the fact that such old-time Sen­ ators as Sparkman of Alabama, Thurmond of South Carolina, McClellan of Arkansas, and Eastland of Mississippi, aren't only hanging on, but are thriving. He was correct on all counts in 1972 as each won re-election convincingly. Kraft did suggest, however, that Baker 67 was the only Southern Senator "running for re-election on the basis oh. of an appeal to blacks and moderate whites."

When the Senator and others spoke about the hesitancy of change in the South, they were simply admitting that those people who have controlled the reins of power for several decades are not going to let go easily. Analysts for Newsweek magazine put it this way, "Political power in the South is still deeply rooted in the counties, where nearly every courthouse and sheriff's office is controlled by Democrats who have a major stake in continuing to play 2<$ the game the same way," J Add to this the lingering suspicion among middle class southern laborers that the GOP is still a country club movement, and one has to admit that a move toward Republicanism is far from crystallized. It was this suspicion that Blanton attempted to cultivate when he described himself as a "Democrat for All

Tennesseans." One of the most important roles that the Baker staff had to play was the ministering to the wishes and suggestions of Democratic and Republican county officials alike. Although the Senator has ob­ viously been effective in doing so in the past, his rhetoric must continue to accommodate the philosophical beliefs of his Democratic as well as Republican constituencies. There is no official party registration in Tennessee, but outside surveys indicate that each major party can claim perhaps twenty-five or thirty percent of the registered electorate. That leaves around fifty percent of the people equally willing to vote fox* a Republican or Democrat, depen­ 68 dent on the circumstances. Such creates an especially fluid politi­ cal situation for the immediate future. One of the primary differences between Baker and Blanton was that the Senator broadened his appeal to include not only the

"closed" element of the old past, but also to insure majority accept­ ance by a large number of uncommitted voters. Congressman Blanton, on the other hand, focused on his Democratic heritage, but failed to extend his appeals effectively to ticket-splitters. There was, however, one traditional situation to which both men adapted similarly that has been the keystone of southern politics for one hundred years. No matter what one's party affiliation might be or what one's locality of the South might be, in the overwhelming majority of state­ wide contests a major issue will center around race. This concern, along with a conservative philosophy and a slowly changing system, are the three most important ideals of which a southern politician must be cognizant. V. 0. Key openly confesses: In its grand outlines the politics of the South revolves around the position of the Negro. It is at times interpreted as a politics of cotton, as a politics of free trade, as a politics of agrarian poverty, or as a politics of planter and plutocrat. Although such interpretations have a superficial validity, in the last analy­ sis the major peculiarities of southern politics go back to the Negro. Whatever phase of the southern process one seeks to understand, sooner or later the trial of inquiry leads to the Negro.27

Although the issues concerning race have changed somewhat since Key produced his classic volume, the philosophy remains pretty much the same. Issues such as slavery and cotton politics have given way to voter registration, equal education, and vocational opportunity.

In 1972 the race issue was still present, evidencing itself in the question of massive busing of school children. No politician who advocated busing was elected to a statewide office in any of the eleven states of the old Confederacy.

But politics is a game of degrees, and some politicians were less vocal, in their denials than others. The best that most Blacks could hope for was to find someone who had consistently helped them in other areas and then support that individual, though perhaps luke­ warmly. Such is the situation that resulted in Tennessee. Senator

Baker got a significant portion of the black vote (around forty per- 28 cent in Memphis) even though most Blacks in the state have tra­ ditionally voted overwhelmingly for Democratic candidates. This does not mean that he is loved and admired by Blacks but simply that he was accepted more readily than he had been in the past.

Two significant votes on the Senate floor—for open housing and for an extension of the voting rights act—probably played the major role in swinging some Blacks to Baker's column. He often men­ tioned these two issues in front of Black groups and pointed out 29 that his opponent voted against both. This deterioration of bloc voting among the state's some sixteen percent Black electorate could be the single most important development of the 1972 campaign. 70

It does indicate that at least some progress is being made in the removal of race as the only criterion by which white and black votes are cast. The South in general is showing signs of treating all people with increased dignity, as evidenced in the election of several Black mayors and legislators. Even those who opposed Black programs such as busing were careful to do so on the basis of "class and quality education" rather than on the basis of non-association with Blacks. While vestiges of a two-class society still remain, much pro­ gress is being made. Recent developments have led a number of Blacks to leave northern cities and vocations to return to their homeland. This is especially true among the better educated middle class Blacks.

John Lewis, former head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Commit­ tee, said recently, "Black people are coming back because of the sig­ nificant changes in the social, economic, and political climate of the region. I find (in the North) a fantastic interest in returning to the South. These, then, are the primary concerns that southern heritage injected into this 1972 senatorial contest—the area's traditional conservatism, the slowing changing nature of the political system, and the historical preoccupation with race. Any scholar or politi­ cian who expects to make a profound impact on the Southern way of life must take these three elements into consideration.

Situational Factors — Tennessee Politics Just as Tennessee must be considered a part of the South, it also has some distinguishing characteristics that render its political situation unique. At the outset, it must be noted that

the geographic localities and philosophical sections of the state

contribute to the complex climate that surrounds its political activities. Key describes Tennessee as "a narrow ribbon of real estate stretching from North Carolina to the Mississippi." He fur

ther explains: From Bristol in the far northeast, to Memphis, in the southwest, about equals the distance from Hart­ ford, Connecticut to Cleveland, Ohio. Tennessee's far western counties are but northward projections of Mississippi; its eastern counties share the topography and spirit of western North Carolina and. southwestern Virginia. Between West Tennessee and East Tennessee lies Middle Tenn­ essee, a fertile bowl, sometimes called locally the "dimple of the universe," whose principal city is Nashville. To the problems of political management inherent in three distinct geograph­ ical sections are added patterns of political behavior deposited by the Civil War. In 1861 East Tennessee had few slaves and was unionist; West and Middle Tennessee held slaves and Confederate sentiments.31

Even today these three distinguishing sections—eastern, middle, and west have political sentiments solely their own. Eastern

Tennessee is predominantly Republican, Middle Tennessee is pre­ dominantly Democratic, and Western Tennessee is doggedly conser­ vative, recently following Wallaceites, Democrats, and Repub­ licans, depending on the philosophies of the particular candidates In the 1972 campaign Baker's primary strength lay in the

East while Blanton's resided in the middle part of the West. Both men cultivated their own sources of support and then attorapted to launch out and make inroads in hitherto unfriendly territory.

As far as Tennessee political history is concerned, the real story of this campaign is that Republican Baker, for the first time in the history of the GOP, carried all three sections of the state. He achieved 71.8 percent of the vote in the east; 53*5 per- cent in the middle; and 60.3 percent in the wast. 32 This accom­ plishment in itself will win him a place in the story of political histories for many years to come.

Along with the complex geographical and philosophical differences in the state, four other areas of significance influ­ enced the internal direction of this campaign.

First of all, the Republicans had political momentum. Tennessee, like Virginia, has tended in recent years to side with the Republican party. Excepting the Johnson landslide of 196^, the

Volunteer state has supported Republican presidential candidates in every election of the last two decades. The GOP has made signifi­ cant gains for other offices as well. In 1970 the voters made

Winfleld Dunn of Memphis the state's first Republican Governor in fifty years, and at the same time elected Chattanooga Congressman

William E. Brock to the Senate over Democratic incumbent Albert Gore, Add to this the fact that five of the eight Volunteer Con­ gressman are now Republican, as opposed to two of nine only ten years ago, and one can more fully appreciate the present momentum of the state's GOP. Second, the state has a long history of progressive leader­ ship. Although statewide the citizens are often accurately viewed as conservative, the people they select to serve nationally somehow

manage to be more progressive than their constituency. In 195^ when most other Southern Senators were signing the Southern Manifesto pledging to continue the fight for segregation, Tennessee Senators Gore and Kefauver refused to do so.-^ In the late 1960's while most of the area remained adamantly hawkish toward VietNam, Senator Gore as Vice Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee was bitterly denouncing the war at every turn.^ In the mid-19^01 s while much of the South denounced any association of nations as a compromise with Communism, native son Cordell Hull was receiving the Nobel Peace Prize for his part in the creation of the United

Nations. These and other instances simply indicate that there is a tradition in Tennessee of her leaders being a little ahead of the people and actually leading.

Even at the state level, where Tennessee is often viewed as non-progressive and reactionary, much credit must be given cer­ tain leaders who have attempted to improve the state's ranking nationally. In educational appropriations, for instance, where the state ranks forty-sixth in the amount of dollar expenditure per pupil, it actually ranks eleventh in percent of state funds appro- priated for public education. The problem in the overall picture is that local appropriations to supplement state funds are discour- agingly insufficient. Cities such as Oak Ridge that adequately fund 7^ schools at the local level have systems among the best in the coun­ try, but numerous systems, particularly in rural areas, are among the worst in the country. This is primarily due to inadequate finan­ cial support. The fact still remains, however, that on a statewide basis, Tennesseans expect and have received progressive leadership.

Third, the state has a stronger tradition of colorful politics than any other southern state. Formerly the home of three U. S.

Presidents—Jackson, Johnson, and Polk—-Tennessee takes extreme pride in and pays profound attention to political developments. Rallies are intended as much for their aesthetic value and social atmosphere as they are for their electoral importance. A candidate who fails to pay attention to hometown barbecues, county rallies, and open forum discussions will not be a very effective candidate.

At the same time, the state is, in many ways, more sophis­ ticated than its other Southern neighbors. Economically, it is one of the more diversified and heavily industrial states in the region.-^

With Memphis, Nashville, Knowville, and Chattanooga, it has long had more cities of significant size than its Dixie counterparts. Add to this a large concentration of nationwide insurance companies, stock brokerage houses, chemical factories, nuclear plants, and steel facilities, and one can more fully appreciate the present economic diversity of the state.

All of these conditions together indicate additional reasons why the rhetorical situation of 1972 favored Baker. The Republican momentum, a sense of progressive leadership, the tradition of color­ ful politics, and the state's economic diversity had all aided Baker to a large extent by November 8.

He was seen in most people's eyes as the initiator of the Republican momentum. His 1966 election was the first statewide win for a local Republican in almost fifty years. Even groups and news­ papers who usually show no favoritism for the GOP, alluded to the role Baker had played in the party's resurgence. A few days after his

Senate re-election, Larry Daughtrey of the Nashville Tennessean sa­ luted "Howard Baker and Company" for "completing what they started six years ago—creating a solid majority of Tennesseans willing to call themselves Republicans."^

furthermore, Baker was viewed as progressive by many of the state's politicos. In endorsing Baker for re-election, the Chatta­ nooga Times praised him for "framing legislation to meet the challen­ ges of a changing era." They went further to point out that "in the curiously distorted political spectrum of the day, we believe Repre­ sentative Blanton will be found to the right of Senator Baker on many i|0 issues about which we feel strongly." The Times which shares a founding heritage with the New York Times has long been a progressive

Democratic paper.

At the same time, the Baker campaign was more colorful. A whistlestop train.trip across the state the final week of electioneer­ ing yielded free front page exposure (sometimes in color) in all of the state's major newspapers. Even through traditionally Democratic Middle Tennessee, large crowds appeared at eveiy stop—as much to view "Rosebud", the 1890 vintage Clinchfield engine that pulled the train—as to listen to Senator Baker. Nonetheless, the Baker campaign

captured the spirit of Tennessee politics more than did Blanton's low

key person-to-person effort. One of the main reasons Baker was able to appear "so colorful"

is that the business firms which give the state its economic diversity,

another Baker advantage, are usually Republican. Nineteen seventy-two was no exception; from combined sources, the Baker staff raised some iii $850,000 compared to Blanton's $350,000. Depending primarily on

agrarian interests, Blanton was again ouManeuvered. Each of these conditions, then, illustrates more completely why it was easier for Senator Baker to be an effective rhetorician than it was for his opponent. He was a benefactor, and to some extent, creator of the Republican momentum. When compared with his opponent

he was clearly more progressive. His campaign more accurately por­

trayed the colorful nature of past Tennessee elections, and the primary business interests of the state backed him to the extent that the exe­ cution of such a campaign vas possible.

Before leaving the situational elements of 1972, one more major item needs to be mentioned. Influencing both national, regional, and state politics, the attempted assassination of Alabama Governor

George Wallace was perhaps the most significant political event of

1972. Arthur Bremmer's bullet may well have influenced the outcome of the 1972 campaign more than all the rhetoric of every party con­ cerned. Before he was seriously wounded in Laurel, Maryland, on the

eve of that state's primary, Governor Wallace had won contests in

Michigan, Florida, Alabama, North Carolina and Tennessee. He also won in Maryland. He finished second in the primaries of Pennsyl­

vania, Indiana, West Virginia, and Wisconsin. On the day after he

was shot, Wallace had received more popular votes than either Hum­ phrey or McGovern in all primaries combined. One is led to wonder

what impact Wallace's candidacy as a third party man would have had

if he had duplicated his 1968 effort. There is little chance he would have been on the ticket as the Democratic nominee.

In 1968 Wallace carried the southern states of Georgia, Ala­

bama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas. Together they totalled forty-six electoral votes. Nationally, he received twelve percent of the popular vote. While such totals indicate no trend toward national election, they are significant when viewed as the largest third party success story in fifty years.

No attempt is herein made to assess the possible impact of a

Wallace candidacy on the Nixon-McGovern race. But, it is certain that a different situation would have existed in Tennessee had the

Alabama Governor chosen to run. Although Nixon carried the state in

1968, he did so with only thirty-eight percent of the vote, while Wallace was a close second at thirty-four percent. If Wallace had been on the ballot and had campaigned seriously, there is a good chance he would have carried Tennessee. Federal busing orders in Memphis, and Nashville could have proven a decisive blow to Nixon's

efforts. Even if Wallace had not been successful, his presence on

the ticket could have significantly influenced the senatorial cam­

paign. It would have been much more difficult for Baker to side

closely with Nixon and ignore the Wallace constituency. If Blanton

had been successful in merging Wallaceites and conservative Demo­

crats, the contest could have been much closer. Representative Blanton still attempted such a strategy, but with Wallace incapa­

citated and Baker immensely popular, the coalition never material­

ized. Speculative conclusions on a Wallace candidacy are tenuous at best. The fact still remains, however, thoit the Governor's political absence profoundly affected the November results. In state after state the Nixon totals closely approximated the Nixon

and Wallace percentages of 1968.

These, then, are the most significant situational elements influencing the Baker-Blanton contest. Nationally, the Nixon can­ didacy aided Baker; Blanton was hurt by McGovern. Regionally, both men fit the southern conservative role with Baker, perhaps, exuding more moderation. Locally, Baker was aided by recent Republican successes as well as being viewed the more progressive, more color­ ful, and better financed of the two men. An overriding consider­ ation that can never be measured is what impact a Wallace presi­ dential candidacy might have had on the campaign. 79 Source Characteristics — Howard H. Baker, Jr.

Few people in the United States approach the electoral battle­

ground with a richer political heritage than does Howard H. Baker, Jr. The son of a thirteen-year Congressman, Baker is married to Joy Dirksen,

the daughter of the late Senate Minority leader, Everett McKinley

Dirksen. Additionally, Baker's mother, Irene, was elected to fill

her husband's unexpired term on his death in 1963» Also her daughter,

May, is married to Republican Representative William Wampler of Vir­

ginia's ninth district. Baker, at forty-six, is the native son of Huntsville, Tennessee,

a small East Tennessee mountain town of some four hundred people. The

political district that Baker calls home is Tennessee's second* the "Oldest Republican District in the Nation." It elected.its first

Republican Congressman in i860 and has remained Republican in almost every election since.^ Travelling through Baker's home area in Autumn, 1972, one would hardly suspect that Huntsville is the home of such a prestigious political heritage. Excepting for the fact that one leaves Interstate Seventy-five and travels west some seventeen miles along the winding

Congressman Howard H. Baker highway, a man would guess that national politics is the least concern of this sleepy mountain town. In the "heat" of the campaign, only one small Baker poster was noticeable from the partially gravel road (because of reconstruction). At a small Tennessee Electric Company, in the shadow of a hugh TVA trans­ former, one could read the simple entreaty: "Re-elect Senator Baker." 80

. Yet, in many ways such lack of flamboyance is clearly re­

presentative of the man himself. Baker has not been a featured Senator in national headlines, choosing r&ther to build an image

based on constituent service and inner-Senate leadership. If the

time ever comes when he is a prominant national politician, his initial push is likely to come from his fellow Senators. Senator

John Sherman Cooper has said of Baker, "Tennesseans can be proud of

the kind of rational representation Howard Baker gives them on the Senate floor. His energy and effective leadership has made an im­

pressive impact on his fellow senators of all political persuasions."^ Baker's first try for public office came in November of 196't.

Running against Democratic nominee Ross Bass and bucking the Johnson landslide, he was narrowly defeated in an attempt to fill the unex­

pired term of the late Senator Estes Kefauver. Two years later, how­ ever, Baker again sought the same seat. Senator Bass had been de­ feated in the Democratic primary by incumbent Governor Frank Clement,

and the Democratic ranks were badly split. Clement and Baker waged a vigorous campaign with Baker winning by some 100,000 votes. Cle­ ment was seen by many as an old-line politician, while Baker was young lilL and aggressive with particular appeal to young people. Thus becoming Tennessee's first popularly-elected Republican

Senator, Baker faced a number of problems unique to most first term

Senators. His party was a minority party; he held the seat formerly occupied by a man who had only ten years before been a Democratic

Vice Presidential candidate, and his reception in many counties and 81 cities across the state was much less than cordial.

Sensing the precarious nature of his own position, Baker

took a cautious course in the Senate. Some of his caution was per­ haps by design; some can be attributed to the nature of the man him­

self. He does not impress one as a prima donna politician. His

manner is strikingly devoid of political jargon, and his replies to questions are as honest as any that one might expect.

Sitting and talking with Baker is much like discussing current

events with a favorite schoolmate. There is little attempt at for­ mality and an interviewer usually finds himself engaging in give- and-take conversation as well as asking specific questions.

This ability to draw others into a discussion and listen to their viewpoints is perhaps Baker's greatest asset. As will be dis­

cussed later, he is a moderately effective, though certainly not great orator. Yet in a one-to-one or small group setting he is superb. The nature of the man was perhaps best captured in a campaign bill­ board that appeared across the state. In full color appeared a pic­

ture of the Senator with a phone to his ear and a raised forehead as if in serious thought. The simple caption said, "Re-elect Senator

Baker." Even more importantly, however, the message said nonverbally

"Baker listens." Herein lies one of the secrets to his recent politi­ cal success.

Since becoming a Senator, Baker has staked out three main areas of legislative concern: the relationship of federal and state- local governments, the creation of adequate environmental protection procedures and the supervision of energy and energy-related contin­ gencies. Upon reaching Washington in 196?, Baker's first bill to be introduced on the Senate floor was a "tax sharing plan" designed to return a certain percentage of federal tax revenue to state and local governments. Such a bill, later called revenue sharing, was passed in 1972 by the ninety-second Congress. It was co-sponsored by

Senator Baker and Senator Humphrey of Minnesota. This accomplishment r was a great asset to the campaign for re-election, especially when

Baker confronted state and local officials. At a joint news confer­ ence in Nashville on September 20, Democratic Mayor Beverly Briley said of Baker and his revenue package:

Senator Baker has recently done a magnificient job in getting revenue sharing legislation written and last Friday adopted by the joint conference committee (of the House and Senate). There have been some statements made (by Bian- ton) that would indicate Tennessee was getting hurt by the conference version. Such is not the case . . . Under the conference version Tennessee will receive 98.^ million dollars. And Howard I appreciate your coming by to talk about it.^5

Furthermore, the Senator has played an active role in the development and support of important environmental legislation.

Holding seats on the Senate Public Works Committee and the presti­ gious Joint Committee on Atomic Energy, Baker is in a position to exert considerable influence in environmental matters. His position is further enhanced because of the committees' responsibilities toward TVA, headwuartered at Knoxville, and the Atomic Energy

Commission at Oak Eidge. 83 In 1971 the Senator made his first important environmental

stand when he demanded that the Atomic Energy Commission comply with

the standards of the National Environmental Protection Act. Tom Jorling, former staff member of the Senate Public Works committee, said it was Baker's effort that persuaded a majority of his collea­

gues to make the applicable regulations mandatory. Later in the same year he sided with Senator Muskie to give the Environmental Pro­

tection Agency "final say" in the interpretation and enforcement of all matters relating to water quality.U6 These and other actions led Secretary of State William Rogers to appoint Baker Chairman of the United States delegation to the first United Nations Conference on the Human Environment. Along with revenue sharing and environmental protection,

Baker has spent his remaining legislative effort attempting to ex­ pedite the federal government's research into supplementary energy sources. Admittedly seeking economic aid for his own state, he has persuaded the government to locate its first breeder nuclear reactor station in Tennessee. Citing the need for additional energy sources the Senator recently said:

We have to follow a number of paths simultane­ ously. I think we have to continue to develop nuclear energy, especially the breeder reactor. I think we have to find new and more environ­ mentally acceptable methods of utilizing fossil fuels .... I think we have to explore new techniques such as nuclear fusion which continues to be an elusive goal and may or may not turn out to be the ultimate energy supply.^7 84

But a Senator is much more than his legislative proposals.

In a day of governmental bureaucracy and secretive enclosure, the most important elements in the eyes of the electorate are likely to be the personal traits they sense. Baker's willingness to listen has already been mentioned, but there are three additional elements that merit attention here. Perhaps, the one most readily acknowledged by those who view the Senator is his boyish demeanor and natural good looks. Only five feet seven inches tall, Baker is a youngrlooking forty-six. His deep black hair and smiling face por­ tray the features of a man half his age. Usually dressed in a navy blue suit with light patterned shirt and wide tie, Baker exudes youthful enthusiasm. On a speaking platform or standing in a crowd he is not an imposing figure, but on the television medium, where most voters make their political contacts, he is an attractive can­ didate. Furthermore, most people perceive him as a man who can be trusted. His credibility is considered impeccable by many who know him well. On one occasion during the campaign, a lifelong Tennessee resident with a Ph.D. in communications .told me that Baker was one 48 of the most believable politicians he had ever watched. Along with his apparent truthfulness, his boyish demeanor gives him an air of innocence. This seems to project him above petty misinformation.

This is not to say that every position he takes can be judged at face value, but simply that Baker portrays to viewers an image of high credibility. Closely related to these first two traits, the Senator is not the type person who alienates or antagonizes others. His "loyal opposition" is relatively minor or critically disorganized. He is not one likely to be hated. On his cross-state train tour through both Republican and Democratic areas, one never saw anti-Baker signs, raised fists, or angiy gestures. Granted, many differ with his poli­ tical views, but those who dc so are not prone to castigate him severely. It is the opinion of this writer that one of the indexes often overlooked by both political and rhetorical analysts is the degree of intense opposition a candidate might have. One of the most important variables in many elections is not how many people love a man, but how many hate him. A small group of people intensely bitter toward a political candidate can be much more detrimental to his effort than a major newspaper or voting bloc that simply considers him the "weak­ er of two candidates." Senator Baker himself is acutely aware of the significance of such factors and does all within his power to keep the oposition "soft." Speculating on his first Senate race which he lost in 196^, the Senator told me, "One of the major things that con­ vinced me to run again (1966) was that in the first campaign I created liQ very little anti-Baker sentiment."^ The Senator credits this to what he calls "positive campaigning," but undoubtedly his personal traits play at least as large a role in neutralizing potential hate sentiment. Indeed, one of the few disadvantages of being an incum­ bent is that a politician, with almost daily exposure, is likely to 86

engender more "anti" sentiment. Baker is noticeably cognizant of the

degree as well as the amount of his political opposition. He does all within his power to avoid intense alienation.

Like all politicians, however, Senator Baker does possess

some personal shortcomings-that could lead to his political downfall. His future success will he tied to how effectively he can accent his

positive virtues and conceal those areas in which he is weakest.

During his first term in the Senate, there have been periods of prominent vacillation, especially on the key issues of busing and

environmental protection. Although in 1972 Baker portrayed himself

as a firm anti-busing advocate, as late as February of 1970 he opposed an amendment to the Elementary and Secondary Education Act to limit

the jurisdiction of the courts in desegregation matters, and thereby 50 stop busing. While the Senator may consciously have experienced a

change of heart, one is led to think there is a significant corre­

lation between his anti-busing stand and the proximity of his re­

election effort. Furthermore, his record in environmental protection has bean

less than consistent, even though he has pictured himself as a lead­

ing conservationist. In the same year he was advocating water-

quality standards and further power for the National Environmental

Protection Agency, he was also supporting the supersonic transport and the space shuttle. Both of these projects were actively opposed by conservationists. Subsequently his rating by the League of Con­

servation Voters was only an average fifty-four percent.^ In 1972 87 such inconsistencies were not politically detrimental. Under differ­ ent societal and electoral circumstances, they could be.

Another characteristic that could be harmful to Baker's long- term success is that sometimes in appearing to be open to all opinions, he seems critically unsure of himself. This is especially true in

foreign affairs. The Viet Nam war wa3 not a major campaign issue

since both men shared similar beliefs. But Baker's enunciation of his future hopes for U. S, foreign policy was sometimes confusing and al­

ways vague.

Speaking before a college audience on October 3» the Senator described America's post World War II defense as a "forward positions defense posture." 52 He went further to recount America's historical

ties to SEATO in Southeast Asia, NATO in Europe, and the OAS in the western hemisphere. Admitting that such alliances were under strain and that American troop reductions were talcing place around the globe, the Senator felt compelled to prophesy what future U. S. policy might be. Some excerpts from that discussion illustrate the case in point:

So I think the broad interpreble fact is that we are with-drawing from the Asia crescent and from the shield of NATO ...... we are evolving a new foreign policy .. . exactly what is not so clear. We are not, for instance, sure that America will withstand the blandishments of some that in withdrawing from our forward positions we should retreat to some new fortress America . . .

I'm not quite sure whether or not we're going to go"ahead and limit ourselves to some type of limited support of the SSATD countries, the NATO countries . . . 88

We're not exactly sure where we're going and I'm not sure either.33

While some might credit the Senator for honestly reflecting the nation's ambivalence on foreign affairs, it was too easy to remem­ ber that such a piece-meal policy is, at least partially responsible, for our plight in Viet Nam. Baker's excessive use of phraseology such as "what is not clear," "we are not sure," "I'm not quite sure," and "I think the broad fact is," was little balm for those desiring a more substantive change in U. S. positions. If the Senator is to be a leader on the national, level, it would appear he must improve his knowledge of and approach to foreign affairs. It is especially important that1 his enunciation of such beliefs take on a more effective utterance. There is one other possible Achilles heel that the Baker forces need guard, if the Senator, is to become effective at the national level. While one can almost see Baker restrain himself, there is still a tendency to tie social demonstrators and protest groups to the political opposition. Baker's rhetoric at no time approaches the acid commentaries of Vice President Agnew, but he is still prone to waver. Jim Squires of the Nashville Tennessean commenting on a Baker news conference said that he "painted McGovern as the candidate of the hippies, yippies, and zippies." By impli­ cation Squires argued, Baker was saying that any protest groups at ijh. the Republican convention would be under McGovern's control. While such references were practically norv-existent during the general election campaign, only a few such references can be highly damaging at the national level. In this case, Baker should best rely on his own normally moderate tone and divorce himself from the polarizing rhetoric of some of his colleagues.

If he can overcome these foibles, however, he may be a prominent national figure-for the next two decades. His shortcom­ ings are not unconquerable, and his generally moderate image should aid him in a nation that seems likely to reject non-centrist candi­ dates. His role as a leader in the Republican foray into southern

America should also assist him in the region that now has more elec­ toral votes than any other section of the country. Although Baker, like every other wise politician, consis­ tently rejects mention of national political ambition, there are telling signs that his prominence is sure to increase. On the power­ ful Senate Public Works Committee, he is now the ranking Republican.

Among his own Senate colleagues, he is a likely choice for minority leader when Senator Scott retires. On the elective scene, he is a possible future candidate for President or Vice President. His vice presidential consideration in the past has already been mentioned, and his possible Presidential aspirations were voiced by staff mem­ bers and close associates during the campaign. Congressman John Dun­ can of Baker's home district, and a close friend of the Baker family, commented, "We could be running (for Baker) again in four years. You never know what1 s going to happen.Baker, then, in committee work, oh the Senate floor, and in the electoral picture, is likely to be a familiar name for several years to come. 90

Baker's View of Rhetoric

A further question, however, demands explanation if Baker's communicative efforts are to be viewed accurately. Simply stated such a question is, "How does the Senator view rhetoric and its ends?"

Admittedly having no formal training in rhetorical activities, he is obviously uncomfortable when approached with speech terminology.

Devoid of scholastic jargon, however, the Senator shows a reasonably good grasp of the basic principles involved. In his manner of viewing public speaking, he equates rhetoric with persuasion. As previously explained, he does consider persuasion an important concept, but he is somewhat confused by rhetorical termi­ nology.^

The Senator considers natural ability a prime element in speech effectiveness. He takes almost an "either you have it or you don't attitude." Questioned about his own rhetorical effectiveness, he says his best experience came as a trial attorney. "When you're in court," he says, "the judge is an absolute monarch. He can berate you as quickly as any man on earth. I think it was during my court experience that I fully realized the importance of choosing words carefully."-"57 Asked if he thinks professional speech training would be a wise investment of time and effort, the Senator seemed ambiva­ lent. "I think it might be important, but I get a great deal of feedback as things currently are. I always try to listen to the acU vice of my staff on my speaking."-^58

Pressing further I asked the Senator what he considers to 91 be his greatest speech difficulties and he mentioned two areas. First, he is aware of a tendency to become overly blase1, especially after repeating basically the same speech several times. He says, "Some­ times I become glib with a sort of 'Play it again, Sam1 attitude.

Often, I can almost hear my subconscious saying, 'Well, here we go again.1 This is most likely to happen on a tour such as this (train tour) where I say practically the same thing seven or eight times a day." Baker says that periodically one of his staff members will mention such a factor and he will immediately tiy "to gear up again."59

Furthermore, the Senator finds it particularly difficult to speak in a situation where there is little feedback. "Feedback" is his terminology, and he credits his ability to read audience reactions with some of his rhetorical effectiveness. Baker says:

I know it when I'm coming across to a crowd or not, I don't like stone quiet audiences and I've appeared before my share. I think I'm fairly apt at recognizing feedback and what it means, but I don't give up when an audi­ ence is not reading me. Often I'll try to tell a story or relate a personal incident to iggrease their interest in what I'm say-

Baker went further to suggest the tension he feels when an audience seems uninvolved. Perhaps, it is his appreciation for immediate reaction in small group discussions that makes the Senator as effective as he is. One of the chief determinants of a public figure's interest in rhetoric, however, is the role he senses it plays in increasing his political effectiveness. Citing the fact that some political scientists have recently suggested campaigning actually changes few, 92 if any, votes,^ I asked the Senator if he really thought his rhe­ torical efforts made any difference. His reply was: Yes, certainly I do. The people who write those things are not out campaigning. They often for­ get that your opponent is working as hard as you are, and that some of his effort balances yours. They just don't know how important it is for a politician to mix with his constituents. My fa­ ther once told me that after an election people from both sides of the contest are all constit­ uents. It is important for me to be out cam­ paigning, even if it didn't change votes—but I thiSk it does.62

In response to Why he felt as he did, Baker offered perhaps his best analysis of the role of rhetoric. He cited four major concepts. First, he said, "You may be right in suggesting that few voters changed their mind six weeks ago, but right now (six days before election) a lot of them are considering who to vote for. I would guess that about ten percent of the voters will change their mind3 or reach a decision in the final two weeks of a campaign. You can see how those ten percent could make all the difference in the world. That is why we keep sending a message right up to the day of voting."^

What the Senator was really saying is that his rhetoric has a temporal dimension. The fact that he recognizes the importance of reinforcing familiar concepts is a significant asset to his rhetorical effectiveness. Communication analyst Carl Hovland has postulated that source contact with an audience has a "sleeper effect" that in absence 6 h. of further stimuli decays. In other words, much of Baker's final 93 thrust was simply reinforcing pre-existing beliefs.

Second, the Senator said, "My personal contact with those who are constituents says to them that I'm concerned. They have a right to expect some effort for their vote. Also, it's important that I'm able to identify with their problems and needs. If I don't, I really 65 don't have anything to say . „ . Baker was simply suggesting that it is important for one to identify with those to whom he com­ municates. Kenneth Burke would say that consubstantiation is the important term.66 Both Baker and Burke recognize the fact that for one man to persuade another they must share some commonality of thought. Burke says, "An act of persuasion may be for the purpose of causing the audience to identify itself with the speaker's interests; and the speaker draws on identification of interests to establish rapport between himself and his audience."^''' Third, Baker cited differences between his current campaign and the ones he ran in 196^ and 1966. He indicates that the situation under which one labors critically influences how successful a rhetor­ ician is. He says, "It's easier for me to be heard now because my recognition factor is much higher. People are more prone to come and listen in areas like these (moving toward Democratic area) where six years ago only a dozen people would show up." 68 Baird and Knower concur with Baker when they note that "What happens in a rhetorical situation depends in large part on forces outside the situation, and what follows the speech event also depends on an ongoing stream of forces."^ They suggest that a group's willingness to listen is a 9k key element in how successful a communicator might be.

Fourth and finally, Baker sees rhetoric as a tool of building political momentum. He says, "I think we've been vory successful. You have to say the same thing over and over to get some people to join with you."''® Although some analysts such as Scammon and Watten- berg have questioned bandwagon effectiveness,71 there still remains the belief among most politicians that everyone likes a winner. A great deal of the effort toward the end of political campaigns is directed toward creating such a bandwagon aura. These concepts, then, best explain Baker's relationship to rhetoric: He identified it with persuasion and thinks rhetorical effectiveness is an integral part of every campaign; he believes voting patterns must be reinforced, thereby creating the need for re­ petition on the part of the speaker; he considers "identification" a critical concept and for that reason takes his rhetoric to the people; he realizes that political situations influence rhetorical effective­ ness; he affirms that political momentum is partially created through favorable rhetoric. The Senator shows an effective working surface knowledge of some of the most important communicative concepts, although he is admittedly unfamiliar with speech terminology.

Source Characteristics — Ray Blanton

Howard Baker and Ray Blanton differed sharply on several issues during their campaign, but their differences were never so great as were the personal circumstances from which they came to be candidates. While Baker comes from a background of political richness,

Blanton comes from typical Tennessee agrarian poverty. Grady Gallant

of the Nashville Banner said of Blanton and his background, "To have been born in Hardin County during national prosperity all too often was to have been clutched in the arms of poverty, but to be born there at the veiy dawn of the great depression—as Blanton was on April 10,

I93O—was to have been seized by disaster herself." 72

Although he comes from one of the state's poorest areas, Blan­ ton's family fortunes have been anything but poor since World-.War II. About that time Blanton's father, Leonard, left his family farm and went into the construction business near Adamsville. He was moder­ ately successful for several years, only to trigger great success when he was joined by Ray and his brother Gene in the mid 1950's. They formed B&B Construction Comparer, a firm specializing in the bridge construction at a time when a massive state road building program was underway. Ray remained an integral part of the firm until he was elected to Congress in 1966. At that time he sold his stock in the 73 business to devote his full effort to politics.

Blanton entered active public life in 1964- when he ran un­ opposed to represent McNairy and Chester counties in the State House.

Two years later he ran for U. S. Congress against incumbent Tom Murray, who had served twelve terms. In a five-way primary Blanton defeated Murray by a slim margin and went on to defeat Republican candidate

Julius Hurst in the November general election. He held his Congress­ ional seat for three terras until reapportionment in 1972 dictated that 96 he seek election in the newly created sixth district, or direct his political efforts elsewhere. Blanton chose the latter. While in Congress, his primary concern seems to have been constituent service. He attributes his political success to "people to people" contact and "person to person" representation. He has said in political talks, "No one goes through any other person to get to Ray Blanton."' This strength, however, was also his greatest weak­ ness. The Ralph I'lader Congress Report derides him for "co-sponsoring only a handfull of bills and authoring almost none." 75 They complain that he spont so much time with constituent services that his committee and legislative work was almost overlooked. The Nader report goes further to suggest, "Co-sponsoring does not involve much commitment or effort; and unless you are a powerful member of Congress, it us- ually amounts to grandstanding more than legislating." The impli­ cation is clear that Blanton was more concerned with the people back hone than his administrative proficiency in Washington.

Philosophically, he sounds like the voice of a dedicated

Dixiecrat. He is considered "one of the few young southern represen­ tatives who speaks the populist language of the Old South.Com­ pared to Senator Baker, he is more conservative on most issues, al­ though his national party is more liberal. In a state that has recently tended toward national Republi­ canism, it is important to note the approaches Blanton used in soli­ citing Tennessee's two million votes. Perhaps, the man himself is best understood by examining the nature of his campaign, the primary theme that he uses, and what reasons can be attributed to his success­

es or failures. The Blanton effort was a low key, person-to-person attempt to

portray the virtues of the Old South. The strategy was simple: try

to hold down Baker's vote in the industrial East as much as possible; win big in traditional middle Tennessee; and carry the agricultural

west. Somewhere between Bristol and Memphis the strategy broke down.

The difficulties facing Blanton as described in the last sec­ tion were momentous enough, but the badly divided nature of his own

party contributed even further to the difficulty. Rather than appoint

county campaign chairmen in each of Tennessee's ninety-five counties, Blanton had to appoint five member committees with the members repre- rrQ senting various factions of Tennessee Democrats. Indeed, one of

the finest accomplishments of the Senatorial campaign was to period­

ically unite elements as diverse as Wallace and McGovern forces, Blan­ ton was even able to achieve the endorsement of former Senator Albert

Gore and his conservative 1970 primary opponent, Kudley Crockett. Using populist language reminiscent of Depression days,

Blanton crisscrossed the state shaking hands and asking people to re­

turn to their traditional moorings. He was not afraid to refer to his poor background, and one often sensed the Congressman was campaigning in 1932 rather than 1972. Speaking at a civic luncheon in Western

Tennessee, he received replies like "People's gone to forgetting what can happen when they vote Republican. They've forgotten about what

Herbert Hoover did."'797 The ironic thing was that over three-fourths 98 of the state's voters weren't alive when Herbert Hoover was.

The Blanton style of campaigning wa3 especially effective with middle-aged to older voters whom the candidate met personally. He created little enthusiasm, however, among young voters and peo­ ple who saw him only as a TV image. It was impressive to an old style Democrat to hear Blanton say he had callouses on his hands from meeting with the people,80 but such offered little solace for a person whose political leanings were independent. Basically,

Blanton was an effective person-centered candidate, but his posi­ tions on important issues, other than busing, never really sur­ faced. He found himself in a popularity contest which he was doom­ ed to lose. Running against an energetic, well-financed, incumbent young Senator, Blanton's position was precarious at best.

Undoubtedly his ability to identify with mainline Southern

Democrats is the Congressman's greatest advantage. He was success­ ful in gaining their votes. But his failure came in his inability to broaden his base of support. Meeting a voter on the sidewalk he would say, "I'ra Ray Blanton, a Democrat and I'm running against Senator Howard Baker, a Republican. I'd appreciate your voting for Q«l me." He is adept at making a voter feel like he is important.

In a day when Democrats were a solid majority, Blanton's popular personality would have made him an immediate success. But at a time when Democrats comprise only thirty to forty percent of the electorate, one's methods have to change. The entire approach to the election was a faulty one on the 99 part of the Blanton forces. They viewed the contest as a party fight at a time when the crucial bloc of voters in the state saw it as a Op choice of "Who could be the most effective Senator." Attempting correctly to state initially his views as consistent with the au­ dience's, Blanton failed to recognize the audience was larger than the Democratic party. His traditionally rural southern stance was beneficial in county areas but unquestionably led to his loss of all four of the state's most populous cities. In spite of these inadequacies and in light of his campaign difficulties, Blanton won many friends, managing to keep his poise and good humor throughout the campaign. Speaking to a Chattanooga civic club he gained at least good wishes as he put his audience at ease. He said the United States should have realized the Paris Peace

Talks were a farce "when North Vietnam sent a woman to negotiate." Furthermore, he received chuckles as he commented on McGovern, "I haven't searched out what kind of platform he has today so I don't know where we differ." At the same time he said he couldn't under­ stand why Republicans bugged Democratic headquarters "because Demo­ crats always tell everything they know anyway. It was perhaps his pleasant demeanor and happy smile that enabled him to do as well as he did. Trying to forge together traditional Democratic groups, he received support from several areas of the Tennessee populace. Oh October 31, Don Corn, president of the United Automobile Workers local, endorsed Blanton while claiming the people with him "represented forty 100

to fifty thousand card-carrying union people," and "every major labor Qh, union in Middle Tennessee." The Congressman's workers hoped that the labor support would materialize at the precinct level and off­ set some of Baker's publicity that came by way of generous financing.

Likewise, the predominantly Black Tennessee Voters Council gave the Congressman its endorsement. Claiming 250,000 members, the O £ TVC voted thirty-nine to fourteen to endorse Blanton over Baker.

This move further created the feeling in Blanton's camp that the Blacks of the state would continue their traditionally Democratic bloc voting. Furthermore, the previously mentioned endorsements of both Gore and Crockett should have served to increase the election potential of the West Tennessean. Gore said "Tennessee needs a spokesman for the average citizen in Washington and Blanton will do the job.Crockett proclaimed, "Ray represents the mainstream of thinking in our state today. I urge all ray friends to not only vote 87 for him, but to work hard for his election this November."

Finally the Blanton forces hoped the endorsement of -Alabama Governor George Wallace would cement their strength among conserva­ tive Democrats and increase their support among independents in middle and western Tennessee. On the day of the Wallace announcement a Blanton aide said, "Our campaign has been vastly stimulated by the

Wallace endorsement, It's the needed extra kick hero at the last particularly in Chattanooga and western Tennessee." 88 With labor support, Black support, Wallace support, and broad philosophical support within the Democratic party, one is led to won­ 101

der why Blanton did not run a much closer race. A detailed exami­ nation of his primary endorsement groups, however, reveals a critical

problem. The candidate's support was fluid, or what the politicians

would call "soft." Some of the groups who endorsed him were highly

antagonistic toward one another.

The action of the Tennessee Voters Council, for instance,

was partially negated by the Wallace endorsement and vice versa. Black voters are not likely to support a candidate endorsed by Wall­

ace and the opposite remains true for Wallace supporters. Further­

more, the original endorsements of both groups were less than hearty at the outset. The TVC endorsement came by a thirty-nine to fourteen

vote of its executive council, a clear majority for Blanton, yet an

indication of considerable Baker strength. The person-by-person vote was never released, but in political circles there was widespread

belief that most of the dissenters were from Memphis. Baker's support

in that area on election day would support such a theory. Also, the Wallace endorsement came late in the campaign and 89 was more of an "I wish you well" vote than an offer of help." 7 Any­ way, some of the Wallace people were already committed to Baker. Tom

York of Nashville, who served as a state leader in Wallace's 1968

Presidential campaign announced his support for the Senator as early as September 25. He faithfully served throughout the campaign as Executive Director of a statewide organization known as Independents for. Baker. Even within the Democratic Party Blanton's support was less

than solid. There is still little love between the Gore and Crockett 102 elements, and some have suggested that total Democratic support was more a facade than a reality.91 William Street, long-time political editor of the Memphis Commercial Appeal, even suggested that some leading Democrats were supporting Blanton because they didn't want him present for the gubernatoral race in 1972.92 Noting such atti­ tudes, then, it becomes evident that the Congressman's support was less than solid, even within his own party. All of the above conditions, coupled with the enthusiastic thrust of the Baker effort, kept Blanton on the defensive throughout the campaign. The best that the Blanton forces could ever predict was a close triumph if everything went in their favor. In politics it seldom does. The tone of the rhetoric of the campaign is the best indicator of the attitudes within the two camps. One vieek before the election both organizations announced their plans for the final week and made a statement predicting the outcome. Baker said he would "sweep the state for the first time in Republican history," 93 gk while Blanton said that the two men were "about oven."7 The diff­ erence in tone is a valid indicator of the stance of both throughout the election. Blanton, however, did make a gallant effort to swing public opinion to his side. He attacked Baker almost daily attempting to find an issue that would sway the voters' intentions. Tho basic theme of his rhetorical effort was "Howard Baker is not truly representative of the people of Tennessee. I am." While Blanton presented a number of issues designed to emphasize that theme, his main charges took on 103 three forms; (1) Financially, Howard Baker cannot identify with the

common concerns of the average Tennessean; (2) Howard Baker is not the type of high quality Senator to which Tennesseans have boen accustomed

in the past; and (3) Howard Baker is not really representing our basic interests in Washington, Every legislative or personal issue was de­ signed to accentuate the common theme. Blanton said in essence, "Baker

is not really one of us."

Charging that the Senator did not understand the average Tennessean, Blanton usually began with the economic issue. In response to a question by Memphis paper editor Gordon Hanna he had this to say:

I think I can reflect the views of the people of Tennessee better than my opponent .... He has been one for the rich, the big corporate monopolies and so forth, and I think that this is one of the biggest threats that we now have to our economy—-is the fact that the 200 largest corporations in this country now con­ trol the same percent of our economy as did the 1000 largest ones in 19*1-1 .... (Furthermore) we rank forty-third in per capita income of the states, and I can't believe that his philosophy represents the people of Tennessee in these income brackets—especially the v/orking man, the small business man and farmer and so forth.95

The economic issue was unquestionably Blanton1s strongest, especially in light of the fact that Baker tied his campaign so close­ ly to Nixon's. A Yankelovich poll taken for Time Magazine the last part of August showed that sixty-seven percent of the nation's people thought Nixon was too close to big business.96 Not only did Blanton accent Baker's ties with corporate interests as well as Nixon's, but he charged the Senator with personal 10k insensibility to the financial plight of the average Tennessean. On

September 20 he accused him of trying to buy his way into a second terra. He said, "Most of our money is coming from the working men and women of Tennessee. We cannot possibly match the incumbent in money— we will be outspent four-to-one, but we will have the votes because 97 the people of Tennessee cannot be bought." Increasing his attacks later in the campaign, Baker's opponent charged that he was the senior half of "two millionaire Republican Senators who votes for the selfish interests of corporate, monopolistic industries rather than for the 98 interests of the ordinary Tennessean battling for survival."

Such terminology was Blanton's most effective thrust. Perhaps his only mistake was his failure to be more specific in his economic charges. In a state where the median number of school years is 8.8 and the per capita income is only §3,05±, economic charges should be a sig­ nificant issue. Secondly, the Congressman accused Baker of being inferior to the high quality Senators Tennessee had produced in the past. Often mentioning Kefauver and Gore, Blanton said the present Senator was an insult to the Volunteer spirit of individualism. He said Baker was simply a "rubber stamp" for the Nixon administration. A television announcement that appeared in Nashville during the latter stages of the campaign argued, "It costs about two dollars and fifty cents to buy a rubber stamp, so why should you pay one forty-two thousand five 99 hundred dollars a year?" Such a charge was one Blanton levelled time and again, especially among college students where Nixon was 105 less popular. At the same time. Baker was often accused of excessive ab­ senteeism on critical issues facing Tennessee. In the Lions Club address previously mentioned, Blanton faulted the incumbent on three counts. He said that the Senator "was in Scarsdale, New York giving a speech to a 'special interests group1 when tha Senate was voting on the Economic Opportunity Act amendments of 1971»" that Baker was present but apparently "went to the water cooler" when the Senate voted on the minimum waga bill this summer, and that Baker failed to vote on a bill"that would have taken TVA's self-financing author- ,,100 a.ty away." Both concepts, Baker's alleged "rubber stamp of the Nixon administration" and "excessive absenteeism on critical issues," were designed to say "Baker is inferior to the Tennessee tradition of quality leadership."

Thirdly, Blanton denounced Baker for failing to represent the basic interests of Tennesseans. He asserted that the Senator was inconsistent in his positions on important questions. In this third area lies the domain of concern evidently intended to sabotage the Baker record. In essence, Blanton claimed Baker was dishonest with Tennessee voters. Specifically, he said the Senator tricked the voters on revenue sharing, wavered in his opposition to busing, hedged on helping the elderly through social security, and stalled on domestic issues important to the state.

On© of the issues on which the two men differed most criti­ 106

cally was the question of revenue sharing. Since tax sharing was tho

first najor bill sponsored by Baker, and since it was given such pub­ licity by tho President (even a signing at Independence Hall), and

since it meant a favorable position in dealing politically with state

and local officials, it is little wonder that Baker stressed it as

a major accomplishment of his first term. Recognizing the political

value of the bill as well as differing philosophically on its justi­ fication, Blanton denounced revenue sharing as regularly as Baker

extolled it.

Throughout the campaign he said: V/e in Tennessee, on a present formula, would be trading 189 million dollars a year from govern­ ment sources for 108 million dollars a year-- a net loss of 81 million dollars. We have accrued a 75 billion dollar deficit in three years so what revenue do we have to share7 ... I think it is near irresponsible for Congress to become a tax collection agency and not have any jurisdiction over the expenditure of the funds. Needless to say, I am opposed to revenue sharing.101

Only too days before the election Blanton was still forcefully outlining the disadvantages of the bill. On the League of Women

Voters pre-election television program, he told the residents of

Chattanooga, "There's no question but what we'll have to have a tax increase next year from the federal level because of this budget- bursting revenue sharing plan. It's tho worst boondoggle to ever come out of Congress." He further argued that Tennessee is twenty- third in the tax revernies it contributes to the federal government, but ranks thirty-seventh among tho states in tho amount of revenue 102 sharing funds it will receive. 107

While the Congressman's disavowal of revenue sharing was precise and non-compromising, his attacks on Baker on the question of forced busing were the most heated of the campaign. Blanton told a rally in Jackson in October, "Ha (Baker) is typical of the politi­ cian who has tried to play both sides of the fence. His busing state­ ments, in light of his busing vote record, are downright deceitful and hypocritical. Earlier he had told a Lawrenceburg audience, "The House has been passing anti-busing measures for six years. I've supported each and every one of them. But they've all failed in the

Senats and on four different occasions when these measures failed, IQ/f one of our Senators helped beat it." Although Blanton's assertions are factually correct, Baker's strong anti-busing stand a year or so before the election helped neu­ tralize the Democrat's charges. The Congressman's full page ad in the

Nashville Tennessean "How Does Howard Baker Sit on the Bus?""^-' would have been much more effective if a picture had not recently appeared showing Baker and other Senators meeting at the White House on behalf 1(\£L of the administration's anti-busing measure. Baker never mentioned his early busing votes and the public seemed to forget in light of the current controversy. Additionally, some of Blanton's charges were distortions of the facts and these decreased the credibility of those that were valid. Blanton, for instance, charged that Baker voted against social security increases on several occasions. In another full page ad appearing in several papers, he alleged, "On December 15« 1969, Baker voted against 108 an amendment to provide for social security increases and a minimum social security payment of one hundred dollars per individual and one hundred fifty dollars a month per couple .... On November 17, 1971» Baker voted to table an amendment increasing social security benefits by five percent a'nd establishing automatic cost of living adjustments in benefits."107 Both charges were half-truths. The Senator did vote against both amendments. but later supported the direction of the effort. In 19&9 he supported a fifteen percent increase and in 1971 a ten percent increase. Both were higher rates than those indicated in the amendments Blanton cited. News items and voting records released by the Baker staff on November 2 refuted such charges and stated the extent of the Senator's support. xos Finally, Blanton claimed Baker had stalled in his efforts to support badly needed domestic programs such as an extensive road building program in mountainous east Tennessee. Speaking in the tri- city area, the Congressman alluded to a 1966 pledge of Baker's "to make treacherous highway 11-W a much safer road." Underlining what he called "the shallow rhetoric of empty promises" Blanton said: Baiter and his bosom buddy, the Governor of Ten­ nessee, have done nothing to improve the safety on, or conditions of, highways in the eastern section of the state .... Instead, look what has happened—the Nixon administration has im­ pounded millions of highway construction funds and Tennessee has had to float more than one hundred million dollars in highway bonds to pay for continued road construction. I pledge to work vigorously to see that the federal govern­ ment releases the money Tennessee deserves.109 109

In four different areas, then, Blanton faulted Baker for poor representation. His charges on revenue sharing, court-ordered busing, social security rates, and lack of highway construction were all meant to say "Howard Baker is not really representing our basic interests.N Under the circumstances, Blanton's basic theme was as effec­ tive as most. However, numerous disadvantages he faced throughout the campaign eventually combined to marshall his defeat. In his concession statement of November 7, the Congressman blamed two Mis—

McGovern and Money—for his. ultimate failure. While the McGovern candidacy and lack of financial support played important roles in his electoral demise, it is shallow to assert they viere the only factors. Numerous successes and failures contributed to the final result.

In spite of his overwhelming defeat, there were three bright spots of the Blanton candidacy. In many ways he is a better campaign­ er than Baker. His imposing physical stance, his quick wit and good humor, and his homey personal demeanor enable him to identify with a large number of the state's residents. When these personal traits are forged together, he is a likeable individual as far as personality features go. The Ralph Nader Congress Report quotes one constituent as saying "Blanton is the kind of guy you would like to go out and have a beer with."111 In a day when media-dominated campaigns have accented the man and simplified the issues, such a recommendation is a greater asset than many recognize. 110

Second, Blanton was able to create some sign of unity among fellow Democrats. In a state where the liberal-conservative dilemma has been felt most strongly, any semblance of togetherness is a sig­ nificant accomplishment. In the concession statement already men­ tioned, he alluded to this fact:

One thing we have accomplished is that we have established unity in the Democratic party across the state. No other candidate, win or lose, has been able to do what we have done. I intend to start tomorrow to see that the Democratic party is responsive to the people. Third, Blanton did show an uncanny knowledge of the needs of the common man. His emphasis on economic concerns was a strategic move in a country beset by inflation and engulfed by wage and price controls. His success would have been greatly multiplied if he had more persistently accused Baker of economic failures. The Senator's votes for subsidies to the Penn Central Railroad and Lockheed Aircraft and against support for education, mental rehabilitation, vocational

training would have been good places to start. Although the attack could have been stronger, the economic thrust was at least in the right direction.

But, as in most cases, it would be wrong to assert that situational elements were the only factors leading to Blanton's loss. Along with the difficult circumstances under which he worked, there were some glaring deficiencies in his own campaign.

First, and foremost, the Blanton effort was too closely identified with the time-worn rhetoric of the distant past. Often one wondered if the candidate and his staff actually knew it was 1972. 113 "Your mother is the best reason to vote for Ray Blanton" may have been effective in 1932, but its impact on a broad base of the elec­ torate today is highly questionable. Additionally, the constant usage of Depression terminology may awaken sympathy among some voters, but the overriding majority are more interested in contemporary pro­ blems. Indeed, Blanton himself seems to have sensed his rhetorical course was invalid as the campaign drew to its conclusion. Reflecting on the election only a few days afterward, the loser mused, "What used to work in the old days of Tennessee politics will no longer succeed. Tennesseans are more independent, much better informed and blind party 1] h. loyalty is a thing of the past." If these recognitions had been achieved earlier in the campaign, Blanton would have had the capacity to present a much more effective image.

Second, the issue-centered part of the Blanton effort often lacked direction. In hopes of finding several issues that would move the audience's will, so many questions were raised that both the elec­ torate and the campaign staff failed to decide which were most im­ portant. The charges against Baker were sprayed from so many direct­ ions that individually they mustered little impact. Furthermore, the two issues both men mentioned as important, revenue sharing and busing, created an impossible situation as far as Blanton was concerned. The Senator's sponsorship of federal tax returns to the state and local­ ities gained him overwhelming support among public officials, and his fight on the Senate floor to delay court-ordered busing neutralized 112

the Congressman's attacks. Issued such as the state of the economy,

governmental secrecy, and honesty in government where Blanton, a Democrat, should have hold the upper hand, were seldom, if ever,

mentioned. Again, when the campaign was completed, the candidate

said there vrere some issues he should have accented more. He men­ tioned specifically "honesty in government" saying, "The Democrats

have always been honest with the people.

IMrd and finally, severe personal attacks on Baker late in the campaign offered little positive results. They were probably

counterproductive. Senator Baker, like every other politician, is

not above reproach, but he is not a susceptible target for fierce, biting attacks. Hie mellow nature of the man almost precludes such

an approach. Noting his inability to directly associate Baker with

many of toe country's failures, Blanton's rhetoric bocame much more biting. Raising a new issue in the final two weeks of campaigning, he told a Dyersburg audience, "Howard Baker ran the filthiest cam­

paign in history in 1966 and then followed it with six years of un- responsive and irresponsible action in Washington." Three days later he raised the question of campaign ethics which served to be­ come the largest rhetorical blunder of his campaign. Speaking in Nashville Blanton charged:

Black leaders in Memphis will tomorrow hold a news conference in which they are going to ex­ pose the fact that they were offered bribes to endorse certain Republicans. They are also going to expose the fact that Howard Baker is dis­ tributing one kind of literature in the Black.,, „ community and another in the white community. 113 Little attention was ever paid the latter part of the charge, but bribery is a politically disastrous indictment if it is ever proven true. Blanton never explained how he received his information ex­ cept to say that a Memphis minister was offered $15»000 to "rally lift support for Baker." While such is certainly a possibility, one's announcement of being party to it is a rare occurrence indeed.

In the Black community in Memphis, there are organized

Democratic "clubs" to which a candidate might gain mombership or access for a particular "speaking" feo. Such a practice has been present for many years since the party was controlled by the late

E. H. Crump in the 1940's.'^ Whether Baker and/or Blanton were party to such a tactic will never be known. Bakor vehemently denies arjy association with the practice.i 120 He told me the charges would never materialize on the day the Black news conference was to be held. A news conference did take place, but as Baker had predicted, the charges wore never developed. Four political organizations— the Eighth District Democratic Club, the Ninth District Democratic dub, the Kennedy Democratic Organization, and the Ministers'

Independent Council for Political Action—all made statements of intent, and, ironically, each of them endorsed Blanton. "No one has attempted to bribe me," said the coalition's spokesman, Frank Kilpatrick.

"I have heard rumors of bribes, but I have nothing to substantiate these reports."121 The only major Black organization not repre­ sented, the Shelby County Democratic Club, gave Baker tacit approval. Ilk

Club president Melvin Robinson denied he had been offered any bribe

by the GOP.122

Regardless of the accuracy of any of the statements, the

entire episode was badly managed by the Blanton people. Front-page leads like "Bribery Charge Fizzles" and "Bribery Charge Backfires" appeared across the state. Even if the charges were accurate, their credibility would be highly questioned since those involved endorsed Blanton, not Baker. The Congressman later called it his worst miscue saying, "I roost assuredly would not have made my statement if I had not had the promises of some men to appear at a news conference.

They jerked the rug out from under mc.""'"2^

Summary. All of these circumstances combined, then, to insure

Blanton's defeat. Some of the conditions were beyond his control. A good deal of them were his own creation. He entered the contest at a supreme disadvantage and his condition never improved.

The low-key person-to-person campaign failed to persuade a significant number of the state's voters. The rhetoric seemed time worn. The analysis of the contest as a "party fight" was a faulty one.

His supporting groups were less than united and sometimes even worked against one another. Blanton remained on the defensive throughout the election and his charges never swayed public opinion.

There were, however, some successes to his effort that made the election as interesting as it was. The basic theme of Blanton1s effort was a sound one that might have served to splinter Baker's support. The Congressman is generally a good campaigner and, at 115 least on the surface level, united his Democratic cohorts.

In the final analysis, however, Baker's margin of victory is

somewhat due to Blanton's own failures. The rhetoric of his campaign was sometimes badly mismanaged. It often seemed dated and certain un­

founded charges decreased the Congressman's credibility. One of the

most devastating mistakes was the "bribery charge11 of the final campaign week. Additionally, the loser raised so many issues that

both the public and his staff failed to accent the most important.

All in all, Baker began with significant advantages which he never relinquished. He kept Blanton on the defensive throughout the

campaign. The climate of public opinion was not susceptible to Demo­

cratic charges as both Nixon and Baker won overwhelming statewide

majorities. Finally, the Congressman, himself, contributed to his own demise making costly judgmental errors that assured his own de­

feat. In the final analysis, the people of Tennessee decided their interests were best served by supporting the incumbent.

Audience Characteristice — The People of Tennessee

To predict accurately the needs of one's constituency is the

most important task a politician must perform. A serious judgmental

error on the part of a candidate can end his political life in a matter of a few days. When a public official takes on the role of a persuader, he must be certain he understands the nature of the

audience to whom he appeals. As mentioned in the past section, one of the serious mistakes 116 of the Blanton candidacy was that he failed to recognize recent

shifts in party loyalties. Similar misjudgments were made by poli­

ticians at all levels in every corner of this country. To avoid such a mishap, every political rhetor needs to

spend a great deal of time analyzing the voters to whom he appeals.

In basic rhetorical terminology such a process is called audience analysis. Wayne Minnick described it as "the application of all

that is known about human behavior ... in order to anticipate or

evaluate their response to a particular persuasive communication."12k In analyzing a political audience, one must note at least

three areas of concern. They are: (1) basic demographic data de­

lineating the group; (2) political characteristics as exhibited in the past; and (3) common values and beliefs held by a majority of the

people. Only when one understands the basic makeup of a group, their

past reactions, and their commonly-held values, can he hope to predict what their action will be in the future.

The people of Tennessee, the group to whom Baker and Blanton

appealed, exhibit some significant characteristics of which a canny politician is cognizant. While among four million people an infinite

number of differences exists, there still remain some general attri­

butes and mean attitudes that exert considerable political impact. For instance, the population of the state is 83.7# white and

16.2$ black. There are fow ethnic groups, and these comprise only

.2j£ of the population. The relatively large black residency is still generally uneducated and remains fairly impoverished. This accounts for the state's rank of forty-fourth in per capita income. In recent years the people have become increasingly urban and 58-7$ now reside

in non-rural areas. Although the median number of years in school

is only 8.8, there is an affective balance between industry and agri- culture. Only three percent of the population is unemployed.125

Of the four million people in Tennessee, almost two million

are registered to vote. About 1,^00,000 did so in 1972. " Simple statistical data indicate three major groups that influenced the out­

come of the election. Tennessee's Black population, some 600,000 strong, has almost 250,000 registered voters. At the Presidential level they remained traditionally Democratic, but Senator Baker re­

ceived about thirty-five percent of their vote statewide.

The white collar vote went overwhelmingly for the Senator.

A computer analysis of Shelby County (Memphis), for instance, indi­ cated the incumbent received well over seventy percent in upper in­

come housing areas. Coupled with his unusually high Black percentage, 128 he received 65.7 percent in the state's most populous city. Additional statistics reveal that the winner was extremely popular among the state's newly-enfranchised voters. In the edghteen- to-twenty-five year age group, he received sixty-six percent of the total. Earlier mock elections indicated even greater strength among college students than among their working peers. Selected results showed seventy porcent support for Baker at Tennessee Wosicyan, seventy-four percent at Cleveland State, sixty-two percent at Lambuth College, seventy-six percent at Lipscomb, and seventy-seven percent 118

at the Vanderbilt Law School.129 Such large percentages among all three statistical groups assured Baker of an overwhelming majority.

He persuaded traditionally Democratic Black voters. He pleased nor­ mally-Republican white collar groups. He increased his popularity among the state's newly-enfranchised electorate.

Historically, however, Tennesseans have acted differently

from their pattern of 1972. One can't help surmising that an effec­ tive Democratic candidate could still be a big winner. Several notice­

able patterns have emerged in Volunteer voters over the years.

First and foremost, the electorate does not vote in blocs.

Except for the uneducated Blacks, the state shows little tendency to­

ward bloc endorsements. Many political scientists now agree that such 130 voting is deteriorating in Black communities. Not only have Blacks and Whites alike become better educated and more sophisticated philo­

sophically, but the state's spirit of individualism directly influ­ ences the ballot box. Even the area's blue collar workers show few signs of political unity. Labor unions continue to make endorsements,

but voting patterns do not always confirm their support.

Individuality in political thought gives Tennessee voters one of the nation's highest "uncommitted" figures. Almost one half of

the state's residents claim no strong ties to ariy political party, and

the number seems to be on the increase. Louis Harris of the nation­ wide polling agency said that voters "are expressing intentions of

splitting their tickets more than at any time in the history of the country."131 Tennesseans are unquestionably leaders in establishing 119 that trend. What this means to the state's politicians is that party ties are less and less important and personal ability to persuade a voter is more and more significant. Every candidate must be wary of tying himself too securely to someone else's coattails. In its endorsement of Baker for re-election The Nashville Tennessean acknow­ ledged him as the man who would provide "more useful and more inde 132 pendent service over the next six years."

Second, the state's national politicians have shown an uncanny interest in mutual cooperation. With less and loss interest in party labels, divisiveness between the two groups has become less apparent.

While each person would certainly like his party to be the dominant one, there is little surface concern that such must take place. For almost a hundred years, the state had seven Democratic Congressmen and two Republican Congressmen, and both groups seemed happy to leave well enough alone. Even today there are few philosophical differences among the state's office holders regardless of their party label.

Third, Volunteer Voters have shown more of a tendency to react than act. As long as a legislator stays near the mainstream of public opinion he is likely to possess a fairly secure seat. Most voters are happy with things as they are. In the last thi'ee elections only two incumbents have been defeated, and in both instances the voters were reacting against "unusual" positions. Senator Albert Gore was beaten in 1970 having voted against Southern Supreme Court nominees Haynsworth and Carswell, as well as being against prayer in the state's public schools. In 1972 Congressman William Anderson was defeated after 120 loudly endorsing the actions of the Berrigan priests. Anderson had,

as well, been a vocal critic of South Vietnam and the Theiu regime.

Had either man been only slightly more moderate in his rhetoric, if not his positions, he would likely still be in Congress today.

In general, as previously expressed, the state's voters have

never shown a progressive spirit. Regardless of which party is in power, moderately conservative to moderately liberal candidates have

always been the choices of the voters. They have tended toward the

conservative side more than the liberal, even within the framework of moderation. They are individualistic people. They are moderate

people and these qualities have been reflected in their chosen leaders.

When any group, however, develops a particular image, under­ lying values give birth to that image. Tennesseans are value-cen- tered people. In the heart of the Bible belt, one is more likely to hear a politician quote from the "Good Book" than he is to hear him note a modern philosopher. Four important areas seem to describe the state's value-centeredness.

As might be expected, fundamental religious groups play a significant though unorganized, role. Two of the state's largest re­ ligious sects, the Southern Baptists and the Churches of Christ, account for a large part of the area's fundamental bias. Strober and Streiker's Religion and the Now Majority indicates the extent of fundamentalism in the nation's politics. At the national level the Reverend Billy Graham is one of President Nixon's most valuable political assets. Recent surveys indicate thirty million evange- 121

llcals of voting ago and perhaps half of Tennessee's populace would

fall I'd.thin that nomenclature.133 Fundamental religious attitudes influence several of the

state's political beliefs. Many of the people are strong believers

in God's direction of man's course on earth, and therefore rational­ ize many activities as simply being "God's will." The reasoning

follows, "If God is in control anyway, why should I bother about

political involvement? It really doesn't matter." Furthermore, such religious tendencies strongly emphasize

the value of the individual. Individual prerogative is a vital fac­

tor in Tennessee political life, and unquestionably plays a role in the dissolution of bloc voting. The role of the individual also in­

fluences many residents' attitudes toward social programs such as

welfare. One is more likely to hear a politician invoke the Biblical admonition, "If a man does not work, then neither shall he

than he is to hear him discuss the conditions that create a welfare

need. Additionally, the State's moderate political spirit is en­

couraged by religious bodies, who themselves stress moderation. Mod­

eration in drink, dress, pleasure, and even thought are interpreted tenets of religious fundamentalism. New concepts are slowly accepted

if they ever aro. I sometimes asked people displaying Nixon buttons why they intended to vote for the President, and more often than not, the reply was, "McGovern is too liberal." I asked a man in overalls

in Jasper, Tennessee, why he thoughtMcGovern was too liberal and his 122 135 reply was, "I don't know and don't care. He's just too far out."

Such responses were not unusual and are a fair indication of the state's unwillingness to accept new patterns of thought. In several ways, then, fundamentalism influences statewide political thought.

Second, political populism is still a major doctrine. The role of the littlei man was what Blanton accented in his campaign for the Senate. Washington columnist Joseph Kraft suggested near the end of the campaign that many rural southerners, especially those "whose tobacco and cotton interests are threatened by huge agri-business 136 firms," are still open to such appeals. ^ While people in this cate­ gory no longer constitute a major force, they remain a significant group in the state's political life. Third, there exists a group of Tennesseans who share very con­ servative ideas and attitudes. There are some who would like to turn back the clock fifty years. This would include the sale of TVA, the elimination of social security and other social programs, and a re­ turn to an apartheid society. Their numbers are not overwhelmingly impressive, but their vocal presence is in disproportion to their numbers. They are perhaps represented by the four percent of the electorate who voted for American Party candidates in the 1972 elec- 137 tion. Thomas Anderson, who was the Vice-Presidential nominee for the American Party, is a life-long Tennessean. Few, if any, of the state's major politicians court this extremely conservative element, but all are aware of their presence. Fourth and finally, the residents of the state still favor a "good fellow" type of appeal. The All-American boy is much appre­ 123 ciated in Volunteer politics. Such a person is the epitome of all that is good in Scammon's unyoung, unpoor, and unblack electorate.138

He is respectful of older people, gracious with the ladies, and cheer­ ful with babies and other children. How well a politician portrays this image can be the difference between victory and defeat.

In summary, then, there are some distinguishing character­ istics that influence the political makeup of the state. The black voters are a substantial force, but are not nearly as numerous as they are in other southern states. There is an even balance between industry and agriculture with most of the state's residents able to find work. In past elections the voters have refused to vote in blocs, have retained a high spirit of individualism, and have reacted more than acted toward the national political scene. There is a strong value dimension to Tennessee electoral decisions. Several group orientations may influence those decisions; among them fundamental religion, political populism, and moderate behavior. Fundamental re­ ligions are an integral part of the state's value system. Agricul­ tural populism is still present in fanning areas. The residents' general sense of moderation seems to influence their middle-of-the- road political behavior. The flag, gentility, and basic courtesy are still respected. Eveiy politician must pay homage to each.

Chapter Summary

At the outset of this chapter the question was raised, "V/hat 124 were the significant political, personal, and cultural factors in

Tennessee in 1972?" The foregoing analysis of each of theso con­ siderations indicates some specific conclusions that one may draw. Politically, the Baker-Blanton contest was influenced by national, regional, and statewide interests^ These interests were described as situational factors from which the election rhetoric was born. The most important of them creates a fourfold analysis:

1- The Nixon-McGovern race influenced the rhetorical sit­ uation to which Baker and Blanton had to adapt; 2- A penetrating theme of moderate conservatism is the pri­ mary rhetorical doctrine in the South today;

3- The race issue again played a dominant role in campaign rhetoric, even as it has for the past one hundred years; and

k- Tennessee's recent trend toward national Republicanism aided Baker's rhetorical effectiveness. As far as personal characteristics are concerned, Blanton is in some ways a better campaigner than Baker. The image he projected in 1972 was clearly inferior, however,, Baker is known as a man who listens to others and as a person whose credibility exists on a high ethical plane. While not espousing speech terminology, the Senator indicated a sound working knowledge of important communication princi­ ples. His relationship to rhetorical analysis may be summarized in the following way: 1- He identifies rhetoric with persuasion and believes rhe­ torical effectiveness is an integral part of every campaign; 125 2~ Ho thinks "identification" is a critical concept and for that reason takes his rhetoric to the people;

3- He believes voting patterns must be reinforced, thereby- creating the need for repetition on the part of the speaker;

JJ- He realizes that political situations influence rhetor­ ical effectiveness; and 5- He affirms that political mementum is partially created through favorable rhetoric.

Congressman Blanton, on the other hand, is an excellent campaigner on a one-to-one basis, but he failed in 1972 to project a favorable image to a majority of the Tennessee populace. His great­ est mistake was his inability to analyze accurately the modern Tennessee audience. Relying too much on the populist rhetoric of the Democratic past, he failed to broaden his appeal to younger voters and voters of an independent persuasion. His rhetorical charges against Baker took on three forms; 1- Financially, Howard Baker cannot identify with the common concerns of the average Tennessean; 2- Howard Baker is not the type of high quality Senator to which Tennesseans have been accustomed in the past; and

3- Howard Baker is not really representing our basic interests in Washington. All three charges were intended to say "Baker is not really one of us." The Congressman, however, committed some significant judgmental 126 errors and his portion of the vote increased little throughout the campaign. As previously mentioned, his greatest failure was his in­ ability to recognize recent shifts in party loyalties. These shifts reflect the current nature'of the Tennessee electorate. Three main groups decisively aided Baker in his re-election success. His thirty-five percent of the Black vote, sixty-five percent of the white collar vote, and sixty-six percent of the youth vote combined to assure his victory. All three areas represent significant improve­ ments over his last campaign. In each instance, normal Democratic support within the group dissipated. Summarizing the characteristics of the rhetorical situation, the personal situations, and the Tennessee electorate, three basic ideas are emphasized in this chapter: (1) The 1972 political scene produced a rhetorical climate that clearly favored Baker;

(2) In 1972 the image of the incumbent more accurately por­ trayed the effective moderation of Tennessee political history; and (3) Significant numbers of Black voters, white collar voters, and youth voters combined to re-elect the Senator. 127 Notes for Chapter Two

^"Fotheringham, p. 159.

2 Michael Barone, Grant Ujifusa, and Douglas Matthews, Almanac of American Politics (Gambit Books, 1972), p. 757•

^Charles L. Fontenay, "State in Form: Nixon 2 to 1," Nashville Tennessean, November 8, 1972, p. 1.

^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Tullahoma Address,11 November 1, 1972, p. 1. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Bryan College Address," October 3, 1972, p. 13. ^See Chattanooga Times editorials, "McGovern for President," October 8, 1972, p. B6 and "Baker for Re-election,11 October 10, 1972, p. 10. Q Barone et alia, p. 759 and 771. ^See "Democratic Platform" as reported in U. S. Hews and World Report (July 14, 1972), pp. 32-33. 10 Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Lambuth College Address," September 22, 1972, p. 15. ^"'"Congressman Ray Blanton quoted in Nashville Banner July 28, 1972, p. 2. "*"^Ray Blanton press conference, quoted in Nashville Banner, July 14, 1972, p. 16d. "^Bob Poe, "Blanton Sees Win Over Baker," Chattanooga Mews Free Press, September 20, 1972, p. 2. ^Alan Wilson, "Blanton Undaunted by Queries," Chattanooga News Free Press, October 31» 1972, p. 2. "'"-'Richard Nixon quoted in U.S. News and World Report (October 23, 1972), p. 37. l6 ,. , Ibid.T "'"''stewart Alsop, "Shift to the Right?" Newsweek. September 18, 1972, p. 116. 128

l8Clark, p. 28k. "^Howard Ho Baker, Jr., "Announcement of Candidacy for Re- Election," Nashville, Tennessee, May 19, 1972, pp. 1-2. 20 Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Marion County Address," Jasper, Tennessee, October 2, 1972, p. 7. Gordon Hanna, "Baker, Blanton Stands on Issues," Memphis Commercial Appeal, October 22, 1972, Section 2, p. 9» ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Church of Christ Luncheon Address," September 20, 1972, p. 3» hereaftor referred to as "Nashville Round- table. " ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address to GOP Fifth District Women's Caucus," Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972, hereafter re­ ferred to as "Fifth District Address."

^Joseph Kraft, "Standstill in Southern Politics," Chatta­ nooga Times, October JO, 1972, p. 9.

^See "The South Rises Again," Newsweek, October 23, 1972, P. 37. ^Baker, "Fifth District Address," p. 5.

27Key, p. v. pQ Van Pritchartt, "Bloc Voting Less Evident Among Blacks," Memphis Commercial Appeal. November 8, 1972, p. ^5. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Lane College Address," Jackson, Tennessee, September 22, 1972, p. 17. ^ John Lewis, "Blacks Reverse Migration," Columbus Dispatch. December 9» 1972, p. 23. ^Key, p. 59.

J32 Jilection results, p. 1. •^Reg Murphy and Hal Gullivor, The Southern Strategy (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1971). p. 107. •S/i, ^Stanley J. Foirosbeo, Robert E. Corlew, and Enoch L. Mitchell, Tennessee: A Short History (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1969), p. 574. 129

. -^Murphy and Gulliver, p. 107.

-^Folmsbee et alia, p. 5^2.

37Ibid., 4-72.

-"^See Lee Seifert Greene and Robert Sterling Avery, Govern­ ment in Tennessee (Knoxville: University of Tennessee, 1962), p. 19.

"^Larry Daughtrey, "A Republican State," Nashville Ten- nessean, November 12, 1972, p. Dl.

^Norman Bradley, "Howard Baker for Re-Election," Chatta­ nooga Times, October 10, 1972, p. 12.

^John Haile, "If Money Wins Elections, Give It to GOP," Nashville Tennessean. October 15, 1972, p. 2-A. |ip Grady Gallant, "Howard Baker vs. Ray Blanton," Nashville Banner, October 11, 1972, p. 13.

^John Sherman Cooper quoted in Lee Stilwell, "Baker Has Learned and Grown," Knoxville Hews Sentinel, March 11, 1972.

Saferin, p. 1. '^Mayor Beverly Briley, "News Conference on Revenue Sharing," Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972, p. 1.

k6 Tom Jorling quoted in Saferin, p. 8.

^Hanna, p. 2-8. 48 Personal discussion with Dr. Ira North, Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972.

^East Tennessee interview, p. 6.

"^Saferin, p. 2.

*^Tbid.. 13. "^Baker, "Bryan College Address," p. J.

53Ibid., 5. fjk J Jim Squires, "McGovern An Issue for Baker, Blanton," Nashville Tennessean, July 22, 1972, p. 15. 130

"^Grady Gallant, "Baker Candidacy in 1976 Hinted," Nashville Banner, October JL, 1972, p. 12.

"^See page 6. S7 -"East Tennessee interview, p. 1.

58lbid., 2.

59Ibid. 6°Ibid.

^Scammon and Wattenberg, p. 214.

^East Tennessee interview, p. 3»

63Ibid.

^Kenneth Anderson and Theodore Clevenger, "A Summary of Experimental Research in Ethos," Speech Monographs. XXX (June, 19^3)» p. 67. 6*5East Tennessee interview, p.

66Burke, p. 21.

6'ibid., 146. ^East Tennessee interview, p. 5» gq A. Craig Baird, Franklin H. Knower, and Samuel L. Backer, General Speech Communication (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1971), p. 9. 70East Tennessee interview, p. 5«

^Scammon and Wattenberg, pp. 205-6.

72Grady Gallant, "Demo Candidate Remembers Desperate Depression Years," Nashville Banner, October 11, 1973» P* 13.

73Ibid. ?/jIbid. "^Lee Bandy, "State Lawmakers Damaged Little by Nader Report," Nashville Banner, October 11, 1972, p. 13«

?6Ibid. 131

77Ibid. 78 ' Newhouse News Service, "Race Is Close In Tennessee," Atlanta Constitution, October 5» 1972, p. 2-G. ^Bob Poe, "Rep. Ray Blanton's Person-to-Person State Stumping," Chattanooga News Free Press. October 29, 1972, p. 38. go Gallant, "Demo Candidate Remembers," p. 13. On Poe, "Rep. Ray Blanton's Person-to-Person State Stumping," P. 38. ^Sam Kennedy, "The Barrister's Bit," Columbia Herald, Sep­ tember 18, 1972, p. 4. ^Ray Blanton, "Lions Club Address," Chattanooga, Tennessee, reported in Chattanooga Times, September 21, 1972, p. 11. Q|i Fred Travis, "Labor Leaders Support Blanton," Chattanooga Times, November 1, 1972, p. 18. ^Associated Press, "Voters Council Favors Blanton," Chatta­ nooga Times. September 11, 1972, p. 1. pf Ray Blanton press release, Nashville, Tennessee, Septem­ ber 13. 1972.

OO Fred Travis, "Blanton Receives Backing of Wallace," Chatta­ nooga Times, November 3> 1972, p. 1.

^George Wallace, "Text of Endorsement of Ray Blanton," Union City Daily Messenger. November 3» 1972, p. 1. 90 7 Howard Baker Campaign Staff Press Release, September 25, 1972, p. 1. ^Jilliam B. Street, "Many Reasons to Help Blanton,11 Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 17, 1972, Section 6, p. 2.

92Ibid. ^James Denley, "Rambling Baker Whistles Merry Tune," Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 31• 1972, p. 15. ^William Bennett, "Blanton Raps Voting Record of Opponent," Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 31» 1972, p. 15« 132

957>Hanna, p. 8.

^Daniel Yankelovich, "In 16 Key States, Nixon Leads 2 to 1," Time, August 28, 1972, p. 15. ^Bob Poe, "Blanton Sees Win Over Baker," Chattanooga. News Free Press, September 20, 1972, p. 2.

^Gallant, "Demo Candidate Remembers," p. 13. qq Blanton advertisement, VJLAC-TV, Nashville, Tennessee, October 27, 1972.

•^^Blanton, "Lions Club Address," excerpts, p. 11.

^Hanna, p. 9. "*"^^Ray Blanton, "Open Discussion," Tennessee League of Women Voters Television Program, Chattanooga, Tennessee, November 5» 1972.

"*"®^Ray Blanton quoted in "Baker Hit by Blanton," Chattanooga News Free Press, October 13, 1972, p. 12.

"'"^Howard H. Baker, Jr. and Ray Blanton, "Baker, Blanton Res­ pond to Issues," Nashville Banner, October 6, 1972, p. 16.

"^Ray Blanton for Senate Committee, "How Does Howard Baker Sit on the Bus?" Nashville Tennessean, November 2, 1972, p. 21.

•'"^Associated Press Wirephoto, "Fighting A Filibuster," Nashville Banner, October 11, 1972, p. 23.

"^Ray Blanton for Senate Committee, "Your Mother Is the Best Reason to Vote for Ray Blanton," Union City Daily Messenger, November 6, 1972, p. 11. "^^Press Release, Howard Baker Campaign Staff, Waverly, Tennessee, November 2, 1972, p. 1. Bob Poe, "Sweep Seen By Blanton," Chattanooga Mews Free Press, October 26, 1972, p. 9. •^°Null Adams, "Clement, Baker Score Big Wins," Memphis Press Scimitar, November 8, 1972, p. 16. "'"^"Leo Bandy, "State Lawmakers Damaged Little by Nader Report," Nashville Banner. October 23, 1972, p. 12. 133

"^^Larry Daughtrey, "Baker V/innerl" Nashville Tennessean, November 8, 1972, p. 10. "^Blanton, "Your Mother is the Best Reason . . . p. 11.

Morris Cunningham, "Blanton Reflects< on Senate Campaign,11 Memphis Commercial Appeal. December 12, 1972, p. 17. •^Daughtrey, "Baker V/innerl" p. 10.

"^Bob Poe, "Baker's 1966 Race Flayed," Chattanooga News Free Press, October 25, 1972, p. 1.

"^John Pope, "Blanton Cites Bribe Use in Memphis," Nashville Banner, October 31, 1972, p. 12.

"^Key, p. 68. 1?0 Bob Poe, '"Rosebud1 Brings Baker Here Knocking Blanton Distortions," Chattanooga Mews Free Press. November 1, 1972, p. ^"James Denley, "Blanton's Bribery Charge Prediction Fizzles," Memphis Commercial Appeal. November 1, 1972, p. 17.

122Ibid.

"®*^Bob Poe, "Baker Swamps Blanton," Chattanooga News Free Press, November 8, 1972, p. 1. T oh- Wayne Minnick, The Art of Persuasion (Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1957), p. 2^-1.

12^Saf3rin, p. 5.

1 ?(•> Bob Poe, "State's GOP Nov; Has 5-3 House Lead," Chattanooga News Free Press. November 8, 1972, p. 1. 127'Howard Baker Campaign Staff, Election Results, released November 15, 1972, p. 2. •» oQ Van Pritchartt, "Bloc Voting Less Evident Among Blacks," Memphis Press Scimitar, November 8, 1972, p. 45. •^Election Results, p. 2.

"^Pritchartt, p. 13^

^"•^Louis Harris, "Democrats Ahead in Races for Congress," Columbia Herald, September 18, 1972, p.

"*"-^John Seigenthaler, "Senator Baker's Record Merits His Re- Election," Nashville Tennessean, October 22, 1972, p. 4-B.

"^Gerald S. Strober and Lowell D. Streiker, Religion and the New Majority in Kevin Phillips, "Fundamentalist Religion Demands Political Action," Columbus Dispatch, July 2, 1972, p. 18A.

^•^Ihe Bible; 2 Thessalonians 3:10.

^-^Interview with unidentified farmer, Jasper, Tennessee, October 2, 1972.

-^Joseph Kraft, "Standstill in Southern Politics," Chatta­ nooga Times, October "}0t 1972, p. 9«

"^Carl P. Leubsdorf, "President Takes All But One State," Chattanooga News Free Press, November 8, 1972, pp. 1,2.

"^Scanmon and Wattenberg, p. 21. CHAPTER III DEVELOPMENT OF CAMPAIGN '?2

Political campaigns in the United States are somewhat unique.

Donald G. Herzberg and J. W. Peltason in their Student Guide to Cam­ paign Politics say that American campaigns "tend to be longer, more chaotic, more decentralized, and less issue-oriented than campaigns in any other country in the world.""'" Yet from all the chaos and de­ centralization there must come a concerted effort toward an attain­ able goal. While surface glimpses often indicate a fragmented cam­ paign, most successful politicians have a blueprint for victory as systematically developed as any architect's plans. Howard Baker is no exception. The effort which sent Baker back to Washington for another six years was a superbly planned and carefully orchestrated rhetorical campaign. Rarely, if ever, in the history of Volunteer politics has a political performance been so meticulously devised. Mixing a care­ ful blend of both old and new techniques, the Baker organization left no person "untouched" as they systematically crisscrossed the state rallying support. Although the days of rising early and "stumping" from one

Tennessee village to another are as recent as Estes Kefauver and Frank

Clement, the increasing domination of media campaigns, along with a

135 136 general aversion to old-style campaigning on the part of the populace, have combined to compel modern politicians to seek a multi-faceted approach. Baker did not attempt in the traditional way to visit all of the state's ninety-five counties to assert that he had "seen every­ one." He chose rather to concentrate on specific areas that would, in his opinion, yield the greatest political benefit. Minutes from a June 5/ 1972 campaign strategy meeting indicate that the election organizers felt "a goal of visiting all ninety-five counties would be nice to have," but "will not be a primary objective and will happen only as events develop."

Few political rallies were held on traditional courthouse lawns with the primary emphasis shifting to civic club luncheons, press conferences, hand-shaking forays, and question-answer sessions on college campuses. The real difference in old and new campaigning is the way the audience is formed. Few people today will leave their comfortable air-conditioned homes on a hot summer day to stand out­ side for a political diatribe. Today a politician must take his message to the people. Under normal circumstances they will not come to him. It is for this reason that previously formed groups such as civic clubs, press conferences, and college seminars predominate. Also, a candidate is more likely to achieve press coverage at such gatherings than he is on local handshaking tours.

An average non-tour day in the campaign of Senator Baker perhaps gives insight to the many considerations that direct an elec­ 137 tion effort. The press version of the schedule for Thursday, October

12, is as follows:

At 9 A.M. Baker will hold a press conference in Nashville, followed by handshaking in Sumner County, then a reception at GOP headquarters at 10:35 A. M. in Gallatin. He will handshake at Hartsville and speak at a luncheon at 12:20 P.M. at Reading Cafeteria at Lafayette. At 2 P. M. Baker will handshake at Carthage, and at 3:15 P. M. at Cookeville. At k P'. M. he will speak at Tennessee Tech at Cookeville. At 6 P. M. Baker will attend a reception at GOP headquarters at Lebanon. At 7 P. M. he will attend a Re-Elect the President Fund-raising Dinner at Cumberland College Cafeteria, Leba­ non. J

Although simply reading such a schedule is a complex task,

the execution of the various activities "on time" is even more intricate. While numerous administrative decisions must be made

in regard to every day's activities, some significant ones concern­

ing the October 12 schedule will be mentioned here. In regard, to the 9 A. M. press conference, press secretary Ron McMahan would be

in charge of arrangements. If a written opening statement was to be

made, someone would have to develop it, either McMahan or perhaps speechwriter David Lauver. Some decision would have to be made re­

garding place and length of the conference. After the conference someona would have to be immediately available to drive the Senator to Sumner County. Before handshaking on city streets, a trip would probably be made to the local paper for

pictures with GOP and/or other friendly officials. Someone must de­ cide and invite those persons to the newspaper office. Moving to the 138 local GOP headquarters for a ribbon-cutting ceremony (usually), the

Senator would be expected to make a few brief remarks. He would have to be briefed on campaign directors, chief donors and recent political results in the area, if he were not personally familiar with them.

Similar arrangements would have to be made in Hartsville before he was driven to Lafayette for his luncheon address. Afternoon activi­ ties at Carthage and Cookeville would be similar to those in the morn­ ing at Gallatin and Hartsville. At Tennessee Tech the Senator would be introduced by a student leader of the sponsoring group and would need information on both the person and the group. After a speech and question-answer session he would be driven to Lebanon for a reception and/or cocktail party. A major address would probably be expected at the dinner. Often appointments were scheduled up to nine o'clock with possibly a staff meeting after that. The most exasperating thing about October 12, however, was that Baker had to be in Washington to vote on his anti-busing bill. The bill was shelved until next year and all of the day's campaign appointments had to be rescheduled with most details reworked. Similar stories could be told for each campaign day, but the details would probably obscure the direction of the entire effort. When one concentrates only on surface details, though, he loses sight of his stated goal. Although October 12 might be considered a loss by some, it merely fell into a pattern of activities that pointed toward November 7• In my opinion, there were five, major sections to the

Baker campaign. These periods, while sometimes overlapping, still 139 enabled the Senator to pursue successfully his re-election effort.

Campaign Progression

Although Baker operated on a campaign schedule (more visits to Tennessee) for almost the entire year, the real effort began to take shape around July 4. Properly titled "Exhortation and Unifi- cation of Political Allies," k the first stage of the campaign began in mid-summer and continued through most of September.

Professor Fotheringha^ lists "continuance" as one of the pri- mary goals of persuasion. 5 It is just such an end that the Baker staff cultivated in the early part of the campaign. Most of their rhetoric was intended to reaffirm the support of principles they had espoused in the past.

The regular Baker newsletter, "Keeping Up with Howard," was increased in circulation and regularity. Particular emphasis was placed on people who had supported the Senator in the past. Increas­ ingly each week Baker spent more time in the state and less time in

Washington. Excepting a number of rallies and bus tours immediately prior to the August 3 primary, however, he still retained a moderate­ ly low-key image on a person-to-person basis. He concentrated on interviews, civic club luncheons, and television forums. The entirety of the effort through the first stage of the campaign was calculated to portray a "citizens' image" of continued support. Minutes from an early strategy meeting indicate that the primary was to be stressed as "a vote of confidence for Senator 140 Baker.Certain staff members were instructed to prepare position

papers on how this effect might best be achieved.

Evidently the strategy worked; the Senator received ninety- seven percent of the primary vote on August 3« His opponent was

practically unknown. Nonetheless, the morning papers applauded

Baker as a recipient of a great vote of confidence. The more impor­ tant thing was that more people voted in the Republican primary than

had ever done so in the state's history. Baker said it was an evi­

dence "of the dynamic growth and maturity of the Tennessee Republi- n can Party.1"

Only one issue played a major role in the early staga of

the campaign—busing of school children to achieve racial balance. On September eighth, when most of the schools in the state were open­ ing for the fall term. Baker went on the Senate floor urging complete passage of an anti-busing bill. The bill that Baker co-sponsored prohibited busing for racial purposes, except as a last-resort de­ segregation tool, and then no farther than to a school next closest to a pupil's home.^ Even more important than the content of the bill, however, was the fact that the Senator received front page coverage in most of the state's newspapers. At the same time his general election opponent was claiming he "failed to represent the basic interests of Tennesseans." Although Baker may not have gained a great number of votes with his "busing" stance, he certainly projected an image 141 of representing the Tennessee populace. Those who had supported him in the past were likely to continue to do so.

To insure that "continuance" was properly achieved, the Baker organization worked through most of September to organize and en­ courage latent support. The Senator spent many hours consulting with former allies, encouraging supporters at the county level, and speak­ ing to county and district-wide interest groups. The basic thrust of the persuasive message was "we must continue to work." He said on September 20:

Republicans have won in Tennessee because of change. Republicans can lose in Tennessee because of change. You see the challenge in whether or not we can consolidate the gains we've made—whether we can turn this new wave of Republicanism into a long-term political alignment in Tennessee. That means . . . that we've got to work like we've never worked be­ fore.9

The climax of the effort to exhort continued support came on

September twenty-first as Vice President Agnew visited Nashville and Chattanooga. Complete with Minnie Pearl and country music, some three thousand onlookers filled Nashville's historic Grand Ole Opry

House to hear Baker praise the Vice President and the Vice President reciprocate. The Senator called Agnew "a great American . . . who

(recently) joined us on the firing line to try and do something to reverse the trend toward federal centralism." He further lauded him as a man who had not been a "docile or passive or inactive Vice

President.""^ Such was probably the Senator's greatest understate­ ment of the entire campaign. Ikz In remarks prior to his published address, which was cal­ culated to increase the re-election potential of President Nixon,

Agnew praised Baker as a "rising star in national politics." Fully- cognizant of the Tennessee electoral situation, he placed the Sen­ ator on the "correct" side of two major issues—revenue sharing and busing.

Labelling revenue sharing "one of the most exciting govern­ mental concepts of our time," he proceeded to tell the crowd "what

Howard Baker has done in this respect."

He was the first United States Senator to come out for this proposal which will help bring new life to our federal system. He is the co-sponsor of the administration's bill that will be enacted. I'd like to congratulate him for his leadership in this regard. (Applause)

As you know there was a time when this concept was very unpopular and people were predicting that it couldn't even get off the ground. But it was the work of people like Howard Baker who stuck with his principles against what seemed to be overpowering odds that successfully abled this bill to come now to the very capacity where it's going to mean a lot for the state of Tenne­ ssee.

Apparently informed regarding Blanton's recent charges, Agnew said there was one other thing the people needed to knov; about Howard Baker. He said: I understand that his opponent in this election is trying to blame him in some illogical way for the manner in which the federal courts have ruled on the matter of school busing. And I want to make it clear that Howard Baker and Governor Dunn, as well as all of the members of your Con­ gressional delegation, have opposed in every way 1^3

thoy can the busing of school children for the pur-pose of achieving an arbitrary racial balance in the school system. They've been in the fore­ front of the fight. I also want to make it clear that Howard Baker stands fully behind the Nixon administration in his efforts in Congress to decree a halt to any further court-ordered busing . . . . • If we stay with the Nixon administration's proposal on busing and if we stick with the advocacy of Howard Baker and his position, we're going to have an end to this busing and we're going to have it very soon, (Loud enthusiastic applause)

Undoubtedly, most of the people who cheered Agnew and Baker were Re­ publican partisans. With the speech scheduled at noon, many of the state workers in a Republican administration were dismissed to attend the address. While there was no structural time period in the Baker effort, the campaign seemed to take on a much broader scope imme­ diately following the Vice President's visit. Former political allies had been exhorted, county and area campaign workers had been put on the alert, and the state's GOP partisans had received a dose of national political encouragement. Convinced that most former allies would continue their support, the persuasive effort moved to another realm.

A second objective of FotherIngham's concept of persuasion is signified as "deterance."13 This seems to be the primary role of the second stage of Baker's campaign. A conscious attempt was made to deter Democrats and some Independents from supporting the Demo­ cratic nominee. People from all phases of endeavor were encouraged 144-

to note the diversity of the Bak&r followers in an effort that X call the "Development of Broad-Based Support."

This second stage of the campaign was designed to raise doubts

in the minds of long-time Democrats. They heard some of their collea­ gues express reservations about the Blanton candidacy. The week of

September 25 provided announcements of "Independents for Baker"and

"Democrats for Baker." It was likely at this stage that traditional Democrats began to be deterred in establishing their allegiance to

Blanton. On Monday the twenty-fifth, Tom York, executive director of "Independents for Baker," announced endorsement of the Senator in the following way:

Howard Baker has done an excellent job of repre­ senting all the people of Tennessee—Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. He has become one of the most widely respected and influential member of the Senate, and 1,'ra certain that he will receive the support of the vast majority of independent-minded Tennesseans.-*-^

On Friday of the sarae week Baker held a news conference with four state Democrats who were leaders in "Democrats for Baker." Bud

Burdette, executive director of the group, cited mainly economic reasons in endorsing the Senator. He said:

I pei'sonally feel that Senator Baker's leader­ ship representing Tennessee has had an extreme­ ly positive effect on our economic growth during the last six years . . . . 'C have found over the past four and one-half years in ray business that Senator Baker has been willing to work with the local leadership anywhere he is needed in trying to benefit economic growth in the South ... It is reflected in our low unemployment rate, our industrial growth, in our tremendous expansion. 1^5 This is what we are looking at when we say that the loss of this seat and his seniority would be determental to the state.^-5

Almost as important as the parent group itself, the "Eighth

District (Memphis) Democrats for Baker" was one of the biggest advan­ tages of the campaign. Announced soon after the statewide group, the eighth district chairman was Black Memphis politician, Walter

L. Bailey. Bailey was a leading state supporter of Presidential nominee Hubert Humphrey, Senatorial nominee Albert Gore, and Guber­ natorial nominee, John J. Hooker in 1963. Commenting on his signi­ ficant 1972 approval of Baker, he responded, "I have studied the re­ cords of the two Senatorial candidates and have concluded that Sen­ ator Baker's record is patently better than his opponent's in meet­ ing the problems of black Tennesseans and all the citizens of our state. It's time Blacks started evaluating candidates by consider- l6 ing their records and responsiveness as well as their party labels."

These three instances, then, illustrate how traditional In­ dependents, Democrats, and Blacks were encouraged to reconsider their previous allegiances. Through peer pressure many were at least de­ terred in stating their support for Blanton. Along with these groups, additional interest parties announced their esteem for the Senator at this stage of the cajnpaign. Among them were "Women for Baker,"

"Environmentalists for Baker," "Farmers for Bakers" and "Senior Citizens for Baker."

During this part of the campaign the incumbency seemed signi­ ficantly to aid Bakex*. Contacts with most of the leaders in these Ik6 interest groups would likely have never been made had Baker not been "their Senator." Furthermore even while not campaigning, he consis­ tently gained the headlines over his opponent. When it was reported

"Senator Baker today left the campaign trail to return to Washington for an important vote,"17 almost unconsciously people thought about his "devotion to the job," Many failed to realize that such return trips were often as much of the effort for re-election as the formal campaigning itself. The Associated Press wirephoto, for instance, that showed Senators Baker, Griffin, Tower, and others in conference with Nixon on the busing issue, v?as as much a campaign photograph as it was a statement of positional rhetoric.18 The October eleventh picture appeared in many national news magazines as well as newspapers across the state. In this respect, at least part of Baker's campaign was similar to Nixon's. The deft and deliberate use of the incumbency was not as much a matter of "selling the Senator" as it was of remind­ ing the electorate "I am the Senator." Such is a major advantage in modern day politics.

Additionally deterring others from supporting Blanton, many newspapers made their political endorsements during this stage of the campaign. 3y October 15 the Chattanooga News Free Press. Knoxville

Journal, Oak Ridker, Nashville Banner, and Chattanooga Times had all lent their support. One week later the Nashville Tennessean joined the group. The Times and Tennessean were particularly significant because of their traditional support for Democratic candidates. The

Times lauded Baker's personal integrity and constituent service, 20 147 while the Tennessean called him "the best choice among the candidates who seek the office." 21

One of the surprising results of this stage of the campaign is that traditional supporters were not alienated by the inclusion of nextfeomers. To find the Nashville Tennessean and Nashville Banner in the same political corner, for instance, is a rare occurrence indeed. Furthermore, the inclusion of leading Blacks in the Baker effort meant that these people were in the same group with former Memphis Mayor

Henry Loeb. The truism of strange bedfellows in political circles was never more apparent.

Around October 15, these various groups began to cement, how­ ever, and the third stage of the campaign was underway. The last two weeks of October were oriented toward the "Creation of a Statewide

Bandwagon Effect." At this point "discontinuance" was taking place as many people broke from their traditional Democratic heritage. Indeed, if Baker's "new alignment of Tennessee voters" is to be a reality in the near future, large numbers of Independents and

Democrats will have to "discontinue" their former ways. As many were undoubtedly led to question their political heritage, an attempt was made to consolidate the disenchanted. There is little doubt in anyone's mind that the national Democratic party has recently alienated much of its white southeiTi base. As a matter of fact, recent studies at the

University of North Carolina indicate that only nine percent of the white vote in southern states went for Democratic nominee Hubert H. Humphrey in 1968.22 Large numbers of formerly Democratic voters, many 148 of whom are not yet Republican, are supposedly seeking a political

homo.

In an attempt to attract disenchanted Democrats and Indepen-

dents, the Baker forces created an aura of "Everyone is with us—why don't you come along." Murphy and Gulliver contend in their work The

Southern Strategy that "Southerners still tend to judge the progress

of a campaign by the size of the crowd, even in this era of television

saturation politics." J Toward the last half of October the Baker

campaign began to focus more on numbers in several ways.

The car trips through certain areas were billed as "Baker Bandwagons" in an attempt to accent the growing number of Baker suppor­

ters, The week of October twenty-third was labelled "College Week" with the Senator speaking on some fourteen college campuses in a five-day period. The entire effort was designed to say "Come on and be one of the Baker crowd." An organization known as "Young People for Baker" held a news conference to help accent the college campaign.

Claiming the signatures of 50»000 eighteen to twenty-five year olds pledged to vote for the Senator, this group set the stage for the final effort on college campuses. Furthermore, additional newspaper endorsements were announced almost daily. It began to be clear to all that a Baker landslide was imminent. Closely associated with the "bandwagon technique" of the third campaign stage, a cross-state train trip the final vreek of the election provided a "Campaign Climax." Billed as "a symbol of the unity of the 149

state behind Baker," a ninety year old Clinchfield engine pulled the

campaign entourage across Tennessee. Serving as an effective politi­

cal gimmick, Baker's whistlestop tour allowed him to accomplish two

important goals. He was able to meet personally citizens from every part of the state as well as gain the best media exposure one is like­

ly to see. As Baker energetically spoke to six or seven crowds each day, representatives aboard the train from all of the state's major news­

papers interpreted the remarks for the people back home. Almost eveiy

stop created a carnival-like atmosphere with Baker placards, high school bands, pretty girls with Republican literature, and happy

children dismissed from school. Clearly the entire effort was designed

to persuade people—"Adopt" Baker as your man. Leaving Bristol in the

northeast corner of the state, the train moved toward Memphis in the following manner: Monday, October 30—Bristol 9:00 A. M., Johnson City 9:50 A. M., Greeneville 11:20 A. M., Morris- town 1:00 P. M., Jefferson City 2:00 P. 14., and Knoxville 3:15 P. M.s Tuesday, October 31—Knoxville 8:30 A. M., Lenoir City 9:15 A. 14., Loudon 9:50 A. M., Sweetwater 10:25 A. M., Athens 11:00 A. 14., Cleveland 12:05 P. H., Ooltewah 1:00 P. M., and Chattanooga 1:^5 P. M.; Wednesday, November 1—Chattanooga 9:00 A. M., Cowan 10:00 A. M., Tullahoma 10:^-5 A. K., Wartrace 11:35 A. M., Murfreesboro 12:35 P. 14., Smyrna 1:15 P. M., and Hashville 2:30 P.M.;

Thursday, November 2—Nashville 7:30 A. 14., Dick­ son 8:55 A. M., V/averly 9:55 A. >!., Camden 10:^5 A. K., Huntington 11:'10 A. H. , KcKenzie 12:15 P. M., Milan 1:05 P. M., Humboldt 1:50 P. M., Brownsville 2:50 P. M., and Memphis '+:'+5 P. M.2 + 150

Such a colorful climax to an already carefully executed cam­ paign allowed Baker to do several things. First of all, he gained the

attention of most of the state's undecided voters. There was a giant

contrast between Baker's crowd-oriented extravaganza and Blanton's person-to-person handshaking tour. While aboard the campaign train

Baker told this writer that he believed "a lot of votes change or are

confirmed in the final two weeks of a campaign." 25^ He said further:

I believe a lot of votes are changing today. Perhaps ten percent of the voters sit around and think the final few days before voting. The events, issues, and general momentum at that time influence how they vote and often determine who's gonna win. I believe in a certain bandwagon yote and that's what we're trying to create.20 Second, Baker was able to renew a favorable impulse in the state's already committed voters. Hovland, Janis, and Kelley in their work on credibility and the communicator indicate that a favorable impulse often dissipates after three weeks time. 27 The final train effort allowed the Senator to renew favorable impulses as he strate­ gically discussed important issues. Third, the train tour enabled the Senator to create through the media the favorable bandwagon psychology he considered most impor­ tant. Setting the stage on the first day of the trip, Baker suggested "We will receive the greatest victory margin ever in this state by either party." 28 Reporters aboard the train recorded the message and disseminated it to every home in Tennessee. So favorable was the press response that some papers ran front page color pictures of the train as it pulled into their city. Perhaps even more importantly, however, the train tour brought

into the Republican camp many people who are usually outside the Baker

group. At almost every stop, for instance, school officials had coop­ erated to dismiss students from their classes. At the same time local

officials, many Democratic, would join Baker on the speaker's platform

to welcome the campaign group to their city. Furthermore, large num­ bers of workers had spent many hours inflating helium filled balloons,

painting placards, getting out crowds, and building enthusiasm. Typi­

cal of a Kennedy organization, there was a job for everyone to do with everyone made to feel his effort was important. This effort was no

exception. The voters adopted Baker the man.

With the major part of the campaign behind him, there was only

one short additional task before the voting on November ?. Completing

his train tour on Thursday night before the election, the Senator flew

home to East Tennessee where he remained until the votes were in. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday offered an opportunity to touch home bases through "Pre-election identification.11 It allowed him to help other candidates, renew acjuaintences with people in his home area, and thank those who had assisted him throughout the campaign.

All of these activities were designed to confront Blanton's basic charge and say "I am still one of you." Friday,the Senator campaigned in Knoxville for other candi­ dates, urging large turnouts in a strong GOP area. Saturday he .wound up his vote getting tactics with a swing along the traditional last day route followed by his father, a seven-term Congressman. The 152

route began in Roclcwood, then went to Harriman, Oliver Springs,

Wartburg, and Sunbright, and ended with a rally in Baker's home town

of Huntsville. As the day began at Roclcwood Baker received a call

from President Nixon offering his best wishes on the final day of campaigning. The Senator took the call in George's Drug Store,

where most of the clerks know him by his boyhood name of Henry, rather

than his current Howard. After a day away from politics on Sunday,

Baker spent Monday telephoning associates around the state. In five carefully directed stages, then, the Baker effort

sent him back to the Senate for another six years. While the dates

are not meant as concrete dividers, the basic effort developed along the following pattern: Early summer through September 2^, "Exhor­

tation and Unification of Political Allies;" September 25 through

October 15, "Development of Broad Based Support;" October 16 through

October 29, "Creation of Bandwagon Effect;" October 3° through Novem­

ber 2, "Campaign Climax;" November 3 through November 7» "Pre-election

Identification." Former allies did continue their support. Many Democrats and

Independents discontinued their former ways. Many diverse groups came together adopting Baker's positions. The entire effort yielded him sixty-two percent of the vote.

Whenever a candidate wins that kind of support, there are some below-the-surface variables that inevitably contribute. While such operations are not visible to the public eye, they still play a major part in molding the opinion of the public. 153 In Nashville, for instance, there was the first sign of an intense precinct-level organization by the Republican party in that city's history. A focal part of the work area in the Nashville office was a city map with colored pegs indicating various levels of Baker support. Volunteers in every part of the city were organized as

"neighbors for Baker." Their goal was to get their friends and ac­ quaintances to the polls. A "Neighbors for Baker" kit gave a volun­ teer instructions on helping residents to vote, how to obtain ab­ sentee ballots, "do's" and '.'don't's" of face to face campaigning, as well as the normal literature and bumper stickers. Such precinct- level electioneering undoubtedly paid great dividends.

Furthermore, volunteers, as well as paid staff members, were more a part of a Baker organization than they viere a Republican or­ ganization. George Gallup's findings are accurate when he testifies the "political parties as such are losing stature." His 1972 polls indicate that "there was a discernable antiparty feeling across the country." As a matter of fact, on a nationwide basis, his statistics show that for the first tine "independents" are more numerous than either Republicans or Democrats.29

The situation, as already mentioned, was much like that in

Tennessee. Workers were exhorted to get out the vote "for Baker."

This in no way suggests that the politicians themselves are not con­ cerned about the party, but merely that a successful politician must build his own organization, .rather than depend on the party to do it for him. Baker did just that. Rather than total co-operation, there 15^ wore often moments of disagreement between the national Republican party and its state and local, candidates.

Several state organizations, including Tennessee's, were miffed at what they considered cavalier treatment by the national Republicans (Mixon). There was even some debate over whether or not state legislative candidates were to be allowed on stage with 30 the Vice President when he was in Nashville and Chattanooga. State organizations poured millions of dollars into the national Republican coffers, and some were disturbed that more was not returned to help local candidates. This was especially true since the President was so far ahead in his race, anyway.

All of the above situations merely emphasize the fact that a man must develop his own personal following. Most of those who voted for the Senator voted for him more because he was "Baker" than because he was a Republican. Such a development in recent days has, in many politician's minds, given additional impact to the need for hard campaigning. With so many independents responding to a man as a

"person," there is an increased need for person-centered persuasion.

How effective a man might be in such a situation often determines an election outcome. In 1968, for instance, if only one two hundred and eightieth of the people had changed their votes, Humphrey would now be President.31 Along with the emphasis on precinct level campaigning and the building of a strong Baker organization, the entirety of the campaign effort was designed to build the stature of the man. At 155 the base level, the total desire was to exalt the Senator. This is not said disparagingly, but merely to indicate the importance placed on a candidate's image. Political writer Lariy Daughtrey of the

Nashville Tcnnsssean was precisely accurate in his post-election analysis, "The campaign boiled down to a contest of personalities between the boyish, energetic Baker and the modishly dressed, drawl­ ing Blanton.That is what it was supposed to do.

The margin of victory by which a candidate wins, along with the total image that he projects, are often more important than his actual stands on the issues. The Baker person, with its stature and image, was perhaps more responsible than anything for keeping Blanton on the defensive.

All of these factors coalesced to form the campaign nature that made Baker successful. Enterprising campaign scheduling, along with detailed foundational analysis, helped the Senator to be re­ elected so convincingly.

Development of the Rhetorical Effort

As described in chapter one, the rhetorical thrust of any modern day campaign is much broader than oral person-to-person communication. Along with formal addresses and public interviews, a candidate's rhetorical strategies are also disseminated through billboards, media clips, position papers, leaflets, issue pamphlets, or in essence, campaign literature.

This section will describe and analyze the campaign liter­ 156 ature of Senator Baker, as well as define his use of the mass media.

Additionally, prominent members of the campaign staff responsible for such rhetorical development will be presented. The primary functions of these people will be explained with particular emphasis on the speech writers, who'created part of the oral message. The methodology of their speech preparation will be developed. Finally, cursory attention will be paid "outside" people who influenced the rhetorical situation. Campaign Literature. An important part of every campaign is the material delivered to potential voters. Perhaps more important than the content itself is the general impression such literature makes. In a certain way, the presentation of an oral speech is mere­ ly a guaranteed access route to additional coverage. Long after a man forgets what is said in public, he may glance at a piece of literature given him at the time.

A veritable mountain of such material was available for the

Baker forces in 1972. It is impossible to explain all of it, but several popular pieces were used extensively. A basic guidebook called "Senator Baker on the Issues" was presented to thousands of people across the state. The booklet highlighted quotations from the Senator on fifteen issues, while at the same time recording his

Senate votes on those questions. Other issue-oriented material in­ cluded lithographed sheets of the Baker-Blanton clash on five impor­ tant issues, and a four-page flyer denoting how Baker's stands were consistent with those of President Nixon. Most printed material, however, was more image-oriented than

issue-oriented. Practically every piece of printed literature high­

lighted the billboard picture of a listening Senator. All press re­ leases, campaign letterheads, and printed flyers displayed the symbol­

ic picture. Other image-oriented photographs of Baker—in the Rose

Garden with the President, in the fields with mechanized farmers, and around a table with young people—were displayed on selected hand-outs.

The stature, humaneness, and breadth of the Senator were emphasized.

Along with issue and image related pieces, there also devel­ oped a certain amount of "gimmick" literature. Such literature was

designed to increase the Senator's recognition. Fall color calling

cards with Baker's picture and the capitol dome on one side, and either the Tennessee football schedule or listing of counties on the

other, was distributed to thousands of people. These hand-outs

supplemented "new, improved, plastic, removeable, colorful, re-elect Baker" bumper stickers. Additionally, in the final week of the cam­

paign, staff members moved through the railroad stations handing out

souvenir postcards of "Rosebud" and the Senator. One of the most effective uses of all literature was to com­

bine it into kits for dissemination to various campaign groups. There

were "Baker for Senator" kits, "Neighbors for Baker" kits, and "Young Tennesseans for Baker" kits, among others. The "Young Tennesseans for Baker" kit, for instance, included the following material: a

"Keep the Nixon-Baker Team 'Working for You" flyer with the major foot­ ball bowls and their teams printed on the back; a "Make Your Vote 158 Count" card with information concerning where and how to register and vote; a three-page lithographed schedule of Baker youth activ­ ities that included details of the Senator's campus stops; a sheet showing the Senator superior to his opponent on five youth-related issues of environmental conservation, all-volunteer Army, eighteen- year-old vote, revenue sharing, and civil rights; a bumper sticker; and specific instructions on how to get your friends involved in the campaign. Other kits showed similar thoroughness.

As might be expected a kind of uniformity developed from all the literature and certain strengths and weaknesses can be noted.

More than anything else, the literature was an ijnage builder. Ex­ pensively-done materia], cast the Senator in an especially favorable light. Along with the colorful image which such material developed,

I was impressed with the breadth, the positiveness, and the thorough­ ness of the printed matter. In realistic terms, there was something for everyone. Young people, old people, unionists, blacks, and whites were featured in various publications. The weaknesses in Baker's literature were twofold. They per­ haps represent a problem inherent to the nature of such material. On some issues the positions presented were gross simplifications. In regard to busing, for instance, only recent votes were mentioned while three years of affirmative action on the issue were totally overlooked.

Additionally, "Baker on the Issues" portrayed him as one of the

Senate's leading, if not the leading, environmental advocate. The most recent rating of the League of Conservation Voters, however, 159 showed him agreeable to only fifty-four percent of their positions. 3^

Similar shallowness was typical of other positions.

A second problem with some of the material, especially worker kits, was that instructions to a campaigner were so specific that

they bordered on the absurd. Admonitions like "say the following

thing on voter contact" often turns campaigners into sterile solici­ tors similar to telephone salesmen. Perhaps explicit directions are

essential to such a variety of workers, but they border on debili­

tating favorable personal traits. In spite of certain shortcomings the general impression de­

rived from most literature was a highly favorable one. Such diver­

sity and thoroughness in the campaign material is perhaps the .best indicator of the generous financing of the total effort. The Baker

image was favorably enhanced as scores of volunteers personally con­

tacted thousands of people. Mass Media Effort. The thoroughness of Baker's personal

effort and the financial problem in the Slanton campaign dictated that

the mass media play a less important role than one would expect. In our contemporary time of "packaging and selling" candidates, this

Senatorial race was an exception to the mile. Although radio and television advertising was used by both men, it served a supplementary function rather than a major one. Also contributing to a diminished

need for a mass-media approach were the twin facts that 3aker was substantially ahead in the latter stages of the campaign (when media messages are most estensively used), and, at that particular time, he was receiving an inordinate amount of free media exposure. All

these factors combined to make radio and television ads less promi­

nent than one normally expects.

Although I have no personal insight in other significant con­

tests across the nation, the media's lessening impact in Baker's race seems to be emblematic of the situation in other states. Many poli­

ticians are becoming convinced that television advertising does not

accomplish nearly as much as promotional people have promised. A Wall Street Journal article of May tenth, 1972, noted, "Political TV

consultants, until now credited with growing'and mysterious power, are

taking as bad a beating in the Democratic primaries as some of the candidates themselves."At the statewide level in Tennessee, John

Seigenthaler, editor of the Nashville Tennessean said, "1972 will be

remembered as the year canned television commercials lost their cre­ dibility and their influence."^ Whether or not Mr. Seigenthaler's

prophecy proves true on a long-term basis, the role of the media at

least diminished in the recent election. In charge of the 3aker media effort was Sam Newman, a long­

time friend of the daker family, and a partner in Davis-Kewman adver­

tising company of Knoxville. Interviewed by a local newspaperman, Newman said his media effort on behalf of Baker sought three goals:

(1) to move workers' morale toward a peak; (2) to try and capture

what leaning or undecided voters are still around, while reinforcing

the views of your own supporters; and (3) to create a bandwagon effect."'*'' Newman's effort, like that of Blanton's TV coordinator, 161

was directed toward the final two or three weeks of the election.

All seemed to operate on the premise that it is the last couple weeks that are usually crucial.

Three basic television ads were developed on Baker's behalf.

These compared with ten different ads of the Blanton forces. Blan- ton's people claimed decreased use of their media spots, however, 38 because of severe financial problems. Numerous radio announcements were used by both candidates to appeal to special groups.

The first Baker TV ad focused closer and closer toward a burning light in the Senate Office building. Baker in shirt sleeves was hard at work as the announcer explained "There aren't enough hours in the day for a United States Senator." The reasons for such a paucity of time were defined as "attention to the needs of the folks back home—committee meetings on legislation—consultation with top leaders--and rare moments of just thinking things out." As the commentary moved so did the color picture—to the Senator walking in the Rose Garden with the President—to a shot of him alone on the capitol mall pensively thinking about the day's activities. As the picture faded away the commentator announced in a low-key voice, "All of these fill the time of conscientious senators—like our senior 39 Senator, Howard H. Baker."

The second spot opened on the statues of Jefferson and Lincoln at their respective memorials and then moved to the inside area of the Capitol rotunda. As the camera moved about the room from the statue of one great man to another, the Senator presented the following 162

analysis: I don't think it's possible to be a United States Senator without having deep feelings of humility and responsibility in the pres­ ence of these leaders of the past—and the legacy of greatness that is our priceless gift. These heroes of days gone by stand in silent judgment of our actions today. They watch to see if we preserve our freedoms, our opportunities for individual initiative, and growth—and the continuation of strong and free America. There are some who would turn their backs on the past and who would exchange our freedoms for Federal Control of every aspect of every life. But these things shall not prevail if we are vigilant and ded^Q icated to the task of keeping America great.

As the commentary was completed the printed words remained on a silent screen, "Re-elect Senator Baker." A third announcement used less frequently showed Baker inter­ viewing a farmer in Tennessee's agricultural belt. Entitled "Senator

Baker Speaks Cut on Agriculture," the spot showed a man seated on a tractor nodding approval as the Senator's past record was discussed.

Obviously aimed to offset Blanton's strength in rural areas, it appeared primarily in Memphis and Jackson, centers of the state's farming region.

Although these advertisements were aimed at different groups, there was a singularity of thought that united them all. One of the central tenets of television ads is the use of a key word to establish product identification. This is what Edward 3uxton, in his new book /ll Promise Them Anything, calls "establishing a pre-emptive claim." The key concept of the Baker forces centered on the word "Senator." 163

The entire media effort was an "I-am-the-Senator" campaign.

Late at night in the office, in the Rose Garden with the President, in the rotunda of the Capitol, or in the fields with a farmer, Baker remained "The Senator." A quiet dignified tone pervaded all the messages, symbolic of a thoughtful, discerning statesman.

No attempt is made to approximate the effect of this single part of the rhetorical effort, but the media messages did approach the goals mentioned by Newman. They were regular enough to encourage workers' morale by indicating help other than their own. They were obviously image-oriented toward undecided voters who made decisions near the end of the campaign. They were broad enough in scope to accent the bandwagon effect already developing at that time. Gener­ ally, however, they seemed only supplementary to other forms of message dissemination. These other forms included free exposure via newspapers, radio spots, word of mouth transmission, and television ads.

Several people were specifically responsible for creating a favorable impression through these other media forms. In addition to the campaign literature and mass media advertising, a primary effort was exerted to achieve additional exposure, particularly in newspapers. A candidate's ability to gain free expression through the print media often determines the extent to which his views will be circulated. In his Rhetoric of Motives Kenneth Burke expresses the impor­ tance of such media presentation. He says:

Where public issues are concerned, . . . resources are not confirmed to the intrinsic powers of the speaker and the speech, but depend also for their effectiveness upon the purely technical moans of communication, which can either aid the utterance or hamper it. For a "good" rhetoric neglected by the press obviously cannot be so "communica­ tive" as a poor rhetoric backed nation-wide by headlines. And often we must think of rhetoric not in terms of some one particular address, but as a general body of identifications that owe their convincingness much more to trivial repetition and dull daily reinforcement than to exceptional rhetorical skill. ^

Speech Development. The person primarily responsible for such repetition and reinforcement was press secretary, Ron KcKahan. Mc- Kahan, a former staff writer for a Chattanooga newspaper, accompanied the Senator wherever he went. His primary function was to deliver press releases in order to gain maximum exposure for the Senator. Along with McMahan, two people in the Nashville office, Bill Gibbons and David Lauver, were responsible for writing many releases, as well as constructing positional content around which the Senator built speeches. Gibbons and Lauver functioned mainly as resource people, since the Senator does not normally read from a printed text.

In a 1966 monograph for the Quarterly Journal of Speech, allu­ ded to earlier, Professor James Golden described the development of the rhetorical content of President John F. Kennedy. He suggested Kennedy intermittently played the three roles of creator, editor, and outliner in the production of his persuasive attempts. J Baker, too, played three roles, but his rhetorical offerings take on entirely different dimentlons. It should be noted that Baker's speech productions were not nearly so thorough nor consistently developed as were Kennedy's. This is understandable for several reasons. One, the Baker staff was neither 165 as large nor as well qualified. Two, the task the Senator faced vias

obviously less important. Three, the incumbent's remarks did not

receive the exposure of Kennedy's. Four, the nature of the two men as speakers is unalterably different. Except for the form Gclden

develops, the nature of the two situations dictate entirely differ­

ent approaches. Baker, first of all, played the role of creator. The over­

whelming majority of those things he vocalized were patently his.

Of the fifty rhetorical presentations which I was able to record, Baker was the sole creator of thirty-one. Speaking in search of

votes, the Senator almost always went to the microphone and spoke

extemporaneously. As ideas he considered important came to mind, he delivered them under the general headings of foreign and domestic

policy. As might be expected, these speeches were usually adapta­

tions of his one basic format delivered time and again. Second, the candidate functioned as an editor of those things prepared for him. Almost daily during the last month of the campaign, a three or four-page written statement was developed for him to de­ liver. Usually covering one specific issue, the Senator would weave the written element into his extemporaneous remarks. Seldom did he read the entire manuscript. Such papers were usually given him shortly before a speech and he would read them, penciling in additions or deletions as he felt necessary. Normally, these written statements functioned as the basis for the press releases printed by McKahan. On occasion, Baker simply included such a release verbatim. McMahan 166 told me that the Senator sometimes did that to keep the releases

"honest." Such a release had, of course, been printed several hours

earlier. Third, Baker played the role of outliner, but outliner in

absentia. Periodically, the Senator would desire a written statement

on a particular topic and outline broad guidelines within which the subject should be developed. Explaining the development of written

portions of such speeches, Lauver and Gibbons indicate they chronicled

Baker's previous statements to make "his ideas take on "his words. Gibbons said:

I know the stances the Senator wishes to take so I research how he has previously said some­ thing. Before developing a statement, I go through past speeches, the Congressional Record, newspaper stories and other accounts to decide the best way to phrase a particular issue. I'm not out campaigning with him so I sometimes read newspaper accounts to know what he said myself .^4- Obviously, there was not a great deal of dialogue between Baker and

his office. Those people in charge of writing statements or speeches,

dependent on one's perspective, were more research associates than anything else. Quite often Gibbons and Lauver would work together researching a topic and issue a speech and tailor-made press release

at the same time. McMahan would then present them to the Senator and, if approved, release the press statement.

There are some advantages to this type of rhetorical pattern,

as well as some disadvantages. As far as students of rhetoric are concerned, Baker's extemporaneous delivery affords an eyewitness 167 opportunity to analyze the man and his ideas. Often in political rhetoric, a scholar must attempt to differentiate the style and thought patterns of a writer and the rhetor himself. Such was not the case in this campaign. The way Baker framed his arguments, the questions he gave pre-eminence, and the type appeals he used are perhaps the best insight to the man himself.

Similarly related, the Senator spoke to crowds in an enlarged conversational tone, effectively projecting his presence as an inte­ gral part of the event. In a day when many important speakers use manuscripts or teleprornpters, Baker is a refreshing change. One sel­ dom gets the impression he is simply reading a text. The Senator talks with an audience.

Such heavy reliance, however, on personally developed messages does create some difficulties. As a man repeats the same thought train time and again, he often develops mental ruts. Sometimes even the same terminology automatically recurs. Such a cycle inevitably becomes monotonous, leading many speakers toward a mellow blandness. As cx- k<5 plained in chapter two, Baker is aware of the problem, although he still periodically falls victim to it. It is extremely difficult to become aroused about the same speech seven times in one day.

Furthermore, the methodology of speech development sometimes led to poor communication within the staff itself. On several occasions, announced topics were barely touched and ono questioned the coordination of the speech staff itself. At Austin Peay State University, for in­ stance, the Senator was expected to make a formal address on tho 168

Volunteer Army. I interrupted Gibbons and Lauver several days before as they wore preparing the speech, so I am certain the material was developed. When the event took place, however, Baker spoke twenty minutes and only mentioned the volunteer army in passing. He took no notes or manuscript with him to the platform and gave tho usual two-part campaign address. Sven more puzzling, press releases printed by many newspapers carried comments on the volunteer army as their major contcnt. Actually, however, the comments were never made. Such an occurrence was not an isolated case. The Senator failed to receive, or simply discarded, prearranged material on several occasions.

While such inefficiency mattered little in 1972, it could be significant in a closely scrutinized effort. A charge of saying one thing and releasing another could be detrimental under the right conditions.

Additionally, the Senator's insertion of printed matter often interrupted the style of delivery. Transitional statements were sometimes inappropriate and it was obvious to all what vias being 46 done. Once the printed matter was read (sometimes requiring 3aker to stop and put on his glasses), a smooth conversational style would redevelop. The Baker Organization. Along with the Senator and his speech staff, several other campaign workers indirectly influenced the rhe­ torical effort. To a large extent, the main function many served was to create an audience initially favorable to Baker. It has already 169 been mentioned that today's life styles dictate a politician's heavy

reliance on ready-made groups. On some occasions, however, the candi­

date or political party must develop their own following to whom they can then appeal. Jerry Bruno, a former advance man for the late

Senator Robert Kennedy, indicates that people sense some sort of

connection "between crowd appeal and leadership ability." He says, "It is almost as though they could sense that if a man can't draw

people to hear him, and can't demonstrate that people care about him,

he can't win enough confidence to get elected." This psychological sense causes many campaign organizations to exert great efforts in

developing their own audiences.

In the Baker campaign, for instance, extensive advance pre­ parations for the train tour were made by statewide, regional, and

local officials. The release of children from schools, the acqui­

sition of high school bands, the good wishes of mayors and local officials, along with extensive advertisements of the event itself,

are only a few of the many details that had to be coordinated.

In fulfilling such tasks, the Senator was aided by a large campaign staff that meticulously planned every detail. Campaign direc­

tor Sam Bartholomew was assisted by Allen Carter, an Athens attorney,

in East Tennessee; Fred Thompson, a former Assistant U. S. Attorney, in Middle Tennessee; and Gwen Awsumb, a Memphis City Council member, in West Tennessee. Coordinating state operations in the field was

Baker's regular State Field Coordinator, Bill Hamby, Hamby also had three understudies in the respective sections of the state. 170 One of the most overlooked topics in political communications is the role such people play in the success of a rhetorical effort.

This group of people, along with the Senator, becomes an organization that, in essence, develops the rhetorical strategies of the campaign.

Professor Wallace Fotheringham quotes R. L. Ackoff to indi­ cate four characteristics inherent to such organizations. He says that some of the organizational components must be human beings, that responsibility for choices in achieving a goal must be divided among two or more individuals or groups, that the functionally distinct sub-groups must be aware of each other's behavior, and that the or- ilQ ganization must have freedom of choice of both means and ends.

The Baker organization possessed these inherent character­ istics and smoothly functioned to accomplish their main goal: re­ electing the Senator. Obviously, some of the organizational compo­ nents were people, and even more important, these people were given individual responsibilities. It has already been demonstrated how the media campaign, the campaign planning group, and the rhetorical development team accented the theme "I am the Senator." At the same time particular goals within each segment of the campaign were care­ fully orchestrated to enhance the total campaign effort.

The singularity of the total effort, in light of the indivi­ duality of certain sub-groups, is perhaps best seen by noting three roles not previously discussed. At the same time the media subgroup and rhetorical subgroup were producing an "effective" message, ano­ ther group was working to finance the message, another was building 171

additional support through person-to-person dissemination, and a third

was roinforcing the prominence and credibility of the entire Baker

effort.

The main campaign staff led by Sam Bartholomew was primarily responsible fox' financing. Some staff members suggested confiden­ tially that Bartholomew owed his position to his ability to achieve response from some of the state's leading businessmen. While Baker's

campaign was not as expensive as some previously conducted in the state, it still cost around 800,000 dollars. The Senator's campaign

chest contained 325,700 dollars before the primary election of Au- I4Q gust 3« '//hen one realizes that a single thirty second spot on local TV could cost as much as four hundred dollars, the importance of fund raising becomes quite apparent. All indications are that

the candidate reached his 800,000 dollar goal shortly before the

election.^ The campaign manager and his aides systematically combed

the state seeking support from those sympathetic to Baker ideas. Even as the campaign was being financed, one group was res­ ponsible for disseminating the Baker message, at little or no expense, to as many groups as possible. As a matter of fact, some of the groups to whom the Baker staff appealed later became fund-raising as well as message-disseminating organisations themselves.

Under the general heading of "special interest groups," people who held similar political, demographic, or vocational interests were grouped with their peers to commonly endorse Baker. Groups such as

Business and Professional Women for Baker, Veterinarians for Baker,

Blacks for Baker, Dentists for Baker, Older Tennesseans for Baker, 172 Entertainers for Baker, and Barbers for Baker were established across

Tennessee. Each had its own officers and paper organization. Over thirty such groups' were actually in operation by the campaign's con­ clusion. Their announcements became so numerous and their diversity so widespread that staff members jokingly predicted a "Communists for

Baker" any day.

Jim Tuck, a Nashville City Councilman, was given the title,

"State Action Group Coordinator." He contacted various civic and professional leaders to encourage them to involve their peers.

What the Baker staff actually did was to involve "opinion leaders" from various segments of the Tennessee community. After a study of the 19*K) elections,•communications researcher Paul Lazars- feld charted a two-step flow of mass communications. He based his concept on a study of various means by which voters' attitudes were altered. He concluded that "personal influence emerged as a greater source for changing voter preference than did the mass media.

Taking advantage of this now accepted political axiom, the Senator encouraged prominent persons from many fields of endeavor to support his cause. The theory was simple—when they aligned with the Baker forces, many of their contemporaries would do likewise. Research subsequent to that of Lazarsfeld's has indicated additional characteristics relevant to person-to-person opinion change. Elihu Katz has suggested three attributes of opinion lead­ ers themselves. He says they personify certain values (they adhere more closely to the norms of the particular set or group); they are 173 regarded as competent (through experience and/or past communications their initiative has proved trustworthy and effective); and they are strategically located (they interact with greater frequency within the set or group.and, at least in certain cases, serve as a major to linkage with other groups). A cursory examination of two interest groups, Environmen­ talists for Daker and Educators for Baker, illustrate how the system worked. Chairman of Environmentalists for Baker was Washvillian

David Gray. Gray certainly exemplifies the characteristics denoted by Katz. He personifies certain values (is an outspoken conservation advocate), is regarded as competent (currently serves as state chair­ man of the Sierra Club, a noted conservationist group), and is stra­ tegically located (his position in the Sierra club demands that he intersect other environmentalists across the state). Gray, along with his fellow conservationists, served the electoral effort in several ways. First, they helped create a public awareness of Baker's alleged environmental superiority over his oppo­ nent. Second, they involved additional people in a personal way in the campaign effort. Baker became "their" candidate. Third, they helped disseminate the Senator's messages, and fourth, they function­ ed as opinion leaders to the extent that they persuaded others to vote for their candidate.

When Baker announced the formation of the group on October fourth, Gray praised the Senator saying, "He has sponsored and helped write many pieces of significant legislation as a member of the l?k Senate's Air and Water Pollution subcommittee." He went on to note

the Senator's performance as chairman of the Secretary of State's

advisory committee on the first Worldwide Conference on the Human Environment. He contrasted Baker's environmental record with what

he called "the essentially negative record of Congressman Blanton." J

Educators for Baker, like other groups, played a role simi­ lar to the environmentalists. Led by Zollie Sircy, a retired former

principal of two large Nashville schools, the educators accented

Baker's help on legislation in which they believed. When the group was announced on October twenty-fifth, Sircy simply lauded the Sen­

ator as "a friend of higher education." He, too, contrasted Baker

and Blanton, saying that the Senator supported the Higher Education 5ij. Act of 1972, while his opponent voted against it.

In this way not only was the incumbent's campaign enhanced,

but it also allowed him to retain a policy of non-mention and non- criticism toward Blanton. It was unnecessary for him to make criti­

cal contrasts when surrogate groups or individuals were doing it for

him. A third subgroup of the campaign, over whom the staff had little control, at least increased the publicity associated with

Baker., whether they actually persuaded voters into his column or not. These people were national Republicans who almost formed a "VIP's for Baker" Washington chapter. Vice-President Agnew, Congressional

Minority Leader Gerald Ford, and GOP Committeewoman Anne Armstrong all made trips to Tennessee on the Senator's behalf. Agnew's trip 175 has been previously mentioned; it was unquestionably the most signi­ ficant of the three. Ford and Armstrong did, however, merit consi­ derable press coverage as they praised Baker and other Republican candidates. Ford, appearing with the Senator in Johnson City, a center of Republican strength, appealed mainly to his Republican co­ horts to get out the vote in East Tennessee. Using somewhat illog­ ical material, the Congressman argued, "Just think if we get out fifty percent of our vote and they get out ninety percent of theirs, we'll lose." He never mentioned what led him to think such a cir­ cumstance was a remote possibility. In spite of the apparent un­ likelihood of such a situation, Baker quoted Ford's statement on several occasions as a deterrent against complacency.55 Nonetheless, Ford's presence in the tri-cities area increased Baker's exposure in an area already solidly behind him. Travelling in a self-described "Simply Amazing, Three Dimen­ sional, Two-toned, Transcontinental, Nixon-Agnew, New Majority,

People Machine," Republican Co-Chairperson Anne Armstrong came to Nashville October seventeenth to endorse the Republican slate. On the twentieth stop of a coast-to-coast bus ride, Mrs. Armstrong lauded Baker as the "only politician in the state who can match Richard Nixon vote for vote." She further praised the candidate, along with Junior Republican Senator Bill Brock, as "two progressive 56 Senators who have shown how to win with the youth vote." Even though it is impossible to determine the impact, if any, these state­ ments had on Baker's success, the news exposure they engendered could 176 be little but a boon.

All in all, then, numerous subgroups enhanced the incum­

bent's re-election potential. In politics, as in bridge, one should lead with strength, and the Senator marshalled all the force® at his

disposal to insure as large a victory as possible. Almost every

segment of society had some representation in the Baker campaign. The principle of using such subgroups is perhaps best ex­

plained by Baird, Knower, and Becker in their textbook General Speech

Communication. The authors indicate that people's behavior "tends

to be consistent with what is believed and done by their reference

groups."-97" In the Baker campaign, then, businessmen were expected

to identify with Bartholomew, environmentalists with Gray, and politicians, at least, with Ford and Armstrong. The final success of the campaign effort seems to indicate the theory is correct.

So important do many political groups consider the acquisi­

tion of opinion leaders that they include questions to indicate such people on random sample surveys. The President's re-election commit­

tee usually asked "Who is the most respected student leader and pro­ fessor" when conducting campus surveys. When the results were tallied, the committee would then contact those chosen telling them

how bright and valuable they were and producing a survey to show it. 58 Usually such people were formally invited to be "leaders" in the Nixon effort. The real goal, of course, was to get them in­ volved, thereby creating a vested interest.

All these myriads of people were directed by a paid staff 177 that functioned as an extension of Senator Baker himself. Messages

were written, media clips were produced, funds were raised, surrogate

groups were developed, and national politicians were assisted as the organization functioned to assure re-election.

There is one final area in which the staff joined the Senator

to play a major role. Some philosophical base, or general rhetorical stance, had to be developed to give the campaign intellectual direct­ ion.

Overriding Rhetorical Concerns In chapter one "rhetorical strategies" were defined as prin­

ciples or doctrines concerning methods or techniques of action, and not the ways of action themselves. "A set of principles concerning ways and means" is the philosophical base by which certain methods kq of action are determined. Specifically related to persuasive doctrines, rhetorical strategies are closely aligned with the tra­ ditional concept of rhetorical stance. As used in ttiis work, a rhetorical strategy is the principle or doctrine by which the Sen­ ator sought harmony between himself and his audience, as in an effective rhetorical stance.

Furthermore, such strategies take on two forms, chiefly de­ termined by time and personality of development. The first type, overriding rhetoric.'.'.! concerns, are those principles that must be developed regarding the planning and execution of any political communicative effort. For the most part they are determined in the pre-campaign planning period, although they may be altered as 178

conditions dictate. Indeed, a favorable index of the success of such

overriding strategies is to what extent they must be altered during

the election itself. A rhetor who consistently changes his message

and/or personal emphasis is likely to be ineffective.

Additionally, several personalities, in this case the cam­

paign organization, may play a collective role in deciding what overriding rhetorical concerns are crucial to their cause. Media

men, speech writers, fund raisers, and political strategists will coalesce to determine what strategies may best be used. Optimum

harmony exists within the organization when the strategies are such

that all subgroups can effectively endorse them. A theme such as "I

am the Senator," for instance, provides a rallying point for ad­

vertisers, rhetoricians, fundraisers, and politicians alike. The dimensions of such strategies are much broader than the campaign organization. The primary purpose in developing these pre- campaign doctrines is to create an acceptable position so one's candidate can be elected. Overriding rhetorical concerns are per­ haps more important than policy dimensions because they are so per­ sonality oriented.

The main rhetorical goal Senator Baker faced was how to per­ suade a majority of Tennesseans to choose him for re-election over his opponent. Prior to his delivering the first speech of the re­ election campaign, some specific principles had been developed to which his rhetoric consistently adhered. These may be termed over­ riding rhetorical concerns; they influenced every communication as­ 179 pect of the campaign. A discussion of the Senator's argumentative position will be offered in chapter four.

The first rhetorical concern identified and developed was to present a "moderate political image" on all substantive issues. The Senator charted the mainstream of Tennessee political thought and stayed in the middle of the mainstream. Rhetorical statements were positively charted to accent successes, offending no one. To have veered toward either direction of the political continuum could have been disastrous.

Statements had to be carefully directed to retain the zeal of Republicans for their candidate, while at the same time offend­ ing neither Democrats nor Independents. To achieve such a rhetor­ ical goal was a very difficult task. Within the Republican party are elements that desire a return to conservative southern states' rights-ism. David Nordan of the Atlanta Journal says:

There are many Dixie Republicans who want to for­ tify themselves in an ideological tower far to the right of America's mainstream, while waiting for the populace to beat a path to their door, . . . And there are the plain racists, who think they have found a safe refuge in the GOP from the civil rights innovations of the national Democrats. They are afraid to open the door gg of their party for fear of who might come in.

On the other hand, there are lifelong Democrats, some lib­ eral and some moderate, who would give their lives and fortunes to see the party regain its superiority in the state. At the same time, most deplore the current direction of the national party, which inevitably influences state and local alliances. A Repub­ 180 lican must still garner moderate Democratic and/or independent votes to be successful in Tennessee. For that reason an intelligent poli­ tician cannot be driven very far toward rightwing principles.

Friends and enemies agreed that Baker was successful in re­ taining a moderate image. Sam Kennedy, publisher of the Columbia Herald, admitted the Senator was not vulnerable in the sense that

"he had made a lot of mistakes or enemies." The Herald is a long­ time Democratic paper. On the morning after his re-election, The Nashville Tennessean, another Democratic paper, called the Senator

"a man of future prominence" because of his "overwhelming victory and moderate image." Throughout the campaign Baker refused to do anything to tarnish this image of moderation. He refused all approaches that might create voter backlash. He didn't attack his opponent per­ sonally. He presented only positively accented commercials. He focused on a "good job in office." He simply tried to solidify pre-existing sentiments. By alienating no one he identified with a middle majority. Staff members said he "merely understood the mind of the country. One's ability to perceive the mainstream opinion of those to whom he appeals is one of the most important prerequisites for a successful politician. Part of "knowing the country" is realiz­ ing the majority of people in America are neither reactionary nor radical. In most instances, any man trying to build a political base at either end of the spectrum is doomed to failure. As a 181 matter of fact, one's inability to read even slight shifts in the mainstream can be politically detrimental. After his once-promis­ ing Presidential campaign had come to an end, Senator Edmund Muskie openly admitted he had misread the mood of the country. On a spe­ cial edition of "Meet the Press," the Senator said his greatest failure was in misinterpreting the mood of Floridians. Commenting on Wallace's primary victory there, Muskie said: 1 think it (a Wallace-type sentiment) is more broadly based in terms of the issues that are involved . . . than I understood it to be at that time. I think that the issues range a- cross a number of economic issues, the ques­ tion of fairness in government, its responsive­ ness to the needs of the average citizen. It is quite obvious from the record that Governor Wallace has addressed himself verg^effectively to some of those problems ....

When one recognizes that Wallace won Tennessee's 1972 Demo­ cratic primary as well, the problem facing the Baker forces becomes even more apparent. I sense that the Senator would like to have a more liberal voting record than he is safely able to have in Tenn­ essee. If he moves just a bit more leftward, his prestige in Wash­ ington might be enhanced. But in an election year, and in a state where 'Wallace re­ ceived sixty percent in the Presidential primary, Baker wisely stayed in the mainstream of Volunteer sentiment. The Senator refused to arouse intense feelings and made little effort to change voters' opinions on anything. National columnist Shana Alexander said the country had "tucked its head under its wing and gone to sleep (men­ tally )."^ Baker, like many others, refused to arouse them. One 182 could almost sense that after the change, violence, and war of the sixties, the politicians themselves were happy for a respite.

All in all, then, the Baker effort exuded moderation. The

Senator considers himself a moderate. The staff is trained to speak in only moderate terms. Every effort was made to stay in the middle of public opinion. Basically, the Senator seemed aware of Scammon's unyoung, unpoor, unblack electorate. Granted, special efforts were directed toward youths and blacks, butthe primary focus was on middle America.

This decision was reached prior to the campaign and significantly in­ fluenced the rhetoric throughout its duration.

A second decision made prior to the start of the campaign was to accent Baker's role as "Senator." In a pre-primaiy planning session, media director Sam Newman stressed the basic goal—sell the

Senator as a "Quality Product." "He is a statesman without peer and we should attempt to run an affirmative campaign," Newman said. 66

Following the organization's decision, Baker never really became "a candidate." Ke was always the Senator. He periodically mentioned the advantages of running as an incumbent. Near the end of the campaign when it was clear he would win re-election, he reflec­ ted on the differences between 1966 and 1972:

This time I'm running on my record. I don't have to challenge my opponent. I'm not a- gainst things, but for them. Generally, I can run a more positive campaign. My recog­ nition factor is higher and the reception I receive around the state is much more cord- 183 Baker's attitude helped create the image that there was one candi­

date operating against one Senator. The incumbent was able to cam­

paign on an entirely different level than his opponent throughout

the election. The Senator and his organization took several specific

actions to present an incumbency image in a responsible, dignified

way. A low profile was maintained until the final month of the

campaign. Press releases emphasized the necessity of doing an

effective job in Washington as well as Tennessee. Equally important, the incumbent was aided by his cordial

attitude toward the press. During the whistlestop tour, for in­

stance, several reporters were allowed almost total access to the Senator's private car. After the trip was over, one such reporter

noted in his column that the Baker organization was so efficient

that he received not one, but two, personal wakeup calls each morn­ ing.^ Such treatment was totally consistent with the campaign's

overall goals. Staff member David Lauver told the writer in mid-

October that the Senator "would captivate the press and bury Blan-

ton in November.He specifically mentioned the train tour expos­ ure as a means to that end. Such an exercise would hav-3 been impossible if Baker were not the incumbent. His statewide press contacts, developed over a six-year period, were superior to those at the disposal of any challenger. In his "Ultimate Terms in Contemporary Rhetoric,11 Richard Weaver calls expressions that rank above all other domi- m 70 nations and powers "god terms." The Baker organization made an authority symbol, a god term, out of "Senator." Aided by the press, they exploited it to its fullest extent. So thorough was the interweaving of Baker and the senatorial concept that the incumbent sometimes forgot it had not always been so. On some occasions he would say, "When I first ran for the Senate 71 in 1966," (things in the state were quite different.) What he seemed to forget was that he also ran in 1964- and on that occasion he was defeated. As one listened he sensed Baker meant "Vlhen I was first elected to the Senate"—but his preoccupation with the role was so complete that it didn't come out that way.

Using his senatorial role, Baker was able to separate himself from governmental bureaucracy by claiming he was simply "representing the people." The senatorial role also featured him as an agent of change in light of his party's recent successes. He told a GOP women's caucus on September twentieth: I think it's important to realize that a lot has happened in Tennessee in the last few years that has been in process and progress long before that. But as the very eloquent and undeserved introduction indicated, I v/as the first Republican to be elected to the U. S. Senate from Tennessee. But there have been transitions and changes since that time that are significant and challenging that are com­ ing to focus on November ?• There are changes that are profound in terms of the immediate effect—witness our election of a Republican Governor who is serving with great distinction. And the fact that we now have four of the eight members, or four of the nine members of the U. S. delegation on the Republican side of the ledger. All these things really have happened in the span of six years and what a marked change that is from the era, the bentury, what I call the 185 Civil War century that dominated Tennessee politics after the Civil War.72 In this, as in other addresses, Baker simply spoke as "The Senator."

Such an image persisted throughout the campaign. It, too, was by design. Closely aligned to this senatorial emphasis, a third concern was evidenced before the campaign began. A rhetorical stance was developed that almost totally neglected Blanton, with the opponent never being mentioned by name. The goal of such a strategy was to personally "minimize Blanton," keeping him on the defensive through­ out the fall. Eveiy effort was made to keep his campaign from ever gaining momentum. His most potentially dangerous issue, school busing, was pre-empted as Baker lobbied for a constitutional amendment on the Senate floor. About the time Blanton was pushing for withdrawal from

Vietnam, Presidential aide Kissinger was saying "Peace is at hand."

Whenever he mentioned representation of people's basic interests, the Republicans would point to the platform of his national party.

Even in his personal conversation the Senator tried to avoid mention of Blanton. Obviously bothered by what he considered distor­ tions of his position, Baker did occasionally mention his opponent privately. He told the writer on October third, "Why should I feel ill-will toward Blanton. I just want to forget him. If he weren't running, somebody else would be."^

Such an attitude grew out of a desire to run a positive, progressive public campaign. Former Kennedy aide Daniel Moynihan 186 says political rhetoric of "doom and despair" is partly responsible

"for the present crisis in confidence in basic American institutions.11

He says that "Elections are rarely our finest hours and tend (to be the times) when we are most hysterical, most abusive, least thought- ful about problems and least respectful of complexity.1" Baker rigidly adhered to avoiding such pitfalls, choosing to speak of "pro­ gress," rather than the differences between himself and his opponent. So complete was Baker's avoidance of Blanton that staff or­ ganizers refused to schedule the two men for the same immediate func­ tion. On one occasion Baker followed his opponent in addressing a Tennessee Co-Op group, and Press Secretary McKahan kept Baker in a private anteroom until Blanton had left. The staff refused to create the circumstance where the two men might even be photographed together.

The only rhetorical altering of this overriding concern came late in the campaign. The Senator, on a couple of occasions mentioned what he called "obvious distortions on the part of my opponent." Even then he refused to mention Blanton by name. Speaking in Chattanooga on November first, Baker said he needed to create a "Set the Record

Straight" day. On that occasion the Senator lashed his opponent for

"bringing shame to the Democratic Party by violating their high tra­ dition of political campaigning through distortions and gross mis- 75 representations of fact." Baker said further, "In 1966 neither I nor Frank Clement (former Governor and Baker's opponent) engaged in falsehood and innuendo. This year my opponent has begun a campaign concentrated on smear tactics." The incumbent particularly men­ 187 tioned Blanton's assertion that he had offered bribes to special interest groups.

Other than that specific occasion, the Senator seldom men­ tioned Blanton. His candidacy was minimized and Baker refused to

even acknowledge his charges.

One final rhetorical concern was strategically planned be­ fore the election. In an attempt to solidify his broadbased support,

Baker created a rhetorical form consistent with his political diver­ sity. He was seldom provincial in his speeches, usually talking in broad generalities and always seeking a moderate position.

Excepting GOP rallies and other specific party functions, the term "Republican" was seldom used. The Senator spoke for almost thirty minutes to the Nashville Jaycees on October seventeenth and • never used the word ^Republican" or the concept "my party" one time. 77

On the other hand, in a short pep talk to some fifty workers in Dun- lap, Tennessee, he referred to the party ten times in a little over OQ six minutes. He was critically aware of the groups to whom he spoke, and as decreed at the outset of the campaign, he became sim­ ply the "Senator" before bipartisan groups.

His rhetoric was also designed to cover a multitude of issues with an impact on different groups. The speech production schedule for the month of October showed proposed addresses on nineteen different topics. These researched statements, as previously explain­ ed, when worked into the fabric of a formal address, became, in essence, Baker's policy statements. Copies of such statements are the closest 188 thing to a position paper produced by the Baker staff. They included positions on the aged, youth involvement in

politics, revenue sharing, agriculture, the environment, and many

other issues. The wisdom of such a multifaceted approach is clear­ ly obvious. The speech on the aged, for instance, delivered at the

Josephine K. Lewis Center for the Aged in Memphis, lauded older

Americans as "an invaluable reservoir of talent and experience.11 The Senator further said:

No other group has witnessed as much change nor played such a vital role in constructing our contemporary society as have our elderly. They have earned the right to live out their remaining years without any major financial worries. At the same time, it is of utmost importance that they continue m active roxe in the daily life of America.'

Most important was the fact that people over sixty-five make up 1^.7 percent of Tennessee's voting population. To a politician that's 399,000 voters, a number made even more important by the fact that

elderly people have a long history of high voter turnout.

Such a strategy is only an evidence of the larger plan to adapt rhetorically to as many diverse groups as possible. The rhe­

toric delivered to each group was specific enough to make it feel served by Baker, yet general enough to avoid specific questions of advisability. At all times the central portion of ground was culti­ vated.

When addressing college audiences, Baker's style and content evoked moderate impulses. When questioned at Cleveland State College about amnesty for draft dodgers, Baker again sought a middle position. He refused to accept total repatriation or total expulsion, saying

"an amnesty board should be established to analyze each individual case."^ Such a technique was used on other issues. The philosophi­ cal pie was always tart enough for sourpusses and sweet enough for sweet tooths. In this way few would be offended and all could feel their considerations were taken into account.

Basically, Baker refused to let his rhetoric become divisive.

He sorely needed a rhetorical stance with which many diverse groups might identify. Perhaps his philosophy on the matter was expressed in Knoxville in mid-summer, "The Democrats are so out of step with

Tennesseans that they have nowhere to turn in November but to the Republicans," he said. The Senator used rhetoric as a tool by which others might feel accepted in mainstream Republicanism.

These four concepts, then, developed before the first speech was delivered, played a decisive role in monitoring the campaign rhetoric. For that reason they can rightfully be called overriding rhetorical concerns. The Senator used an ameliorating rhetoric to accent a moderate political image. He accented the role of "Senator."

His exclusion of Blanton from his basic rhetorical discussion served to minimize the Congressman's candidacy. The mere choice of words, such as avoiding the use of "Republican," enabled him to adapt to a diverse audience. The style and content of Baker's rhetoric influ­ enced each political situation. Summary. One of the main questions posed in chapter one was

"What were the most important characteristics of message-dissemina­ 190 tion as evidenced by the Baker organization?" The answer to this question takes on three major forms as previously outlined in this chapter.

One, a systematic structuring of the rhetorical effort allow­ ed the Senator to meet the persuasive goals of continuance, discon­ tinuance, deterrence, and adoption.

Two, the Baker staff used a multi-faceted approach to dis­ seminate the campaign message. Three, certain overriding rhetorical concerns were developed and consistently followed to enable identification with a diverse electorate. In each of these areas, Baker was overwhelmingly assisted by the fact that he was the incumbent.

With all major historical considerations now completed, this work moves to an explication and analysis of the rhetoric itself.

One should now clearly recognize that the historical situation pre­ sent in 1972 directly dictated what the Senator's rhetoric need be. 191

Notes for Chapter Three

"'"Donald G. Herzberg and J. W, Peltason, A Student Guide to Campaign Politics (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1970), p. v.

^Report of Baker for Senate Campaign Strategy Meeting, June 5, 1972, p. 1. ^Howard 3aker Campaign Staff Press Release, October 7> 1972, p. 2. lL All divisions here are mine. While the campaign staff func­ tioned in each of the ways described herein, they may have given their efforts different titles. 5 jFbtheringham, p. 33. ^Report of Baker for Senate Campaign Strategy Meeting, June 5. 1972, p. 2. ^Howard Baker Campaign Staff, "Keeping Up With Howard," August 25, 1972, p. 1. QMorris Cunningham, "Nixon, Baker Ask Action on Anti-busing Measure," Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 9» 1972, p. 1. 0 Baker, "Fifth District Womens Caucus Address," p. 8. ^Howard Baker, "Introduction of the Vice President," Mash- ville, Tennessee, September 21, 1972, p. 2. ^Spiro T. Agnew, "Nashville Address," September 21, 1972, p. 2.

12Ibid., 3. 13 Fotheringham, p. 33, 1^Torn York quoted in press release, Howard Baker Campaign Staff, September 25, 1972, p. 1. ^Bud Burdette, "Democrats for Baker Press Conference," Sep- tember 28, 1972, pp. 3-iK "^William Bennett, "Baker Picks Black Area Chief," Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 13, 1972, p. 31« ^Howard 3aker Campaign Staff Press Release, October 6, 1972, printed in Kashville Banner, October 7» 1972, p. 9. 1 ft Frank Van Der Linden, "Antibusing Forces See Filibuster End Chance," Kashville Banner. October 11, 1972, p. 23. 192 "^For similar comments on the Nixon campaign, see Jules Witcover, "Making of a Landslide—How Nixon Did It," Los Angeles Times, December 29, 1972, pp. 1, 16. 20 Norman Bradley, "Howard Baker for Re-election," Chatta­ nooga Times, October 10, 1972, p. 12. 21 John Seigenthaler, "Senator Baker's Record Merits His Re-election," Kashville Tknnessean, October 22, 1972, p. ^Murphy and Gulliver, p. 112.

23Ibid., 16. ok Howard Baker Campaign Staff, "Whistlestop Tour Newsletter #1," Personal Mailing, received October 17, 1972.

25East Tennessee interview, pp. 4-5..

^Carl I. Hoviand, Irving L. Janis, and Harold H. Kelley, Communication and Persuasion (New Haven: Yale Press, 1953)» P» 39. oO Bill Casteel, "Senator Baker Predicts 'Greatest Victory Margin,'" Chattanooga Times, October Jl, 1972, p. 1.

^Henry J. Taylor, "Independent Voter Threatens Our System of Government," Chattanooga News Free Press, September 29, 1972, p. 6. -^William Bennett, "Brush-Off Irritates State GOP," Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 15, 1972, Sec. 6, p. 3. 31 Scammon and Wattenberg, p. 212.

•^Larry Daughtrey, "Baker Winner!" Nashville Tennessean. November 8, 1972, p. 10. -^See chapter five for a full description and analysis of the role of the Baker image.

-^Saferin, p. 13. 35. >fall Street Journal, May 10, 1972, quoted in "An Open Letter to All Candidates for Important Public Offices," Newsweek, July 31, 1972, pp. 66-67.

-^John Seigenthaler, "'72 Campaign: A Nation Adrift," Nashville Tennessean. October 22, 1972, p. 1-B. 193

-^John Haile, "Candidates 'Long Green1 Makes TV Screen Flicker," Nashville Tennessean, October 22, 1972, p. 1-B.

33Ibid.

•^Baker for Senate Committee, "Mot Enough Hours in the Day," television spot. Taped on Channel Nine, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 31, 1972. ^Baker for Senate Committee, "Legacy of the Past," television spot. Taped on Channel Mine, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October Jl, 1972. Zn Edward Buxton, Promise Them Anything, quoted in Thomas Collins, "Lucky flips win golden media time for KcGovern, " Newsday, reprinted in Ohio State University Lantern, September 28, 1972, p. 12.

^^Burke, p. 25.

^Golden, p. 351. hh. Bill Gibbons, Private intervievf held in campaign office, Nashville, Tennessee, November 2, 1972, p. 2.

45^See page $o.

k6See comments of Bob Poe, "'Rosebud' Brings Balder Here," Chattanooga News Free Press, November 1, 1972, p. 4. 47 Jerry Bruno and Jeff Greenfield, The Advance Han (New York: Bantam, 1971). p. 38• 48 R. L. Ackoff, "Systems, Organizations, and Interdisciplinary Research," quoted in Fotheringham, p. 230.' W9 Elaine Shannon, "Spending by Baker," Nashville Tennessean, August 15, 1972, p. 6. "^Larry Daughtrey, "It Looks Like 3aker Over Blanton, " Nashville Tennessean, November 5» 1972, p. 8-3. 51 Paul Lazarsfeld quoted in Kusafer Sherif and Carolyn VI. Sherif, Social Psychology (New York: Harper and Row, 1969), p. 472.

"^Elihu Katz in Ibid., 473. -^David Gray, "Sierra Club Endorses Baker" in Howard Baker for Senate Committee Press Release, October 4, 1972, p. 1.

54Zollie Sircy, "Educators for Baker Announced" in Howard Baker for Senate Committee Press Release, October 25, 1972, p. 1. 194

See Howard Baker, "Remarks to the Sequatchie County Repub­ lican Club Luncheon," Dunlap, Tennessee, October 2, 1972, p. 2, hereafter referred to as Dunlap address.

^Anne Armstrong, "Nashville Address," October 17, 1972, p. 2.

^A. Craig Baird, Franklin H. Knower, and Samuel L. Becker, General Soeech Communication (New York: McGraw-Hill Company, 1971)i p. 59. -^Richard Reeves, "Hustling the Youth Vote," Playboy November, 1972, p. 205. -®See pages 9-11.

^David Nordan, "Republicanism Growing Force in Dixie," Atlan­ ta Journal, October 15. 1972, p. 12A. ^"Sam Kennedy, "The Barrister's Bit," Columbia Herald, Sep­ tember 18, 1972, p. 4.

Daughtrey, "Baker Winnerl" p. 1. ^Gibbons interview, p. 2.

^Edmund S. Muskie, "Meet the Press Interview," July 9, 1972, p. 19. ^Shana Alexander, "The Big Sleep," Newsweek. October 16, 1972, p. 41. Report of the Baker for Senate Campaign Strategy Meeting, June 5. 1972, p. 3. 67 East Tennessee interview, p. 5» 68 Larry Daughtrey, "A Republican State," Nashville Tennessean, November 12, 1972, p. B-2. 69David Lauver, private interview held in campaign office, Nashville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972, p. 1.

70Richard Weaver, Sthics of Rhetoric (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1953)1 P- 212. ^"Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address to the People of Whitwell, Tennessee," October 2, 1972, p. 2, hereafter referred to as Whitwell address. 195

"^Baker, "Fifth District Address," p. 3» "^Personal conversation with the Senator, Dayton, Tennessee, October 3. 1972. 7kMoynihan, "Emerging Consensus," p. 22.

1 ^Poe, "'Rosebud i?rings 3aker Here," pp. 1,^.

?6Ibid., k. nn Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address to the Nashville Jaycees," October 17, 1972, eleven pages, hereafter referred to as Jaycee Address.

73Baker, "Dunlap Address," five pages. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Dedication Address for Josephine K. Lewis Center for Senior Citizens," Memphis, Tennessee, October 16, 1972, p. 1, hereafter referred to as "Senior Citizens Address." ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Cleveland State Address," October 25. 1972, p. 8. ot "Howard Baker Campaign Staff Press Release, printed ver batim in Nashville Banner, July 28, 1972, p. 2. EXPLICATION AND ANALYSIS

196 CHAPTER IV

MESSAGE-CENTERED. COMMUNICATION It was indicated in chapter one that rhetorical strategies are usually larger than specific issues. As defined by Heberle, the strategy concept should be used in reference "to principles and doctrines concerning methods or techniques of action, and not to designate the ways of action as such,"'''

In the Baker-Blanton contest, the Senator used specific issues as part of larger rhetorical strategies that ultimately assured his re-election. As will be shown in this chapter, Baker stated positions on almost every imaginable topic, but such state­ ments were within the boundaries of these larger strategies. The Senator's position on the energy crisis, for instance, not only said that he was for the construction of nuclear breeder reactors, but it also gave insight to his priority considerations concerning the environment, how he thought Tennessee's economic con­ ditions might be influenced, and how successful he had personally been in gaining the project for the Tennessee Valley. Issues, with­ in such a scope, can not be treated as individual entities, but must be viewed in light of their role in demonstrating broader philosophi­ cal concerns. In his "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetoric," Wayne Brock- riede insists that value concepts do not exist in a vacuum. One

197 198 idea does not occur by itself. Rather, attitudes have homes in ideologies. The ideologies evoked in a rhetorical act influence, and may sometimes dominate, the other dimensions.11

In the same way, positions on issues do not exist in a vacuum. In this day of sophisticated political analysis, issues must be viewed as expressions of larger philosophical dimensions.

When Baker took a stand for a volunteer army, it meant more than that he liked the volunteer army concept. It enabled him to iden­ tify with young people. It denoted some considerations on defense spending. It gave indications of his attitude toward the Presi­ dent's army manpower program. All of the issues in a political campaign coalesce to give the voter an image, a concept, of the total thought train of a can­ didate. Undoubtedly, some issues play a larger role in developing this image than others, but collectively such an image is developed.

In at least one sense, then, political messages become symbolic. Today's media-oriented, person-centered political contests have al­ tered the traditional role of campaign messages. Message statements on political issues are usually more important for their evidence of political stance than their instrumentality in creating such a pos­ ition.

Just as sound rhetoric is built on a dialectical base, however, a sound study of rhetoric must deal with doctrinal positions both oral and written. Karl Wallace forcefully argues that rhetorical theory must concern itself with the substance of rhetoric as well as with 199 structure and style. He further contends that too many contemporary rhetoricians ignore the importance of substance.^ My own personal bias makes me wish that political campaigns were more substance oriented than they are. In reality, however, most voters are not motivated in the direction'of detailed positional questions, choos­ ing rather to cast ballots along the lines of personality prefer­ ences. This is particularly true when both candidates share similar positions on the issues.

While discussing in penetrating detail a series of position­ al questions at a round table conference, one of the participants asked Senator Baker why he didn't discuss such ideas in public.

Baker's reply was: You just can't do it. You know you give me a privilege here that I don't have out on the stump. I can communicate with you without fear of being misunderstood or misquoted. Here I'm dealing with people who understand language and logic and political issues. But you can't do that on the stump. It is ex­ tremely rare that I have a chance to talk with people who are as knowledgeable about the is­ sues as you are.^" Even though some might question what seems to be a cavalier attitude on the part of the Senator, he is merely being truthful. Political campaigns, as Adlai Stevenson suggested, are more "beauty contests" than anything else. 5

In spite of this emphasis on personality traits, Donald

Herzberg does assert correctly that "while most voters are not issue- oriented, it is necessary that a candidate have a position on the 200

important issues .... They become part of the record and help

form an image of the candidate in the mind of the voters."

It is even more important for the purposes of this study to

realize that message-centered communication does provide insight to the candidates themselves. According to Rosenthal:

If a speech has actually been composed by the man who utters it, then the subject matter, the organization of the ideas and the degree to which they are developed, the nature and ex­ tent of the supporting materials, and the lan­ guage in which the totality is expressed v/ill be a reflection of the intelligence, character, and temperament of the personality that created it. The topics a speaker chooses to discuss or avoid, the precision with which he orders his thoughts and/or structures his arguments, the ac­ curacy and thoroughness of his support or the lack therof, and his choice of words can re­ veal as much or more about his personality than any deliberate personal reference.'

Furthermore, such policy considerations place the candidate within the bounds of a voter's latitude of rejection, acceptance, or

non-commitment. Sherif, Sherif, and Nebergall accurately assert that

"there is a region of attitude positions relatively close to our own

(latitude of acceptance) with which we could agree without suffering

any considerable degree of mental inconsistency." Their involvement theory additionally contends that "somewhat further removed from our position is a region of positions with which we neither agree nor disagree (latitude of non-commitment),11 and even further "a region of objectionable attitude positions" we could not accept (latitude of rejection). Realising, then, that political campaigns are a choice between two people with whom no one agrees completely, Baker tried to 201 be near or in most voters' latitudes of acceptance. He adapted his rhetoric to that end. The rhetorical strategies he employed are merely the philosophical doctrines he considered acceptable. When

Baker, these'message-oriented rhetorical strategies, and the audience met in acceptable balance, a sound rhetorical stance was present.

This chapter will explicate the basic rhetorical strategies employed by Baker, while describing the specific issues that gave them utterance. It will analyze the types of appeals used by the

Senator and also examine his communicative style and delivery. At the chapter's end, judgment will be rendered regarding the effect the rhetorical strategies had on the populace.

Primary Rhetorical Strategies

Just as some overriding concerns remained consistent through­ out the campaign, specific rhetorical strategies were also designed to adapt the message to the voters. Senator Baker developed such strategies in light of pre-existing voter sentiment, the political situation of the day, and his own personal conviction. No attempt is herein made to suggest which impulse controlled what strategy, but the reader should be aware that voter sentiment, basic politics, and personal preference all entered into these decisions.

Nixonxan Identification. The first main strategy that the incumbent voiced was to "identify closely with moderate Nixonian principles." Evidenced in his reception of sixty-eight percent of the state's popular vote, Mr. Nixon was a highly successful figure 202 in Tennessee. Furthermore, he had taken the "correct" position on two of the issues uppermost in peoples' value structure--Vietnam and busing. It was on these two matters that the Senator most closely identified with the President.

When he made his formal announcement for re-election on May 19, the first issue mentioned in his speech was the Vietnam situa­ tion. Baker said, "At no time in our history have the opportunities and challenges been greater. Of particular importance at this time is the need for a united American people behind the President in his latest peace offer, which hopefully will bring an end to the g long and tragic war in Southeast Asia. . . ." Beginning in the summer primary and continuing through the fall general election, Baker identified his Vietnam position with the President's in almost every speech. He admitted in mid-summer: I can't separate myself from the Nixon admin­ istration. After all, I helped formulate some of the policies and had a hand in others. I've known Nixon for twenty years ... it would be a little late for me to repudiate him—even if I wanted to. Overall, I have no real disagree­ ments with the President's foreign policies.-'-0

As campaign interest began to build in early autumn, the incumbent increased statements of his faith in the administration's course in Vietnam. In mid-September on two separate occasions he expressed it this way:

There are some things I would like to see happen in the immediate future. First I would like to see us out of the war. There is every evidence that that is going to occur soon. An impor­ tant point is that I would like to see us de­ velop a foreign policy that is not isolation­ ists, but presents us as a nation of strength— and I want us to be realistic in the use of that strength.H

(When I was first elected in 1966) we were en­ gaged in the least desirable viar imagineable. . . . We were involved in the last dying days of a stale and outworn foreign policy. And it was only after the election of President Nixon in 1968 that that foreign policy began to change and instead of 550,000 troops in Viet­ nam and a peacetime draft, we now have 39.000 ^ troops in Vietnam and almost no peacetime draft. As was true in most states, college students in Tennessee

were least impressed with the President's credentials. Students regularly marched, picketed, and protested, denouncing the war as immoral. When facing such college groups, the Senator remained an

adherent to Nixonian policies, saying that the most immoral thing we could have done was to turn our backs on South Vietnam. During a college tour the first week of October Baker forcefully waged

this argument:

What I say to you today is that whether or not there was an obligation when we went there is immaterial. The problem is that when we sent half a million American troops there we Ameri­ canized that conflict. We have Americanized that country. We took over the defenses of those people. And we, in effect, became re­ sponsible for that war. 500»000 American troops with the support and aircraft to go with it. We thus created an obligation whether it ex­ isted before or not. And that obligation, in my mind, is to withdraw in such a way we do not leave the South Vietnamese totally defense­ less. We at least should give them a chance to order their own destiny.

I think it would be the height of immorality to have Americanized that war as it is and then to de-Americanize it without any concern for the people we want to help. 3 201

Such reasoning from circumstance became a favorite tool of those partial to the President's policies, especially in the latter stages of the conflict. Stewart Alsop noted in Newsweek on November

6 that most of the voters in the country, according to recent polls, did not see proposals to "deny the South Vietnamese the means to de­ fend themselves as a very, moral thing to do." ll- The Senator express­ ed parallel doubts on several occasions.

Although Baker often admitted he couldn't forecast what form a new foreign policy should take, he regularly contended such a policy should evidence three main principles. First, he called for a "more equal partnership" with our allies around the world. Second, he said there was a "need for negotiation" with those who have been our adversaries. Third, he lobbied for "continued military strength."

In a formal address on foreign relations in the latter stages of the campaign, the Senator expressed confidence in the President's ability to successfully balance those three principles. He pledged continued support of Nixon in his effort to disengage the United States from southeast Asia.

I believe that restraint and responsibility in the use of power must guide our actions in Viet­ nam. But I also believe that expressing our sup­ port of the President in exercising wise restraint is a more responsible course than for the United States Senate to attempt to dictate limitations on the war or to predetermine a negotiating strat­ egy through legislative fiat. I will continue to oppose the efforts to tie the President's hands in his efforts to achieve an honorable settlement of the war in Indochina.^ The Senator lauded Nixon's successes saying that "years of 205

short-sighted, crisis-oriented policies have come to an end. He fur­ ther suggested, "We now have a foreign policy which is flexible

enough to meet the realities of the 1970's. Through the princi­

ples of partnership, negotiation, and strength, the United States

now has a comprehensive plan to meet the challenges to peace that

we will be facing in the years to come." 17

Baker's identification with the President on Vietnam began

to aid him politically near the end of October. About that time Blanton began to move away from his traditional support for the

war saying, "Last year I came to realize that there was really no such thing as the famous 'secret plan' to end the war .... I would agree with McGovern that we need to end the war. I disagree T ft that we should get out before the prisoners are released." Baker

responded, "I'm disappointed that my opponent has placed himself

squarely on the side of Senator McGovern. He has increasingly cri­ ticized the President's efforts to end our involvement and has

stated he will vote to cut off funds for Vietnam if elected to the Senate.

While it is obvious Blanton's position was not the same as that of McGovern, mention of favorable aspects of his platform was politically detrimental. Baker remained closely in step with the

President and benefitted from his statewide popularity. The second issue on which the Senator identified with Nixon was the busing of school children to achieve a racial balance.

Following pro-busing decisions in Memphis and Nashville, busing be­ 206

came a heatedly argued political issue. Furthermore, Baker's nom­

ination of the judge who handed down the Nashville order to bus

diminished his politick standing in Middle Tennessee. Addition­ ally, in his first term, the Senator had voted against moves to

cease court-ordered busing in some locales. When it became evident

that busing would be an important political determinant, Baker be­ gan to more closely identify with anti-busing forces. His posi­

tion, in essence, was to be strongly against busing, yet still for

integration and quality education. Although the positions of Baker and Blanton were almost

identical, each attempted to outmaneuver the other in order to

prove to the public he more strongly detested busing. As mentioned

in chapter two, Blanton pointed to Baker's nomination of Judge Mor-

ton and his early indecisiveness on busing votes. 20 Baker coun­ tered by noting the Democratic party's platform on busing, the Con­

gressman's failure to support important civil rights measures, and

his own strong stance against busing on the Senate floor. In sim­

ple quantitative tenas, more words were uttered about busing than any other issue of the campaign.

George Embrey of the Columbus Dispatch aptly noted, "Racial school busing still dominates Southern politics, just as it ranks high among Northern issues." 21 He merely reiterated what Key and others have said for decades. Scammon and Wattenberg credit the race issue with being the primary element in social politics that has led the South away from the Democrats. 207

The dichotomous position in which most Southerners find

themselves, leaves them torn between two rhetorical truisms: (1) a need for excellent education in the South, and (2) a need to

equalise Negro educational standards. In many ways, busing can

lower the educational quality for all concerned. Significant tur­ moil has resulted in many classroom situations after busing was in­

stituted.

In 1972 busing was mora than a regional issue. As early as the primary season, national Republicans were outspoken in

their opposition to the scheme. Cities influenced by court orders included Oklahoma City, Fort Worth, Jacksonville, San Francisco, and Denver. Other cities with pending cases included Los Angeles,

Indianapolis, Boston, Minneapolis, and Buffalo.

Analysts for U. S. Mews and World Report noted in their post­ primary criticism, "Where voters were angered by transportation of

their children to schools outside their neighborhoods to improve racial mixtures, the Republicans usually profited." 23

In the Baker-Blanton contest, busing became a central issue.

More than any other criterion, one had to be against busing to repre­ sent the basic interests of all Tennesseans. On the day after Morton delivered his decision in the Nashville busing case, Baker condemned the order as "wrong," while promising further efforts to have Congress reverse it. He contended: I have always been opposed to court-ordered bus­ ing and I still am. I think the court's first decision in the Nashville case was wrong and I think this further order is wrong as well. 208

I have sponsored and consistently supported leg­ islation which has brought relief in certain bus­ ing situations, and I think the prospects are very good for passage of further legislative re­ lief. But, judging from this last decision by the Nashville court, it seems clear that further relief will have to come from the Congress in- ^ stead of the courts—at least for the time being.

Such statements on the part of the Senator were a part of a strategy to identify with the President and, at the same time, most

Tennesseans. After Baker went on the Senate floor in early Septem­ ber to denounce the busing plan, political writer William Bennett commented this way: Senator Baker's floor appearance in Washington Friday was, among other things no doubt, an ef­ fort to ease whatever ravages the touchy school issue has wrought on his re-election campaign. Though Baker's repeated and highly vocal anti- busing efforts in the last year or more can hardly go unnoticed, they likely have fallen short of regaining for him the losses busing, particularly in Nashville, has cost him.

Continuing throughout September and October, the incumbent regularly denounced busing as ineffective. From all indications he was hurt little by the issue on November 7-

His main problem, however, was to regain white middle class support without alienating blacks and liberals who had endorsed hira.

At predominantly black Lane College in late September, a student accused Baker of being two-faced on the issue. The Senator res­ ponded:

To begin with, my record in Congress since the day I went there has been in support of all the major civil rights issues with the exception of 209

busing. Now busing I believe to be an unaccept­ able and undesireable and mistaken technique for the continuation of the dismantling of the dual school system in the United States. It does not mean to any extent that I feel we should stop in the dismantling of the dual school system. I believe in a unitary school system. I've al­ ways believed in it and I will continue to be­ lieve in it. Busing, however, I find to be an unproductive and disruptive force in the achievement of e- qual opportunity .... The best answer for the ultimate elimination of the dual school sys­ tem in the United States involves two things: 1) to make sure that you have as near as pos­ sible an opportunity of equality of education by equalizing expenditures per capita. That's not only meant to include neighborhoods but to include states as well. It should not be an economic disadvantage for the child in rural Tennessee versus a child in urban Connecticut; 2) I believe rather than bus children to cre­ ate some sort of mathematical balance in a school's student body that you are far better served by first equalizing educational oppor­ tunity and second making sure that you break down the barriers that would prevent legally or otherwise someone from choosing to live in the neighborhood in which they want to live. Now with those factors involved you can have a decent, effective neighborhood school concept. As the election neared, the Senator continued to mention his busing opposition, increasingly citing his response as consistent with the President's. Saying he considered busing "the most impor­ tant matter now before the Senate," Baker left the campaign trail from October sixth until October twelfth to fight for passage of an 27 anti-busing bill. While in the Capitol, the Tennessean, along with four other Senators, were invited to the White House to "discuss" the bill with 210

the President. Primarily a public relations ploy, the six were pic­ tured nationwide the following day in discussion over the bill. Upon

leaving the conference, Baker said, "The President made it abundantly

clear that he does not want any false impression to arise that he is only half-heartedly for the bill. I recall no White House visit dur­

ing my six years as a Senator when the President spoke more forcefully

than he did in advocating the anti-busing bill." 28 As the campaign drew to its conclusion, Baker again said,

"Ample tools (other than busing) are currently available to obtain the

goal of a unitary school system." 29 With President Nixon, Vice Presi­ dent Agnew, and the Senator himself reinforcing that position, the

citizens of Tennessee seemed to agree.

Although the busing issue could have been politically disastrous, the senion Senator scrambled back to the mainstream of Tennessee opinion.

Baker, with a flurry of anti-busing activity, presented himself as a strong anti-busing advocate, rather than as one who had wavered on the question in the past.

The primary way by which he succeeded in convincing the voters was to identify rhetorically with the President. On both Vietnam and busing Baker and Blanton were not substantially different. The Re­ publican, however, used the President to make his position more palatable. Leadership Signification. A second main strategy that the

Senator used was the accenting of certain issues to "signify his dimensions of personal leadership." Not only must a candidate iden­ 211 tify with the right people and issues, but he must also convince them of his inherent ability to lead. Baker used several issues to denote his personal leadership in serving the state.

The program he pointed to more than any other to indicate his progressive advocacy was federal revenue sharing. Accurately claiming it his greatest legislative triumph, Baker extolled the virtues of the plan in almost every speech. When he announced his candidacy for re-election, the Senator noted his efforts on the tax­ payers 1 behalf:

For most of this century we have seen an ever increasing amount of our tax dollars flowing off to Washington. Paralleling this flow has been the concentration of the decision making power in the Federal government. I think the time is long overdue to return much of the fi­ nancial resources and the decision-making power to local government. That is why the very first bill I introduced as a freshman Senator was a plan to share federal revenues on a 'no strings attached1 basis with the states and local com­ munities. While the battle for revenue sharing has been a long and often frustrating struggle, I believe it is almost over and that a bill will pass during this session of Congress.3 Baker's prophecy proved true as President Nixon signed the bill at Independence Hall on October 20. The Senator and his Dem­ ocratic co-sponsor, Hubert Humphrey, flew to Philadelphia for the occasion. With revenue sharing officially law, Baker could point to his leadership in the passage of the bill. He was not only saying, "revenue sharing is a good thing, but also "look what I can do for Tennessee." Under the House-Senate version finally passed, the state received almost ninety-nine million dollars in 212 federal money. Of the major issues considered important by both Baker and

Blanton, revenue sharing provided the basis for their widest diver­ gence. While Baker called it progressive and financially sound,

Blanton labelled it farcical and counter-productive. So widespread were the opinions of the two that whoever could best persuade the electorate would gain immeasureable political benefit. In a race that basically focused on personalities and individual preference, revenue sharing offered a substantive base by which to judge the two men. As might be expected, the incumbent marshalled all the strength at his disposal to prove his viewpoint correct. In res­ ponse to Blanton1s charges Baker and Nashville's Democratic Mayor

Beverly Briley held a news conference to refute the allegations.

Briley, former chairman of the National Mayors Conference, lauded the Senator in his opening remarks:

Senator Baker has recently done a magnificent job in getting revenue sharing legislation writ­ ten and last Friday adopted by the joint confer­ ence committee. There is some confusion what the truth is regarding his role. There have been some statements made that would indicate Tennessee was getting hurt. I have before me the national asso­ ciation of counties breakdown on Tennessee's share of the bill. The House version only 79.^ million; the Senate version 108.1 million; and the joint conference version yQ.k million. ... I might say that those people who voted against the reve­ nue sharing bill (Blanton) might not understand it.31

At that point, the Mayor turned the microphone to Senator Baker, re­ questing that he "explain" the measure. 213 After lauding Briley's knowledge of city finance and basic

political good will, the Senator lashed out at his opponent as TV cameras recorded the message:

I am most pleased to have Bev today put the record straight .... Revenue sharing in ray bill, the Sen­ ate version, provides more (for Tennessee) than in the House version, contrary to previous represen­ tation (Blanton's). Mow to be perfectly frank and candid, I had hoped that in this race in 1972 we'd run on the facts and on the issues .... If this is a taste of things to come, then I'm greatly disappointed. I'm grateful that the Mayor has seen fit to set the record straight on what Ten­ nessee's revenue sharing would be. It's going to mean a great deal to Nashville-Davidson County and to the state of Tennessee.^2

Although later in the news conference, Briley refused to en­ dorse either Baker or Blanton, it was obvious to all where his sym­ pathies resided. Kis presence with the incumbent was a political advantage in heavily Democratic Middle Tennessee. Behind-the-scene efforts of people like the Mayor undoubtedly helped the Republican carry the area for the first time. In one hundred ten years of national Republicanism, the party's senatorial candidate had never won in Nashville.

As he spoke to numerous groups throughout the campaign, Baker always noted revenue sharing as his greatest accomplishment. Often he justified the plan on its return of decision-making power to the local level, rather than on its financial benefit. After talking to

Tennessee Co-op officials about how federal centralism had increased for the past forty years, he argued:

While revenue sharing is not a radical departure and 21k

will not solve the problems of the balance of fed­ eralism, it is the first definitive step in our long march back to a healthy partnership of govern­ ment at the state, county, city, and central level .... I believe it will change the very nature and very attitude of the federal Congress and the administrative branch toward who is entitled to spend our money. There is no such thing as federal money and state money. It is all our money. It just happens that the federal govern­ ment collects it,33

Even more important than the theory of the plan, the incum­ bent, notebook in hand, was sometimes able to tell units of govern­ ment how much money would directly come their way. After noting the amount of money coming to Jasper, Tennessee, the Senator told a crowd on the Court House lawn.

It's gonna mean hundreds of thousands of dollars in new money for the people of this part of the state. It's gonna mean the real likelihood that we can postpone and avoid future increases in property taxes and sales taxes and the like. It's gonna mean that we can do a better job of spend­ ing our money than the federal bureaucracy can in Washington.3^

Time and again, the Senator sounded the theme "the best government is closest government.11 He always pictured himself as a leader in returning that concept. In addition to his work on revenue sharing, Baker signified several other issues as denoting his leadership on behalf of Tenne­ ssee. Two of the popular areas of the day in which he claimed ta be a leader were environmental protection and the passage of the eighteen year old vote. As in the case of revenue sharing, both issues were expected to build the Senator's leadership image as well 215 as indicate a political stance. Being placed on the Senate public works committee, which has jurisdiction over TVA and most environmental questions, was a politi­ cal asset to the first-term legislator. As "Earth Days" and public forums focused the electorate's attention toward conservation mat­ ters, the political aspects of the question became obvious. Early in his career, Baker decided to make the environmental area one of his chief concerns. Administrative aide Hugh Branson describes the

Senator's work as "almost entirely environmental."^35

Cognizant of the political prominence of the environmental question, Baker structured his rhetoric to evidence that concern.

He related his efforts on water and air pollution to several of the audiences he faced. As a member of the Senate Air and Water Pollu­ tion subcommittee, I have spent considerable time helping draft a number of major air and water quality laws. A healthy, natural envir­ onment is not incompatible with a vigorous and growing industrial economy. 'We can and will develop new ways of controlling the: pollution of our air and water and the devastation of our lands.3^

More specifically, he usually pointed to his vote on the re­ lationship between the Atomic Energy Commission and the National

Environmental Protection Agency as evidence of his environmental leadership. A question arose in committee over whether the Atomic Energy Commission should be required to meet the pollution standards of the National Environmental Protection Agency (NEPA). AEC offi­ cials resisted the stipulation, and for a while it appeared they 216

would have their way. According to the Ralph Nader Congress committee,

however, "Baker pushed for the measure, and his questioning of AEC officials and his arguments in committee eventually persuaded a

majority of his colleagues.

In another show of strength, Baker teamed with Maine Senator Muskie to press for tough legislation setting air emission standards for automobiles. The bill, opposed by the administration and auto­ mobile manufacturers, created strict regulations for 1972 cars and stiff penalties for non-compliance. A staff, worker for the Senate public works committee said Muskie and Baker told the manufacturers to find the means to meet the standards, regardless of current technology.

The Senator pointed to both stands throughout the campaign as evidence of his administrative leadership. He said in an inter­ view:

I guess an analysis of my first five years, on the basis of classification, would show that I staked out a pretty good chunk of the environ­ mental field. This legislation had a profound impact and will continue to have. Of particu­ lar importance is the 1975 date on auto pollu­ tion and the 1980 date for the cleaning of all waterways.39

The Senator was not hesitant to note other circumstances in which he had played a major role. He told the Tennessee United Nations Association on October 25:

A good beginning has been made in achieving prac­ tical international cooperation to solve environ­ mental problems. The joint agreement on environ­ mental protection negotiated between the United 217 States and the Soviet Union and the first United Nations Conference on the Environment are two of the most significant steps yet taken toward effec­ tive international cooperation in this field.

Baker was, of course, chairman of the U. S. delegation to the U. N. conference. One of the chief aspects of any Baker-campaign is its empha­ sis on youth. The Senator's environmental position, along with his effort on behalf of Vote 18, enabled him to identify with youth con­ cerns. His endorsement of legislation legalizing the eighteen-year- old vote was a position he accented time and again. Speaking at a high school dedication in Lawrence County, Baker called the twenty- one year old age of majority a time-worn concept inherited from the

Middle Ages. Citing his participation in the passage of the new law, the incumbent reminisced: Not so very long ago it fell my lot as a member of the United States Senate to consider enacting legislation which would authorize for the first time in history full participation and voting rights for the eighteen, nineteen, and twenty year old young adults of the United States ... It is important to me that now in this part of the twentieth century young people . . . have an awakened and enlightened social conscience. You have a greater concern for the equality of the individual human being and the right to the access of every human being for equal opportun­ ity. You have more concern for the quality of life and less concern for the quantity of one's possessions. Yoi're more concerned with the ab­ stract benefits of knowledge and less concerned with tradition. ... It seems to me almost prov­ idential that the right to participate in the na­ tional history of this nation should come to your generation at a time when it is most needed. On three basic issues, then, revenue sharing, environmental conservation, and the eighteen-year-old vote, Baker claimed posi­ tions of prominence. He said to a cross-section of the state's

voters, I am a valuable force in effecting successful change. Why

not send me back to Washington to represent your interests? All three positions -were symbolic as well as content-oriented. Baker

said, in essence, "Kote the dimensions of my personal leadership." Tennessee Representation. A third main strategy that the

Senator employed was to emphasize his "representation of basic

Tennessee interests." As well as identifying with Hixon and giving indications of personal leadership, Baker had to respond to voters' questions like "What-are you doing for me7" Even as it is impor­ tant for all politicians so to respond, it was especially crucial for him. One of the basic charges Blanton levelled was that he was unrepresentative of the average Tennessean.

Some of the issues previously discussed helped identify the

Senator with the mainstream Tennessean. Additional measures, how­ ever, were cultivated to suggest proficiency on the state's behalf.

Among them were economic growth, energy development, and crime pre­ vention. It is no secret, for instance, that the state has enjoyed its greatest economic growth (even on a percentage basis) during the past few years. A number of reasons account for this. Several large industries, such as Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, formerly lo­ cated in the North, have moved major installations to Tennessee.

Large segments of the entertainment industry have left New York and 219 Los Angeles to come to Nashville. The federal government has spent great sums of money in the state for TVA and the Atomic Energy

Commission's research progra i. The general condition of west Tennessee agriculture is significantly better because of higher whole­ sale prices. All of these things led the Senator to describe the fi­ nancial situation in the state in the following way: The economic picture in Tennessee is especially bright. Unemployment in our state is at 3,8 percent, close to the full employment rate of 3.5 percent and two percentage points below the national average. More Tennesseans are working and making more money than ever before. Tennessee was first in the Southeast and second in the nation (last year) in average income in­ crease of its working force.^

RealizAng that such economic growth had not reached all sectors of the Tennessee populace, the Senator was often called upon to defend his positions on taxes, inflation, and care for the impoverished. Indeed, early campaign rhetoric at both the state and national level indicated the Democrats would focus on the bread and butter issue. In Tennessee, however, the issue became obscured sometime between July and November. (This was in spite of the fact that three of the nation's top seven concerns related to the economy. l±-i Inflation was first, poverty fifth, and taxes seventh.) J One of

Blanto.n's greatest failures was not being more adamant in aligning Baker with the administration's economic failures. Midway through the campaign the Senator explained his positions, which were never seriously questioned. 220

In a formal statement issued at Nashville on October 13t he

explained his tax reform ideas like this;

In my opinion, my record in the Senate has been one of support for effective and equitable tax reform. I voted in favor of the Tax Reform Act of I969 which provided substantial reductions in taxes for low and middle income taxpayers. I have supported the tax-exempt status of state and municipal bond issues to permit local gov­ ernment to finance municipal improvements at lower cost to local taxpayers. I have supported a limited tax credit for college tuition to relieve the economic burden of those families whose sons or daughters are seeking a higher education. And I have also supported the al­ lowance of 3. deduction for child care espenses for working mothers.

In regard to the nation's battle with runaway inflation, he aligned himself with the President. Faced with the realization that his earlier policies were not working rapidly enough, the President announced a wage-price freeze fol­ lowed by temporary wage and price controls. Yet years of cost push inflation had created an inflationary psychology which made antic­ ipation of constantly rising prices into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Although I did not desire to see an intrusion by the government into the free market economy, I agreed with the President that the economic situation demanded decisive action. 1 there­ fore supported the wage and price freeze and other aspects of the New economic Policy de­ signed to slow the rate of inflation and reduce unemployment. ^

Commenting on the role he had played in caring for the needs of older Tennesseans, Baker had this to say:

It gives me great pride after six years to be able to come back to Tennessee and point out that I voted for every single increase in so­ cial security while I was in the Senate. There was in 1967, the first year I was in the Senate, a thirteen percent increase, and in 19&9 a fif­ teen percent increase, and 1971 a ten percent increase, and 1972 a twenty percent increase. My friends, this is real progress for our dis­ abled and older citizens of our country.^"

Such references to the problems of taxation, inflation, and old-age benefits were seemingly all that was required. While taxation and the like were primary issues in many areas of the nation, they were never developed to their fullest extent in Tennessee. Baker's assurances that he was doing all in his power to lobby in the elector­ ate's behalf, along with the general prosperity which the state was enjoying, seemed to placate most of the voters. Although the per capita income in the state is among the lowest in the nation, so is the cost of living. Overall, the populace appeared to be satisfied with the status quo. Under such conditions, the incumbent was able to say "I'm taking care of your basic needs."

Another issue that he used to emphasize his specific efforts on the state's behalf was his role in the development of nuclear breeder reactors. Faced by an impending energy crisis due to the limited amounts of traditional fuel sources, many scholars have recommended the peaceful development of nuclear energy. Baker of­ ten told the Tennessee voters, "I think it is a tribute that our state and TVA, which is famous for the pioneering of low-cost ener­ gy programs, was chosen tc develop the Free World's first breeder nuclear reactor. As a member of the Joint Committee on Atomic Ener­ gy, I have long advocated the development of nuclear power to meet our ever-increasing energy needs." 47

Even more important than the "tribute" to the state, however,

is the fact that five hundred million dollars will be spent in the area to develop the plant. This, of course, has obvious economic

benefits for the state's overall economy. In an address on the gen­

eral economic conditions in Tennessee, Baker noted the role "his" breeder reactor project would play.

In 1971» Tennessee ranked first in expenditure allocations of the Atomic Energy Commission. Plans are currently underway to build the Free World's first nuclear breeder reactor near Oak Ridge. This half-billion dollar investment helps to assure an adequate energy supply for the fu­ ture and establishes Tennessee's position as a leading source of power.

It is estimated that some 1500 jobs will be cre­ ated during the projected five-year construction period. Yet the real impact of the nuclear breeder reactor far transcends the more-im-me- diate economic benefits for Tennessee.

Also transcending the economic benefits for the state were

the political benefits for Baker. When the Chattanooga Times, for instance, endorsed the Senator for re-election, it credited his

role in obtaining the energy plant as one of his greatest first-

terra accomplishments. A Times editorial of October 10 said, "Of particular interest to Tennessee is his role in plans for the first demonstration breeder reactor plant at Oak Ridge, a vital step insur­ ing the nuclear generation of power in the future vrhen every ounce of l±g energy will be needed." With such recommendations the Senator

could certainly say, "Look what I'm doing for Tennessee."

One other area in which Baker claimed effective representa­ 223 tion was his legislative position in behalf of crime prevention.

Not only are the streets of New York and Philadelphia no longer safe,

but Nashville, Memphis, and Chattanooga share similar woes. In the poll recently cited, crime was found to be the fourth most important

concern in the mind of the average American."^ Analyzing his partner­

ship with the Hixon administration, Baker said there viere three major

accomplishments that merited attention.

First, he said the President had provided "symbolic leader­

ship that served notice to the nation that there is a strong moral civilization at work that does not condone lawlessness and does not

invite it.Second, the Senator said he had cooperated with the

administration in working to make basic improvements in our law en­

forcement efforts. He said:

In 1968 and again in 1970, I supported legis­ lation providing financial assistance to state and local governments for purposes of improv­ ing and strengthening law enforcement. In fis­ cal 1972 law enforcement assistance to states and cities totalled over nine hundred million dollars. Total budget outlays for lav; enforce­ ment have increased two hundred fifty-three percent in the last four years.-52

Third, he claimed to aid the President in the passage of "significant legislation" aimed-at helping restore public confidence in the courts. After noting the long delays in trial proceedings, particularly in urban areas, the Senator said:

There are effective steps now being taken in certain areas to increase the efficiency of the judiciary, In 1970 I actively supported President Nixon's District of Columbia Court Reform and Criminal Procedure Act which reor­ ganized Washington, D. C.'s judicial system. This act increased the number of local judges, established a full time public defender system and a new juvernile code, and expanded the bail agencies. These actions have greatly increased the efficiency of the judicial process in Wash­ ington, D. C. Hopefully, they will serve as an example to the rest of the nation.53

Crime prevention, then along with energy development and eco­ nomic growth, were three issues Baker used to denote his efforts for Tennessee. There is no reason to believe that the legislator held doubts concerning the positions he espoused, but his. main aim was much larger. He said to the electorate "I do represent your basic interests." Throughout the campaign Blanton accused the Senator of being a "rubber stamp" for the Nixon administration. 3aker responded that he simply voted in the best interests of the electorate. He said he was not a "yes man" for anyone.

Acknowledgement of Concern. '.Vhile only a few issues might be considered prominent in any political effort, there are some less sig­ nificant problems of which a candidate must at least be aware. Few campaigns revolve around more than three or four issues, but a myriad of minor concerns always affect particular groups. Even though inter­ est in such questions is usually not widespread enough to guarantee or prohibit political success, the candidate must convince the affected group that he is empathetic to their needs. Sometimes, therefore, the Senator would make pronouncements on relatively minor issues merely to

"acknowledge a sense of awareness." This was a fourth main strategy he employed. Numerous issues played minor roles in the campaign. Only a few will be mentioned here.

A growing concern to a number of people is the availability 225

of health care to the average citizen. While some form of national

health insurance is likely to become a reality, it is not yet well- recognized enough to possess great political impact. When questioned.

about the issue on October 22, the Senator had this to say:

I think unmistakably one of the great issues of the next and probably succeeding Congresses will be the design and implementation of a sys­ tem of health care or a national health policy that will guarantee access to quality medical care for all people in the United States, re­ gardless of their economic means and circum­ stances. The question is how .... One of the things that has to be taken into account, I judge, is how we can supply some sort of ec­ onomic restraint to improve the quality of the service and reduce the cost of it because the potential cost of medical care for all the citizens of this nation is almost limit­ less.^

Although Baker refused to endorse any specific type of national health

package, his statement on the situation at least assured the voters he was aware of the problem.

Another question of growing importance, following the Supreme

Court's stand against capital punishment, is whether or not the Con­ gress should develop legislation to reinvoke the death penalty. Ques­ tioned about his position on such legislation, Baker responded:

I think, if possible, we should. I am not sure it is possible. I am not sure what the attitude finally of the Supreme Court will be in thi3 re­ spect. I am no great devotee of the death pen­ alty as an efficient deterrent to most crime, but I think it is a deterrent and it is socially de- sireable in somo cases. I think of the Lindberg kidnap law. I think of aircraft hijacking. I think of a few others.

So while I do not advocate the extension of the 226

death penalty to great numbers of crimes, I think it ought to be preserved in some cases, and I would support a measure by the Congress to try to do that within the framework of the case law developed by the Supreme Court."

A third issue to which the Senator paid at least passing

attention was the question of allowing voluntary prayer in the state's

public schools, tony people of fundamental religious backgrounds felt

their right of free expression was inhibited when the Supreme Court

disallowed school prayer. Partly taking over a family battle, Baker introduced for consideration a constitutional amendment reaffirming

the right of voluntary prayer. The bill which he introduced was ori­

ginally written by his late father-in-law, Senator Dirksen. Although the bill never seriously approached passage, the

Senator had still "done his part" as far as representing his religious

constituency. He had convinced them that he was "aware of their

concerns."

Finally, there were two major questions relating to the oper­

ational efficiency of the Senate which almost became campaign issues. A general undercurrent of public distrust in the legislative process, along with increased scrutiny of congressional operations (note the success of agencies such as the Ralph Nader organization), have com­ bined to focus additional attention on Senate activities. Two con­ cepts were briefly mentioned in this contest, revision of the archaic seniority system and federal financing of election campaigns. As might be expected, Blanton as the challenger vehemently condemned current operations in the Senate, claiming he had already 22? voted for revamping administrative procedures in the House. While

Baker called for "some revision" of current operational methods, he did so with much less enthusiasm than his opponent. Six years in the

Senate seem to have convinced him that current operations are fairly

effective. He said: I confess I thought that (change was needed) when I went to the Congress, and I still think that some variation of the present sys­ tem is desireable. But I think it less en­ thusiastically than I once did. You can chalk that up to the political inevitability of having accumulated six years of seniority if you wish, but it isn't really that. It's that I have seen the system operate and I be­ lieve that I would be hard pressed to find a suitable system to take its place .... It seems to me that the seniority system serves rather better in the Senate than it does in the House.5^

Baker likewise endorsed the current means of campaign finan­

cing as opposed to the proposed system of federal financial regula­

tion. When arguing against the federal financing of campaigns, the incumbent usually launched two lines of argument. First, he objected

to federal intervention on the grounds that federal supervision would

inevitably mean federal control, decreasing the likelihood of open and free elections. On the other hand, he claimed fund-raising was an

integral part of the campaign effort itself, suggesting that one who

could not gain financial support could not win an election anyway. The Senator, of course, had excellent campaign financing and

. knew that his cause would be best served by retaining the present

system. Nonetheless, neither question ever rose above the level of 228 small group discussion. Baker was not harmed by either issue.

Whether the voters would have agreed with the Senator's positions or not, he had at least made them aware of his "understanding" of the problem.' On numerous issues in addition to these, the Senator stated positions when asked to do so. While his positions may have influ­ enced small sectors of the electorate, they were not crucial to the overall electoral outcome. Responses in such situations are meant to foment an image of knowledgeable understanding as much as to gain the interested group's assent. The image itself, as explained in the next chapter, is the agent to which most of the voters res­ ponded anyway. A strategic point was meant to say, however, "I am aware of your individual concerns."

Manufacture of Issues. An additional strategy effectively employed by Baker was to "manufacture issues" advantageous to his cause. The reason that most contests hinge on three, or at most, four issues, is that the public's interest can be expanded only so far. Indeed, a commonality of thought on the part of the elector­ ate is the chief determinant of an issue's prominence. An issue, such as busing for instance, that was considered crucial by almost all segments of society, is one on which a candidate has to develop an effective stance.

Sometimes, however, situations occur to which voters' atten­ tion must be purposefully directed before it can prove advantageous. The best such example in the 1972 campaign was Blanton's alleged 229 association with the McGovern party. In actuality the "party" that nominated Blanton was as diametrically opposed to the "party" that nominated McGovern as one might imagine. Ironically, both parties called themselves "Democrats.11 This naming feature led the Republicans to assert that Blan­ ton was an extension of the McGovern ideology. While some voters would have identified the two anyway, in a day of political ticket- splitting, McGovern need not have been a condemning albatross. The fact of the matter is that the Baker forces "manufactured" the issue of Presidential association to the extent that Blanton could never totally separate himself from McGovern. When asked to compare him­ self and Blanton, Baker sometimes said, "You can't completely divorce the party affiliation concept because it is going to be an important aspect of the political configuration in the next four years.

Throughout the campaign such statements were regularly delivered to give prominence to an issue that otherwise might have been inconse­ quential. At the same time Blanton was losing in Tennessee, Demo­ cratic senatorial candidates were winning in Kentucky, Arkansas,

Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, all of whom rejected McGovern over­ whelmingly. The McGovern candidacy was more of an issue in Tennessee because the Republicans made it so.

Speaking at a rally in Knoxville during the Primary campaign, Baker cited McGovern stands on the war in Vietnam, welfare, busing, amnesty for draft evaders, defense spending, and guaranteed income as examples of vihere the Democratic Party and Tennesseans differed. "The Democratic platform calls for amnesty for draft dodgers and de­ 230 serters but says nothing about the prisoners of war, and that's why the Democratic Party is out of step with the people of Tennessee,"

Baker said.-^

Jim Squires, a political analyst for the Nashville Tennessean. said Baker and Blanton sometimes sounded like "McGovern was the main issue." "Even as Blanton was disavowing any connection with the Mc­

Govern philosophy," Squires said, "Baker was painting the Presidential nominee as the candidate of the 'hippies, yippies, and zippies.1" 59

The Republican effort to associate Blanton and McGovern re­ ceived its major impetus near the outset of the campaign. Baker per­ iodically associated the two during the Primary season. On the night of his renomination for the Senate, the incumbent charged, "The key issue in this race will be the presidential nominees with whom we will run."^ That theme was sounded extensively during the first weeks of the campaign. Then after the association was made, the concept was rarely mentioned. It was, however, effective enough that Blanton said "McGovern" was one of the two main reasons he lost the election.

Another concept which the Baker forces gave prominence was the idea that they were still the "underdog" force in the state. Also on the night of his renomination, Baker said, "Winning as a Republican is still an upset in Tennessee."^" Amazingly enough, he continued to sound that way even when he was twenty percentage points ahead. At almost every stop in middle and western Tennessee, the

Senator would recount how difficult it was six years ago to get out crowds for Republicans. He would then admonish a large energetic gathering to remember they were still a "minority party." With two 231 Republican Senators, a Republican Governor, and an assured even break

in the House of Representatives, it is hard to see a Republican vic­

tory as an upset. Indeed, in succeeding elections in Tennessee, the contest should begin with the assumption that the frontrunner is from

the Republicans.

Baker's decision to run as an underdog aided him in several ways, however. It allowed him to attack existing problems rather

than be identified with them. One of the smoothest movements the Senator executed was to disassociate himself from GOP failures.

Honesty in government, the Russian wheat scandal, the ITT case, and wage and price controls should have hindered his candidacy. In the final analysis he may have profited from them. As he attacked. Mc- Govern's permissive ideology and governmental bureaucracy in gen­ eral, one would have sensed Baker had never held public office. He closely identified with Republican successes and totally disassociat­ ed himself from any failures. The inconsistency was never made an issue.

He often told, audiences that he and Nixon should be returned for second terms so they wouldn't be faced with "washing dirty dishes" as they had been in the first. The dirty dishes were, of course, those policies left over from the Johnson administration. The Republican inability to win was simply a straw man the

Baker forces concocted and then systematically destroyed. While it would have been difficult for them to lose, the creation of "monumen­ tal difficulties" made their eventual victory seem even more success­ 232

ful. For Baker to have beaten an ill-financed candidate of a badly

split party would have gained the Senator very little iinage-wi.se.

As it was, he defeated an "experienced" candidate from the state's

traditionally "strongest" party with a history of one hundred years

of electoral success. Baker sometimes said the greatest issue in

the campaign was "whether or not the Democrats could restore the monarchy—a hundred years of uninterrupted rule."°^

The Republicans so controlled the events of the day that

they made an average accomplishment look like a magnificent one.

While it would have been difficult for Baker to lose, skillful mani-:

pulation of the media made his vistory appear stupendous. The Sen­

ator was overhwlemingly re-elected; his national stature was in­ creased; and Tennessee's march toward majority Republicanism accel­

erated. All of these previously mentioned strategies combined, then, to bring about Baker's success. Issues were used as means by which

larger rhetorical strategies might be developed. Skillful control of Baker's rhetoric at least partially enabled him to achieve his

victory. He "identified with moderate Hixonian principales," ac­

cented certain issues to "signify dimensions of personal leadership,11

claimed "representation of basic Tennessean interests," "acknow­ ledged a sense of awareness" of individual group concerns, and "manu­ factured selected issues favorable to his cause." Only one more main

strategy was employed—the overriding development of "the man" as the major issue. Although the positional content is highly impor­

tant, political contests usually boil down to a selection from two 233 personalities. The next chapter will explain the major features of

the Baker image.

Types of Appeals

At the outset of this chapter it was suggested that an e- ffective rhetorical stance is present when the speaker, his message, and the audience are said to be in a harmonious relationship. No matter how sound a sender's rhetorical strategies might be, unless they are adapted to the attitudes, values, and interests of his au­ dience, they are worthless.

When Senator Baker developed his rhetorical plans for the 1972 campaign, the chief concern in his mind was how those plans might successfully win him a majority vote. There are opinions, attitudes, and values held dear by Tennessee voters that the Senator used as mainsprings from which a favorable response might come. Alan

Monroe in his celebrated Principles of Speech says, "You must make the members of your audience want to do what you propose rather than feel they have to"^ Baker presented his candidacy in such a manner that he represented the opinions, attitudes, and values of his audience. He thereby caused many to desire to case their vote in his behalf. Using various types of appeals, he identified their good with his good, creating a felt need for continued support,

Appeal to Pride. Appealing to a sense of pride shared by most Tennesseans, the Senator exhorted the voters to select those candidates who were a credit to the high standards of Volunteer poli­ tics. Bryant and Wallace have explained." 23^

Pride is an emotion centering on the self and is stimulated chiefly by the high regard in which others hold the self. Consequently, we cherish our reputation, are cordial to admir­ ation, and expand under anything that enhances our prestige and self-importance. One can en­ list pride by showing that the desired action will enhance or protect the reputation and prestige of hearers. Here the speaker reminds his audience that others—individuals or groups— have regarded them as progressive, as men of good will or men of honor, and suggests that in the face of such regard they will not want to re­ frain from acting as suggested.

Time and again throughout the campaign the Senator appealed to the

pride of his hearers in several ways.

Often he expressed the belief that his listeners were among

the finest people in the world. Speaking to a group of supporters

at his Maury County headquarters, he asserted:

I'm proud of what you've done for me and of what you've dons for the Republican Party and what you've done for your community. I've of­ ten said on other occasions that there are few, if any, other parts of Tennessee that show that combination of dynamic vigor and enery and community pride that augur so well for your fu­ ture here in Maury County anc} the surrounding areas. You're great people.°5

Later in the same day the Senator told the citizens of Law­ rence County, "The spirit that made this country great resides in

cities and tovrns like Lawrenceburg in greater measure than it does in any other part of the world .... In these as well as other places, Baker was, of course, identifying his pride in them as con­ sistent with their faith in him.

On the other hand, he sometimes made statements that said, in essence, "my opponent is not the type person with whom you can 235 share this community pride." Following Blanton's charges that Baker was involved in a bribery attempt in Memphis, the Senator suggested,

"Tennessee and Tennessee Democrats deserve a better type of campaign­ ing than that which my opponent has waged. Baker was naturally suggesting, "His actions are not likely to be the type of which you can be proud in the future."

Appeal to Unity. Another basic attitude to which the Senator appealed was the citizens' strong sense of togetherness. Probably more than any other region of the country, the South still sees it­ self as a total entity. Furthermore, the citizens within the area recognize the importance of cooperating with one another, perhaps due to their historical togetherness. Most urban residents of the

South today are only one or two generations removed from the farm where 11 barnraisings" were regular occurrences. A sense of brother­ hood in time of need is still prevalent. Whenever Baker spoke about accomplishments, he usually did so in "we" terminology. He was at­ tempting, of course, to identify himself as part of the group, say­ ing in essence, "we are partners in progress."

Speaking on the topic of recent economic growth, he said:

We have made substantial progress in cutting the rate of inflation, increasing employment, and improving our international monetary and trade position. This progress is directly attribut­ able to the cooperation of consumers, working men and women, management, and government. Each of them recognized a responsiblity to one an­ other and responded accordingly. Such respons­ ible cooperation is fundamental to the success of our policy for continued economic growth.

Even more specifically, the Senator appealed to a sense of togetherness when speaking about political progress. Especially rel­ 236

ative to his own success, Baker always acknowledged his single role

as part of a larger team effort. Addressing a group of supporters

in Nashville on September 20, he questioned:

So what can we do together? Kow we recognize the opportunity we have to organize and to do our work and to do it effectively. We recog­ nize th?t there is great danger if we don't. We recognize that the President is very popular, but a strange phenomenon can set in if we aren't careful .... Instead of being an advantage our present state can be a disadvantage .... See if you haven't found Democrats who say with considerable remorse, 'I'm going to vote for Nixon this time,1 and then attempt to as­ suage their guild feelings or salve and balm their conscience by saying, 'of course, we're going to support all the other Democratic nom­ inees . . . .' You see the challenge before us is whether or not we can consolidate the gains we've made—whether we can turn this new wave of Republicanism into,a long-term political align­ ment in Tennessee.

Toward the end of the campaign, Baker began to suggest that such an alignment was imminent. He claimed that his campaign, and specifically his train tour, had brought more unity and togetherness to Tennesseans. He told an assembled group at Tullahoma:

Travelling on this train symbolizes many things that I think are important to Tennessee. It sym­ bolizes the unity of this state beginning in' hem- phis and extending to Bristol. It symbolizes the fact that Republicanism in Tennessee is a force of competition for the right to serve all the peo­ ple of the state. It symbolizes the wave of the future as symbolized in this train, a relic of the past.'7®

The Senator went on to thank the crowd for their specific efforts in his behalf. He said that such activity would enable him, for the first time in history, to capture the middle section of the state 237 for the Republicans. He asserted again that without their cooper­ ation such an accomplishment would be impossible.

Appeal to Openness. A third way in which Baker identified with the voters was to appeal to their sense of inclusiveness. . He wanted the Republican party to be an open party. Almost by human nature, eveiy group or subgroup wants the general populace to accept its views and beliefs. The Republican party is no exception. For that to take place, however, new elements of society would have to be included. 'When the Republicans started discussing a bandwagon technique, as outlined in chapter three, it meant that large numbers of youths, blacks, and working people irould have to enlist. To many traditional Republicans, that would seem highly unusual.

Camouflaged in an appeal for a great Republican majority,

Baker encouraged many groups to accept all ppople into the party.

Speaking to a group of primarily older citizens in Whitwell, Tennessee, the Senator referred to the need for inclusion of young people in the political process. A small group of high school students were on the fringe of the crowd as he spoke.

...I believe these young people and young peo­ ple like them are dedicated to the future of this nation and have something real and useful to contri­ bute. I'm not going to make a prediction right now, but we're signing up young people across the stats—sometime later in October we're going to make a release, a press release of the number of young Tennesseans involved in this campaign. And I'm going to predict to you that there are more young people involved in this campaign. . . than have ever been involved in any political campaign in this state.

He then went on to exhort the crowd to involve "young people such as 71 these" for "they are the -vibrant future of the Republican party." 238

Toward the end of the campaign, the Senator increased his

attempts to help all recognize that the Republican party was more

than a white middle class subgroup in the Eastern part of the state.

On the last day of his train tour, he told a large group of support­

ers in Huntington:

It (this trip) is symbolic in that Tennessee, is, in fact, one state—that we are tied together in a commonality of interest, that our aspirations are the same in the East and the West and the Mid­ dle grand divisions of Tennessee, that our aspira­ tions and ambitions and desires for the future of our families and the civilization of mankind are the same whether we are from the east, from the west, or the central grand division, whether vie are rich or poor, whether we are white or black. ... I have tried to represent all the people in the state of Tennessee for the last six years, without fear or favor, evenhandedly, without con­ cern for whether a constituent is rich or poor, black or white, from Bast or West or Middle Tennessee, from an urban area or rural area or one of the hundred small and medium size towns that have such a brilliant future be­ fore them.'

These and other remarks were intended to help mainline Republicans

gradually see the value of including other people in the party struc­ ture. The Senator's broad based support which he identified with the openness of the party led him to say in his victory statement,

"We have shown that the Republican party has a broad base of support in Tennessee from the rich and poor, from the black and the white, from the east to the west. The party has shown itself to be accomo- dative to all the people of Tennessee, and win or lose, I would be thankful for that.

There viere two other related appeals, however, that Baker used to identify more closely with the electorate. The first was of 239

immediate significance, the second relative to the future.

Appeal to Caution. Noticing the building crescendo of vocal

support for his candidacy, the incumbent often appealed to a sense of

caution. He urged his followers to realize, "You can lose a big po­

litical lead overnight.11 The Senator wanted his associates to revel

in the fact that they were experiencing the summit of their Republican

existence, yet he did not want them to become overconfident to the

extent that they became negligent in their work. Speaking to a group

of party workers in mid-September, he cautioned:

We are pleased and happy with the way things look, but there are still forty-nine days un­ til election counting today. And you can be sure of one thing. You can be sure that there will be a tough race between now and then . . . This election isn't won by a long sight. So. when you hear that the polls are real good. Just remember— you can lose it quick. You can lose it overnight.

As a part of his effort to exhort other workers, the Senator

warned some women volunteers on September 20;

It is a good year for the Republican party, but it is good only in its promise. It is not yet in its realization. The forces of change that brought about our Republican ac­ complishments in the last six years are still there—and they're perfectly capable of de­ vouring us—all of us if we don't do our part.75

Appeal to Progress. At the same time Baker was "warning" his followers, the polls to which he referred indicated a twenty point lead (approximately). Not only did he "fear" complacency, but he desired to effect as large a majority vote as possible.

This often became evident when he began to discourse about the future. One of the Senator's favorite phrases was that "America's 240 future is ahead of her and not behind her." One was often led to believe that Baker's future was meant to parallel the same course.

Richard Weaver indicates "progress" is one of the godterms given allegiance by the American populace.^ Baker appealed to future progress at every opportunity. He regularly made attempts to identify his candidacy with a profitable future for Tennessee.

Especially before youth groups, the Senator denounced those who claimed the country was immoral and decadent. Using terminology espoused by McGovern, and therefore the Democrats, he contrasted his view of the world to theirs:

To those who cry gloom and doom, to those who say this is a sick society, for those who say that the future of this nation is behind us and not before us, for those who say that science and industrialization and technology will destroy us, to those who say that it is all over, to those who say we are immoral and decadent, to those who say that America is rot­ ten to the core, to those who say we must beg for forgiveness—I say nonsense! We are still the greatest nation on earth and with our dedi­ cation and the future greatness of our young people, and communities such as this, we'll be greater still.77

Using, then, a myriad of concerns, Baker identified with

Tennessee voters by paralleling their attitudes with his. He accent­ ed the pride they should have as members of the southern community.

He used "we" terminology to suggest recent accomplishments. He appealed to a need for inclusiveness, camouflaged in a request that

Republicans achieve as large a majority as possible. He evidenced a sense of caution while appealing to "progress" as the eventual outcome of a Republican victory. 2fH

All in all, then, Baker became aware of Tennessee concerns

and adapted his strategies to identify with her needs.

Communicative Style and Delivery

Although rhetorical communication should be built around issues and substantive content, many stylistic considerations influ­ ence the impact a substantive base may exert. In intercollegiate debate, for instance, two teams often have similar, if not identi­ cal, facts, statistics, and references. Yet one team is clearly more persuasive than the other'.

A number of elements influence persuasive effectiveness other than positional content. Among them are the organizational patterns employed by the rhetor, the stylistic characteristics that indivi­ dualize communication, the audible and visual traits that enhance or degrade message delivery, and a rhetor's general ability to create rapport with his audience.

Although this work is primarily concerned with the positional and situational content of the 1972 campaign, no attempt is herein made to diminish the role of these other "persuasive factors." Quite to the contrary, I am fully convinced that in political situations where basic philosophical content is similar, such extraneous mess­ age features, along with the personal characteristics of the candidate, are likely to be the chief determinants of voter choice.

Organization. In their introduction to the work Essentials of General Speech, Baird and Knower suggest that an effective speaker 78 organizes his ideas systematically. While such an acknowledgement seems obvious on the surface, one needs to realize that organization

is more than simple outlining. A well organized speaker resists the

temptation to indulge in wide and purposeless excursions, Baird and

Knower correctly assert, "The result (of a well-organized speech) is

much more than a mechanical unfolding of an outline; it is a well- 79 organized demonstration of cleax- thinking."

When Senator Baker spoke in a campaign situation, he usually

alerted his hearers to two major concerns. At the outset of the

speech he would say as he did to the audience at Bryan College:

It's superfluous, I expect, to say to an intel­ ligent and aware and educated audience that the matters and the affairs of this country are broadly divided into two categories; foreign policy and domestic policy . . . .I'd like to point out a few of the fundamental aspects of these two areas of concern and public respons­ ibility.SO

After setting the stage for his address, the Senator would

then move to discuss whatever specific issues he considered impor­

tant. Usually, Vietnam was the main topic under foreign policy and

revenue sharing and its implications under domestic policy.

Such organization allowed the Senator free range to discuss whatever he considered important. In actual practice, however, such

organization was inadequate. The incumbent acknowledges, in the

example cited above, that such division is superfluous. Even more important, once the broad divisions were outlined, the audience was

given no additional hint of what form the discussion would take. It would have been helpful, for instance, at the outset of his foreign affairs division for the candidate to outline his two or three main 2^3 reasons for supporting the President.

Furthermore, such general structure left the Senator free to ramble at will. On some occasions, he would become so involved in discussing the merits or demerits of a single program in one half of the speech that the last area would be severely slighted or over­ looked completely. Addressing the student body of iMeigs County High

School, he promised his two-fold analysis. On that occasion Domes­ tic policy was to be discussed first. He then talked some thirteen minutes on revenue sharing and never mentioned foreign policy. He had specifically stated at the outset of the address that both areas would be given heed.^

In the Senator's defense, it must be noted that his organi­ zation, or lack of it, never seemed to confuse his audience. His speeches are mercifully short for a politician, usually around fifteen minutes. Therefore, a two-fold structure is not nearly as inadequate as it would be under more lengthy development. His conversational de­ livery also enables an audience to feel like they are discussing an issue with the Senator, rather than like they're being lectured.

For the integrality of the message, however, Baker's addresses needed to be better organized. The words of Socrates to Phaedrus in

Plato's work of the same name illustrate the universality that good arrangement brings to discourse.

I do think you will agree to this, that every discourse must be organized, like a living be­ ing, with a body of its own, as it were, so as not to be headless or footless, but to have a middle and members composed in fitting relation to each other and to the whole.82 2^

Baker needs to pay greater heed to Socrates' advise.

Stylistic Traits. Other than the Senator's penchant for loose­

ly organized rhetoric, a number of additional traits give his speeches

a stylistic distinctiveness. On initial contact with the incumbent's

delivery, the attribute that first catches one's attention is his

traditional southern accent. While there are noticeable traces of a

lifelong acquaintance with a solid east-Tennessee dialect, education

and national exposure have tempered the provincial nature of Baker's

rhetoric.

The Senator still exhibits a very strong nasal quality in his

speaking voice, and periodically shows a tendency to hold his vowel

sounds too long. His enunciation, coupled with the slowness of the

southern tongue, combine to alter the true sounds of some vowels.

Sometimes "get" becomes "git," "energy" becomes "anargy," "political"

becomes "palitakel," and "now" becomes "nauw," for examples.

Such traits, however, never hindered his campaign effective­

ness since those who listened to him exhibited the same characteris­ tics. As a matter of fact, my own life in the South leads me to think

that one's language style can be a significant tool of identification.

Had Baker exhibited New England or General American speech character­ istics, his utterances would probably have been less effective.

Baird and Knower suggest that audibility, pleasantness, fluen­

cy, and flexibility are the four qualities that evidence themselves in 83 a good speaking voice. Although the Senator does exhibit some tra­ ditional Southern traits, his voice does meet the above standards, 245 especially when addressing a Dixieland audience. Another characteristic that prominently influences the Baker style is the Senator's phraseology, particularly of prepositional and verb-oriented (participle, gerund, etc.) phrases. His ability to describe a situation accurately while using such phrases moves from one extreme to the other. On occasions he seems amazingly fluent.

Commenting on the introduction he received before the Nashville Jay- cees, Baker said: I was especially pleased to hear him (the in­ troducer) refer to rny being sent back for the next six years, as distinguished from being sent up for the next six years. I also paid special attention to hearing him refer to my last six years. I trust that referred to the chronology involved and not to a definitive statement of my senatorial tenure. I must confess that it has overtones and that I'll have to query him more fully as the evening wears on.®^

On another occasion, such as the epideictic situation at

Lawrence High School, Baker again appeared relaxed and fluent. After being introduced by a county school board member, the Senator said: Thank you very much. It's my great pleasure to be with you here on this dedicatory occa­ sion, and to have some small part to play in this momentous event . . . .It's not my pur­ pose to point out to you the great accomp­ lishments of this community in this respect, or even to celebrate the outstanding design and quality of construction of this facility. But rather to point out .something that I be­ lieve to be of importance to young people— to the young ci.tizens who now occupy this building and will soon be in charge of the destiny of this community and this state. ^

On the other hand, Baker's phrasing sometimes became tedious ZkG and overdrawn. Bryant and Wallace suggest, "Declarative sentences in the active voice which are not too long to be easily spoken in one breath will usually be clearer than the longer, more oblique sentences.Sometimes Baker would string together so many pre­ positional phrases, or pause unexplainably to refocus his own thought train, that the audience was confused by the nature of the discourse.

In the same Lawrence High address, the Senator evidenced some of his rhetorical weaknesses as well as his strengths. In a section of the address dedicated to the passage of the eighteen-year-old vote, he said:

More important to me it seems is the proposi­ tion that now in this part of the twentieth century young people, your peers, your equals here in Lawrenceburg and surrounding states and nations—that young people more than any other generation in the history of civiliza­ tion have an awakened and a heightened social conscience.87

Such repetitive phrasing of both the same reference and thought was not uncommon. Speaking at a political rally at Huntington, Baker said:

This train trip is a reminder to all of the people of this state that no longer can you run and expect to have the great citizens of Tennessee to select you as one of their pub­ lic servants because you come from the East or the West or any other grand division of the state of Tennessee, but the responsibil­ ity of any public servant in this state is to recognize our commonality of interest and the unity of this state, and to try to repre­ sent you, and I have tried to represent all the people in the state of Tennessee in the past six years without fear or favor, even- handedly, without concern for whether a con- stitutent is rich or poor, black or white, from East or West or Middle Tennessee, from an urban area or rural area, or one of the hundred or more small towns and medium size towns that have such a brilliant future be­ fore them.83

Usually, such repetition and uneven phrasing could be attrib­ uted to an extemporaneous delivery. While the length of such phrases at times was distracting, natural pauses in deliveiy made them less noticeable than they appear when read. With few, if any, notes to guide his thoughts, the Senator seemed periodically to pause or en­ gage verbally in endless repetition. He does so to think momentarily even as he speaks. While the valid direction of Baker's address is always clearly noticeable, his extemporaneous deliveiy gives his thoughts much less polish than one might wish. A phraseology-related characteristic that, likewise inhibits the Senator's fluency is his lack of use of transitional statements.

Too often he merely ends one thought, stops, and then begins another.

The "joints" of a speech, then, appear hard to manipulate, and the address, while structured, may still appear stiff and unsmooth. A . campaign address at Tullahome illustrates the point.89 After some opening comments and welcome to the crowd, Baker stopped and said, "Before I say a few words that Ihave, let me introduce a few people here on the platform." After the introductions were finished, he began what might be considered the main body of the speech; "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a great occasion for me." He talked for several minutes about the prospects for victory in Tennessee, stop­ ped, and said, "Let me say just a word about President Nixon's cam­ ZH8 paign." After discussing Nixon's first term, the Senator began his final appeal with "Let me indulge one fond wish if you will and I am sure none of you v;ill fault me for it." He then spoke about re-elec- tion for himself and the President and the speech was ended. Generally, one could not fault the speech's content, nor could I suggest that the topics did not share some commonality. The problem was, however, that they were never tied together. The Sena­ tor made almost four short and completely separate speeches. Only a little thought given to uniting smoothly the four concepts could have made the difference between average and superior oratory. Several other stylistic features of Baker's rhetoric also merit attention. Among them are the basic tone of his addresses, the methodology by which he handles questions, and the problems associa­ ted with the repetition of the same content. Each of these will be given cursory attention.

One of the greatest strengths that Baker possesses is the aura of optimism he exudes. When one listens to the Senator, he usually gets the idea that the speaker is excited about those concepts he discusses. Furthermore, Baker offers a positive stance toward the future, seldom evidenced by most politicians. When he was crossing the state on his train tour I have seen him nauseated from the motion of the train almost to the point of physical sickness, and then walk tothe rear platform and talk about what fun it is to campaign. As he addressed a crowd at Murfreesboro on November 1, he said, "What a great time to campaign. 'What a great year with a great Senatorial and Presidential campaign, where I believe that President Nixon at the beginning of his second term in office may begin that term with the greatest majority that any President has won in modern times in the U. S.-90-

Cicero has said that a man must feel certain emotions him­ self before he is able to raise them in his hearers. He says, "It is impossible for the listener to feel indignation, hatred, or ill- will, to be terrified of anything, or reduced to tears of compassion unless all these emotions . . . are visibly stamped or rather brand- ed on the advocate himself." 91 VJhen Baker addressed a crowd he gave his hearers the impression that he, too, was excited about those things he was discussing. Encouraged by a large crowd at the comple­ tion of the-third day of the train journey, Baker again spoke of the optimism he felt in his candidacy. He told a closely gathered throng in his sixth speech of the day, "Yes, what a great day it is and what a great tir-ie to run—to run with the support of distinguished Demo­ crats in every part of Tennessee, to run with the support of the in­ dependent voters of this state. My friends, it is my privilege . . . a 2 to return to Tennessee and to campaign as I have all this year , . "y Another stylistic device that the Senator employed was to speak extemporaneously about those issues in which he was best grounded and with which his audience was likely to agree. He would then leave difficult and debatable material for question-and-answer periods. Other than their political philosophy and party affiliation,

Nixon and Baker have.at least one rhetorical trait in common. While 250 neither are great orators, both are adept in question-answer situa­ tions. The best example of such a technique occurred at predominantly black Lane College in Jackson, Tennessee. In spite of the fact that one could sense in the political atmosphere a thorough disdain for tradtional Republican principles, Baker delivered his regular two point address on revenue sharing and Vietnam. The audience patiently awaited its chance to dissect him on issues such as busing and admin­ istration support of South Africa. The students had been warned be­ fore Baker arrived by the school's Administrative Assistant to the

President to be respectful in their questioning because "He _is our

Senator.11 When the question-and-answer period did come, the expected interrogatives on busing and other issues were voiced.93 At one point a tall black man stood up in the back of the room, pointed at the Senator, and then shouted:

I want to ask you a question! Do you approve of the relations our country has with other countries like Rhodesia and South Africa who are oppressing a majority of their people? Do you approve of I3K, ITT,and other corpo­ rations being down in those countries to help the white power structures in those countries in the subjugation of our people?

3aker calmly stood for a moment as a hugh fell over the room and re­ plied in a moderate yet unapologetic tone: I think it is wrong for me to say, or for the United States of Amcrica to say unless the countries of South Africa and Rhodesia conduct their internal affairs to our liking that we will initiate an economic boycott. 251 Now I realize that's not a popular thing to say, but I do not want the linited States to dictate to Rhodesia or South Africa anymore than I want Russia or china to try to dic­ tate to the United States.

I do not approve of the policies of South Africa or Rhodesia, and I will join you or anyone else in trying to persuade them to do otherwise. But I will not join in try­ ing to bring economic sanction to bear on them. I believe that to be a bit of inter­ national monetary tyranny.9& About the same time another student asked "Where do you stand on the future continuation of black colleges? I would like to know."

Baker replied: ...I believe that black colleges do have a legitimate, functional place in the educa­ tional system of the United States. I per­ haps am best acquainted with Knox College be­ cause I live near there and have many friends there. But from that example and others, I am convinced that there is something to be guarded and cherished in colleges of this sort. By the same token, I feel there must be a complete freedom to choose what type of college best suits the individual student needs.95

After answering several questions in a similar vein, the dis­ cussion period came to an end. Unrequested the students broke into a warm, though not boisterous, round of applause. At the end of his formal address, there had been no spontaneous response at all. A student who was sitting near me said, "If it weren't for busing, he might be cool enough." I asked him for which candidate he intended to vote and he said, "Until now that other guy, but now I'm not sure." Whether "the Senator won votes or not, he at least presented himself in a thoughtful, respons.ive, and always likeable manner, With­ 252 out the question-answer session, an entirely different image would have remained. Another stylistic element in Baker's rhetoric was his repe­ titive use of the same arguments and phraseology. With such a multi­ plicity of speeches in a short period of time, the Senator had to present the same material on numerous occasions. He did develop the tendency periodically to become bland in delivery almost to the point of sounding like a record. In one thirteen minute speech he conten­ ded "Our future is before us and not behind us" four times. While repetition is an acceptable technique in reinforcing the minds of one's followers, overindulgence opens one to charges of monotony and shallowness. Such was not as pronounced to the listener who heard the Senator only once, but it is still a trait that needs reformation.

Delivery. Overall, Baker's delivery might be described as interesting and effective, yet unexciting. One is likely to leave a Baker address convinced of the rhetor's thoughtfulness and moderate refinement. He is unlikely to be persuaded to the point of sublimity to exert all his energies in the speaker's behalf. Baker relies a great deal on content and argument, yet puts little emphasis on emo­ tional appeals. Such appeals are usually the type that propel a lis­ tener to deeper involvement. Perhaps his legal training with its heavy emphasis on fact and law has influenced him greatly. If he were more prone to emotion and illustration, particularly at the end of his speeches, his audience responses would be much improved.

Such reliancc on pathos would be clearly ethical, for he does 253 a sound job of building an effective logical base. Edwin D. Shurter

once wrote, "Men are not moved by mere abstractions regarding an object or an idea; but present to their view either the object itself or a

vivid description of it, or the concrete embodiment of an idea, and

you awaken emotions which are wholly unresponsive to abstract reason-

ing."96 Baker'3 rhetoric would be strengthened by heeding Shurter1s

advice.

Additionally, the Senator's rhetoric would be improved if he gave more attention to projecting his voice more effectively. His

conversational style of delivery is particularly effective in small

groups, but needs to be enlarged as the audience enlarges. A bit more animation and visual exertion would aid him greatly. Baker's regular

slow pace makes his thoughts appear more deliberate, and while his de­

livery never drags, it still needs more variation. The very nature of the content employed by the Senator has a

mediating influence on his basic style. Normally ninety percent or

better of a campaign address is given to an honest statement of policies. Using the outdated informative-persuasive-entertaining speech tricho­

tomy, one would have to say Baker was simply informative. There need­

ed to be more humorous, anecdotal-type material to insure variety in the rhetorical content.

Furthermore, he was guilty of excessive pauses. Sometimes failing to pause where natural commas and other breaks should occur, he would then pause artificially in the midst of a thought train. These inadequacies were the result of an extemporaneous delivery that requires 25^ one to develop and formulate content even as he speaks.

Audience Rapport. In spite of the difficulties cited above, one overriding advantage of extemporaneous speaking served as a re­ deeming factor in Baker's delivery. That was his superb ability to identify—create rapport—with the groups to whom he spoke. Whether it was a roundtable discussion with well educated people or a court house address in a rural community, the Senator convinced his au­ dience he was "one of them;11 He noted the distinguishing character­ istics of the groups he faced; his references to their interests were specific and timely; and his word choice and knowledge of constituent concerns reflected an informed legislator. Basically, Baker is a per­ son-centered politician. When he announced for re-election on May 19, the first words he uttered were, "Over the last six years I have tried to the best of my ability to accurately represent the views of the people of Tennessee. To keep myself informed of your views, there's no substitute for personal contact."97 ' When the opportunities for personal contact did come, as they do during the campaign season, Baker took full advan­ tage of them. His rhetoric exemplified his willingness, as well as his ability, to identify with constitutents.

In his opening remarks to the crowd at Whitewell, Baker used specific terminology to thank the group. He didn't merely say "Thanks for coming today," but his word choice made a listener believe he really appreciated his personal attendance. 255 My thanks especially to this group of young people who have come out today to participate in this occasion, I want to extend my personal appreciation to each of you for coming to par­ ticipate in these festivities. My special thanks to many of you who left your jobs and places of business so we could have an opportunity to visit—to renew old acquaintances, to make new acquaintances, to thank you in advance for your participation in 'this political campaign thus far.98

One of the most difficult rhetorical situations in which Baker found himself occurred at Dickson, Tennessee. Dickson is the home of the late former Governor Frank Clement, the man whom Baker defeated in his first successful Senatorial bid. A large crowd, many of whom had knovm Clement personally, gathered at the railroad station next door to the Clement homestead. Under adverse political circumstances, Baker addressed the crowd in the following manner:

My friends, we stand here in Dickson under the plaque which proclaims the birthplace of Frank Goad Clement. Frank Clement was one of the great men of our times, and I, as a Republican am happy to espouse that position. I knew Frank well and I am happy to be here in his home town in the place of his birth. I first knew Frank when he was General Counsel for the Tennessee Public Service Commission. I was a young law­ yer fresh out of lav? school and we became friends then. We became political adversaries later, but we remained friends throughout. It has al­ ways been a great source of pride to me that we really campaigned hard, but I don't recall one single time in that campaign of 1966 when I ever made a disparaging remark about Frank Clem­ ent nor that ha ever made one about me, and no single time did I ever have to call on him to straighten out a fact or set the record stx*aight. Frank was the worthiest of adversaries. You see that's the tradition of the Democratic Party in Tennessee. That's the tradition of politics in Tennessee, and my friends no matter what else may happen in this state in this ca-apaign 256

that will continue to be a tradition that I will try to follow. Because that's what Tennesseans expect and that is what they want.99 He then proceeded to deliver an address that provided one of the best, crowd responses of the entire campaign. Using sound reasoning, Baker identified with the audience, convincing it of his own respect for their favorite son. He appealed to its sense of pride and fair play, thus negating any ill will the audience might have felt toward him. 3aker's ability to identify vias very significant among several favorable traits.

In summary, then, Sarett, Sarett, and Foster are correct in saying, "Oral style is not something added to a speech, but is an increment; it is not so much an element in itself as the manner in which all elements operate together. It is the integrated expression of a speaker's ideas and feelings through the sounds his words make.

Baker's loose organization and extemporaneous delivery, his southern accent and complicated phraseology, his poor transitions and content repetitions, along with his bubbling optimism and effec­ tive identification, combine to give his rhetoric stylistic distinc­ tiveness. 3rigance is correct—style does betray the man."^

Rhetorical Strengths and Weaknesses

Equally as Important as an explication of Baker's stylistic traits is an analysis of those characteristics that helped or hinder­ ed rhetorical effectiveness. One of the chief purposes of rhetorical criticism is not only to recreate but also to render judgment. Al­ though critical comments, have been offered throughout this chapter, 257 a summation of 3aker's chief strengths and weaknesses is desireable

at this point. While innumerable favorable and unfavorable traits

might be mentioned, both categories offer a fourfold analysis. One of the greatest strengths that the Senator exhibited was

his intimate understanding'of the voters' concerns. Translated to

his rhetoric, Burke would call it oonsubstantiation, Knower would label it audience adaptation, Winans would denote it common ground.

No matter what the label, Baker identifies with the voters. His

"Tennessee twang," his specific references to Tennessee traits, and most of all his philosophical position, put him squarely in the main- stream of the electorate he serves. Even more important, his rhetor­ ic espouses such a position. No opportunity is passed to identify with the Tennessee electorate.

Second, the incumbent realizes that sound rhetoric evolves from a dialectical base. Although the Baker campaign employed image-build­ ing media men and professionally trained rally organizers, the found­ ation of the effort remained philosophical. Granted, there was mani­ pulation of the voters en masse, but a conscious attempt was made to be doctrinally sound, published positions on every imagineable issue placed the Senator within most of the voters' latitude of acceptance.

No matter what the result, the positions remained consistent through­ out the campaign. Retractions and restatements were foreign to the rhetorical effort.

Third, by appealing to the values, attitudes, and ideals held dear, Baker made an audience want to support him rather than feel they 258 had to. Skillful comparisons of the Senator with his opponent clear­ ly indicated his superiority. Tennesseans' sense of fair play, pride in past public servants, and strong sense of unity were all used as mainsprings from which favorable responses were elicited.

Fourth and finally, the senator's rhetoric evidenced sound positions on the three issues considered most important. Revenue sharing, busing, and one's ability to represent the "average Tenness- ean" were mentioned by both men as the most crucial topics of the campaign. On rsverne sharing, Baker presented a progressive rhetoric highly favorable to public officials. His adamant statements against forced busing neutralised Blanton's early charges. The Senator's ability as an incumbent to denote leadership activities enabled him to say, "I represent your basic interests." He was also able to by­ pass the failures of the liixor. administration.

Although the Senator evidenced the above-mentioned strengths, there were some glaring deficiencies in his rhetoric as well. First of all, he relied too much on facts and argument, and not enough on persuasive-oriented appeals. At times the Senator's speeches seemed more like history lectures than efforts to persuade voters. More hum~ orous, anecdotal, analogic, and pathetic-typs material would have sig­ nificantly strengthened his persuasive effectiveness. Second, the Senator's extemporaneous delivery, while aiding him in identification, contributes to a number of stylistic inade­ quacies. Excessive pauses, archaic phraseology, loose organisation, and needless repetition are all directly influenced by his style of delivery. Only a bit more preparation for each speech, or perhaps a 259 notecard with the speech outlined on it, would help eliminate some of these stylistic imperfections.

Extemporaneous delivery is a legitimate rhetorical method in spite of the problems it sometimes causes. Such a method frees a speaker from a printed text, enabling him to gauge feedback and alter his presentation as he speaks. It is not, however, meant to be im­ promptu delivery. Brigance has noted, "A true extemporaneous speech is a speech in which the ideas are firmly fixed in mind, but the exact words are not memorized. A speech haphazardly planned is not 10? an extemporaneous speech, but just a haphazard speech." Third, 3aker's rhetoric is moderate enough to insure election, but too moderate to invoke a great emotional response. The Senator's conversational, at times low-key, style of delivery, couples with his middle-of-the-road stance, insures him a place on the ballots of many voters. It may not, however, insure a lasting place in their hearts.

Baker's rhetoric is neither inflammatory nor exalting. Listeners are seldom if ever "called out of themselves." At no time does the rhe- 103 toric approach what Longinus would call a state of sublimity." V/hile such moderation is admirable in many fields, a politician, especially at the national level, is aided by some traits of flair and flamboy­ ance, Under certain circumstances such characteristics are not essen­ tial, but they can be highly advantageous. Mr. Nixon is a good exam­ ple of the fact they're not essential; Mr. Kennedy was a good example of the fact they can bs helpful. If Baker is to achieve national pro­ minence, he is likely to do so because of legislative support where 260 moderation and deliberation are key virtues. He is not likely to be the object of a groundswell of spontaneous support from the national electorate. Just as Baker's philosophical base might be termed moderate, his rhetorical effectiveness is moderate also. Seldom does he con­ vince the voters that their concerns need immediate forthright atten­ tion. In this way, he is almost too deliberative. Gray and Wise have urged that for an appeal to action to be effective, "The end result IQif must be shown to be worth the effect it takes to achieve it."

The Senator needs to rely on more effective persuasive techniques to convince the voters more strongly of his position. Fourth and finally, the rhetoric of the incumbent is often too broad in scope. Baker needs to deal more with the specific questions of certain issues rather than speaking constantly in generalities.

Everyone knew the Senator was against busing, yet one of his own suggestions for equal education was consolidated schools. For that to take place in rural areas, busing is necessary, usually of blacks. How are the two positions consistent? Many other examples might be cited. Busing is only one. On this and other questions there was a purposeful tendency to develop a rhetoric of broad and sometimes am­ biguous proportions. Other important specific questions were left to one's imagination. As mentioned previously, the Senator does not consider a campaign an adequate forum for such discussions. While such a trait is inherent to most politicians today, it nonetheless indicates a significant weakness in their rhetoric en masse. It is time for voters to demand more responsible statements on the part of 261

their public servants.

The Effect of Baker's Rhetoric

Although it is relatively easy to note strengths and weak­

nesses in Baker's addresses, it is more difficult to judge what the

total effect of that rhetoric was. As Thonssen and Baird have ex­

plained: "Since speaking is a communicative venture, and since a speaker seeks to communicate a particular set of ideas and feelings to a specific audience, it must follow that the rhetorical critic is

concerned with the method enployed by a speaker to achieve the re-•

sponse consistent with his purpose. Baker's rhetorical stra­ tegies, along with his person-centered appeals, have been the main

methods employed to move the voters' will.

These appeals have been transmitted through personal addres-

es, television spots, campaign literature, and word of mouth communi­

cation. It is impossible to say which method played the most decisive

role, for all came together to give the public a total concept of Baker's positions and Baker the man. The main question at this point

is "How effective were those strategies?" Did the rhetorical effort

succeed? For some statement of value to be rendered., some basis for judgment must be stated. Within the context of determining effect

(as explained in chapter one), some criteria must be selected 'oy which effect can be measured. Realizing that political rhetoric seeks

political ends, those responses considered symbolic of political success were noted throughout the campaign. They included statements 262

of personal opinion, overt audience reaction, responses of political

columnists and other informed sources, and most of all, the ballot

box. When'all pertinent information is analyzed, one has to .admit

that Baker's rhetorical campaign was highly successful. Whenever any candidate achieves sixty-two percent of the vote, his persuasive

effectiveness can be termed little else. Baker's success is eviden­

ced not only in his victory, but also in some of the segments of his victory. His overwhelming support among the young and his substan­

tial support among blacks are but two examples. In even closer de­

tail, one has to be impressed that the Senator carried all eight con­ gressional districts in the state. Of particular significance was his win in the fifth district; Kashville-Davidson County and two ad­ jacent counties. In 1966 he received 42.9 percent of the vote there; -jog in 19?2, 55.2 percent.' This thirteen-point increase is perhaps the best, indicator of the Senator's efforts in this heavily Democra­

tic area. To say that the rhetorical campaign was highly successful, though, does not mean all segments of the communicative effort were.

While it is statistically impossible to judge the effect one type of communication rendered when compared with the others, certain sub­ jective features do give some strong clues. The public seems to have responded to the image-oriented rhetorical techniques such as personal style and campaign literature, rather than to the message itself. There are several reasons why image (ethos) superseded the message. 263

First of all, both candidates! messages remained basically the same throughout the campaign. Their individual positions on issues were strikingly similar with differences more a matter of degree than anything else. When such consistency between two can­ didates does occur, it is impossible for message content to be the central focus of a campaign. Rosenthal has accurately judged:

If a voting decision were to pivot on nonper- sonal grounds, there would have to be clearly established policy differences, a cleavage, on the controlling issue, or issues. The failure of the two candidates to present perceptibly distinct and cogent policy alternatives means that the potential voter is afforded no basis for choosing between them on the issue level, no matter how strong his concern for an issue per se. Accordingly, if he is to reach an electoral decision at all, the motivation must shift to the personal level.^7

In the Kixon-McGovern contest, for instance, there were wide dis­ parities between the issue stances of the two men. Accordingly Ri­ chard Scammon said in Newsweek, "This election was decided on ideol­ ogy—people just rejected what George McGovern stands for."^^ In

Tennessee, however, Baker and Blanton were too close for issue con­ cerns to surface. In its editorial endorsement of Baker, the Nash­ ville Tennessean noted that "on some issues there is little differ­ ence to be noted when (legislative) percentages of (legislative) votes are counted." The paper went on to say it endorsed Baker "con­ fident that he (was) simply the best choice among the candidates who seek the office." They said further, "When all the evidence is weighed on the political scales of Tennessee this year, Senator Baker 26 li

is, to put it plainly, a broader, deeper, heavier man than Congress- 109 man Ray Blanton."

Second, the public, along with the politicians, avoids a

detailed discussion of policy as much as possible. Even when citi­

zens do seek information on the issues, they are usually doing so

for the purpose of personal reinforcement. Leon Festinger has said

that most Americans who attend to world affairs . . . "are not seek­

ing new points of view, but, rather, approval for existing attitudes.

They tend to avoid analytical treatments of international issues which

are likely to unearth conclusions different from their own,11 he . , 110 said.

Even further removed from policy considerations are most

Americans who avoid any comples discussion, especially of foreigh

aggairs. James Roseneau in his work Public Opinion and Foreign

Policy illustrates the problem.

Excent for acute peace-or-war crises (and not always then), the mass public is usually un­ moved by the course of world events. Few of its members are likely to have more than headline acquaintance with public disuccion of foreign policy issues or be willing to lis­ ten to more than truncated news broadcasts over radio and television. And even whan contact is made with mox-e substantive programs, the mass public does not listen to the content of discussion but to its tone.-'-H

Such unwillingness to be involved in complex issues was even

more prevalent in 1972 than in other political years, A Newsweek

' Magazine survey "showed remarkably little interest in the presiden- 11 p tial campaign." " Shana Alexander of the same magazine said the 265

country "just wanted to sleep for a while." Her thesis was that the

frantic binge of the 1960's had left the voters in a semi-conscious

state that simply demanded a nap. Riots, assassinations, screaming

sirens, and of course, the war, had left Americans with a longing de- 113 sire for peace and quiet--self-imposed or otherwise, she said.

Even the politicians, other than Kr, KcGovern, seemed con­

tent with the status quo. Such was certainly true in the state of

this study and the voters seemed to like it that way. On one occasion

I asked Senator Baker what he considered, the most important part of

his rhetorical campaign and he said, "Simply that I'm there. He

almost said outright, "the content is not that important anyway, peo­

ple just want to see me ana know I'm interested in them." He was pro­

bably correct.

Third, and finally, the nature of political communication in­

fluences the supremacy of man over message. Campaigns are designed

more to win votes than to gain acceptance of a particular policy.

1'oting this tendency Rosenthal has said that most political speeches share the same direction. "For example, in a campaign for elective

office," he says, "the ostensible purpose of a given speech may be to

gain acceptance of a particular policy, whereas the actual purpose is 115 to gain votes for the candidate." The relationship, then between

speaker and listener is defined by the nature of the conduct the

communicator seeks from him. Political comircunicatore simply want votes.

Lest the picture seem too bleak, one should note that the

message can be dominant; it simply rarely is. Rosenthal says, "Fre­ 266 quently an issue or issue-complex begins to agitate public emotion as the campaign progresses and eventually becomes of such great con­ cern that, given a basic cleavage between the candidates' policies, the issue eclipses the personality as the object of listeners' value responses.11"'''^ If both candidates had taken different positions on busing and/or Vietnam, for instance, policy considerations would like­ ly have predominated. Such was not the case in 1972. The man pre­ dominated and those rhetorical traits emblematic of the man seemed most important. Even the speeches themselves provided great insight to Baker since he speaks "off the cuff," thus framing his own argu­ ments and stylistic delivery, when voters were moved by Baker's addresses, they were more likely to be moved toward the man than any particular policy.

In conclusion, one basic problem needs to be mentioned since many rhetoricians seem oblivious to its existence. Quite simply stated, rhetorical effectiveness and political effectiveness are some­ times diametrically opposed. In this discussion where rhetoric in­ cludes media work, campaign literature, and extraneous sources such as press releases, the problem is not apparent. One of the chief reasons for Baker's political success was the proficiency of his en­ tire rhetorical campaign. Had I focused simply on oral public add­ ress, however, the "effect" result might well have been altered.

A good speech text, for example, exhorts a student to be precise, use specific language, and avoid ambiguity. Clearness and 117 acwracy are praised. Political texts often share the same ad­ monishment. Loeb and Safire contend, "A good political speech is 267

like a good advertisement: simple, direct, to the point.In

actual practice, however, such preciseness may be a hindrance rather

than a help. Particularly in the case of incumbents who usually

possess the upper hand, rhetoric is best directed toward, avoidance

of alienation, or reinforcement of prevailing alliances. If a can­

didate talks around a controversial issue, sometimes using ambiguous

language, it can be to his benefit. Sometimes he can do so without

alienating either group in a controversy, perhaps leaving them with

an image of openness. In this way he remains liked by most. Baker

is only a moderately effective public speaker, but a superbly effec­

tive politician. His total x'hetorical campaign when added to his

public addresses enabled him to be so.

Summary

One of the main search questions posed in chapter one was

"What were the primary rhetorical strategies employed by Baker in

his campaign?" That question has been answered along with addi­

tional concerns relative to those strategies. Hot only have the

Senator's rhetorical strategies been explicated, but his basic types

of appeals, his communicative style and delivery, his rhetorical

strengths and weaknesses, and his general effect on the electorate

have been explored.

Baker's strategies, the philosophical doctrines he consider­

ed acceptable, evidenced themselves through a discussion of pertinent issues. These issues coalesced to form rhetorical strategies summed up in five ways: 1- He identified with moderate Nixonian principles;

2- He accented certain issues to signify his dimensions of personal leadership;

3- He emphasized his representation of basic Tennessee interests;

k- He acknowledged a sense of awareness of problems relevant to specific groups; and,

5- He manufactured and highlighted issues favorable tc his cause. These strategies were made even more acceptable to the groups to whom Baker spoke by combining them with appeals that evoked emo­ tional responses. The Senator appealed to the citizens' sense of pride, sense of togetherness, and sense of inclusiveness. He also cautioned his supporters against overconfidence urging them to work for the future which lay "before them and not behind them." Such appeals created felt needs in his listeners that their fate was in­ tertwined with him. When such an acknowledgement was made, workers labored not only for Baker, but for themselves as well. As these strategies were voiced and these appeals given form,

Baker developed a rhetorical style distinctively his own. He exhib­ ited a loosely organized rhetorical form usually built around two areas: foreign and domestic policy. His speaking voice is distinc­ tively Southern with a strong nasal quality. He almost always spoke extemporaneously sometimes weaving written statements into the content. Other stylistic features included his uneven phraseology, neglect of 269 transitional statements, and useless repetition, r'ore favorable traits included his contagious sense of optimism and his expertise in handling questions. In an attempt to formulate the basic advantages and disad­ vantages of Baker's rhetoric, four general strengths and weaknesses were noted. Among the strengths:

1- He exhibited a superb understanding of the voters' concerns;

2- He built his rhetoric on a dialectical base; 3- He convinced his audience to want to support him by appeal­ ing to their attitudes, values, and ideals; and

He developed his most persuasive rhetoric on the three issues considered most crucial by both candidates.

His greatest weaknesses included the following four traits:

1- He relied too much on historical data and not enough on persuasive-oriented appeals;

2- He exhibited numerous stylistic deficiencies such as ex­ cessive pauses, archaic phraseology, loose organization, and need­ less repetition;

3- He appeared overly moderate and sometimes indecisive, and,

i|- He often developed a rhetoric too broad, in scope. Overall, Baker's rhetorical campaign was highly effective with most voter response to his person-centered appeals. Those rhe­ torical forms accenting the man were the most beneficial to the incum­ bent's campaign. The message could have been predominant, but it was not. The voters voted for the man. His person-centered communication is the subject of the next chapter. 270 Notes for Chapter Four

"'"See pages 8-11.

2Bx-ockriede, "Dimensions of the Concept of Rhetoric," p. 5. ^Wallace, "The Substance of Rhetoric: Good Reasons," pp. 239-^2.

^Baker, "tiashville Roundtable," p. 7.

•^Freeley, "Ethos, Eisenhower, and the 1956 Campaign," p. 25.

^Herzberg, p. 30. "^Rosenthal, p. 120. Q Sherif, Sherif, and Kebergall explained in James C. McCroskey, Carl E. Larson, and Mark L. Knapp, An Introduction to Interpersonal Communication (Englewood Cliffs, Hew Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1971), P. 70. ^Baker, "Announcement for Re-election," p. 1. "^Chris French, "Baker First GOP Senator to Seek Re-election," Dyersbur;-'. State Gazette, June 8, 1972, p. 2.

"'""''Baker, "Nashville Roundtable," p.

^"^Baker, "Lane College Address," p. 7>

11-13aker, "Bryan College Address," p. 15. Ik Stewart Alsop, "The Devil and George HcGovern," Newsweek, November 6, 1972, p. iyj. "lloward H. Baker, Jr., "Address on Foreign Relations," Greene.- ville, Tennessee, October 23, 1972, p. 1, hereafter referred to as "Foreign .Affairs Address."

loIbid., 2.

17Ibid., 5. 13 Howard H. Baker and Ray Blanton, "Baker, Blanton Respond to Key Campaign Issues," Nashville Banner. October 2o, 1972, p. 16, 271 20 See Chapter two, pp. 113-1^. 21 George Embrey, "Different South Emerges at Governors' Con­ ference," Columbus Dispatch, September 10, 1972, p. 23A. ??""Scaimnon and '.vattenberg, p. 180.

^U." S. lievis and World Report, September 11, 1972, p. 58. pLf. Frank Van Der Linden, "Senator Baker Condemns Bus Order," Kashville Banner, August 17, 1972, p. 6. 25 .'/illiam Bennett, "Busihg Order Hampers Baker," Memphis Commercial Ar>psal, September 9, 1972, p. 17.

^Baker, "Lane College Address," p. 11. 27'Howard Baker Campaign Staff Press Release, October 3, 1972, p. 1.

'PS Frank Van Der Linden, "Antibusing Forces See Filibuster End Chance,11 Nashville Banner, October 11, 1972, p. 23. pg 3ill Casteel, "Baker Supports Amnesty Board," Chattanooga Times, October 26, 1972, p. 20. -^Baker, "Announcement for Re-election," p. 3»

-^"1'ress Conference, "Senator Baker and Mayor Briley on Revenue Sharing," liashvillc, Tennessee, September 20, 1972, p. 1.

32Ibid., 2.

33Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Tennessee Co-op Address," Nashville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972, p. 10. 3 Ij.Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Jasper Address," Jasper, Tennessee, October 2, 1972, p. 6.

35Saferxn, p. 7. 36 3aker, "Announcement for Reflection," p. 3*

-^Saferin, p. 7.

•^I'oid., 8. ^39 Baker quoted in Lee Stilv,-ell, "Baker Has Learned and Grown," Knoxvllle 1-Icws-Scntinel, March 11, 1972, p. 8. 272

^Howard Baker Campaign Release, October 26, 1972, p. 1. in Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Lawrence County High School Dedicatory Address," Lawrer.ceburg, Tennessee, September 19, 1972, p. 4. ho Baker, "Announcement for Re-election,11 p. 2.

^Albert J. Sindlinger, "The Big Campaign Issues," U. S. News and Woi'ld Report, September 4, 1972, pp. 24-26; other important na­ tional issues were Vietnam (second), Drugs (third), crime (fourth), and busing (sixth).

44Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address on Federal Tax System," Nash­ ville, Tennessee, October 13, 1972, pp. 1, 2. 4? Howard K. Baker, Jr., "Address on the National Economy," Nashville, Tennessee, September 12, 1972, p. 4. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address at Waverly, Tennessee," No­ vember 2, 1972, p. 2. 47 Baker, "Announcement for Re-election," p. 3- 4° ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Tennessee's Economic Outlook," Nash­ ville, Tennessee, October 26, 1972, p. 4. ^Bradley, "Baker for Re-election," p. 12.

^Sindlinger, p. 24. ^Hovjard H. Baker, Jr., "Nashville Jaycees Address," October 17, 1972, p. 12. j2Ibid.

53Ibid., 13.

J54 Hanna, p. 8.

55Ibid. -^Ibid.

57lbid. C-O Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Baker for Re-election Rally Address," 'Knoxville, Tennessee, July 27, 1972, p. 3»

59Jin Squires, "McGovern an Issue for Baker, Blanton,11 Nash­ ville Tennsssj.in. July 22, 1972, p. 15. 273 ^Johnny Jones, "Senator Baker, Blanton to Facts Off," Kash- villo Banner, August 4, 1972, p. 1.

6lIbid. ^^Baker, "Fifth District Address," p. 9. ^flan H. Monroe, Principles of Speech, fourth edition (Chicago: Scott, Foresman, and Company, 1957)» p. 1$6. 6kDonald C. Bryant and Karl R. Wallace, Oral Communication (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., 1952), p. 215. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Maury County Headquarters Remarks," Columbia, Tennessee, September 19, 1972, p. 1.

^Baker, "Lawrence County Address,11 p. 8.

^Bill Casteel, "Baker Blasts Foe's 'Type' of Campaigning," Chattanooga Times, November 1, 1972, p. 1.

68Baker, "Address on National Economy," p. 0.

^Baker, "Fifth District Address," pp. 7-3. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Tullahoma Address," Tullahoma, Tennes­ see, November 1, 1.972, p. 2. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Whitwell Address," Whitwell, Tennessee, October 2, 1972, p. k. "toward H. Baker, Jr., "Huntingdon Address," Huntingdon, •Tennessee, November 2, 1972, p. J, ^Daughtrey, "3aker Winner," p. 10.

^^3aker, "Maury County Headquarters Remarks," p. 2.

75Baker, "Fifth District Address," p. 5« ^Weaver, p. 212.

77Baker, "Lawrence County Address," p. 8.

7q A. Craig Baird and Franklin H. Xnower, Sssantials of General Speech (Ken York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1968), p. 1'+.

79Ibid., 15. Q/\ Baker, "3ryan College Address,11 p. 2. 27^

®"4loward H. 3aker, Jr., "Address to the Student Body of Meigs County High School," Decatur, Tennessee, October 3> 1972, p. 3. here­ after referred to as Meigs County Address. Oa 'Plato, Phaedrus in Benson and Prosser, p. 28.

^Bai'rd and Knower, pp. 1^-7-8. 8^ Baker, "Jaycees Address," p. !J-. ®^3aker, "Lawrence County Address," p. 1.

Bryant and Wallace, p. 2'+3. 87Baiter, "Lawrence County Address," p. 3» OO Baker, "Huntingdon Address," p. 3»

^See Baker, "Tullahoina Address," ^ pages. qO Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Murfreesboro Address," Kurfreesboro, Tennessee, November 1, 1972, p. 3» ^Cicero, De Oratore in Benson and Prosser, p. 173«

^toward H. Baker, Jr., "Kashville Train Address," Nashville, Tennessee, Hovember 1, 1972, p. 2. ^-%ee Baker's reply on the busing issue pp. 221-22.

^Baker, "Lane College Address," p. 17.

95Ibid.

9°i)dwin D. Shurter, The Rhetoric of Oratory (ftew York: The Macmillan Company, 1923), p. llo. 97Baker, "Announcement for Re-election," p. 1. 03 / Baker, "Whitwell Address," p. 1. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Address at Dixon," Dixon, Tennessee, November 2, 1972, p. 2. "^Alma Johnson Sarett, Lew Sarett, and William Foster, Basic •Principles of Spo^-ch (3oston: Houghton-Mifflin, Co., i960), p. W-7> Srigance, p. 61.

102Ibid. 275

"^^Longinus, On the Sublime in Benson and Prosser, p. 266. "^^Giles W. Gray and Claude M. Wise, The Bases of Speech (New York: Harper and Bros., 19'^)i p. 3p6. "^Thonssen and Baird, p. 9.

•j A/ °Election results, November 15 release, p. 2.

"'"^'Rosenthal, p. 122. 103 Richard Scainmon quoted in "Nixon's Great Triumph," Newsweek. November 13, 1972, p. 29. "^'Siegenthaler, p. 4-3.

"^Festinger, pp. 1^5-51*

11*1' James Roseneau, Public Opinion and Foreign Policy (New York: Random House, 1961), p. 2,6.

*1 1 O "Nixon's Great Triumph," Newsweek, (November 13, 1972), p. Jl. ^Shana Alexander, "The Big Sleep," ilewsweek, October 16, 1972, p. 4-1. 114East Tennessee interview, p. 1.

^•-'Rosenthal, p. 120.

ll6Ibid., 123. 117' Baird, Knowar, and 3ecker, pp. l49-65» •j 1 p Marshall Loe'o and William 3afire, Plun.^in,q Into Politics (Hew York: David HcKay Company, 1964), p. 125. CHAPTER V

• P3R50N-CENTERED COivIUNICATIOI!

Several circumstances combined to make the man the inost im­ portant element of the Baker-Blanton contest. In this chapter the reasons why ethos became the predominant response foci will be out­ lined. Second, credibility will be shown to be the most important factor in Baker's ethos. Third, the additional elements of the

Senator's ethos will be explained, and finally the means by which this ethos was projected will be defined. All in all, the role of person-centered communication will be explicated as the dominant factor in the Senatorial election. For several years now the role of the candidate has increased in importance in political situations. The functioning role of poli­ tical parties has diminished; the emphasis of the mass media is on the personal aspects of a man. Every candidate is so heavily program­ med by the packagers he employs that personal traits have taken on en­ larged significance. Additionally, the pressures and circumstances a candidate faces soon after election quite often alter many of his cam­ paign beliefs anyway. Realizing that conditions and policies can change, voters seek men they can trust under any circumstances. Some of the most successful politicians of our day have owed their success to the trust the voters placed in them. Austin J. Freeley said of

276 277 Dwight D. Eisenhower, for instance, after his 1956 re-election, "The commanding fact in the success of the Eisenhower campaign was his tremendously high ethos in the eyes of the electorate."^

Why Ethos Is Important

In chapter one ethos was defined as the embodiment of person- centered communication. 2 Rosenthal suggests, and this writer concurs, that ethos can refer to a communication in which "(1) the persuasive effect is dominated by value response activated by the personality of the speaker as opposed to the content of the message, and (2) the per­ ception of the personality is derived from and conveyed by the whole rhetoric . . . ." This is not to suggest that the image, or person- centered communication, is the sole object of listener response, but simply that it is the primary value that activated voter reaction.

Several reasons illustrate why ethos plays a major role in the Baker-Blanton contest, and in most other elections for that matter. The most important fact making person-centered communication dominant is that the electorate is increasingly voting for the man.

Split tickets, voting for men of two different parties, have become the rule rather than the exception. In 1970 voters elected a Governor of one party and a legislature of another in twenty-two states of this lL nation. In 1972 Richard Nixon received over sixty percent of

America's votes, yet failed to win majorities for his party in either house of Congress.'' George Gallup recently asked voters on what basi3 they made their electoral decisions and eighty-four percent said

"the man," only twelve percent "the party, " with four percent unde­ 278 cided.^ Clearly personal aspects are crucial in the minds of most electors.

Furthermore, the candidates themselves emphasize person against person. Vice President Agnew said in 1970 that political campaigns are, by their very nature, situations where personalities are brought into conflict with one another. In 1972 Senator Baker emphasized the important role of a person-centered choice. He told the campaign rally at Dickson, "My opponent can speak all he wants to about being a west Tennessean or a member of the Democratic Party, Q but I am running on the basis of what I can do . . . ." On the day before he had told voters at Wartrace, "Neither the Democratic nor

Republican party can elect a candidate by themselves today. They're both minority parties. A candidate must be elected on his own merits Q and not on the basis of his history or pedigree."

Even "message disseminators" such as television commentators and newspaper analysts are more likely to place emphasis on personal traits than on the messages of two men. When the Memphis Commercial

Appeal, for instance, conducted its traditional pre-election inter­ view with major candidates, the first question its editor asked was "Why you, why vote for you as opposed to your opponent?""^ Both men then proceeded to denote personal characteristics that would place them in a favorable light with voter perceptions. Hoviand, Janis, and Kelley have concluded that listener reactions to a communicator are significantly affected by cues as to the communicator's inten­ tions, expertness, and trustworthiness.Such cues were those 279 Baker and Blanton emphasized so as to elicit a favorable voter re­ sponse. Perhaps Larry Daughtrey of the Nashville Tennessean best summed up the campaign when he said, "Without burning issues, the 12 race has become a contest of personalities and personal contact." The recent emphasis on ethos, however, simply highlights a truism many scholars have noted for centuries. Aristotle said some

2*100 years ago., "We might almost affirm that the speaker's ethos is 13 the most potent of all the means of persuasion." J While Aristotle limited ethos to that developed during the course of a speech, his concept is still important today. Even previous to Aristotle, rhetoricians had noted the im­ portant role a man's character played in convincing an audience.

Isocrates wrote in his Antidosis; . . . the man who wishes to persuade people will not be negligent as to the matter of character . . .for who does not know that words carry greater conviction when spoken by men of good repute than when spoken by men who live under' a cloud, and that the argument which is made by a man's life is of more weight than that which is furnished by words. Therefore, the stronger a man's desire to persuade his hearers, the more zealously will he strive to be honourable and to have the esteem of his fellow-citi­ zens.^

In the twentieth century, almost every speech textbook em­ phasizes the role of a speaker's character, intelligence, and good will, Baird and Knower, for instance, instruct their readers, "Al­ though effective speech is a composite of many skills, there are fevr, if any, of these attributes which are more important in the final effect than the kind of man we find the speaker to be. 280 With both historical precedent and contemporary instruction

combining with the normal inclinations of modernday voters, it is

little wonder, then, that the candidates emphasize the person over the message. This in no way means that the message is unimportant,

but simply that it is less, important in providing a basis on which

votes are cast. Indeed, one of the chief reasons for so much empha­ sis on "person" is that the message is more readily accepted when

delivered by a highly credible source. In many cases, for a man's

political ideas to be accepted, he, himself, must first be accepted. Carl Hovland has noted, "The effectiveness of a communication is

commonly assumed to depend to a considerable extent upon who deliv­

ers it.""^ Communication experts Anderson and Clevenger concluded from their ethos-related research "The finding is almost universal that the ethos of the source is related in some way to the impact of the message. This generalization applies not only to political, social, religious, and economic issues, but also to matters of aes- thetic judgment and personal taste." 17'

In the Baker-Blanton contest, the two men's messages were not widely divergent, yet each man still wanted his message emphasis to be accepted. Both men unquestionably realized the truth of Scammon's assertion that "when both candidates are fairly centrist, personal characteristics predominate." 18 In order for Baker's message to be accepted, he had to persuade the voters to accept him.

When all political factors come together to create an image of a particular candidate, Rosenthal says ethos becomes a specific type of persuasion in toto. It is not simply a basic element of the 281 persuasive process, but is "an end product of the combined logical and emotional responses." He says further, "The human factor in oral communication is an empirical reality. In varying degrees, it per­ meates every kind of speaking situation and is especially signifi­ cant in persuasive communications, where one human being deliberately seeks to influence the conduct of others." 19 In other words, the man—the candidate—is. himself a rhetor­ ical strategy. He is the embodiment of a particular philosophical stance. He is much larger than specific issues. His success lies in his ability to best identify in a broad or general way with a majority of the state's voters.

When Tennesseans elected Baker, they elected an image. They selected the person whom they felt would best serve their interests.

The personal traits and capabilities exhibited by the two men created a concept in the mind of each voter that enabled them to make a choice.

Ethos, or person-centered communication, is important for several reasons. It is important because electors are increasingly voting for the man. It is important because politicians themselves, along with other message disseminators, are focusing on the projection of personal traits. It is important because communications scholars, both ancient and contemporary, have demonstrated its influence on message acceptance.

There is one caution, however, that must be remembered when men discuss the role of ethos. That is that one is talking about an image that may or may not equal reality. Television saturation and 282

campaign literature often project an image disproportionate to a man's

actual talents. When a voter reacted to Baker he wasNactually reacting

to an image of Baker. He was led by his perception of the Senator.

Certainly, fewer than one percent of the state's residents actually

knew either candidate personally.

Kenneth Boulding has said, "Man's behavior is governed by his

image of the world around him," One's image of the world serves as a

filter through which certain stimuli pass. He xrould say that such an

image is the result of all the past experience of the possessor of the 20 image.

When a man went into the voting booth on November 7. he was

guided by all his past experience relating to Baker and Blanton. His decision was unquestionably influenced by how his image of the two had filtered their messages throughout the campaign.

In such political situations, reality is not that important.

The most important concept is what image a man might project. Evi­ dently, Baker projected himself in a favorable way. His election can be directly traced to the voters' response to him as a person. Baker was a rhetorical strategy.

Credibility as an bc.hos Factor

It is not enough to assert, however, that Baker's ethos played a dominant role without a close inspection of the elements comprising it. 'What characteristics did the Senator exhibit that were perceived as favorable by his supporters? While a number of image-related traits will be mentioned, one characteristic was so dominant it deserves a 283 lengthy analysis. More than any other factor, credibility was men­ tioned by the voters as the controlling element in their decision to

support Baker. Whether it was called trustworthiness, honesty, char­

acter, or belief, Tennesseans simply felt the Senator was worthy of their trust. An unknown farmer told me in Jasper, Tennessee, "He is

someone I honestly feel has the peoples' interest at heart." Such

responses were not unusual. The main difficulty in discussing credibility is that the term

means different things to different people. One man's conception of responsible action may be another's epitome of gross neglect. This is particularly true in political circles. Senator Baker, for instance,

sometimes noted he had supported every civil rights package before the

Senate, except the one involved with busing. Some black leaders then

accused him of insincerity on other matters because of his busing vote.

Some white leaders, on the other hand, called him two faced because of

his support of issues such as open housing. While credibility can be given different interpretations, one

of the most useful is that developed at the Foundation for Research

on Human Behavior at Ann Arbor, Michigan. Raymond E. Bauer writing in Donald Payne's The Obstinate Audience defines the concept in the following way: "Credibility, it turns out, is a kind of composite generalization resulting from the combined effects of trustworthi­ ness, and competence, and likeability, and perhaps several other fac- tors as well." 21 Even a definition from applied research, then, illustrates the ambiguous nature of the credibility concept. 23^

In politics, however, credibility, while ambiguous, is of utmost importance. Senator McGovern said that one of the main things he learned in his primary campaign was that "Americans distrust their political leaders and are disillusioned with government in general." 22

He cited the pressing need for politicians to give greater heed to the degree of trust or mistrust with which the voters identified them. He said, "Truth (must be) a habit of integrity, and not a strategy of politics." 23 While McGovern may be right, the appearance of truth is a strategy of politics. Voters generally, as he noted, are so dis­ illusioned with the integrity of their elected officials, that they seem to cling more tenaciously to a man in whom they can believe. Such a tendency significantly aided Baker in his re-election bid. Several factors combined to cement his image as representative of high cre­ dibility. One of the chief features of his personality is his honest openness. Baker is not afraid to say "I don't know." While it has been previously suggested that such openness can lead to an aura of instability, large numbers of voters were seemingly impressed when he would say, "I'm just not sure about that." One of the most interest­ ing responses of the entire campaign was provided by John Clay, Chairman of the Board of Third National Bank. Clay was a member of the group to whom Baker delivered a few -remarks at a Nashville roundtable discussion. During the course of his address, the Senator told the group of businessmen and educators, "I'm just not sure exactly what oh future course American foreign policy will take." At the conclusion 285 of the speech, Clay pounded the table and said, "I think it's re­ freshing when you have a man in his position who says he doesn't 25 quite know the answer to something yet. Isn't that great?" The assembled group seemingly agreed. Perhaps, voters are seeking a can­ didate who is a bit indecisive in a day when they are so suspect to simple solutions for difficult problems. Another element of Baker's character that seemed to impress many observers was his willingness to stand by political friends, even when their companionship was detrimental. The best such illu­ stration of this trait was the Senator's refusal to publicly denounce

Judge Morton, a man Baker had earlier recommended. Morton's busing decision was clearly disadvantageous to Baker's re-election campaign. Although considerable pressure was placed on him to disassociate him­ self from the Judge, Baker refused to do so. He told a group of interested supporters on September 20: I appointed a man, or recommended a man, that I thought at the time was the most conservative capable man around. I literally thought that he might be so conservative that I might not get him confirmed. He was that conservative. But he is also a man of honor. He reads the decisions of the Supreme Court and intex^prets his own acts in the light of the decisions they have sent down, and his decisions influ­ ence all of us. And believe me none more than me. But the abuse is such that we need to do some­ thing about the imbalance in the courts because we've got to get away from th^t compulsion where good men make bad decisions.20

Even in a private conference, then, where newsmen were not present to record his response, Baker refused to denounce a former 286 ally. On the surface, it would have been in his best interests to do so. Both Nashville newspapers, on other occasions, however, did note Baker's refusal to publicly degrade Morton. The Tennessean praised Baker for his upright character, saying, "One important fac­ tor that commends him is his conduct in the current campaign .....

His opponent's attacks on the judiciary at times have been emotional ." 27

Hugh Blair had said two centuries earlier in his Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lett-res, "'What stands highest in the order of means is personal character and disposition. In order to be a truly eloquent or persuasive speaker, nothing is more necessary than to be 28 a virtuous man." Obviously the Senator had convinced some prominent message disseminators that he was a man of such character.

The conditions under which Baker campaigned additionally highlighted his apparent trustworthiness. Blanton made credibility one of the chief issues of the campaign. He said, "I've never been on both sides of all issues as my opponent has." 297 Baker ignored the charges through most of the campaign except to assert, "I had hoped we would avoid innuendo and debate the issues during the election."-^

Toward the end of the race, however, the Senator spoke direct­ ly to the charges. Following Blanton's assertion that he tried to

"buy votes in Memphis," Baker loudly denounced his opponent saying

"Tennessee Democrats deserve better than that." 31 About the same time, several prestigious columnists attacked

Blanton for his lack of credibility. Ellis Binkley of the Jackson Sun accused the Congressman of "gross misrepresentation" that is making "credibility gaps increasingly visible in his campaign." He said, 207 "I don't know whether it is faulty researching by members of his staff or just plain ignorance, but Blanton has been making charges against

Baker that just don't stand up."-^ He then noted Blanton allegations about Baker's "unrepresentative" voting record, mean3 of campaign fi­ nancing, and "sham" of revenue sharing.

By the time election day arrived, Baker benefitted not only from his own high esteem, but also from the comparative exposure given him and his opponent. Blanton's mistakes, particularly with the bribery charge, made Baker appear even more credible. This is not to suggest that the incumbent was above reproach, nor is it to say that Baker's character is superior to Blanton's. It is simply to illustrate that the public perceived the Senator's cre­ dibility to be far superior to his opponent's.

Such is in spite of the fact that Baker himself had serious shortcomings. He hedged his position for instance when he told a

Chattanooga audience, "I've never voted for the busing of school children.Likewise, Blanton is correct in asserting the Senator's inconsistency on the matter. The important fact, though, is that Baker was perceived as being trustworthy. His image was such that voters believed him to be a man of uncommon character. Such an image guided many of his con­ stituents as they entered the voting booths on November seventh.

Additional Elements of Baker's Ethos

There are several additional elements that likewise played an important role in the development of Baker's ethos. The favorable 288 image the Senator projected can be traced to much more than his cre­ dibility. Along with indications of credibility and trustworthiness, there are some reasons why the voters simply liked the Senator. Many voters, particularly the ladies, simply like the way ho looked. He exuded a young'image of contemporary action. With his heavily polished loafers and collegiate style suits, the Senator appear­ ed to be thirty-six rather than forty-six. He is an immaculate dresser and seems to be aware of every stylistic detail. On one occasion I saw him change ties three times in as many hours as he spoke to different types of audiences. At Bryan College he wore a wide striped tie popular on college campuses. One hour later he appeared in a bright paisley tie at Meigs County High School. Later in the day he wore a solid navy blue neckpiece to a Party fundraising rally. The Senator is obviously cognizant of the importance of personal appearance. He sports perfectly manicured hair of moderate length brushed across his forehead in a Kennedy-type style. His appearance on television is even more impressive. Only five feet seven inches tall, the Senator is sometimes dwarfed in the presence of his aides or in the middle of a crowd. A camera can focus on a speaker, however, eliminating background elements that put a per­ son into proportion with others. Camera angles can make a man appear much larger than he really is. In navy blue business suits amid the structural background of the Capitol or Senate office building, he portrays a highly favorable TV image. Another element important in the development of the Baker ethos was his family and family ties. On several occasions the Senator men­ 289 tioned his family's political history to groups who might be impressed.

Addressing the Tennessee Rural Co-op convention, he alluded to his father, a seven-term Congressman.

Some of you know, and most of you may have heard that I was born and reared in a small mountain community in Scott County, Tennessee called Hunts- ville .... As some of you also may know, my father was instrumental in founding an electric cooperative in the thirties—Plateau Electric Cooperative—which is now a highly successful electric distribution system over Scott and Morgan Counties of Tennessee. Additionally, after I graduated from law school in 192*9, one of the first assignments my father gave me as his new young law partner was to try to do something about that abomination we called telephone service.3^ What Baker was actually saying was "I'm one of you, both I and my father before me have been involved in problems like yours, and there­ fore I understand your needs." On other occasions he mentioned things his father had told him with which he expected an audience to agree. He told a campaign rally at Murfreesboro, "This train symbolizes something my father taught me once many years ago in politics. He pointed out that during cam­ paigning there are Republicans and Democrats, but after the elections there are only constituents, and you must serve them all. And serve •5 c them all I have tried to do."

Along with frequent references to his family's political his­ tory, Baker encourages his immediate family to campaign with him on occasion. Although he conducted the major portion of the effort him­ self, the Senator's family did join him on the train trip across the 290 state. At every stop he would introduce each of them in a manner

meant to 3ay, "We're all neighbors working together.11 His wife, Joy,

his daughter, Cynthia, and his sister Beverly were introduced to crowds

at eveiy stop. Baker's son, Darek, a student at the University of Tennessee, accompanied the group in the eastern part of the state.

Each of the family members contributed significantly to the effort. They moved about the train greeting reporters, staff members, and other well-wishers. Their most important contribution, however,

was simply that they were there. Voters at each stop were given the impression that Baker is a devoted family man whose relatives support him in every way. With two teenaged children happily behind their father, audiences were able to see a family united, much like those in the crowd hoped their own might be. Polsky and Wildavsky contend in their work on political campaigns that one's family relationship is important to many voters. They say, "A candidate is helped by being thought of as trustworthy, reliable, mature, kind but firm, a devoted family man and in every way presentable."-^ Baker portrayed such characteristics and the audience adopted his image.

Along with his personal good looks and obvious family support, some characteristic leadership traits also, enhanced Baker's ethos.

The Senator pictured himself at eveiy opportunity as a competent, con­ sistent, and practical public servant. At such times he exhibited the "I-am-the-Senator" image explained in chapter two.^ William S. White of the New York Times has suggested certain prerequisites for a presi­ dential candidate. Austin J. Freeley contends that White's require- 291

raents are merely a paraphrase of the classical concept of ethos. Re­

gardless of which category in which one might insert them, White's initial requirement is essential for this study. He says, "A candi­

date must, first of all, give off consistently the subtle emanations

of leadership; men and women must be convinced not only that he wish­ es them well, but that he is capable of guarding and promoting their

general welfare and designs.When38 Baker noted his role in revenue

sharing and the nuclear breeder reactor project, for instance, he was emitting such leadership-oriented stimuli. Likewise when he refused

to castigate either Judge Morton or Governor Wallace, he was project­

ing an image of thoughtful, no-nonsense leadership. As will be men­ tioned later, almost all campaign literature focused on Baker as a

competent Senatorial leader.

One additional element, somewhat related to leadership, sti­ mulated favorable responses among many voters. Baiter protrayed him­

self as one who understands; one who listens. F. Marlin Connelly in

his work on the Vietnam rhetoric of Lyndon Johnson lists three cate­ gories of leadership types. Connelly describes candidates as active leaders, understanding leaders, and selfless leaders. An active leader is an emphatic-type person. His rhetoric evidences such phrases as "I propose," "I intend," "I will shortly do." An under­ standing leader is one that appeals to social considerations; he ex­ presses an understanding of a society's desire for a better life. At the same time he acknowledges the right of others to disagree with his way. A selfless leader consciously contends he puts others' interest at heart, relegating his desires to the background. Admittedly, 292 every public official, evidences each type of leadership on occasion, yet all may generally be cast into some basic category. Using

Connelly's trichotomy, one would have to call Baker "an understand­

ing leader." He gives his viewers the impression that he is sincere­ ly interested in their welfare.

One of the most accurate portrayals of any political candi­

date was captured by the Baker staff in their billboard and litera­ ture heads. The picture of Baker with a phone to his ear is an

expressive characterization of the Senator aa a person. He does lis­

ten. Amid the bombast of shallow political, oi-atory, it is refreshing to many to meet a man who both listened and was listened to. Baker

lowers his voice to listen and others seem to reciprocate.

Credibility, then, was not the only factor making up Baker's

ethos. While it was the primary element, the Senator's appearance,

family ties, leadership traits, and willingness to listen merged to form a public image. Such an image enabled Baker to Identify with the voters by expressing favorable characteristics, while at the

same time showing them a better image of themselves.

The Projection of Baker's Image

It is not enough for a man to exhibit such favorable traits in private, for four million people had to be aware of his "char­

acter® " As previously shown, the most important element is not what

type of person a man actually is, but what the voters perceive him

to be. Jack Anderson, for example, said of Nixon and McGovern, "I have known both men since they were obscure congressman from the 293 hustings, neither of them is what he appears to the public to be.

He then proceeded to suggest both had favorable personal traits unknown

to the public. In a reciprocal manner, unfavorable personal traits are us­

ually minimized or totally hidden by political candidates. The pri­

mary task of a campaign is convincing the voters that your candidate is the more noble, more intelligent, more honest, and generally better

man than his opponent/s. Aristotle said centuries ago, "... a

speaker must present himself as a friend to what his audience con­ siders good, an enemy to what they consider evil. He must present

himself as one who has done some good service to them or to their friends."^ When one speaks of image projection, he is mentioning a com­

plex task. With people from all segments of society at every edu­

cational level with varying degrees of political interest, a myriad of projection techniques must be employed. Such was the case in the

Baker campaign.

One of the effective means of building the ethos of any speak­ er is through timely and laudatory Introductions. The mariner in which a man is presented to an audience can have a valuable impact on the group's reception of him. Hovland, Janis, and Kelley have demonstrated that listeners reaot more favorably to a speaker's message when he is IlO presented as a man of knowledge and good will.

Whenever the campaign staff members could select who was to introduce the Senator they always chose a person held in high esteem 29** by his/her peers. Also, to enable Baker to identify more accurately

with his audience, some member of the group to whom Baker spoke was

always on stage with him. This was regardless of whether he phrased the introduction or not.

Although Baker's introductions were delivered by numerous

people from all walks of life, they had a remarkable similarity.

Three ethos-building traits were mentioned in almost every description of the Senator. Such introductions were never written by the Baiter

staff, so their similarity is even more remarkable.

Without exception, a person who introduced the Senator would allude to his role as "forger of the New Republicanism in Tennessee."

Mrs. Barbara Friend, wife of Tennessee's Commissioner of Public Wel­

fare, told the Fifth District GOP Women's Club, "Senator Baker was the

first Republican Senator to ever be elected by popular vote from

Tennessee. And yet, in his service to the state he has distinguished ij,3 himself by his performance rather than his partisanship." y

Lamar Alexander, a Nashville attorney and former White House aide, introduced Baker to the Nashville Jaycees:

I have been instructed carefully that since this 13 not a partisan givup, I should not be very partisan in iny introduction. But, I would say one thing, and that is that in 1966, I think it's non-partisan to say, this state got a two-party system statewode for the first time. Whether you are a Democrat or Repub­ lican, that is important to each of us. It was particularly important to young people at that tine because it brought a lot of new peo­ ple into politics. That developed partly be­ cause of circumstances and partly because of the election of our speaker. A lot of us got a better chance to participate in politics, in government, and public service, and I am grate­ ful to our speaker for that,^" 295 A second trait usually mentioned was Baker's interest in constituent service. Small town mayors, encouraged by tens of thou­ sands of revenue sharing dollars, lauded the Senator for his consti­ tuent service. The Mayor of Jasper, Tennessee, told his fellow citi­ zens on the court house lawn, "Mr. Baker has always been willing to listen and help us in the financing of any local project. Senator, 4,5 we appreciate your interest in our people and in towns of this size,"

Cecil Bryant, Mayor of Milan, told the residents of his city, "We're happy to welcome the Senator and his campaign to Milan today ....

His office has helped us in times past to get Federal assistance for 46 things we all needed." A third important concept mentioned by almost every speaker was Baker's characteristics as a person. He was pictured as genuine, honest, and real, as opposed to many politicians. Quite often his interest in tennis or photography was mentioned to give him a genuine or down-to-earth side. Mrs Friend, for instance, told her listeners: Senator Baker's outside interests are varied. He is an expert photographer, he develops his own professional quality prints in his own home darkroom, and exhibits of these pictures have been seen by thousands over the country. He is a licensed pilot and is one of the top tennis players on Capitol Hill.^7 Usually before Baker said a word, then, an extrinsic ethos had been developed. He was made to appear as a political pioneer with genuine human qualities that led to an interest in constituent service. Such an image made the Senator's role as a speaker a great deal easier.

A second way Baker enhanced his ethos was through additional personal references he made personally. His intrinsic ethos was de- 296 veloped around statements like "I'm running on the basis of what I

can do."48 Baker emphasized his senatorial role in the naming of his

most successful projects. He exclaimed to the crowd at the train sta­ tion in Nashville:

It is a great thing (to be a candidate again) because now after six years I have seen first hand what can be done—what can be done in the matter of enacting legislation in your name- to redeem the promises I made to the people of Tennessee six years ago. The enaation of revenue sharing, the tying of Social Security benefits to the cost of living, and a hundred other things have convinced me of the value of our work together.^9 An incumbent's ability to make such statements is one of the greatest political benefits of previous public service. A man does not have

to be a naysayer or condemner, for he can congratulate himself and an audience on their work together. The entire Baker media effort was a third way the incumbent enhanced his ethos. A thorough description of both the media work and campaign literature was offered in chapter three.^ Suffice it to say, by way of reiteration that such material was image-oriented toward "I am the Senator." Anderson and devenger. have shown that

"printed and oral propaganda can succeed in creating and altering images of groups and individuals."^61

A final, and perhaps most important manner by which the Senator's image was illuminated was through person-to-person dissem­ ination. Baker never experienced his low moments in front of crowds.

His optimism, coupled with the color of his campaign, left a favor­ able impression on most of his hearers. Phrases like "Isn't it a 297 great day," "It's wonderful to be here," and "Look what we've done

together," are emblematic of his general tone. The Baker candidacy

was contagious. The Senator knew he was winning and so did everyone else. The total impact of the Baker rhetoric led many of his follow­

ers to discuss his candidacy with others. Such person-to-person con­

tact is probably the most valuable form of political advertising. ELihu Katz in his famous research on two-step message flow suggests

most people receive their public information from friends and other

associates. 52 Members of interest groups, open forums, and political rallies were perhaps the most valuable asset of the Baker campaign.

The Senator often commented on the public response to his effort. He

encouraged his followers at Cowan, NIt is a great experience to see the outpouring of people all along our way. It is a remarkable ex­

perience—one I will always remember.

What made the projection of the Baker image appear even more successful was its comparison with the projection of Blanton. Blanton

is in some ways a better campaigner than Baker, yet the public never

perceived him to be so. Baker appeared more sure, more dignified, and in the campaign context, more colorful. He never had to run and

hurry as did Blanton in his attempt to catch up. Baker's media and literature effort was additionally more professional and better fi­ nanced. When that is added to the disparity in crowd size the two men attracted, particularly near the end of the campaign, their dif­ ference in voter support becomes understandable. The simple fact is that the Baker forces projected a more favorable image. They neglected party politics, for the most part, and focused on person-centered projection. The Senator had hypothe­

sized at the start of the campaign: "Party labels are far less im­

portant to the electorate .... Our campaign will attract a broad base of support, and (will) collectively express the viewpoint of a

majority of Tennesseans from all walks of life.He seemed to be

correct.

Summary The dual question was posed in chapter one, "What role did

the Baker ethos play in his electoral success, what were the consti­

tuent elements of his ethos?" A combination of the material in chap­ ters four and five will render us our answer.

Baker's person-centered communications was the mo3t important

facet of his entire campaign. His personal characteristics dominated the effort. The voters responded to his image.

Several reasons have been suggested that signify the important

role the Senator's ethos played. Initially, it was shown that the message was incapable of conquering voter attention. The two men's rhetoric was closely aligned because their political philosophies were.

In the prevailing thought of Tennessee public opinion, both were near- centrist candidates.

The ethos of the men did not predominate, however, because of a vacuum-like situation. Several circumstances contributed to the emergence of the person-centered importance. The electorate is sim­ 299 ply voting for the man; split-tickets are common. Candidates, along with media experts and other message-disseminators, accent the person

versus person nature of politics. Communications scholars, both ancient and modern, have signified the role of person-centered traits.

Five specific features were discussed as important dimensions

of Baker's image. Credibility, or trustworthiness, was the character­ istic most voters accented. Other important traits were his personal

appearance, his family and family ties, his emanations of leadership,

and his honest openness.

Furthermore, the Baker image was projected much more success­

fully than was Blanton's.

The final judgment that might be rendered is that the Senator was his own most valuable strategy. By exhibiting a highly favorable

ethos, as perceived by the voters, the incumbent's message became much

more palatable. Novelist Mary McCarthy, perhaps best sums it up when she says

"The man has to be the message." "I find it hard to discuss what

issues will be raised in a campaign," she continues, since one knows in advance that no truly debatable issue will be raised if either of

the candidates can possibly help." She contends that if the voters knew exactly what a candidate stood for, no one would vote for any­ one, In regard to President Nixon she said, "If the public knew where he stood, it would be against hira. Had Nixon in 1968 run on a plat­ form of admitting China to the U. N., cooperating with the Soviets, wage and price controls, devaluation of the dollar, God knows who would now be in the White House—very likely Governor Wallace. And 300 what policies would be be pursuing ... the nan is the issue. 55 While I don't share the same degree of pessimism Mrs. McCarthy does, I do concur with her conclusion. The man is the issue. It was so in the Baker-Blanton contest, and Baiter is better politically be­ cause of it. 301

"^Freeley, p. 2k.

2See pages 37-38•

•^Rosenthal, p. 120.

Election Results, U. S. News services, November 16, 1970, P« 23. •^Max Frankel, The New York Times News Service, "Democrats Keep Control of Congress," Nashville Tennessean. November 8, 1972, p. 1.

^Walter DeVries and V. Lance Tarrance, The Ticket Splitter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972), p. 13.

James M. Naughton, "I'm An Ordinary Han,11 New York Times Magazine, December 27, 1970, p. 29. Q Baker, "Dickson Address," p. 3« ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Wartrace Address," November 1, 1972, P. 3. ^Hanna, Section 2, page 8. 11 Carl I. Hovland, Irving L. Janis, and Harold H. Kelley, Communication and Persuasion (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953). P. 23. 12Daughtrey, "It Looks Like Baker Over Blanton," p. I-B.

"^Aristotle, The Rhetoric trans, by Lane Cooper (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1932), p. 100. ^Isocrates, Antidosis in George Norlin's Isocrates (London: William Heineman, 192B~), paragraph 131.

^Baird and Knower, p. 159. *L6 Hovland, Janis, and Kelley, p. 19. ^Kenneth Anderson and Theodore Clevenger, "Summary of Exper­ imental Research in Ethos," Speech Monographs. XXX (June, 19°3)» p. 77. ^Scaremon, pp. 168-9. "^Rosenthal, p. 117. 302

^Kenneth Boulding, The Imap:e (Ann Arbor: University of Michi­ gan Press, 1969)» p. 6. ^"Raymond E. Bauer in Donald E. Payne (ed.), The Obstinate Audience (Ann Arbor: The Foundation for Research on Human Behavior, 1965), P. 67. 22George McGovern quoted in "The McGovern Strategy Against Nixon," U. S. Hews and World Report. July 31, 1972, p. 22.

^George McGovern, "American Politics Will Never Be the Same," U. S. News and World Report, July 24, 1972, p. 86.

^Balcer, "Nashville Roundtable," p. 7.

^John Clay, response to Baker, "Nashville Roundtable," p. 7.

^Baker, "Nashville Roundtable," p. 6. ^Seigenthaler, p. k-B. pQ Hugh Blair, Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in Golden and Corbett, p. 129.

^Hanna, p. 8. ^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Television Interview," Lawrenceburg, Tennessee, aired on Channel Four, Nashville, Tennessee, September 19, 1972.

^Toe, "'Rosebud' Brings Baker Here," p. 4.

-^Ellis Binkley, "Blanton's Credibility Gap," Jackson Sun. October 15, 1972, p. 4. ^Poe, "'Rosebud' Brings Baker Here,M p. 4.

•^"Baker, "Tennessee Co-op Address," pp. 1-2.

^Baker, "Murfreesboro Address," p. 2. 36 Nelson W. Polsky and Arron B. Wildavsky, Presidential Politics (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1964), p. 117.

-^See pages 193-4. ^Freeley, p. 24.

-^Connelly, pp. 106-09. 303

^Jack Anderson, "Men Behind the Images," Columbus Citizen Journal. November 7, 1972, p. 19. ^Aristotle, quoted in A. Craig Baird, Rhetoric: A Philoso­ phical Inquiry (New York: Ronald Press Company, 1965)• P* 1°2.

^o viand, Janis, and Kelley, p. 19. tin Barbara Friend, "Introduction to Baker's Fifth District Address," September 20, 1972, p. 1. ^Lamar Alexander, "Introduction to Nashville Jaycees Address," October 7, 1972, p. 2.

^Mayor of Jasper, Tennessee, "Introduction to Jasper Address," October 2, 1972, p. 1.

Cecil Bryant, "Introduction to Milan Address," November 2, 1972, p. 1. ^Barbara Friend, "Introduction to Baker's Fifth District Address," p. 2. jj8 Baker, "Dickson Address," p. 3« ^Baker, "Nashville Train Address," p. 2.

-^See pages 169-7^.

51Anderson and Clevenger, p. 77.

^See Elihu Katz, "The Tito Step Flow of Communication: An Up- to-Date Report on an Hypothesis," Public Opinion Quarterly. XXI (1957)» pp. 61-78.

"^Howard H. Baker, Jr., "Cowan Address," November 1, 1972, p. 1.

5kSaverin, p. 2. ^Haiy McCarthy, "Imagination Anyone?" Newsweek. July 10, 1972, pp. 23-5- tfOC

SMOISOTDHOO CHAPTER VI SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

The Election Results

When the campaign posters seemed lifeless and the ballot boxes were empty on the morning of November 8, Howard Baker had won a resounding victory in his quest for a second Senate terra. Not only had he won sixty-two percent of the vote, but he had also carried all eight of the state's Congressional districts. Some of his totals in West Tennessee rivalled those expected of Democrats less than ten years earlier. The Senator ran especially strong in urban areas that, except for Knoxville, have a long history of Democratic allegiances. In the four counties that house the state's most populous cities. Baker's share of the vote was as follows: Knox (Knoxville), sixty-nine per­ cent; Hamilton (Chattanooga), seventy-one percent; Davidson (Nashville), fifty-six percent; and Shelby (Memphis), sixty-six percent.In each instance, except for Nashville, the Senator's urban vote exceeded his statewide average.

Of particular interest was Baker's accomplishments in the fifth and sixth Congressional districts, the bedrock of middle and western Tennessee Democratic strength. In the fifth district Baker gained fifty-five percent of the vote, while he won sixty percent in

305 the sixth. In 1966 when he first ran successfully, Baker earned only forty-three percent and forty-eight percent in the same areas re- O spectively. Blanton's home county of McNaixy is in -toe sixth dis­ trict. The Senator was especially successful in areas of upper in­ come and/or upper educational levels. The eastern suburbs of Memphis, for instance, accorded the incumbent an astonishing seventy-eight percent of the total. Sam Bartholomew, general director of the Baker effort, noted that the Senator achieved over sixty-five percent in 3 almost every college ward in the state.J Baker's successes among young people and blacks have already been mentioned.

One of the main search questions posed in chapter one was

"Why did the Baker-Blanton election turn out as it did?" Such an interrogation is much more than a surface question for political re­ sults can usually be attributed to several factors. One might say that the result of a political contest is the product of the inter­ action between the candidates and their rhetoric, the electorate, and the situational factors of the day. Even within these three broad categories exist innumerable variables that might influence political results. In general, however, four main reasons why Baker was re­ elected to a second Senatorial term have recurred time and again throughout this work. Comparatively speaking, first of all, his ethos was perceived to be more favorable than that of his opponent.

Second, Baker's rhetorical strategies were more accurately aligned 307 with the concerns of the dpy. Third, Baker's overall campaign was more systematically structured and more heavily financed. And, fourth, the Senator was successful because the rhetorical situation of the day was clearly advantageous to his purposes. All of these factors, as we have noted throughout this work, combined to bring about his elec­ toral success. Another important area, however, both grew from and was influ­ enced by each of these four areas where rhetoric and politics came to­ gether. Not only were Baker's ethos, strategies, campaign planning, and rhetorical situation superior to Blanton's, but his role as an incumbent both created and accented certain of the above conditions.

So important was the role that the incumbency played that it merits a fuller singular description of its own.

The Role of the Incumbency

A great deal was written shortly after the 1972 elections em­ phasizing the large number of new faces that would be in Washington when the new Congress convened. Newsweek magazine's election results noted that eighty fresh faces would be on the House side of the hill when the new Congress opened in January. What they failed to real­ ize, however, was that only eleven of those eighty were newcomers by £ virtue of having defeated incumbents. The rest were the benefactors of the retirement, death, or disability of their predecessors. As a matter of faob, fully ninety-six percent of those incum­ bents who sought re-election in the U. S. House won. IXtring 1966, 1968, 308

1970, and 1972 more members of the House have been re-elected than in any other similar period in American history.^ One of the most thorough studies of the role of the incumben­ cy from a day-to-day political viewpoint has been conducted by Bill

Peterson of the Louisville, Kentucky, Courier Journal. Peterson, a

member of the Journal's Washington bureau, studied the advantages

that seemed to accrue to incumbents in the November elections. Per­ haps the most noteworthy advantage he indicates is the immediate avail­ ability of a paid staff, well-informed, and more than willing to assist their boss, since their own personal jobs depend on his re-election.7

Such staff members are, of course, federal employees paid by taxpayers, who simply shift their base of operations from Washington to the home state or district as the election approaches. Such employees were used in the Baker campaign as they have been in every campaign with which I

have ever been acquainted. Peterson quotes Bill Tanner, administrative assistant to U. S.

Representative Gene Snyder of Kentucky:

No doubt about it. I go down there to keop my job. I want Gene to win and I do my damn­ edest to see that he does .... Any incum­ bent has an advantage. For one thing, I don't think anyone could afford to hire the kind of professional help we give Gene.

The advantages of the incumbency have become so obvious that

Dr. Robert Erikson, who heads a Ralph Nader investigating team scrut­ inizing the currant system, says, "The value of the incumbency has grown to the point where every incumbent congressman goes to the 309 poll3 with an automatic nine percent advantage over any challenger."^

While the statistics enunciated vary from campaign to campaign, I do know that the Baker staff was aiming for sixty percent, or almost a five percent increase over 1966. They received a little over six percent.. 10 Along with the advantage of a paid staff mentioned by Peter-

i son. Professor Erikson says four other main advantages assist an incumbent. They are name recognition, a decline in the importance of parties, the frank, and money and congressional perquisites.^ Bach of these areas mentioned by Erikson aided Senator Baker in his re­ election effort. That Baker was better known than his opponent seems clear. The longer a man serves and the widar his exposure, the more people find out who he is. Only a few days before the November election, I asked

Baker how this campaign wa3 different from 1966. His first reply was, "My recognition factor is higher. People know who I am and what I stand for and they're more willing to listen because of it."12 While it is impossible to put a statistical figure on the value of such re­ cognition, it is nonetheless understood by all to be a significant political advantage. Second, the decline in the role of parties aided Republican Baker. He was not running against a firmly entrenched Democratic machine,.but a loosely-organized, under-financed Blanton machine. Had the two men been running in '62 rather than '72, the outcome would likely have been different. Blanton noted after the election, "What 310 used to work in tha old days of Tennessee politics will no longer succeed. Tennessoans are better informed, more independent, and 13 blind party loyalty is a thing of the past.11 J He had said at the outset of the contest, "The GOP has captured the three top state offices during the past six years only because the Democrats were not united: in the general election.The '72 election seemed to change his mind. The role of parties has diminished. Third, the frank, the free mailing privilege awarded to every congressman, theoretically only for nonpolitical purposes, aids every incumbent. It is impossible to determine how much use of .the frank the Baker staff may have made, but it would have been nothing but an advantage. The monthly Baker newsletter "Keeping Up with Howard," which was published only six times all year prior to the August pri­ mary, was published another six times between the primary and the

November general election. I do know, however, that campaign staffers, not Senate staffers, were responsible for its production. Nonetheless, Michael Barone, chief author of the Almanac of American Politics. suggests it would cost a challenger fifty thousand dollars or more on 15 direct mail simply to balance the use of tha frank by incumbents. Fourth and finally, as Erikson noted, there are certain offi­ cial and unofficial perquisites that aid solons in staying elected.

Baker was, again, no exception. In addition to a $4-2,500 a year sal­ ary, he receives life and health insurance policies, free office space, office equipment, and stationery and travel and phone allowances. All aid an incumbent politically. The most advantageous windfalls, as far as re-election is

concerned, however, are the unofficial ones. When incumbents seek

re-election, they generally attract more campaign contributions

than their challongers. It is not at all unusual for an incumbent

to receive large contributions from special interest groups, parti­

cularly if he serves on committees that can influence their welfare.

Although no ties could be found between financial contributions and committee or floor votes in Baker's case, he did receive monies from

many special interest groups. Among them were AMPAC, the political arm of the American Medical Association; the Volunteer Political fund, an agency of the employees of L&N Railroad; Volunteers for Better

Government, executives at Eastman Kodak; and the Seafarers Union.^ Another perquisite of the incumbency often overlooked is that congressmen help people. Baker, for instance, spends a considerable amount of time with constituent service. Barone says, "Most members of Congress spend much of their time interceding with federal bureau­ cracies on behalf of constituents. Helping farmers with hassles at the Department of Agriculture, old people with delays in Social Se­ curity checks, young men with the draft, and so on not only lends an element of humanity to the massive government machine, it produces votes and leads to re-election."17 Additionally, such activities put the Senator or his office in direct contact with some of the most concerned and influential citizens in the state.

The incumbency, then, and all it entails, was a significant factor aiding Baker's re-election. Bccause of his past service, 312 his recognition factor vias higher, his personal characteristics superseded those of the party, and his contacts with the voters in the state were more numerous. At the same time, he had at his dis­ posal a highly qualified and well-paid staff, not to mention the additional amenities that came his way.

Rhetorical Implications—.Characteristics of Incumbency Rhetoric

While the role of the incumbency has received sporadic atten­ tion from political scientists and news analysts, little heed has been given the rhetoric such a situation calls into being. If rhetoric is 1A situational, as Bitzer ha3 suggested it is, then it logically follows that a thorough examination of such situations will yield some inter­ esting conclusions regarding the rhetoric of incumbents. The produc­ tion and research for a master's thesis and doctoral dissertation, along with a regular participation in the political process itself, has con­ vinced the author that some general observations can be drawn regard­ ing "incumbency rhetoric.11

Every politician with whom I have been acquainted recognizes the value of the incumbency. Most structure their campaigns so they can take full advantage of it. Senator Baker told Nashville Banner reporter Grady Gallant, "This is the first time that a statewide Re­ publican official has been back to the voters for re-election. I find it to be an advantage rather than a disadvantage to run on my record."^ The Senator then went on to discuss the prestige of the office and how people were more willing to listen to him now. His 313 remarks were similar to those he had made to me in private conver­ sation.

This obvious advantage has led Baker and others to develop a type of rhetoric distinguished by four specific characteristics. The rhetoric of the incumbency is, first of all, non-offensive. One of the prime goals of a man already in office is to keep the affec­ tion of those who have supported him in the past. After all, at some time he had the support of a majority of the voters. 20 His normal task is to maintain that support. An incumbent will seldom go on the attack. He mildly praises, or at worst ignores, political rivals, rarely choosing to berate them.

Recognizing the normal support which is already his, the incumbent structures his rhetoric to cultivate existing strength. Herzberg and Peltason have written, "In politics, as in bridge, you should lead through strength. This has been proven over and over in campaigning* ..." 21 An incumbent will usually highlight the accom­ plishments of the past, while at the same time pointing to a bright future. He will not go so far as to say "All is well," but will con­ tend "Things are getting better." It was for this reason that Baker ignored Blanton right up to the end of the campaign. Ke knew he was ahead. He was assured of his constituency. Thus, he did not want to offend any Democrats, Independents, or Republicans, who had supported him in the past.

A second characteristic of such rhetoric is that it is very general. Closely aligned to the first, this characteristic is 31^ more issue-oriented. An incumbent is careful not to be found on the extreme end of controversial issues. He chooses rather to talk about basics, offering something for everyone. It was no coincidence, that

Baker spoke about adequate water supplies, sewage treatment plants, highway systems, and satisfactory schools. He paid little attention to the means by which such things are financed. Everyone is for such community services, yet no one likes to pay the taxes to support them.

Detailed policy questions are almost never raised in politi­ cal campaigns. As Baker conscientiously told certain Nashville bu3i- ness and educational leaders, "I can't discuss that on the stump." 22

The fact of the matter is he did not wish to x-aise any specific matters that might lead to polarization. This is one of the primary reasons why rhetoric is so seldom associated with reality today. Politicians do not want to discuss policy matters on the grounds that many people will not understand. Since some of those who do understand will like­ ly disagree, it appears much safer, therefore, to take a very general course. The primary purpose of a political campaign it would seem, is not to solve policy questions, but to choose a man who can hopefully do so. An incumbent's rhetoric is general enough to be in the main­ stream of public opinion, for public opinion sets the outer parameters of that which is acceptable. "Moderate" values are those accepted by a majority of the voters, be they white, black, or red; rich or poor. Ben Wattenberg has said that "Presidential politics are played within the two thirty-five yard lines;" 23 senatorial politics are certainly 315 within the thirty. An incumbent's rhetoric is general enough to iden­ tify with his voters and moderate enough to be accepted.

Third, incumbency rhetoric is incumbent-oriented. With little serious heed given policy questions, the man himself inevitably pre­ dominates. The election becomes not only man-centered but also in­ cumbent centered. The incumbent is already there; consequently he should already be in the mainstream of public opinion. He can use the prestige of his office to dictate that the campaign is person-centered if he so desires. As a result his rhetoric is often characterized by extensive use of the "I," "me," "us," concept. Baker often said, for instance, "Now my opponent can speak all he wants to about being a

West Tennessean or a member of the Democratic party, but I am running on the basis of what I can do, what I have already done, and my rela- tions with the people I am allowed to serve."2^

Such rhetoric says in essence, "The man is the message." In­ cumbents are extremely prone to use such terminology. The office­ holder can accent hi3 successes, while the challenger is placed in the position of debater or nay-sayer. Steward Alsop says of Presi­ dential politics; It is one of the advantages of the incumbency that while the President points with pride, the challenger views with alarm. Viewing with alarm can sound a lot like bad-mouthing the United States. ^ Alsop then recounts that such negativism is critically damaging to a challenger's image. Ho says in general, "The challenger, addition- ally, has to appeal to two different constituencies." What he means is that a majority constituency that gave a challenger the nomination

within his own party is always only a small part of the total needed for victory in the general election. Often a candidate must complete­

ly revolutionize his approach after winning a primary. Of course, he

then runs the risk of being labeled ambivalent, a charge that further demeans his image. Meanwhile the incumbent is merrily saying, "Look

what I've done." Frequently he has not even been seriously challen­

ged within his own party. Such standards are as relevant to congress­ ional and senatorial politics as they are presidential; perhaps more' so.

Surprisingly, the Chattanooga Times in its editorial endorsing Baker for re-election summarizes the arguments just offered. The open­

ing sentence of the editorial says, "In the sound tradition of afford­

ing a capable first-term officeholder a continuation of tenure in which to reap the benefits of experience in furthering tasks barely

begun, we recommend the re-election of Republican Howard Baker to the 27 United States Senate on November 7*" The political benefits might have been mentioned as well.

Fourth, the rhetoric of an incumbent is raore readily trans­

mitted because people simply listen to those already in power. More­ over, as Peterson points out, officeholders have access to television and radio studios in the Capitol and are allowed to distribute news­ letters, voting records, and reprints of speeches free to constitu- pQ ents under the franking privilege. Such media clips, press releases, and speech exerpts often appear unedited in various media channels. 317 Radio stations are particularly prone to use the media clips provi­ ded them as part of their "public affairs" programming.

Even more important is the fact that an incumbent's rhetoric is disseminated in a great number of ways. His name often appears on "public" pamphlets, billboards, and news releases. He is a like­ ly candidate for radio, television, and newspaper interviews. It is easy for him to encourage constituents for whom he has done favors to disseminate his vrorthiness, especially near election time. Such vo­ ters are usually those who make up special interest groups. With an incumbent's name, accomplishments, and beliefs disseminated in so many ways, it likely follows that his rhetoric is naturally given great attention. Many voters choose on the basis of who they "know" or whom they perceive to be the favorite candidate of their friends.

Scammon says, "They choose, usually, from among the candidates they think have a chance of winning." 297 The multi-faceted means by which an incumbent's rhetoric is aired often leads many to conclude he is the favorite candidate.

The rhetorical tactics of an incumbent might be compared to a great suparstar-centered football team. The team usually plays much weaker opponents. All games are played on the superior team's home field, usually in the middle of the playing surface where most of the team's constituents (audience) can see them. The superior team runs a multiplicity of plays (messages) all of which are success­ ful, and all of which center on the team's superstar (incumbent). The superstar, nonetheless, does not score too often, lest the audience 318 become sympathetic toward the loser. The training, experience, and crowd support of the Incumbents is so massive that few teams even want to come to their home stadium to play. After all, over the past few years the home team has won ninety-five percent of its games. In those situations' where it has lost, the superstar has made major strategic errors.

In actual practice, three situations can develop as two men, one of whom is the incumbent, vie for voter preference. In the first case, the incumbent is the centrist candidate while the challenger, eagerly seeking to dethrone the incumbent, 13 forced to intolerable extremes. In such a situation the election is pedantic. The incum­ bent simply marshals all of the force and people at his disposal to go out en masse and literally overwhelm the challenger. This is large­ ly what happened in the Nixon-McGovern contest. Although he was never as extremist as many pictured him, a majority of the public perceived

McGovern to be at the outer extremities of the political spectrum.

With such a situation, the President hardly campaigned, used the asso­ ciates at his disposal, and moved to an overwhelming victory. Such will always happen when the incumbent is perceived to be the moderate with his opponent on the extremities of public opinion. In the second case, the situation can be exactly reversed.

Sometimes the incumbent will take his constituency for granted and go off on tangents totally foreign to mainstream opinion. In other in­ stances, a legislator feels compelled to follow his conscience even though his conscience leads him far afield from his constituency. In 319 such cases a challenger can conquer the central ground and defeat an incumbent. His margin of victoiy is likely to be slim, however, for the incumbent, though far afield philosophically, can still take ad­ vantage of past political alliances. Two such situations have occur­ red in Tennessee recently. In 1970 William Brock upset three-term Senator Albert Gore after Gore had "left" many mainstream Tennesseans.

He was guilty of voting against southern Supreme Court nominees,

Haynsworth and Carswell; voting against support of the President's Vietnam policies; and voting against an amendment allowing prayer in public schools. Even so Brock won with only fifty-two percent of the vote. The third case, however, is the one that usually predominates.

Both incumbent and challenger seek a centrist position which means that personalities rather than philosophies will dominate the elec­ tion. In such situations the incumbent almost always wins, even when challenged by an opponent who is "liked" by the constituency. If both men run well-planned and systematically executed campaigns, the incumbent is likely to win by a four-to-nine percent margin. The current trend is for more and more incumbents to be elected under such conditions.^ Such was exactly the case in the Baker-Blanton contest. The only possible exceptions were that the rhetorical situation of the day, coupled with Blanton's campaign mistakes, enabled Baker to enjoy a wider margin. Both men were moderately conservative, or near the mainstream of Tennessee public opinion. Their philosophical differ­ 320 ences were basically a matter of degree rather than kind. Baker's pre­ viously mentioned advantages, coupled with his role as the incumbent, enabled him to win a second term.

Conclusions

Along with the rhetoric of the incumbency, which aided Baker in his electoral success, four additional rhetorical influences play­ ed major roles in this work. Although each has been fully developed as the logical conclusion of a previous chapter, they are presented here by way of summary. They are: (1) The political situation of the day influenced Baker's rhetoric, enabling him to develop rhetorical strategies more favor­ able to a majority of the state's voters;

(2) The Baker effort recognized the role of persuasion as a "campaign" process—his campaign was systematically planned and heavily financed.

(3) The senator's rhetorical strategies, as expressed in his messages, were closely aligned to the attitudes of Tennosseans; (k) The incumbent's ethos was perceived as highly favorable-

Baker became, in essence, the embodiment of a rhetorical strategy.

Each of these conslusions was reached after a detailed exami­ nation of the material relevant to them.

Although this work has systematically investigated the 1972 campaign of Senator Howard Baker, I certainly do not feel it will bo the last such work undertaken on the Senator. His rising esteem among his colleagues and his increasing popularity as a national fi>jura have 3a combined to foreshadow a promising future of publio service. It is simply hoped that this particular work has given a preliminary insight to Senator Baker, while in a more important way broadening the realm of understanding of political rhetoric. 322

liotes for Chapter VI

"'"All figures from November 15 elections' results release quoted throughout this thesis. In the body of the text all figures are rounded to the nearest percent. See Appendix A for actual vote totals.

The terms areas is used to denote the districts as they now exist. lo£6 vote totals fro.1! the counties making up each district arc used even though the county may or may not have been a part of the numerical fifth or sixth district in 1966.

•^Howard. Baker Campaign Staff, "Keeping Up 'With Howard," Num­ ber XIV, November 1^, 1972, p. 2.

^Election analysis, Mewsweek, November 13, 1972, p. 33.

"'Election analysis, Time, November 20, 1972, p. JQ.

^B321 Peterson, "Incumbency: Built-in Vote Advantage for Congressmen," Loxiisville Courier Journal, November 13, 1972, p. A 17.

7Ibid.

9Ibid.

"^Baker received 55.7 percent in i960; 61.8 percent in 1972.

^"Peterson, p. A 17. 12 Baker, East Tennessee interview, p. 5«

"^Cunningham, "Blanton Reflects . . .p. 17. lij. Ray Blanton campaign staff, Press Release, printed ver batim in Chattanooga l'io?.:s Free Press, September 15, 1972, p. 11.

"'"•^Barone, p. xt. l6 Chris French, "Lots of Money Going Into Lots of Campaigning," Nashville banner, October 26, 1972, p. 8. 17-, Barone, p. xx.

3 l n-Bxtzer, + p. U•'•(•. 323 "^Grady Gallant, "Howard Baker," Nashville Banner, October 11, 1972, p. 13. '?0 Exccpt in unusual three-v/ay races. 21 Herzberg and Peltason, p. 36. ^Baker, "Mashville Roundtable," p. 7. ^Scammon and Wattenberg, p. 166-7. ok Baker, "Dickson Address," p. 3« ^Alsop, "Shift to the R5.£ht?" p. 116.

26Ibid.

"Bradley,97 "Howard Baker for Re-election," p. 12.

28Peterson, p. A 17. ^Scammon and Wattenberg, pp. 166-7.

-^Peterson, p. A 17. SOURCES CONSULTED

32k 325 Primary Sources Campaign Materials Baker for Senate Committee. "Keeping Up With Howard," political newsletters, numbers six through fifteen, July, 1972 through November 14, 1972.

. "Let's Re-elect Baker," political pamphlet.

. "Neighbors for Baker," political kit.

. "Re-elect Baker Campaign kit." . "Re-elect Senator Baker," television advertisement, Chatta­ nooga, Tennessee, October 31, 1972. . "Senator Baker on the Issues," political pamphlet.

"There aren't Enough Hours in the Day," television ad­ vertisement, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 31» 1972.

. "Whistlestop Tour Newsletters," numbers one through four.

Baker for Senate Committee Press Release. "Announcement for Re-olec- tion," Nashville, Tennessee, May 19, 1972. . "Baker Cites Nixon's Peace Efforts," Tullahoma, Tennessee, November 1, 1972. . "Baker Cites State's Unemployment Figures," Nashville, Tennessee, November 1, 1972.

. "Baker Pledges Continued Support of Legislation to Aid Elderly," Waverly, Tennessee, November 2, 1972. . "Environmental Statement," Nashville, Tennessee, October zfTT972. Howard Baker Campaign Staff. "Election Results," released November 15. 1972. Report of Bsker for Senate Campaign Strategy Meeting. Nashville, Tennessee, June 5, 1972.

Young Tennesseans for Baker. "Re-elect Senator Baker," political pamphlet.

. "Summary of Differences in Baker, Blanton Record,11 poli­ tical pamphlet. 326 Interviews

Baker, Howard H., Jr. Private interview with Michael F. Adams. Day­ ton, Tennessee, October 3» 1972. Baker, Howard H., Jr. Private interview with Michael F. Adams. East Tennessee, November 1, 1972. Baker, Howard H., Jr. "Television interview." Lawrenceburg, Tenn­ essee, aired on Channel Four, Nashville, Tennessee, September 19o 1972. Gibbons, Bill. Private interview with Michael F. Adams. Nashville, Tennessee, November 2, 1972. Lauver, David. Private interview with Michael F. Adams. Nashville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972.

Press Conferences Democrats for Baker Press Conference. Knoxville, Tennessee, Septem­ ber 28, 1972. Mayor Briley and Senator Baker. "News Conference on Revenue Sharing," Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972.

Speeches

Agnew, Spiro T. "Nashville Address," September 21, 1972.

Armstrong, Anne. "Nashville Address," October 17, 1972.

Baker, Howard H.( Jr. "Address at Brownsville," Brownsville, Tennessee, November 2, 1972.

. "Address at Camden," Camden, Tennessee, November 2, 1972. . "Address at Dickson," Dickson, Tennessee, November 2, 1972.

. "Address at Milan," Milan, Tennessee, November 2, 1972.

. "Address at Smyrna," Smyrna, Tennessee, November 1, 1972. . "Address at V/averly," Waverly, Tennessee, November 2, 1972.

. "Address on Foreign Relations," Greeneville, Tennessee, October 23, 1972. 327 . "Address on the National Economy," Nashville, Tennessee, September 12, 1972. . "Address to GOP Fifth District Women's Caucus," Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972. . "Address to the Nashville Jaycees," Nashville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972. . "Address to the People of Whitwell," Whitwell, Tennessee, October 2, 1972. . "Address to the Student Body of Meigs County High School," Decatur, Tennessee, October 3, 1972. . "Announcement for Re-election," Nashville, Tennessee, May 19, 1972. . "Appalachian Development," Rogersville, Tennessee, October 20, 1972. . "Baker for Re-election Rally Address," Knoxville, Tennessee July 27, 1972. . "Bryan College Address," Dayton, Tennessee, October 3, 1972 . "Church of Christ Luncheon Address," Nashville, Tennessee, September 20, 1972. . "Cleveland State Address," Cleveland, Tennessee, October 25, 1972. . "Cowan Address," Cowan, Tennessee, November 1, 1972.

. "Dedication Address for Josephine K. Lewis Center for Senior Citizens," Memphis, Tennessee, October 16, 1972.

. "Dedication Address of tho Frank Montgomery Housing Project, knoxville, Tennessee, October 6, 1972.

. "Federal Tax System and Ta.\ Reform," Nashville, Tennessee, October 13, 1972.

. "Health Caro," Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 27, 1972. . "Huntingdon Address," Huntingdon, Tennessee, November 2, 1972. . "Introduction of the Vice President," Nashville, Tenn* essee, September 21, 1972. 328

. "Lambuth College Address," Jackson, Tennessee, Septem­ ber 22, 1972.

. "Lane College Address," Jackson, Tennessee, September 22, 1972. . '^Lawrence County High School Dedicatory Address," Law- renceburg, Tennessee, September 19, 1972.

. "Marion County Address," Jasper, Tennessee, October 2, 1972.

. "Maury County Headquarters Remarks," Columbia, Tennessee, September 19, 1972. . "Murfreesboro Address," Murfreesboro, Tennessee, November 1, 1972. . "Nashville Train Address," Nashville, Tennessee, November 1, 1972. . "Political Participation,," Memphis, Tennessee, October 7* 1972. . "Remarks Against School Busing," Congressional Record, CXVIII, Washington, D. C., February 2^, 1972, Wo. 26". . "Remarks to the Sequatchie County Republican Club Luncheon," Dunlap, Tennessee, October 2, 1972 . "Revenue Sharing," Nashville, Tennessee, October 19, 1972. . "Tennessee Co-Op Address," Nashville, Tennessee, October 17,' 1972. . "Tennessee's Economic Outlook," Nashville, Tennessee, Oc­ tober 26, 1972. . "Tullahoma Address," Tullahoma, Tennessee, November 1, 1972.

. "Wartrace Address," Wartrace, Tennessee, November 1, 1972.

Blanton, Ray. "Address to Tennessee Electric Co-Op Convention," Nash­ ville, Tennessee, October 17, 1972.

. "Lion's Club Address," Chattanooga, Tennessee, September 21, 1972.

. "Open Discussion," Tennessee League of Women13 Voters Tele­ vision Program, Chattanooga, Tennessee, November 5, 1972. 329 Dunn, Winfiold. "Address in Support of Howard Baker," Memphis, Tennessee, November 2, 1972. McGovern, George. "Speech on Acceptance of Democratic Nomination for President," in U. S. News and World Report (July Zk, 1972), pp. 84-87. 330 Secondary Sources

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Newspaper Accounts

Albritton, A. B. "Governors Swat at Busing." Memphis Commercial- Appeal. September 7, 1972, p. 1.

Anderson, Jack. "Ken Behind ths Images." Columbus Citizen Journal. November 7. 1972, p. 19. Bandy, Lee. "State Lawmakers Damaged Little by Nader Report." Nashville Banner, October 23, 1972, p. 12.

Bennett, William. "Agnew Pledges Busing End." Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 22, 1972, p. 3«

. "Baker Picks Black Area Chief." Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 13» 1972, p. 31• , "Blanton Raps Voting Record of Opponent on Busing." Memphis Commercial Appeal. October JL, 1972, p. 15.

. "Blanton Says Economy Suffering From Socialism." Memphis Commercial Appeal, November 2, 1972, p,. 39.

. "Brush-Off Irritates States GOP." Memphis Commercial Appeal. October 15, 1972, Sec. 6, p. 3. . "Dusing Order Hampers Baker." Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 9t 1972, p. 17. . "In Pursuit of the Youth Vote." Memphis Commercial Appeal. November 5. 1972, Sec. 6, p. 2.

Brossat, Bruce. "Lack of Caring in America." Memphis Press Scimitar November 8, 1972, p. 11.

Castell, Bill. "Baker Blasts Foe's 'Type' of Campaigning." Chatta­ nooga Time3. November 1, 1972, pp. 1,9«

. "Baker Predicts 'Greatest Victory Margin.1" Chattanooga Times, October 31. 1972, pp. 1, 19.

. "Baker Sees State Saved from McGovernism." Chattanooga Times, November 3, 1972, pp. 1, 23. . "Baker Supports Amnesty Board." Chattanooga Times. October 257 1972, pp. 1, 20. . "Crowds Please Sen. Baker." Chattanooga Times, November 2, 1972, pp. 1, 15. 337 . "What U. S. Stands for Is at Stake - Agnew." Chattanooga Times, September 22, 1972, pp. 1, Collins, Thomas. "Lucky flips win Golden Media Time." Ohio State Lantern, September 28, 1972, p. 12. Cunningham, Morris. "Blanton Lists Contributions." Memphis Commer­ cial Appeal, June 15, 1972, p. Daughtrey, Larry. "Agnew Talks Here Today." Nashville Tennessean. September 21, 1972, pp. 1, 9• . "Alf McFarland: Two - Party Hangup." Hashvillo Tennessean. October 15, 1972, p. IB. "Baker Sees Area Sweep." Nashvillo Tennessean. November 2, 1972, P. 21. . "Baker Works for Other GOP Hopefuls." Nashville Tennessean. November k, 1972, p. 7* . "Baker Winner." Nashville Tennessean, November 8, 1972, pp. 1, 10. . "Blanton Says Baker Against Tax Reform." Nashville Tenn­ essean, October 5» 1972, p. 7» . "Looks Like Baker Over Blanton." Nashville Tonnassean. November 12, 1972, pp. 1B-8B. . "A Republican State." Nashville Tennessean. November 12, 1972, pp. IB - 2B. Daughtrey, Larry, and Haile, John. "Agnew Courts Briley, Defends Baker." Nashville Tennessean, September 22, 1972, pp. 1, 2B. Denley, James. "Rambling Baker Whistles Merry Tune." Memphis Commer­ cial Appeal, October 31 • 1972, p. 15. Embrey, George, "Agnew Gets Nod for No. 2 Spot." Columbus Dispatch, July 23, 1972, p. 1 & if. . "Dem Ticket Linked to Nixon's Choice." Columbus Dispatch. July 19, 1972, p. 3A. , "Diffex-ont South Emerges at Governor's Conference." Columbus Dispatch. September 10, 1972, p. 23A. Fontenay, Charles L. "State in Form: Nixon 2-to-l." Nashville Tennessean, November 8, 1972, pp. 1, 12. 338 Frankel, Max, New York Times News Service. "Domocrats Keep Control of Congess." Nashville Tennessean. November 8, 1972, pp. 1, 12.

French, Chris (AP). "Baker First GOP Senator to Seek Re-Election." Dyersburp; State Gazette, June 8, 1972, p. 2.

French, Chris, "Lots of Money Going Into Lots of Campaigns." Nash­ ville Banner, October 26, 1972, p. 8.

Gallant, Grady, "Baker Expects Heavy State Vote in November," Nashville Banner, September 21, 1972, p. 3C.

. "Baker Seas 'Not Distant' End to War in Vietnam." Nash­ ville Banner. October 18, 1972, p. 2.

t . "Howard Baker vs. Ray Blan.ton." Nashville Banner. October 11," 1972, p. 13. Gallant, Grady, and Jnncs, Johnny. "Young Voters Gathers for Long Senator Baker Rally," Nashville Banner, July 22, 1972, p. 2.

Gallup, George. "Nixon Youth Vote Lead." Columbus Dispatch. Sep­ tember 11, 1972, p. 6A. "~

Griscom, Tom. "Baker Assails Efforts of Blanton." Chattanooga News- Free Press, September 16, 1972, pp. 1, 5» Haile, John. "Blanton Brands Baker Rubber Stamp." Nashville Tenne­ ssean, November 2, 1972, p. 21.

. "Candidates Make TV Screen Flicker." Nashville Tennessean. October 22, 1972, pp. IB, 6B.

. "If Money Wins Elections." Nashville Tennessean, October 15. 1972, p. 2A.

. "Revenue Sharing Won't Cut Taxes, Says Briley." Nashville Tennessean, September 21, 1972, p. 1.

Hamilton, Roulhac. "Republicans Unlikely to Capture Control of Congross." Columbus Dispatch. November 5. 1972, p. 23A.

Hanna, Gordon et alia. "Bak&r, Blanton Stands on Issues." Memohis Commercial Appeal. Interview, October 22, 1972, pp. 8-9, Sec. 2.

Harris, Louis. "Domocrats Ahead in Nationwide Races for Congress." Columbia Herald, September 18, 1972, p. 9. 339 - Hatcher, Joe. "Stats to Go Status Two." Nashville Tennessean. November 5» 1972, p. 2-B, 3-B. Jones, Johnny. "Candidates for Baker's Seat Eye Voter Apathy." Nashville Banner, July 31, 1972, p. 3» Jonas, Johnny. "Senator Bakor, Blanton to Face Off." Nashville Banner, August 'l, 1972, pp. 1, 6, Kennedy, Sam D. "The Barrister's Bit." Columbia Herald. September 18, 1972, p. 4. Kraft, Joseph. ."Standstill in Southern Politics." Chattanooga Times, October JO, 1972, p. 9. Littlewood, Tom. "GOP Fails to Follow Up Nixon's Appeal." Chicago Sun Times reprint in Memphis Commercial Appeal, October 1, 1972, pp. 1, 15.

Lubell, Samuel. "High Voter Resentment Expressed in Campaign 72." Nashville Bannsr, September 18, 1972, p. 2.

Mott, John. "Blanton Sees Fund-Sharing as Mistake." Nashville Tennessean, October 16, 1972, p. 5»

Maughton, James M. "I'm An Ordinary Man." New York Times. December 27, 1970, pp. 8-9ff.

Nordan, David. "Republicanism Growing Force in Dixie." Atlanta Journal, October 15, 1972, p. 1.

Norton, Bill. "Tennessee Youths Register to Vote in Heavy Numbers." Nashville Banner. October 7, 1972, pp. 1-2.

Parish, John. "That's Politics." Jackson Sun, June k, 1972, p. 6.

Peterson, Bill, "Incumbency: Built in Vote Advantage for Congressmen." Louisville Courier-Journal, November 13, 1972, p. A 17.

Phillips, Kevin. "Assault on Middle Class Held Dangerous by Authors." Columbus Dispatch, July Zlv, 1972, p. 8. Phillips, Kevin P. "Dixie Conservative Merger with Republicans Per­ ceived." Columbus Dispatch. September 25, 1972, p. 20 A. .Poe, Bob. "Baker Enjoys Lovo Affair with Young People." Chattanooga News - Free Press, December 5, 1971« p. 10. . "Baker Swamps Blanton." Chattanooga News - Free Press. November 8, 1972, pp. 1-2. jho

, "Baker Woos Democrats." Chattanooga News - Free Press. October 3, 1972, pp. 1, 3«

. "Baker's 1966 Race Flayed." Chattanooga News - Free Press. October 25, 1972, pp. 1, 3. . "Blanton Sees Win Over Baker." Chattanooga News - Free Press, September 20, 1972, pp. 1, 2.

. "Rep. Ray Blanton's Person to Person Campaigning." Chatta­ nooga Mows - Free Press, October 29, 1972, p. 38. . "'Rosebud' Brings Baker Here." Chattanooga News - Free Press, November-1, 1972, p. 1,.4. Preston, Bill. "Blanton, Witt, Jerkins, Briley Say No to Ticket." Nashville Banner. July 14, 1972, p. 7. Pritchartt, Van. "Bloc Voting Less Evident Among Blacks." Memphis Press - Scimitar. November 8, 1972, p. 45.

Riker, Jeffex-son. "Paid Endorsements Have Doubtful I'olitical Value." Memphis Commercial Appeal, September 17, 1972, pp. 1, 3»

Riley, Albert. "Talmadge Is Warning." Atlanta Journal, Octobcr 15, 1972, p. 23 A. Siegenthaler, John,, "'72 Campaign: A Nation Adrift.." Nashville Tennessean. November 5, 1972, p. 1 B. Siegenthaler, John. "Senator Baker's Record Merits His Re-election." Nashville Tennessean, October 22, 1972, p. 4B.

Shannon, Elaine. "Spending by Baker 5 to 1 Over Blanton." Nashville Tennessean, August 15, 1972, p. 6. Sparks, John. "Senator Baker to Assume High Committee Rank." Chatta­ nooga News - Free Press, November 9, 1972, p. 4. Sparks, John. "Baker's Revenue - Sharing Bill Up." Chattanooga News - Free Press, June Gt 1972, p. 8. Squires, Jim. "Baker Blanton Crush Foes." Nashville Tennessean. August 4, 1972, pp. 1, 14.

•Squires, Jim. "McGovcrn an Issue." Nashville Tennessean, July 22, 1972, p. 15. Stilvoll, Lea. "Baker Cannonball Chugs Along." Memphis Press - Scimi­ tar, November 2, 1972, p. 19. 3^1

Stilwell, Lee. "Baker has Learned and Grown." Knoxville News- Sentinel, March 11, 1972, p. 8.

Street, William B. "Baker Rides Voters' Tide to Hugh Win." Memphis Commercial Appeal. November 8, 1972, p. 1.

. "Black Support for Baker Adds Uncertain Element." Memphis Commercial Appeal, October 22, 1972, Sec. 2, p. 9.

. "Black3 Back Baker's Re-election Drive." Memphis Commer­ cial Appeal, September Zk-, 1972, p. 5«

„ "Both Baker and Blanton Use Issues with Skill." Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 2^, 1972, p.

. "Many Reasons to Help Blanton." Memphis Commercial Appeal. September 17, 1972, Sec. 6, p. 2.

Taylor, Henry J. "Independent Voter Threatens Our System of Govern­ ment." Chattanooga Mows - Free Press. September 29, 1972, p. 6.

Thommason, Dan. "GOP Setback in Senate." Memphis Press - Scimitar, November 8, 1972, pp. 1, 4.

Thompson, Greg. "Baker Praises U. N. Environment Efforts." Nashville Banner, October 26, 1972, p. 2^.

Travis, Fred. "Blanton Receives Backing of Gov. Wallace." Chatta­ nooga Times, November 3, 1972, p. 1, 11.

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