Wake Me When It's Over   

The 1996 presidential campaign was a lackluster affair. The news media didn't do much to help.

The low point, the worst moment, the absolute nadir of the 1996 presidential campaign coverage is hard to pinpoint with scientific precision.

Perhaps it occurred when several reporters, without a shred of proof, asked White House spokesman Mike McCurry if President Clinton had a sexually transmitted disease, then wrote stories based on McCurry's incredulous denial.

Perhaps it was when Bob Dole fell off a stage and the meaningless incident dominated the race for days, the flat-on-his-back photo on page one above the fold in the Washington Post and the footage leading the "CBS Evening News." "Dole tumble seen as metaphor for campaign vexed by missteps," said the Washington Times.

 Or perhaps the press hit bottom 14 long months before Election Day, when reporters hailed Phil Gramm for eking out a tie in an utterly trivial Iowa straw poll.

The contest, in which candidates had bused in supporters from out of state, "provided the first small chink in the veil of invincibility that Dole has sought to drape around his candidacy... Gramm got precisely what he needed," Paul Taylor wrote in the Washington Post on August 21, 1995. Richard Berke of the New York Times called it "the first sign that Senator Bob Dole could be tripped up..an unmistakable disappointment for Mr. Dole."

Keep in mind that Gramm, like Dole, had garnered a grand total of 2,582 votes. And his media bounce fell flat: For all the ink lavished upon him by journalists impressed by his fundraising prowess, the Texas senator never made it to the New Hampshire primary.

The long march toward Clinton's reelection was hardly the media's finest hour. It was a lackluster campaign with a press performance to match, as journalists openly bemoaned the lack of quadrennial drama. They were, as always, awash in polls, predictions and pontification. They wallowed in the occasional wave of tabloid fare. Some also managed to do substantive, issue-oriented stories.

For awhile, at least, there was an inverse relationship between the intensity of the horse race and the quality of the press coverage. When the campaign became a blur during the Republican primaries, the coverage was erratic, short-sighted, sometimes downright wrong. Once Clinton cruised to a double-digit lead over Dole, journalists were forced to become more creative, if only because the race itself so obviously lacked suspense.

The campaign was so tepid that television seemed to tune out, the network evening newscasts cutting their airtime by as much as 40 percent. There were long stretches when the candidates simply didn't appear on the nightly news, or when Dole was blown off the screen by the Olympics or Hurricane Fran or Saddam Hussein. About the only memorable TV moment was when Dole ripped into NBC's Katie Couric for pressing him on the tobacco issue. Hardly anyone watched the conventions, either before or after Ted Koppel bailed out. Ross Perot's infomercials took a dive in the ratings. The second presidential debate was the lowest-rated such affair of the television age.

Every four years, after each presidential election, the media engage in a series of hand-wringing sessions in which they vow to do things differently, and yet not much changes. This season's fad was big, glitzy "public journalism" features with logos like "The People's Voice," "We The People" and "Front Porch Forum."

Papers such as the Boston Globe, the Charlotte Observer and Minneapolis' Star-Tribune, in conjunction with local TV and radio stations, made an admirable effort to talk to ordinary people, stage focus groups and prod the candidates to address voters' concerns. The Globe, for example, discovered early on that New Hampshire voters were still more worried about the economy than the Republican revolution in Washington. But some of the page one spreads had an artificial, cookie-cutter feel, as if plain old pavement-pounding had to be dressed up in fancy duds.

The press got off to a ragged start in the fall of '95 by trying to entice Colin Powell into the race. Openly dissatisfied with the field, many journalists turned into cheerleaders ("It would be good for the country," Sam Donaldson said) as they extolled the virtues of a Powell candidacy. The hype machine reached warp speed. (Time: "No other candidate can hope to match Powell's inspiring tale"; Newsweek: "Can Colin Powell Save America?") Everyone from Donaldson to Rush Limbaugh to Tim Russert to Jack Germond predicted Powell would run. When he didn't, the disappointment was palpable.

The GOP primaries would be a snooze, the press decided, because none of the also-rans could make Dole break a sweat. When Steve Forbes announced his candidacy in late September, journalists all but snickered. The New York Times ran a wire story; the Washington Post described the capital's reaction as "one of lighthearted amusement."

Three months later, the wealthy publisher was on the cover of Time and Newsweek, surging in the polls after a zillion-dollar advertising blitz. "Geek is chic," Newsweek declared. Infatuated with Forbes, if infuriated by his robotic responses, journalists tried to plumb the mysteries of the flat tax and otherwise unravel his appeal.

The frenzy seemed to embody one of the media's fundamental flaws: Missing the story initially and then shifting into overkill mode. All the talking heads – Ted Koppel, Larry King, Sam Donaldson, Tim Russert, Bob Schieffer – had to take a crack at shaking Forbes off his script. The resulting deluge of criticism underscored the fact that Forbes, unlike Powell, was largely unknown to the media-industrial complex: Who was this guy? And how could he be a serious contender for the White House when we've never had lunch?

On a trip to Manchester, I was reminded of how substance often gets back-of-the-bus treatment. After Lamar Alexander gave a 45-minute talk that ranged from the earned income tax credit to ending federal involvement in food stamps, he was surrounded by a knot of reporters:

"Governor, you're running way behind in the polls here. Realistically, how do you make a showing?"

"What's been the failure of your campaign so far?"

"When you talk about being a president for the next century, is that a veiled way of saying Bob Dole is too old?"

In this hyperkinetic environment, the line between facts and propaganda was often blurred. The so-called "ad watches" were snowed under by the blizzard of misleading commercials. The Dole campaign aired a spot saying the Forbes flat-tax plan would cost every New Hampshire household more than $2,000 – a figure so bogus that the author of the one-page study on which it was based disavowed it. Forbes denounced the ad as well, and Dole aides would later admit it was dead wrong. But most news organizations reported it as a charge/countercharge story, if they reported it at all.

Pat Buchanan, meanwhile, was treated as a sideshow. He was good ol' Pat, the former pundit from "Crossfire" and "The McLaughlin Group," a fiery rabble-rouser who was useful mainly as comic relief. "Lock and load," Buchanan would tell the crowds. He was sidebar material, making another colorful run for the presidency in between stints at CNN.

Again, most journalists missed the boat. Buchanan touched a nerve with his talk of economic insecurity and corporate job-killers, subjects that well-heeled reporters thought had faded after the last recession. The New York Times and Newsweek did big spreads on the downsizing of America. Buchanan caught fire and won New Hampshire, confounding the media wizards as surely as Forbes had. Jack Germond pronounced it "an absolutely bizarre year." The journalistic establishment seemed to be three weeks behind each significant development.

Having badly underestimated Buchanan's appeal, the media turned on him with frightening intensity. "Preaching Fear," blared Newsweek's cover. "Evil," warned The New Republic. "AMERICA-FIRST PAT HAS A LATIN MAID," shouted the New York Post, despite the fact that the woman was a legal resident. All the old charges about Buchanan's bigoted and insensitive statements were trotted out – no one had much cared before – in a mission encouraged by some Republican elders. It looked like the establishment press had decided to demonize a conservative candidate who was winning favor with the voters. Talk radio shows, Buchanan's vehicle of choice, crackled with contempt for the media.

The press got totally swept up in expectations and strategy and calling the next primary before the other guy. On "Nightline," Koppel used exit polls to lament Dole's "embarrassing third-place finish" in Arizona; he wound up second. After Dole won South Carolina in early March, of course, none of it mattered anymore, not Junior Tuesday or Super Tuesday or any other Tuesday. The media's horse race was over.

During the five long months until the conventions, some news organizations did thoughtful stories on Dole's Senate record and Clinton's slide to the center and the "soft money" schemes by which the two parties funneled millions to their nominees. But they treated Ross Perot as a joke as he geared up to run again, even as he told Larry and Katie and their talk show pals that "it's not about me." During fallow periods, some reporters endlessly calibrated the GOP platform fight on abortion or indulged in speculation about Dole's running mate. Some still openly pined for Colin Powell; Ken Bode said flatly on "Washington Week in Review" in August that Powell would get the nod. Nobody picked Jack Kemp who, once tapped by Dole, drew the sort of adulatory coverage reserved for Washington insiders who fervently court the press.

Fifteen thousand journalists descended on San Diego and Chicago for what they complained, loudly and incessantly, were tightly scripted, choreographed affairs. The whining careened out of control. It was as if no real news could take place unless delegates were screaming at each other or cops were bashing heads. At the Democratic conclave, most reporters, like me, flew thousands of miles so they could sit in oversized tents in the United Center parking lot and watch the thing on TV. The networks, having budgeted a mere one hour a night, struggled to squeeze in a few speeches while reserving enough air time for the real stars, Dan and Tom and Peter and Tim and Cokie and Maria.

Only the toe-sucking revelations involving Dick Morris saved Chicago from being a total bust. The presidential adviser spared the press the usual agonizing over whether to cover a sleazy story – the diaries that call girl Sherry Rowlands had sold to the tabloid Star – by resigning and refusing to deny her allegations. That week's Time cover portrait of Morris as political genius was succeeded by one of an egomaniac so reckless he blabbed to a $200-an-hour hooker. Score one for the tabloids, whose Morris stories turned out to be rock-solid.

By Labor Day, Clinton's dogged double-digit lead over Dole changed the tone of most stories, even those ostensibly about issues. Many newspapers splashed their horse-race polls on the front page. "Clinton lead up to 21 points," roared USA Today. "Good feelings carry Clinton to solid lead," said the Los Angeles Times. Dole simply could not change the subject. Every move the GOP nominee made was cast against a backdrop of desperation.

Tom Brokaw: "On the ropes and looking for a way to boost his sagging campaign..."

Dan Rather: "The talk, some of it from Republicans, that Dole may be a sure loser..."

Newsweek: "Once again lagging badly in the polls, Bob Dole and his campaign are trying to shake themselves awake."

Time: "The outcome of the presidential race has a faintly inevitable air."

The Philadelphia Daily News: "Dole, locked in a seemingly hopeless gap of as much as 17 points..came to Villanova University yesterday in his latest bid to tunnel his way out."

CNN's Candy Crowley: "The question for Dole now is how to keep going when so many people say it's over."

Where were occasional detours into substance: Douglas Frantz of the New York Times on how Dole had spent years engineering Senate tax breaks of the sort he later decried. Kevin Merida of the Washington Post on the circumstances surrounding Dole's "emergency divorce" in 1972. Phil Kuntz of the Wall Street Journal on how Dole had reaped financial benefits from his high office, including more than $800,000 in speaking fees. Alan Miller of the Los Angeles Times on an illegal South Korean contribution to the Democrats, and Glenn Simpson and Jill Abramson of the Journal on lots of funny money donated by wealthy Indonesians. Time and U.S. News & World Report on the real-world consequences of Dole's proposal for education vouchers for private schools. Others touched on a slew of issues, from crumbling cities to affirmative action, that the candidates weren't addressing.

But a pervasive sense of boredom seemed to cool the normal journalistic fervor for policing the candidates' claims. Dole, for instance, began accusing Clinton of proposing "484 new spending programs" that would cost the taxpayers "$2 trillion." When pressed, Dole aides had to admit the figures were bogus. The 484 programs were almost all garden-variety government spending – for the Department of Veterans Affairs, Amtrak, the Postal Service, even the drug czar's office – and Dole could not name a single one he opposed.

The $2 trillion figure was arrived at by adding up programs that Clinton wanted to boost, ignoring the offsetting cuts he had proposed in other programs. It was, in other words, a lie. Clinton had actually reduced federal discretionary spending. But the press didn't care; it was a one-day story. Dole was going down anyway, so why bother? (Many journalists gave equally perfunctory treatment to Clinton's demagogic distortions on Medicare.)

Reporters roused themselves for the ritual build-up to the presidential debates, universally cast as Dole's "last best chance to reverse his electoral fortunes," as Rick Berke put it in the New York Times. The conventional wisdom changed swiftly here. Before the first debate, most journalists said Dole needed a strong performance but had to avoid resurrecting his hatchet-man image. After the debate, the consensus was that Dole had been timid by failing to slam Clinton on the so-called "character" issue. The new issue, dissected daily, was how long it would take Dole to resort to a scorched-earth strategy – and when he did pound the president on ethics, reporters dismissed it as a desperation tactic. Bob Dole was toast, and the obituary writers were ready. "Some in GOP Say Dole Unable to Avert Defeat," said the Los Angeles Times. "Is It Over?" Newsweek asked. Time turned its attention to "Clinton's Next Cabinet."

As the final days unfolded, it slowly dawned on journalists that millions of Americans had tuned them out. Much of the country simply was not engaged in the 1996 campaign.

With two well-known politicians hugging the center, a lopsided contest and the lack of an overriding issue, it didn't seem to be about anything. The financial insecurity that seemed so prevalent back in New Hampshire had somehow given way to Morning in America feelings about the economy. The media may have been partially to blame for the lack of interest, but ultimately they could not transform a dull race into a compelling one. Journalists did all the things they usually do – focus-grouping, door-knocking, polling, profiling, ad-watching, trend-surfing – but most people's minds were made up. The story was going nowhere. Bill Clinton was running out the clock, and so, in the end, was the press.

In the final days, Dole began bashing the media for "propping up" Clinton, accusing the New York Times of running only "anti-Dole stories" and charging the press with trying to "steal" the election. "Don't watch television," he urged voters. It was sad to watch a frustrated lawmaker whom so many reporters liked and respected, the most frequent guest ever on the Sunday talk shows, resort to hammering the press, not to mention the voters themselves.

What was particularly ludicrous was the spectacle of Dole assailing journalists for going easy on questionable Democratic fundraising when it was the nation's largest newspapers that had dug out the story and handed him the issue (see From the Editor, December).

The media may have been guilty of giving Dole short shrift toward the end, as they turned to speculative pieces about Clinton's second term, but they had done their job on the scandal front. Dole, like Michael Dukakis, drew negative coverage because he ran a lousy campaign.

The finale came not a moment too soon. "Can't We Get This Election Over With Already?" moaned The Weekly Standard. Even the National Enquirer story about Dole having had an extramarital affair 28 years ago barely made a ripple; it was ignored by most of the press (see "An Affair to Ignore," page 31). Dole's final 96-hour marathon across 15 states seemed a fitting coda to the media's yearlong pursuit: lots of meaningless motion in a clearly lost cause. It was an unsatisfying end to an unsatisfying year.