Do Running Mates Matter?

Authors Christopher J. Devine and Kyle C. Kopko have focused their careers on studying the Vice Presidency, and have published the first detailed study on what, if any, impact a running mate has in a Presidential election. With Joe Biden set to announce his running mate, we’re happy to share the introduction to Devine and Kopko’s Do Running Mates Matter; The Influence of Vice Presidential Candidates in Presidential Elections.

In January 2015, there were no declared candidates for the next presidential election. It was just too early. Yet the veepstakes already had begun. Rumor had it that Ohio’s senior US senator, Sherrod Brown, was a leading contender for the Democratic vice presidential nomination. On paper, he was the perfect running mate: an experienced, two-term senator from a key battleground state, a vigorous campaigner, and a bona fide progressive who also could appeal to blue-collar swing voters. Many Democrats wanted Brown to run for president, in fact. But, like so many other credible candidates who doubted that Hillary Clinton could be defeated for the party’s nomination, he declined. So, speculation shifted to the next best thing: a slot on the presidential ticket, as Clinton’s running mate. There was one problem: Brown didn’t want it. Not at all. In his words: “I have zero interest in being vice president” (Terris 2015).

Who Wants to be the Vice President?

Brown’s proclaimed disinterest in serving as vice president was not surprising. Throughout US history, the vice presidency has been derided as a dead-end job for ambitious politicians whose talents are spent on helping the presidential candidate to get elected rather than helping the president to govern once in office. In the words of one former vice president, Walter Mondale, “The office is handmade for ridicule and for dismissal. In the nature of it, you always look like a supplicant, a beggar, a person on a string” (Woodward and Broder 1992, 196).

Vice Presidential Power(lessness)

The vice presidency owes its unenviable reputation—notwithstanding many informal expansions of power since the 1970s (see Goldstein 2016)—to its institutional design. Indeed, the US Constitution grants few formal powers to the vice president. These include, first, presiding over the US Senate (a power that Harry Truman’s vice president, Alben Barkley, last exercised with regularity; see Goldstein 2016, 22); second, casting tie-breaking votes in that body (rarely); third, in the presence of the US House and Senate, opening the sealed certificates containing each state’s votes in the Electoral College, and then overseeing the electoral vote count; fourth, and most important, assuming the office of president of the United States upon the president’s death (eight times in US history), resignation (once), removal from office, or incapacitation, and when a presidential election remains unresolved at the time that a new presidential term is scheduled to begin.

Dismissing the Vice Presidency

No one has been more critical of the vice presidency, or so eager to make jokes at its expense, than the vice presidents themselves. Take, for example, John Nance Garner’s dismissal of the vice presidency as being “not worth a bucket of warm spit”—or the favorite tale of several vice presidents, including Thomas Marshall (Milkis and Nelson 2011, 486), Alben Barkley (Smith 2008, 177–178), and Hubert Humphrey (Unger and Unger 1999, 255): “A mother has two sons; one goes off to sea, the other becomes vice president. Neither is heard from again.”

The first vice president, John Adams, famously called it “the most insignificant office that ever the invention of man contrived or his imagination conceived.” Lyndon Johnson, who served for nearly three years as John Kennedy’s vice president, said of his tenure: “I detested every minute of it” (Baker 2013, 60). Gerald Ford, who briefly served as Richard Nixon’s vice president, reportedly described this as “the worst eight months of [my] life” (60). And Nelson Rockefeller, who was nominated and confirmed to the office following Ford’s succession to the presidency, often referred to the vice president as mere “standby equipment.” He explained: “I did not want to be Vice President. I’m a doer by nature, an activist. And I always felt, and I told Dick Nixon that in 1960 when he asked me to [be his running mate, allegedly], that it was standby equipment and I just wasn’t cut out for it.” Rockefeller added: “I’ve known all the Vice Presidents since Henry Wallace. They were all frustrated, and some of them were pretty bitter.”8 Dick Cheney, one of Rockefeller’s successors, later would concur: “I’d never met a vice president who was happy.”

Conflicted?

Yet many of the same vice presidents and potential running mates who have dismissed the office as ridiculous at other times have betrayed a more conflicted—or, at least, a more nuanced—view of the vice presidency. In a follow-up interview to the one excerpted earlier, Nelson Rockefeller offered a very different assessment of the office:

“I totally disagree with John Nance Gardner [sic]. I think the office is a very important one, depending on the relation between the President and the Vice President and at least during the first 2/3rds–3/4ths of the time I was Vice President I’ve never been busier—heading commissions, undertaking special projects for the President and traveling at home and abroad. It’s a very useful function in terms of both ceremonial activities that relieve the President and which are interesting and important, plus, depending on the experience of the individual, the opportunity to use that experience to undertake assignments for the President.”

Dick Cheney, who initially resisted entreaties to run alongside George W. Bush in 2000, and bluntly recalled the unhappy fate of previous vice presidents, nonetheless said at the end of his two terms in the office: “I don’t regret it for a minute. It’s been a tremendous experience” (Malcolm 2008).

And then there is John McCain. After failing to win the Republican Party’s presidential nomination in 2000, McCain brushed off speculation that he would join the ticket as George W. Bush’s running mate. “The vice president has two duties,” he scoffed. “One is to enquire daily as to the health of the president, and the other is to attend the funerals of third world dictators. And neither of those do I find an enjoyable exercise.” Four years later, amid speculation that John Kerry would ask him to run for vice president on the Democratic ticket, McCain joked: “I spent seven years in a North Vietnamese prison camp, in the dark, fed with scraps. Do you think I want to do that all over again as vice president of the United States?” (Halbfinger 2004).

Yet in 1996, when Bob Dole reportedly weighed selecting him for the Republican ticket, McCain expressed a more sober, reverential view of the vice presidency. “John Nance Garner described the office as not being worth a bucket of warm spit, but I hold the office in higher regard than that,” McCain said. “It is certainly prestigious and would be a wonderful opportunity for some” (Pittman 1996). Then, in 2008, while once more—and this time successfully—seeking the Republican Party’s presidential nomination, McCain said in a debate that “the vice president of the United States is a key and important issue, and must add [sic] in carrying out the responsibilities of the President of the United States.”

Playing the Vice Presidential Game

It is a good indication of the vice presidency’s actual value that—jokes and public disavowals of interest notwithstanding—plenty of qualified individuals are willing to be selected as the running mate and undergo an intensive vetting process for that purpose. In fact, many ambitious politicians actively lobby for their selection, behind the scenes.

Take Dan Quayle, for example. George H. W. Bush’s decision to name Quayle as his running mate in 1988 came as a shock to nearly everyone, including many Bush campaign staffers. But Quayle had been plotting, along with two of his top Senate aides, to secure a slot on the Republican ticket since the day after Bush won New Hampshire’s Republican presidential primary, six months earlier (Woodward and Broder 1992, 15). This “sub rosa campaign” was designed to raise Quayle’s profile nationally, and with Bush in particular. In early 1988, Quayle began delivering more speeches in the Senate, issuing more press releases, and writing more newspaper op-eds, particularly on issues of national defense, than at any point during his previous seven years in office. Quayle also tried to make himself more visible to Bush and his inner circle by increasing contact with senior campaign advisers, more regularly visiting the vice president’s office in the US Senate, and taking a more vocal role at the weekly Senate Republican lunches that Bush attended, as vice president. To anyone witnessing these efforts, Quayle’s intentions were clear. As one Republican Senate colleague, William Cohen of Maine, said: “It looked like there was a game plan to get Bush’s attention because Quayle thought he had a shot [at being chosen as Bush’s running mate].”

Yet Quayle would not readily acknowledge his campaigning for the vice presidential nomination, even four years later while serving as vice president. He did so only reluctantly, after Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and David Broder presented Quayle with irrefutable evidence of his efforts. Why play coy? Because, Quayle acknowledged, “You don’t run for vice president.” Rather, to avoid the stigma of failure if passed over—and, probably, to avoid alienating the presidential candidate by seeming overly ambitious—“you keep expectations down and do things as quietly and subtly as possible” (Woodward and Broder 1992, 15–16).

In fact, Quayle had designs on the vice presidency ever since being elected to Congress in 1976, at the age of twenty-nine. At that time, he explained in a 2002 interview, “Obviously you’re thinking about running for President or Vice President. It’s there.” But, he cautioned, “You don’t do it overtly. It’s something you have in the back of your mind and you set out a path to do it.” Quayle followed that path to the US Senate, from where, he observed, most recent vice presidents had come. He described this as a “stepping-stone” to the vice presidency, and ultimately the presidency. “I was positioning myself to eventually run for President,” Quayle explained. “Now, obviously, the Vice Presidency was a stepping-stone to that. I mean, that’s why people want to be Vice President [emphasis added].”

Joe Lieberman also wanted to be vice president, in 2000—but he, too, could not say so. “You’re not supposed to campaign for the vice presidential nomination,” he explained later. “You can’t even acknowledge that you are under consideration for it” (Lieberman and Lieberman 2003,). When Al Gore’s campaign asked to vet Lieberman for the nomination that year—a process so invasive that Lieberman likened it to “a colonoscopy without anesthesia” —the prospective running mate consented and then, with the help of a close friend, “developed a strategy not simply for surviving the vetting, but for pursuing the nomination.” That strategy included “reach[ing] out, in a very discreet way, to a very few people who we thought might be talking to Gore about this selection,” as well as key constituency groups within the Democratic Party. In all cases, “These contacts were to be made subtly, quietly.”

Lieberman also sought out advice from Chris Dodd, a fellow senator from Connecticut and his most trusted colleague. Dodd counseled, “You should make sure you do everything you can so you will never look back to this time and say, ‘If I had done just one more thing, I might have been the vice presidential nominee.’” But, Dodd acknowledged, “Of course I understand that you can’t go out and campaign for it” (Lieberman and Lieberman 2003, 14).

Even after being selected, Lieberman would disclaim any ambition to the vice presidency. Wondrously, he recalled someone telling him, “This is like the ministry. You’re called to the ministry, you don’t seek it” (Barstow with Seelye 2000). But, of course, Lieberman had sought the vice presidential nomination—enthusiastically and methodically. He wanted to be the vice president. He just could not say so publicly at that time.

Quayle and Lieberman are only two examples, but they illustrate what seems to be a well-known strategy among politicians aspiring to the vice presidency: publicly deny that you are interested—better yet, laugh off the idea as ridiculous—all the while privately working with associates and campaign contacts to cultivate interest in your candidacy. Then, after the selection is made and the election is over, you can publicly admit it: yes, of course, I wanted to be the vice president. I really wanted it, in fact.

And that brings us back to Sherrod Brown.

Zero Interest?

In July 2017, Sherrod Brown gave another interview to Ben Terris, the Washington Post reporter to whom he had protested two-and-a-half years earlier: “I have zero interest in being vice president.” A lot had changed since that time. In the summer of 2016—despite reiterating that April, “I’ve made it clear [that] I don’t really want the job” (Raju and Schleifer 2016)—Brown agreed to be considered for selection as Hillary Clinton’s running mate. He even participated in a vetting process that Connie Schultz—his wife, and a Pulitzer Prize–winning columnist—described as “excruciating.” Brown was a finalist for selection; in fact, according to two highly placed sources, he was the first runner-up to Virginia senator Tim Kaine, whom Clinton selected only after initially favoring Brown (Terris 2017; but see, e.g., Allen and Parnes 2017; Baumgartner 2016). Perhaps the biggest strike against Brown was that, if elected, his replacement in the closely divided US Senate would be appointed by Ohio’s Republican governor, John Kasich.

For a man who had expressed “zero interest in the vice presidency,” being passed over for the position should have come as a relief. But Brown was disappointed—devastated, in fact. “By the end,” he admitted, “I really wanted it.” Brown wanted it so badly that he envisioned, in Terris’s words, “liv[ing] out of a bus” and barnstorming across the Midwest throughout the fall campaign. Might this have changed the election’s outcome? In Terris’s article—titled “Sherrod Brown Thinks He Could Have Helped Democrats Win in 2016. But What about 2020?”—Brown answered cautiously: “I don’t pretend that my being on the ticket would have made [Clinton] win. I don’t know. I mean, if I had gone to Wisconsin and Michigan a lot, anything would have changed those two states.” But then, perhaps to cover this tracks, he added: “My wife thinks we would have won. She thinks we would have won Ohio.” Of course, Donald Trump won Ohio instead—helping him to become the next president of the United States. And Brown was left to wonder whether he could have made the difference in the Electoral College, apparently haunted by the regret that he did not get that chance.

As it turns out, Sherrod Brown really wanted to be vice president.

A Fundamental Tension

The preceding examples illustrate a fundamental tension in public opinion about the vice presidency as a governing institution. On the one hand, everyone is aware of the office’s institutional weakness and its beleaguered reputation. This makes it easy to dismiss the vice presidency as a joke, and to belittle or reject the prospect of seeking that office. Yet many of the news or opinion articles that repeat those jokes—including, almost invariably, a reference to Garner’s metaphorical “bucket of warm spit” (and, just as invariably, a caveat noting that he probably used more graphic language)14—or report a potential running mate’s lack of interest in auditioning for the role, ironically, if not hypocritically, also engage in fevered speculation about the vice presidential selection process or the running mate’s likely effect on the presidential race.15 And, as we have seen, many of the vice presidents or prospective running mates who have disparaged the office or foresworn interest in seeking it at other times have celebrated its significance or actively campaigned for selection behind the scenes.

We do not argue that every such dismissal of the vice presidency or the prospect of running for it is insincere. Indeed, it is entirely possible that Sherrod Brown’s initial denials of interest in the vice presidency were genuine, and that later he had a change of heart—or that, in Terris’s (2017) words, “Sherrod Brown never wanted to be vice president, until one day he did.” Nor do we contend that a vice president plainly contradicts himself when he is quoted both lamenting and praising his experiences in that office. For example, Nelson Rockefeller truly might have felt like “standby equipment” at some times and like someone serving “a very useful function” at others. Such inconsistency, we argue, is indicative not of insincerity but of a pervasive conflict—or a “fundamental tension”—in attitudes toward the vice presidency, among political elites and within the mass public generally. In short, the vice presidency’s public image—truth be told—is not that of an inconsequential institution or an immensely powerful one (at least by its design); rather, it is an institution characterized by obvious strengths and weaknesses, the relative weight of which is difficult to calculate and often context-dependent.

John Adams provided perhaps the most profound articulation of this truth when he said: “I am vice president. In this I am nothing, but I may be everything” (Milkis and Nelson 2011, 486). Here he was referring to the possibility of succession to the presidency. In the era of the “modern vice presidency” (Goldstein 2016), when the power of that institution remains constitutionally stagnant but informally expansive, the tension between viewing the vice presidency as powerless and powerful is that much greater.

Who Cares About the Running Mate?

This book is about vice presidential candidates, not vice presidents. But the two roles are intertwined—and not just because, barring extraordinary circumstances, serving as the former is a prerequisite to serving as the latter. It is also because the (perceived) weakness of the vice presidency, as a governing institution, has shaped perceptions of the vice presidential candidate, as an electoral institution. Given the vice president’s limited constitutional powers, and the remote possibility of presidential succession, running mates traditionally have been selected (by party conventions and then, starting in the 1940s, by presidential candidates) on the basis of electoral considerations, typically in order to provide geographic, demographic, or ideological “ticket balancing” (Baumgartner 2012; Baumgartner with Crumblin 2015; Goldstein 2016). Even so, most voters have had little incentive to weigh the running mate’s credentials when voting in presidential elections, at least not to the extent of casting a vote on that basis, since only the president is guaranteed to exercise substantial power once in office. Recent expansions of vice presidential power might have altered that equation somewhat, but—as indicated by the evidence presented earlier, and by the predominant caricature of vice presidents in popular culture as buffoonish incompetents—for the most part, the office’s unenviable reputation is engrained and enduring.

A Fundamental Tension (Continued)

It is, therefore, no mystery that the same fundamental tension that characterizes attitudes toward the vice presidency also extends to vice presidential candidates. On the one hand, political observers and practitioners recognize the limited powers of the vice presidency, and so they are duly cautious about overstating the running mate’s (likely) influence on presidential voting. Often, they do so by repeating well-worn aphorisms to downplay veepstakes speculation—referring to it merely as a “parlor game,” for instance. Or they cite the conventional wisdom that “Vice presidential candidates can’t help you, they can only hurt you,” and that “People don’t vote for a vice president, they vote for a president.” We do not argue that such folk wisdom is wrong, necessarily; in fact, some of the empirical evidence that we present in this book would tend to support these claims. Nor do we contend that expressing such skepticism is insincere or contradictory, on its face. But it is important to recognize that these sentiments often exist in tension with other statements or behaviors that directly express or clearly imply a perception that running mates are electorally significant and potentially helpful—even decisive. In chapters 1 and 2, we provide evidence of such tension in the attitudes expressed by presidential candidates and voters, respectively. For now, consider one prominent and consequential example.

When asked to describe his criteria for selecting a running mate in July 2008, Republican presidential nominee John McCain said: “First, you want to make sure you have a candidate that’s not going to hurt the ticket” (J. Mason 2008). In 1996, when discussing then-Republican nominee Bob Dole’s selection of a running mate, McCain expressed essentially the same view by saying that the selection process sometimes “brings you the person who might not necessarily help you the most, but hurt you the least” (Pittman 1996). At the same time, he indicated that a running mate might confer significant electoral benefits by suggesting that Dole select someone who appealed not only to Republican voters but also “to those that make the difference between winning and losing campaigns”—presumably, Independents.

Yet, when it came time to select his running mate, in 2008, McCain passed over the quintessential “do no harm” candidate, in Minnesota governor Tim Pawlenty (the runner-up), and instead accepted his campaign advisers’ recommendation to choose a risky but potentially “game-changing” vice presidential candidate, in Sarah Palin. McCain made this choice after meeting the Alaska governor only for the second time, and following a rushed seventy-two-hour vetting process (see chapter 1). This hardly fulfilled his top criterion: “mak[ing] sure you have a candidate that’s not going to hurt the ticket.” In fact, following her rocky vice presidential campaign, Palin was widely perceived as hurting the ticket in exactly the way that McCain previously had warned against—a perception validated by subsequent empirical analyses (e.g., Court and Lynch 2015; Elis, Hillygus, and Nie 2010; Knuckey 2012).

McCain illustrates the fundamental tension apparent in many people’s—including presidential candidates’—expressed views regarding running mates’ electoral significance. He repeatedly stated, and he genuinely might have believed, that the overriding principle of vice presidential selection is “First, do no harm.” But, as is the case with matters of public opinion more generally (Zaller 1992), McCain’s judgments on the matter seem to have drawn on a mix of considerations. Thus, when pressured by campaign advisers to adopt an alternative approach, he sampled from those conflicting considerations to arrive at a decision fundamentally opposed to his oft-stated conviction. In other words, no matter how confidently McCain stated this conviction in public, and when discussing vice presidential selection in the abstract, to some extent he also believed that it was possible—maybe just in these special circumstances—that a running mate could yield transformative electoral benefits, and that the chances of this happening in 2008 were good enough to justify picking Sarah Palin.

What to Believe?

It is ironic that McCain, of all people, would stand out as the presidential candidate who most obviously threw a “Hail Mary” pass, with his choice of a running mate, in order to win an election. Yet, because he at least entertained principles directly in conflict with his oft-stated, and quite possibly genuine, philosophy of vice presidential selection, we suspect that McCain is not a hypocritical outlier but an exemplar of the fundamental tension that characterizes much of public discourse regarding vice presidential candidates and their electoral significance.

Indeed, McCain’s is the same type of conflicted opinion that we see in the journalist (Chris Cillizza) who declares that “the vice presidential pick—viewed through the lens of history—has almost no broad influence on the fate of the ticket and, to the extent the VP choice has mattered, it’s been in a negative way”—yet, when ranking veepstakes contenders, regularly dangles the prospect of a decisive home state advantage (Devine and Kopko 2016, 14). Or the scholar (Stuart Rothenberg) who scorns veepstakes speculation as “a game” to be played at “cocktail parties or around the kitchen table” before condescending to remind readers that this year’s election actually is between two presidential candidates—yet in other writings, indeed in the same year, plays precisely that game by rating contenders largely on the basis of their ability to deliver swing states or the party’s base (13). Or the presidential candidate (George W. Bush) who writes, “I believe voters base their decision on the presidential candidate, not the VP”—yet also speculates that several other vice presidential finalists on his list might have delivered their home state in the general election (see chapter 1).

Like McCain, these actors state their convictions about running mates’ electoral effects definitively—with little, if any, hint of nuance. And, like McCain, it is entirely possible that they have expressed their convictions sincerely. (Bush, for example, did choose a running mate with little electoral appeal and no prospect of delivering a swing state.) But there is also good reason to believe that they, like many other actors in the electoral process that we analyze in later chapters, are more conflicted about running mates’ electoral significance than they let on. In reality, they probably entertain a mixture of views and therefore, under a particular set of circumstances (e.g., a close election, a popular governor, a divided party), might draw on considerations that conflict with their prevailing philosophy to determine that a (potential) running mate really could make a difference in the election—maybe this one time.

That is why one must be careful not to take the conventional wisdom about vice presidential candidates at face value, no matter how frequently or confidently it is publicly pronounced. As is true of the vice presidency itself, evaluations of the running mate’s electoral significance are complex, and often they reveal, on close inspection, quite a bit of internal conflict, especially when moving from the abstract to the particular.

In this book, we take nothing about running mates’ electoral significance for granted. Whatever our preconceptions about their effects on presidential voting—and it would be fair to describe us as skeptics—our commitment is to let the empirical data speak for themselves.

Do Running Mates Matter?

Recognizing the fundamental tension in public attitudes toward vice presidential candidates, described earlier, in this book we ask: Do running mates matter? That is to say, do they influence voting in presidential elections? And, if so, how? Do running mates influence voters, in general, or only targeted subsets of the electorate? Do they, in fact, “deliver” their home state or region? Affiliated demographic groups? Ideological allies? And, to the extent that running mates influence elections, is this because voters actually cast votes for (or against) a vice presidential candidate? Or is it because running mates help to shape voters’ perceptions of the presidential candidate who selected them, thereby exerting an indirect effect on vote choice?

To emphasize the practical significance of this research, and the manner in which we present it, our fundamental research question may be reformulated as follows: Do running mates do what people—namely, presidential candidates and voters—think they do, electorally speaking? Our objective is to answer this question, by testing perceptions of the running mate’s (potential) electoral significance against the relevant empirical data. To do this, we divide our research into two essential and integrally related parts. In the following, we briefly describe each chapter’s methods of analysis and its empirical results.

Part I: Perceptions of Running Mate Effects

Part I (comprising chapters 1 and 2) analyzes perceptions of the running mate’s electoral significance. In particular, we evaluate, first, whether, and to what extent, presidential candidates and voters believe that running mates influence vote choice in presidential elections; and, second, what criteria—particularly in terms of electoral versus governing considerations—they use to evaluate (potential) vice presidential candidates. The purpose of this analysis is to set the agenda for the empirical analyses that follow in part II. In other words, we seek to establish—based on systematic evidence, rather than mere assumption—that it is relevant to ask whether running mates matter in the first place. Moreover, we seek to identify the nature of these perceived electoral effects. Having done so, in part II we can test whether running mates matter in the way that people—particularly, those who select and elect them—think they do.

Chapter 1: (Why) Do Presidential Candidates Think That Running Mates Matter?
In this chapter, we use qualitative evidence from the 1976–2016 elections (i.e., the era of the modern vice presidency) to evaluate presidential candidates’ perceptions of running mate effects. In particular, we seek to determine whether, and why, presidential candidates think that running mates have the potential to influence election outcomes. We have gathered evidence for this analysis from a diverse range of sources, including public speeches and interviews, media coverage, personal memoirs, oral histories, and archival materials from presidential or other public libraries.

Our analysis indicates that most presidential candidates perceive vice presidential candidates to be electorally consequential—and, in some cases, determinative—but in public they downplay or deny such considerations, so as to focus on governing qualifications. In fact, presidential candidates in nearly all recent elections have publicly communicated a remarkably consistent set of selection criteria: that running mates must be qualified to serve as (vice) president, first and foremost; next, they must be personally and politically compatible with the presidential candidate; finally, as something of a bonus, they may provide a modest electoral advantage. But privately, or in subsequent public comments, many presidential candidates emphasize electoral considerations quite a bit more, and governing considerations less, than they do in public during the campaign.

While we cannot generalize across all selection processes, it is fair to say that most presidential candidates think that running mates matter, electorally speaking, and might even prove decisive in a close race. Such perceptions have the potential to influence the actual selection of a vice presidential candidate—and, in turn, who serves in office as vice president.

Chapter 2: (Why) Do Voters Think That Running Mates Matter?
In this chapter, we analyze public polling data on vice presidential selection, mostly from the 2000–2016 presidential elections. The purpose of this analysis is to determine, first, whether voters think that running mates influence their votes, or election outcomes more generally, and second, what criteria voters use to evaluate (potential) running mates, such that we might characterize the nature of their electoral appeal.

Our analysis indicates that voters have mixed, or conflicted, perceptions of running mate effects. Generally, survey respondents affirm the importance of vice presidential selection, in the abstract, and in many cases they report being more or less likely to vote for a given presidential candidate based on his or her choice of a running mate. Yet, at the same time, respondents rate vice presidential selection as less important than nearly all other electoral considerations; fewer than one in ten respondents say that a running mate ever has changed their presidential vote; and when given the opportunity to explain, in their own words, why they support or oppose a particular presidential candidate, few, if any, respondents cite the candidate’s choice of a running mate.

Also, voters seem not to have fixed criteria in mind when evaluating (potential) vice presidential candidates. However, they do prefer running mates who balance a given ticket by compensating for the presidential candidate’s perceived deficiencies. This is evident with respect to attributes of professional experience, in particular, but not demographic characteristics. Indeed, voters seem to value the running mate’s qualifications very highly, and for the most part they do not give credence to electoral considerations.

Part II: Evidence of Running Mate Effects

Part II (comprising chapters 3–5) tests perceptions of the running mate’s influence, as established in part I, against the relevant empirical evidence. Essentially, our objective in these chapters is to evaluate whether running mates matter in the way that relevant political actors think they matter. Each chapter examines a distinct—but not mutually exclusive—process whereby running mate effects might occur: first, by directly influencing vote choice among voters, in general (chapter 3); second, by directly influencing vote choice among targeted subsets of voters (chapter 4); third, by indirect means—that is, by influencing voters’ evaluations of the presidential candidates, which, in turn, directly influence vote choice (chapter 5). For this analysis, we use a diverse range of data sources and research methods. Indeed, the depth and breadth of our analysis of vice presidential candidates’ electoral influence are unprecedented in the political science literature.

Chapter 3: Direct Effects

In this chapter, we evaluate the running mate’s direct effect on voting, generally. First, we do so by providing descriptive statistics on presidential versus vice presidential candidate preferences, based on data from the 1968–2016 American National Election Studies (ANES). Next, using the same data, we estimate the relative influence of vice presidential versus presidential candidate evaluations on vote choice, via logistic regression analyses. Finally, and for the first time in the literature, we test the causal effects of dynamic changes in running mate evaluations (i.e., favorability ratings) on intended vote choice, as well as presidential candidate evaluations, over the course of a campaign. We do so using time series (i.e., rolling cross-sectional) data from the 2000 and 2004 National Annenberg Election Survey (NAES).

Our analyses indicate that running mates do, in fact, directly influence vote choice, but only to a limited extent. Indeed, vice presidential candidate evaluations have much less influence on vote choice than do presidential candidate evaluations. Furthermore, our vector autoregression analysis indicates that while running mates can influence intended vote choice during a campaign, in most cases their effects last only for a few days. This analysis also indicates that presidential and vice presidential candidate evaluations are interdependent (or endogenous) over time. Such direct evidence of interdependent intraparty candidate evaluations is important because it shows that running mates are not just shadows of the presidential candidate. Rather, voters view vice presidential candidates, in part, as a reflection on the presidential candidate—such that reevaluating the former may cause them to reevaluate the latter.

Chapter 4: Targeted Effects

Perhaps, then, running mates are most effective at influencing vote choice among particular groups of voters that presidential campaigns may wish to “target” in order to win an election. To evaluate this possibility, in chapter 4 we examine running mates’ “targeted effects” on vote choice among groups of voters with whom they share a salient geographic (i.e., home state or region), demographic (i.e., gender, religious), or ideological (i.e., liberal, conservative) identity. For example, we assess whether women were more likely than in other years to vote for the Democratic ticket in 1984 or the Republican ticket in 2008, both of which featured a woman running mate (Geraldine Ferraro and Sarah Palin, respectively). Our analysis draws on three distinct, high-quality data sources—the American National Election Studies (1952–2016), the National Annenberg Election Studies (2000–2008), and The American Panel Survey (2012–2016)—and estimates running mate effects by using a multimethod approach that includes linear or logistic regression analyses, for cross-sectional data, and an adaptation of Lenz’s (2012) three-wave test, for panel data.

We find little evidence of targeted running mate effects. For instance, cross-sectional data indicate that Catholics were no more likely to vote for the Democratic Party in 2016, when Tim Kaine was the vice presidential nominee, than in previous elections. And panel data indicate that the effect of Catholic identification on intended vote choice did not change from the period before versus after Kaine’s selection. Likewise, we observe no significant change in women’s voting behavior in response to the Ferraro or Palin selections. The only clear evidence of a targeted effect comes from 2012, when conservative support for the Republican ticket significantly increased following Mitt Romney’s selection of Paul Ryan as his running mate, and ultimately influenced vote choice. In all other cases, we see no such effects at any point during the campaign, or, at best, a temporary increase in support that fades away by Election Day.

Chapter 5: Indirect Effects

In chapter 5, we expand the scope of our analysis to include indirect running mate effects—or the effects of vice presidential candidate evaluations on presidential candidate evaluations, which, subsequently, influence vote choice. This, we argue, is the most realistic conception of running mate effects. Yet indirect effects have gone almost entirely unexplored in the scholarly literature, to date (two exceptions are found in Kenski, Hardy, and Jamieson [2010] and Romero [2001]; but see chapter 5, note 6). In this chapter, we provide an unprecedented analysis of indirect running mate effects, using data from the ANES (1968–2016), NAES (2000–2008), and Knowledge Networks (2008), and a multimethod approach comprising logistic regression analyses and structural equation models (cross-sectional data), vector autoregression (rolling cross-sectional data), and an adaptation of Lenz’s (2012) three-wave test (panel data). Moreover, we evaluate indirect effects based on a diverse range of candidate evaluations, including ones pertaining to ideology, experience, and various professional or personal attributes, as well as general favorability.

Our analysis of more than two hundred statistical models provides overwhelming evidence that running mates influence voters’ perceptions of the presidential candidate who selected him or her. We also present structural equation models demonstrating that running mate evaluations indirectly influence vote choice. In other words, running mates have indirect, as well as direct, effects on voting—although the former appear to be much stronger than the latter. To provide one example of such an effect, in 2008 respondents were significantly more likely to approve of John McCain’s judgment if they believed that his choice of a running mate, Sarah Palin, was ready to be president. Specifically, respondents who rated Palin as “extremely” ready to be president, versus “not at all,” rated McCain’s judgment 2.2 points higher on a scale of 0 to 10. This, in turn, decreased the respondent’s likelihood of voting for the Democratic ticket by 7 percentage points, according to our structural equation models. Nor are these effects limited to perceptions of judgment. Indeed, we find strong and consistent evidence that respondents’ perceptions of the presidential candidate—across a wide range of attributes relating to leadership skills, trustworthiness, and competence—are shaped by their evaluation of the running mate, in terms of overall favorability or experience.

Chapter 6: Why Does This Matter?
This book’s final chapter emphasizes the practical implications of our research findings by discussing several key takeaway points that may help to better inform future deliberations over vice presidential selection among political practitioners, journalists, and the public at large. We present these takeaway points as five recommendations to presidential candidates and their campaigns, when engaging in vice presidential selection. Our recommendations are as follows:
1. Pick someone who can be a good vice president.
2. Don’t just say it; mean it.
3. Ask whether the running mate will matter enough.
4. Don’t expect the running mate to “deliver” a key voting bloc.
5. Don’t just take our word for it.
In each case, we summarize the research findings that inform our recommendation and discuss their implications for vice presidential selection, presidential campaign strategy, and presidential administration. In the course of this discussion, we also consider the limitations of the present research, opportunities for future research, and the role that vice presidential candidates may play in the 2020 election.

So, What if Running Mates Matter?

To be sure, we are not the first scholars to analyze the electoral significance of vice presidential candidates. The existing literature on “running mate effects,” in fact, attests to the importance of a subject that easily can be mistaken as insignificant or even frivolous. And this literature provides valuable perspective—in terms of theory, methodology, and substantive conclusions—that helps to guide our research, while also raising questions that we hope to answer, with a greater measure of clarity, in the pages that follow.

Scholarly Literature
Numerous studies examine running mates’ effects on elections generally (e.g., Adkison 1982; Burmila and Ryan 2013; Devine and Kopko 2016, chap. 8; Grofman and Kline 2010; Ulbig 2010; Wattenberg 1984, 1995; Wattenberg and Grofman 1993), and with respect to specific considerations such as party identification (Court and Lynch 2015), ideology (Court 2012; Krumel and Enami 2017), demography (Jelen 2018), and geography (J. Campbell 1992; J. Campbell, Ali, and Jalalzai 2006; Devine and Kopko 2011, 2013, 2016, 2019; Dudley and Rapoport 1989; Garand 1988; Heersink and Peterson 2016; Holbrook 1991; Kahane 2009; Mixon and Tyrone 2004; Morini 2015; Rosenstone 1983; Schultz 2016; Tubbesing 1973). We review these literatures in the relevant chapters to follow. Also, many studies examine secondary matters that we reference in this book, including media coverage of vice presidential candidates (e.g., Ulbig 2010, 2013) and the vice presidential selection process (e.g., Baumgartner 2012, 2016; Hiller and Kriner 2008; Sigelman and Wahlbeck 1997). But the existing literature has two significant limitations.

First, many of these studies narrowly focus on one aspect of running mate effects, such as geography (e.g., Devine and Kopko 2016) or media coverage (e.g., Ulbig 2013). Second, other more comprehensive studies analyze vice presidential candidates, as an electoral institution, within the broader context of the vice presidency, as a governing institution, and with a predominant focus on the latter (e.g., Baumgartner with Crumblin 2015; Goldstein 2016). Such studies represent tremendous contributions to scholars’ understanding of the vice presidency, which we make no attempt to challenge or to significantly revise here. However, these studies do not provide a comprehensive, empirically driven analysis of running mates’ electoral effects, along the lines of what we present in this book.

In fact, no book to date has been devoted exclusively to the subject of vice presidential candidates’ effects on presidential voting, in general or along several dimensions at a time, such as ideology, geography, and demographics. Also, ours is the first study to systematically examine voters’ perceptions of vice presidential candidates’ electoral influence and their criteria for vice presidential selection (chapter 2). Finally, ours is the first study to analyze how voters’ perceptions of a vice presidential candidate’s characteristics (e.g., readiness to be president) influence their perceptions of the presidential candidate’s characteristics (e.g., judgment), as well as how these perceptions may influence vote choice (chapter 5).

Running Mates and the Vice Presidency

A clarification of terms is in order, also, before proceeding with this analysis. The title of this book, and our central research question, asks: Do running mates matter? We are not asking whether vice presidents matter. Goldstein (2016), in particular, has answered that question rather definitively, and in the affirmative. Although vice presidents have little constitutional power, since the inception of the “modern vice presidency,” under Jimmy Carter, they have wielded significant and growing power as a result of informal institutional changes. In particular, as Goldstein explains, this power comes from serving as a senior adviser to, and troubleshooter for, the president, with the support of extensive personal access and in-house resources. Indeed, many of the most recent vice presidents—including Al Gore, Dick Cheney, and Joe Biden—have played a major role in shaping administration policy on foreign and domestic matters, and in advancing the president’s agenda through their work with Congress and foreign leaders.

Unfortunately, we think, it is all too common—particularly among journalists—to treat the terms “vice president” and “vice presidential candidate” interchangeably. Needless to say (but we will, anyway), the two roles are different, and they coincide only when an incumbent vice president is seeking reelection. In fact, we see the study of vice presidential candidates, as an electoral institution, as quite distinct from the study of vice presidents, as a governing institution (although there is good reason to draw relevant connections between the two at times, in the same way that, say, studying judicial nomination and confirmation processes is connected to, but distinct from, studying judicial behavior). That is why, as noted previously, we explicitly characterize our work as a study of vice presidential candidates, not vice presidents. And it is why, in hopes of limiting confusion about our subject matter and research objectives, we emphasize that distinction by framing our title, research question, and much of the language to follow in terms of “running mates.”

This discussion also provides a useful reminder as to why it is important to know whether, and in what ways, running mates matter. Regardless of their electoral influence, running mates ultimately matter because, if successful, they become vice presidents. And, as the research cited earlier demonstrates, vice presidents are highly, and increasingly, influential actors in American government. If it is the case that presidential candidates (at least sometimes) misjudge the nature of running mates’ effects on presidential voting—perhaps by overestimating their ability to “deliver” a home state or an affiliated demographic group—then they might select someone who is unqualified, or at least less qualified than other credible alternatives, to serve as a partner in government and next in the line of presidential succession, simply because an electoral consideration tipped the scales. This may seem like a remote possibility, but—perhaps depending on one’s political views—it is not difficult to think of a time when it nearly happened or actually did (e.g., Dan Quayle, John Edwards, Sarah Palin).

To the extent that our research validates some perceptions of running mate effects, perhaps it will help to inform presidential candidates, their campaigns, and members of the news media when gaming out viable electoral strategies. But, to the extent that our research challenges errant or oversimplified perceptions of running mate effects, then perhaps it will help to divert attention away from illusions of electoral advantage and redirect it toward efforts to identify the person best qualified to serve as vice president.

About the Author

Christopher J. Devine is assistant professor of political science at the University of Dayton. Kyle C. Kopko is associate professor of political science, associate dean, and director of the legal studies major at Elizabethtown College.

UPK’s David M. Glantz Named 2020 Pritzker Award Recipient

CHICAGO, July 22, 2020— Military historian and author, Colonel David M. Glantz is the 14th recipient of the Pritzker Military Museum & Library Literature Award for Lifetime Achievement in Military Writing.

The Pritzker Literature Award—which includes a gold medallion, citation, and $100,000 honorarium—recognizes and honors the contributions of a living author for a body of work dedicated to enriching the understanding of military history and affairs. Author or co-author of over 60 publications, Glantz has recognition as a leading expert on the Eastern Front during World War II and the role of the Soviet Union during the conflict.

“I accept this award with genuine humility and heartfelt joy. To be awarded for doing what you have loved doing for more than forty years is an honor indeed,” stated Glantz.

Glantz is a dedicated author and scholar whose work highlights the military history of the Soviet Union and the Red Army in World War II. His books include When Titans Clashed: How the Red Army Stopped Hitler, a book that has become the standard reference book for non-specialists, Armageddon in StalingradThe Battle of Kursk, Operation Barbarossa: Hitler’s Invasion Of Russia 1941, and others.

“The breadth and depth of Colonel David Glantz’s contribution to the military history field makes him an the embodiment of the mission and vision of the Pritzker Military Museum & Library,” stated Dr. Rob Havers, President and CEO of the Pritzker Military Museum & Library. “His work is essential reading for those studying World War II, making him an indispensable part of military history scholarship. Colonel Glantz is truly a worthy recipient of the 2020 Pritzker Military Museum & Library Literature Award for Lifetime Achievement in Military Writing. The screening committee, Colonel Pritzker, and I are proud to bring his contributions to the forefront with this honor.”

Now in its fourteenth year, the Pritzker Literature Award was first presented to historian James McPherson in 2007. Past recipients – several of whom served as members of the award’s 2020 screening committee – are Dennis Showalter, Peter Paret, Sir Hew Strachan, David Hackett Fischer, Sir Antony Beevor, and Tim O’Brien.

Beginning his military career in 1963, Glantz has more than thirty years of service in the United States Army including field artillery assignments in Germany and Vietnam. In addition to his military career and the extensive education that came with it, Glantz has also earned a degree in History as well as the designation of being a Distinguished Military Graduate from the Virginia Military Institute. Later, after accepting a commission as Second Lieutenant of Artillery, he earned a master’s degree in Modern European History at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, in June 1965.

Glantz founded and was editor of the Journal of Soviet (Slavic in 1989) Military Studies in 1988, a position he held until January 2018.  He is a member of the Academy of Natural Sciences of the Russian Federation and a 2015 recipient of the Russian Federation Ministry of Defense’s medal “For the Strengthening of Military Cooperation.” In 2000 he received the Society for Military History’s Samuel Eliot Morison Prize for his work in the field of Soviet military history.

Glantz is a recipient numerous military awards including the Distinguished Service Medal, the Legion of Merit, two Bronze Stars medals, two Meritorious Service medals, and many others.

To learn more about the award or the selection process, or to watch Dr. Rob Havers the announce Colonel David Glantz as this year’s winner, visit pritzkermilitary.org.

 ABOUT THE PRITZKER MILITARY MUSEUM & LIBRARY

The Pritzker Military Museum & Library is open to the public and features an extensive collection of books, artifacts, and rotating exhibits covering many eras and branches of the military. From its founding in 2003, it is a center where citizens and soldiers come together to learn about military history and the role of the military in a democracy. The Museum & Library is a non-partisan, non-government information center supported by its members and sponsors.

 

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Two UPK Titles Named 2020 Kansas Notable Books

State Librarian Eric Norris announced today the 15th annual selection of Kansas Notable Books. The fifteen books feature quality titles with wide public appeal, written either by a Kansan, set in Kansas, or about a Kansas related topic.

“I am proud to present the 2020 Kansas Notable Book list. This year’s list covers a wide swath of our cultural and natural history,” said Eric Norris, State Librarian. “The rich array of works on this year’s list examine petroglyphs across the prairie and go on fantastical high seas adventures with pirates; explore the careers of academics, athletes, and aviators; and consider the importance of family from the viewpoint of a young Exoduster in the 1880s and as a world traveler in a present day small western Kansas town. This year’s list will both educate and entertain. I encourage every Kansan to contact their local public library and celebrate the artists and artistry of Kansas.”

A committee of librarians, academics, and historians nominated titles from a list of eligible books, and state librarian Eric Norris selected the final list. In 2006, the first Kansas Notable Books list was announced. Since then more than 200 books have been recognized for their contribution to Kansas literary heritage.

Two University Press of Kansas books were selected.

Petroglyphs of the Kansas Smoky Hills by Rex Buchanan, Burke Griggs, and Joshua Svaty

Long before the coming of Euro-Americans, native inhabitants of what is now Kansas left their mark on the land: carvings in the soft orange and red sandstone of the states Smoky Hills. Though noted by early settlers, these carvings are little known—and, largely found on private property today, they are now rarely seen. In a series of photographs, Petroglyphs of the Kansas Smoky Hills offers viewers a chance to read the story that these carvings tell of the region’s first people—and to appreciate an important feature of Kansas history and its landscape that is increasingly threatened by erosion and vandalism.

Birds, Bones, and Beetles; The Improbable Career and Remarkable Legacy of University of Kansas Naturalist Charles D. Bunker by Chuck Warner

Every day, in natural history museums all across the country, colonies of dermestid beetles diligently devour the decaying flesh off of animal skeletons that are destined for the museum’s specimen collection. That time-saving process was developed and perfected at the University of Kansas Natural History Museum by Charles D. Bunker, a lowly assistant taxidermist who would rise to become the curator of recent vertebrates and who made an indelible mark on his field. That innovative breakthrough serves as a testament to the tenacity of a quietly determined naturalist.

Kansas Notable Books is a project of the Kansas Center for the Book. The Kansas Center for the Book is a program at the State Library of Kansas and the state affiliate of the Library of Congress Center for the Book. The Kansas Center for the Book exists to highlight the state’s literary heritage and foster an interest in books, reading, and libraries.

For more information about Kansas Notable Books, explore this page, call 785-296-3296, or email infodesk@ks.gov.

Can Young Voters Save Us From The Trump Calamity?

by Sandy Horwitt, author of Conversations with Abner Mikva: Final Reflections on Chicago Politics, Democracy’s Future and a Life of Public Service

When my old boss and friend Ab Mikva died on the 4th of July four years ago at age 90, he left an inspiring legacy for democracy’s next generation, including a robust youth civic education organization, the Mikva Challenge.

A person of unquestioned integrity as a state legislator, reform-minded Democratic congressman, chief judge of the Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit and White House counsel, perhaps the most enduring–and timely–part of Abner Mikva’s legacy was his respect and support for young people’s participation in the political process, from protesting to voting. He believed that young people could change the world, and he knew they made the critical difference in his electoral campaigns as, I believe, they can in the November presidential election.

As a young legislator who fought against systemic racism, Ab would be inspired today by the tens of thousands of diverse young people engaged in the Black Lives Matter movement. The very first legislation Ab introduced when he was elected to the Illinois legislature in 1956 was an anti-housing discrimination bill, an initiative that was more than a decade ahead of the enactment of the federal Fair Housing Act of 1968. His first important legislative victory in Congress came when he acted on a tip from a Black student at Hyde Park High School on Chicago’s South Side. “Congressman, what are you going to do about all those camps where they’re going to put all us Black folks?” Ab said he didn’t know about any detention camps, but he investigated and discovered that, in fact, they existed, a remnant of the repressive McCarthy era. Ab’s legislation abolished the camps, and he was proud that the process started with an informed, determined high school student.

In the 1970s, when Ab, the liberal Democratic, was running for Congress in a Republican-leaning district in Chicago’s northern suburbs, he won three consecutive elections by less than one percent, perhaps a modern-day record. In 1976, his victory margin was a mere 201 votes. And in those elections, the votes of young people made the critical difference.

How did we know? Because young people in the Mikva campaign led a highly organized, huge, college-student absentee voting project. Thousands of students on scores of college campuses mailed in their absentee ballots because the Mikva campaign reached out to them and Ab talked about issues they cared about—interestingly, some of the same issues that young people care about today: the environment, gun violence and the cost of higher education.

But in recent decades, political campaigns have mostly ignored young people because they are the least likely to vote. That’s a mistake, Abner Mikva knew from first-hand experience, one that the Biden campaign must not repeat.  It must make the youth vote a high priority, in part because the 18-to-29-year-old cohort is now as large as the Boomers. And, in Harvard’s Youth Poll, this youth cohort of likely voters favors Joe Biden over Donald Trump by 30 points.

In battleground states, the youngest, first-time voters can make the crucial difference. For example, in Michigan, which Trump won by less than 11,000 votes, there are 182,397 potential voters 18-to-21. And in Wisconsin, which Trump won by a little more than 22,000 votes, there are 136,119 young Badger residents 18-to-21. Many of the youngest are not yet registered to vote, the single biggest reason why many young people don’t cast a ballot on Election Day.

We need a summer of massive voter registration and inspiration. The stakes are too high for anything less. In the face of the twin calamities of the Covid-19 pandemic and the Trump presidency, we urgently need the full engagement of democracy’s next generation.

Sandy Horwitt is an author in Arlington, VA. His most recent book is Conversations with Abner Mikva:  Final Reflections on Chicago Politics, Democracy’s Future and a Life of Public Service.

University Press of Kansas Launches New Series

The University Press of Kansas is excited to announce a new editorial series: Politics and Popular Culture.

Series editors: Linda Beail and Lilly J. Goren

Series Description: There is not yet a clearly articulated book series that focuses squarely on the intersection of politics and popular culture, though many books and edited volumes are positioned in just this intellectual space. Because of the growing interest in and importance of this work, we would like to establish a consistent series of publications that encompass a broad interpretation of both politics (including but not limited to the disciplinary borders of Political Science) and of popular culture. A book series dedicated to politics and popular culture would establish a prominent focus and gathering place for work being done across disciplines — in communication, history, media studies, English literature, political science, American studies, and other interdisciplinary scholarship that deals with power, identity, governance, and similar themes. Scholars across these fields would find a desirable home and first-choice publisher for this kind of work. A book series would also create visibility for this kind of work across disciplines, so that scholars and teachers would know to look here for cutting-edge new work for their classes and their research.

We envision a book series that integrates televisual productions, popular literature, gaming, comics, music, fashion, advertising, social media, fandom, and film and cinema. We would be interested in expanding this categorization, or thinking of these areas as the most prominent but not exclusive realm of popular culture and politics.

“We are hoping to publish books that examine popular culture — from TV to gaming, comics, music, fashion, advertising, social media, fandom, and film — in interesting and rigorous ways, with an eye toward the power relationships and political themes embedded in them,” Beail and Goren explain. “We want to appeal to both a scholarly audience (across a range of disciplines and methodologies) and to a crossover audience of fans and layreaders, who will be excited to see texts and phenomena they love being taken seriously, and giving them new food for thought. We want to present work that engages things people already find pleasurable and meaningful in their everyday lives, and shows them some of the deeper meanings, historical and cultural contexts, or political uses of those popular texts.”

Prospective authors should send proposals to the series editors and/or to David Congdon (dcongdon@ku.edu), acquisitions editor at the University Press of Kansas.

About the Editors

Linda Beail is the director of Point Loma Nazarene University’s Margaret Stevenson Center for Women’s Studies and professor of political science.

Lilly J. Goren is professor of political science and global studies at Carroll University.

Minneapolis, Politics and the Police… The Election of 1969

An excerpt from The Conservative Heartland; A Political History of the Postwar American Midwest.

“The Little Guy for the Little Guy; 1969 Minneapolis and the White Working-Class Revolt

by Jeffrey Bloodworth

A political novice before his 1969 mayoral race, Charles Stenvig was not an utter unknown in the Twin Cities. Three years before his mayoral run, he was elected president of the Police Officers Federation of Minneapolis. In standard times, the head of a public union would earn intermittent media attention. The mid-to-late 1960s was no normal era, especially for cops and crime. Indeed, by 1969, a gumbo of urban riots, antiwar protests, and rising crime rates caused law and order to supersede economic concerns with working-class voters. More than any other public figure in Minneapolis, Stenvig capitalized on this turnabout.

As the colorful head of a 770-member union, Stenvig honed a populist brand of leadership that infused the Police Officers Federation with greater “militancy” and grabbed headlines. In a 1967 winter protest for higher wages, for example, he had police and firefighters form a human barrier to stop fuel deliveries to city hall. Personally blocking the fuel plug and in full view of the press, he barked at the fuel delivery driver, “You are going to get your head knocked.” Weeks later, he resumed the protest outside the newly constructed $16 million Minneapolis Auditorium. While Mayor Arthur Naftalin and other political elites sauntered into the posh facility to watch Henry Mancini conduct the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, police and firemen carried banners stating, “Council okays $16,000,000 for Auditorium. Fire and Police Protection?” A savvy organizer, Stenvig understood the optics and where working-class sympathies would lie.

In ordinary times, Stenvig’s advocacy for police might tire the public. But for many Minneapolitans, especially the white working class, the late 1960s had spawned significant empathy for police. Rising crime, urban riots, student protests, and increased scrutiny of police tactics had made a cop’s job more difficult. Though hardly a hotbed of violent crime, Minneapolis was not immune to these trends. Along with every other city, Minneapolis witnessed sustained increases in crime. In 1968, for instance, the city endured a sharp 16 percent surge in lawbreaking from the year before. Though criminality dropped in 1969, the accumulated increases in years prior and public perception cemented a public opinion that lawbreakers were running rampant.

Flourishing crime near white working-class neighborhoods caused the issue of law and order to resonate especially strongly with those voters. The heart of the city’s Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party (DFL) voters lived in the Ninth and Twelfth Wards, an area adjacent to the crime-ridden south Minneapolis. Comprising only 6 percent of the city’s land area and 12 percent of the population, south Minneapolis featured a swell in significant violent felonies. In a 1969 two-month sample, the area was home to 26 percent of the city’s overall street crimes. When a city journalist rode with a south Minneapolis patrol team during one typical summer evening in 1969, the reporter witnessed police investigate two burglaries, make one arrest for public drunkenness, interview an armed teen, locate a pack of youths dropping stones onto cars from an overpass, and engage in a high-speed car chase. For the working-class homeowners of the Ninth and Twelfth Wards, south Minneapolis’s crime represented a significant bodily threat and a financial hazard to home values.

In the midst of a national and citywide crime wave and a swell in public disorder, Stenvig earned headlines as the Twin City’s chief proponent of the police. Engaging in continual public spats over pay, sick leave, disability, and boycotts, he became so controversial that most Minneapolis police refused public comment on their union chief. Even if many cops winced when their union boss bawled, “I believe there is police brutality—brutality against the police, that is,” many voters appreciated the sentiment.

Star Tribune photo

High on Stenvig’s list of “brutalities” perpetrated against the police were Warren Court rulings that buttressed the rights of the accused. To him, the rulings confirmed that police had become “the scapegoat for politicians.” By 1969, a clear majority of voters concurred with Stenvig. Gallup Polls, for instance, revealed an extraordinary national change in public attitudes toward “crime and lawlessness.” In November 1967, 60 percent of Americans polled had named pocketbook concerns the “Most Urgent Problem Facing Family.” Less than two years later, “Crime and Lawlessness,” which had not even rated as a top-ten issue in 1967, had leaped to second place. This shift in attitudes could be found in the Twin

Cities. One Minneapolis mailman captured this swing in sentiment by saying, “I think at one time the police were a little bit arrogant, but I don’t think it’s that way anymore.” Bemoaning “young people’s” disrespect for the police, he and other Minneapolitans wanted to empower the police and respected cops for having a “tough job.”

Making matters more combustible was that public attitudes toward law and order were swinging to the right at the very moment that New Politics liberals backed protections for the accused. To many voters, these “trivial detail[s]” had enabled violent offenders to escape punishment and pushed the spike in crime. In Minneapolis, the city’s iconic four-term mayor, Arthur Naftalin, had created two such bodies, the Human Rights Commission and a civil rights department, dedicated to the very “trivial details” that typified, in the estimation of some, liberal permissiveness toward law and order. Charged with investigating allegations of police misconduct and brutality, they investigated Minneapolis police for violating the rights of the accused.

As police union president, Stenvig battled Naftalin’s Human Rights Commission.

In what would become his trademark populist bravado, he urged officers to simply refuse to appear before the committee or offer written or oral testimony regarding any “racial disturbance.” In 1968, the commission chair, Raymond Plank, a local liberal business magnate, accused Stenvig of blocking two white officers’ testimony. In response, Stenvig challenged Plank to a televised debate. Possibly looking to the 1969 mayoral race, Stenvig defied the Twin Cities liberal powerbroker. Though the debate never materialized, the pugnacious police union head clearly demonstrated an understanding of political theatrics.

In early 1969, “Charlie” or “Chuck”—never Charles—hit the campaign trail. Punctuating the end of a sentence with the aphorism “isn’t that right”—as in “the mayor is the Police Commissioner of Minneapolis, isn’t that right?”—Stenvig promised, “The mayor’s main job is being the head of the police department.” Using class resentment to his advantage, Stenvig accused business elites, both major newspapers, and the city’s leading law firms of badmouthing his candidacy, because they were “afraid they’ll have a working man as mayor.” Doubling down on this sentiment, he declared, “People are sick and tired of politicians and intellectuals . . . they [the people] want an average workingman from the community to represent them—and that’s me.”

Lacking clear qualifications for the job, Stenvig utterly understood the electorate’s mood. On the eve of the election, one Minneapolitan correctly predicted that “Stenvig will be elected, certainly not because he is a better candidate with better qualifications, but because voters are sick and tired of endless endorsements and other tactics used by the Establishment.” For that voter and Stenvig, the “Establishment” meant perceived liberal permissiveness of crime, urban riots, protests, and social tumult. This charge possessed some merit. In the face of rising fear of and disgust with crime, liberal elites often dismissed crime statistics as unreliable. When that failed, US attorney general Nicholas Katzenbach scorned fears of sexual assault by telling women, “The odd[s] of that happening may be about the same as those of being hit by lightning.” While many liberals stuck their heads in the sand, an actual and verifiable crime wave metastasized.

In conjunction with crime were urban riots. In the mid-to-late 1960s, nearly every major American city witnessed urban disorders centered upon racial issues. These demonstrations reached a crescendo in the summer of 1967, during which bloody race riots erupted in Detroit and Newark. In that same summer, Minneapolitans experienced the largest racial disturbance in their city’s history. By the 1960s, the city’s historically tiny African American population had grown and comprised 4.5 percent of the overall population. They also endured the very same indignities, housing and employment discrimination, and police brutality that had become hallmarks of the black experience in the urban North.

On a warm July night, north Minneapolis exploded in violence following two racial incidents with white authorities. Over the course of two nights, black youth rioted and set fire to the area’s main commercial thoroughfare. Once the riot emerged, participants roamed the district, chucked rocks at police, and set fire to area businesses. When firemen arrived to battle the blazes, rioters pelted them with debris. As an eight-block stretch of Plymouth Avenue businesses burned, firemen refused to return.

In response to the melee, Minnesota’s governor, Harold LeVander, sent six hundred national guardsmen to the area with orders to “shoot looters on sight.” Quite small in comparison to those in Detroit or Watts, the race riot nevertheless rocked white Minnesota. Indeed, for years, Walter Mondale had bragged to his senate colleagues, “No such thing could happen in Minnesota.” Humbled, Mondale realized race relations were not as convivial as he imagined, which for many liberals of the senator’s bent prompted further gestures at racial reconciliation. The senator’s white working-class constituents, however, had opposite reactions: they sought law and order.

A scant seventeen months later, in January 1969, the University of Minnesota witnessed a violent student protest with a significant racial component. Just as the mayoral primary race commenced, approximately sixty to seventy students turned an afternoon meeting with university president Malcolm Moos into a twenty-four-hour occupation of the campus administration building.47 Led by the Afro-American Action Committee (AAAC) and supported by Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), protesters barricaded themselves into the Morrill Hall offices, soaked university records with water, and debated the merits of torching the building. The next morning, hundreds of white counterprotesters gathered outside Morrill Hall to hurl rocks and ice at the building. Fearing for their safety, AAAC and SDS members armed themselves with fire extinguishers, broom handles, and fire hoses. With the incident threatening to spin out of control, Moos offered concessions that ended the standoff and refused to sanction the protesters. This conclusion sparked significant controversy among whites in Minneapolis.

It was in the midst of this environment that the contest to replace Mayor Naftalin commenced. Though few observers gave Stenvig much of a chance, the rabble-rousing populist policeman fit the bill for an angry electorate. Stunning the Minneapolis political world, Stenvig captured nearly 50 percent of the primary vote by carrying nine of the city’s thirteen wards, including DFL strongholds. The only real contest was over second place, where Republican Dan Cohen defeated the DFL nominee, Gerard Hegstrom, who finished a distant third. Adding to the ignominy, Hegstrom failed to carry his own neighborhood working-class ward. The two wards he did carry almost exclusively comprised, in predictable New Politics liberal fashion, university students and professors.

 

Jeffrey Bloodworth an associate professor of history at Gannon University

 

A Monumental Defeat

by Nicole Maurantonio, author of Confederate Exceptionalism: Civil War Myth and Memory in the Twenty-First Century

On Thursday, June 4, 2020, Virginia governor Ralph Northam announced plans to remove the statue memorializing Confederate general Robert E. Lee from Richmond’s Monument Avenue, a historic thoroughfare long recognized as a commemorative bastion of Lost Cause mythology. The city’s mayor, Levar Stoney, followed suit, announcing the proposed removal of statues of the four other Confederate leaders lining the residential avenue: Jefferson Davis, J. E. B. Stuart, Stonewall Jackson, and Matthew Fontaine Maury. These announcements came on the heels of national and international protests sparked by news of the murder of George Floyd, a forty-six-year-old Black man, by a white Minneapolis police officer.

While Northam’s and Stoney’s announcements were initially met in my home city with optimism and hope for the future, at least among many, an injunction issued by a Richmond judge on June 8 that temporarily blocked the removal of the Lee monument reminds us that resistance to change is both real and deeply anchored in Monument Avenue’s racist history.

As I read news of the injunction, I was struck by the language of the judge’s order—that the state had, in March 1890, months prior to the Lee statue’s May dedication, agreed to “faithfully guard” and “affectionately protect” the statue, pedestal, and ground on which they sit (known as “Lee Circle” until recent protests led to the informal renaming of the site to Marcus David Peters Circle, after a Black man killed by police in 2018). In 1890, as what would become Monument Avenue was being envisioned, it was clear what was truly being “guarded” and “protected”: whiteness. There was nothing subtle about this message. During the period of Jim Crow, advertisements lined the city’s newspaper, the Richmond Dispatch, assuring white readers that potential residents of “African descent” would be excluded from the neighborhood. More than 130 years later, as debates surrounding the meaning of these monuments have flared, the message continues to resonate.

As part of the research for my book Confederate Exceptionalism: Civil War Myth and Memory in the Twenty-First Century, I attended a series of neo-Confederate events ranging from commemorative celebrations to rallies, each of which was intended to affirm a particular yet historically inaccurate narrative: that the Confederacy was not an entity steeped in racism but rather one in which Black people were, in most cases, part of the family, respected and cared for. Many of the individuals I met over the course of the years I conducted my research maintained that Black Confederates were a vital constituency eager and willing to protect their homes and, by extension, their enslavers.

While the myth of the Black Confederate has been debunked by historians, calls for the “preservation” of Monument Avenue and other sites of Confederate commemoration—sites for the celebration of what neo-Confederates maintain signal “heritage not hate”—persist. In my book, I argue that such calls not only elide the monuments’ racist history but also affirm the desire of many whites to see Monument Avenue and sites like it remain suspended in time, divorced from history—a historic habitat diorama.

The once-pristine diorama—quiet and undisturbed—has, in recent weeks, been disrupted. Jefferson Davis was toppled from his pedestal on Monument Avenue. Covered in pink paint, the president of the Confederacy was left lying in the street. The Lee monument is now covered in vibrant graffiti decrying police violence. It has been transformed into a makeshift memorial, a site of pilgrimage for those fighting for racial justice.

While the judge’s injunction has stalled the Lee statue’s removal temporarily, it seems as though a return to stasis—to the status quo—is untenable. The monument will be removed—a symbolic dismantling of white supremacy culture in the former capital of the Confederacy. And we will be better for it.

Nicole Maurantonio is associate professor of rhetoric and communication studies and American studies at the University of Richmond. She is the coeditor, with David W. Park, of Communicating Memory & History.

The 1960s and Today’s Crises

by Ted Morgan, author of What Really Happened to the 1960s; How Mass Media Culture Failed American Democracy

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past”—William Faulkner

It’s been a long fifty years since the end of the 1960s. Yet, as current events involving racism and the police remind us, the past is still with us. In many ways, the long 1960s era—from about 1954 to 1975—remains a benchmark for protest movements, political turmoil, and youthful activism of various kinds.

On May 4, 2020, we witnessed the fiftieth anniversary of the shootings at Kent State, an iconic 1960s event. What is perhaps most notable about Kent State is how deeply divided the public was over the killing of protesting students at Kent and Jackson State. That polarization reflected the mediated events of the 1960s, and it is still very much with us.

This year’s protests against police violence erupted after millions saw the truly horrifying video of George Floyd being killed by Minneapolis policeman Derek Chauvin. These protests, heavily populated by the young, spread like wildfire across the country and much of the rest of the world. Floyd’s desperate words, “I can’t breathe,” have graced sign after sign all across the globe.

The spread of protest, itself something of a media-assisted phenomenon, became a magnet for media attention, generating multiple references to the urban uprisings of the 1960s. As they were in the 1960s, the televisual media in particular became preoccupied with outbreaks of violence against property, including, at the margins of organized protests, the looting of stores. Also echoing the 1960s, mainstream media commentary ranged from right-wing denunciations of the protests—notably President Trump’s malicious calls for crushing protesters with military force—to liberal commentators clearly sympathetic to the protesters’ anguish but who were quick to denounce any form of violence as counterproductive.

The effect of mainstream media coverage, then as now, is to steer the public discourse inside the boundaries of the two-party system, thus leaving outside those who call for more structural reforms of the American political economy. One important difference today is, of course, the prevalence of the internet and social media providing a place where people can find compatible voices, express their views, and share images.

What Really Happened to the 1960s: How Mass Media Culture Failed American Democracy documents the way media coverage helped to spread protest while also generating increasing militancy and alienation among the many protest groups of that era. The book demonstrates how the same mass media continue to fail American democracy. Most fundamentally, the book explains how we got from an era of promising democratic reform to our current world of shocking inequality, endless wars, and a planet on the brink of ecodisaster.

The images broadcast in the 1960s gave right-wing commentators fodder for fueling a backlash to 1960s social movements and the liberal Kennedy-Johnson years. It began with Barry Goldwater’s 1964 effort to link the “riot” in Harlem to the “lawlessness” of the Southern civil rights movement—thus becoming the first Republican to win four states of the Old South. The backlash continued through Ronald Reagan’s 1966 rise as governor of California and Richard Nixon’s successful “law and order” presidential campaign of 1968.

Typically, the backlash seized on the most extreme behaviors that’s visible in the media, equating the “lawlessness” with the allegedly destructive intentions of the protest movements themselves. Highly inflammatory protest actions, like the Viet Cong flags that began showing up at antiwar protests, aided the cause of backlash commentators. Politicians cynically played on the fears, antipathies, and feelings of being “left out” of 1960s era reforms on the part of rural Americans, white southerners, the white working class, and religious conservatives.

The other backlash story revolves around corporate America’s anxiety over declining economic profitability in the 1970s. As the corporatist Trilateral Commission put it, the rise of “previously passive or unorganized groups” (notably racial minorities, women, and students) in the 1960s era produced what they termed an “excess of democracy.” Their response became a blueprint for the neoliberal America that emerged under Ronald Reagan—deregulate the economy, cut taxes on corporations and the wealthy, privatize everything public, and greatly expand defense spending.

Which brings us to Donald Trump—quite probably the most narcissistic, corrupt, and polarizing president in our history. Trump very effectively plays off the post-1960s themes, voicing sentiments, however crudely, that those who’ve long felt marginalized find emotionally satisfying. At the same time, he backs policies that enrich the rich, militarize our police, and endanger the future habitability of the planet—further marginalizing the public at large.

There are, however, lessons from the 1960s era that can help point the way toward a more democratic, just, and sustainable future. These, too, are considered in the concluding chapter of What Really Happened to the 1960s.

 

Ted (Edward P.) Morgan is emeritus professor of political science at Lehigh University. In addition to What Really Happened to the 1960s: How Mass Media Culture Failed American Democracy, he published an earlier interpretive history of the 1960s entitled The Sixties Experience: Hard Lessons About Modern America.

A Pride Month Reading List

The University Press of Kansas is proud to help celebrate Pride Month with a curated list of books studying the legal battle for gay rights…

 

No Place Like Home; Lessons in Activism from LGBT Kansas

by C.J. Janovy

Far from the coastal centers of culture and politics, Kansas stands at the very center of American stereotypes about red states. In the American imagination, it is a place LGBT people leave. No Place Like Home is about why they stay. The book tells the epic story of how a few disorganized and politically naïve Kansans, realizing they were unfairly under attack, rolled up their sleeves, went looking for fights, and ended up making friends in one of the country’s most hostile states.

 

 

The Courts, the Ballot Box, and Gay Rights; How Our Governing Institutions Shape the Same-Sex Marriage Debate

by Joseph Mello

If the same-sex marriage debate tells us one thing, its that rights do not exist in a vacuum. What works for one side at the ballot box often fails in the courtroom. Conservative opponents of same-sex marriage used appeals to religious liberty and parental rights to win ballot measure campaigns, but could not duplicate this success in court. Looking at the same-sex marriage debate at the ballot box and in the courts, this timely book offers unique insights into one of the most fluid social and legal issues of our day—and into the role of institutional context in how rights are used.

 

Judging the Boy Scouts of America; Gay Rights, Freedom of Association, and the Dale Case

by Richard J. Ellis

As Americans, we cherish the freedom to associate. However, with the freedom to associate comes the right to exclude those who do not share our values and goals. What happens when the freedom of association collides with the equally cherished principle that every individual should be free from invidious discrimination? This is precisely the question posed in Boy Scouts of America v. James Dale, a lawsuit that made its way through the courts over the course of a decade, culminating in 2000 with a landmark ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court. In Judging the Boy Scouts of America, Richard J. Ellis tells the fascinating story of the Dale case, placing it in the context of legal principles and precedents, Scouts’ policies, gay rights, and the culture wars in American politics.

 

The Case for Gay Rights; From Bowers to Lawrence and Beyond

by David A. J. Richards

As Americans wrestle with red-versus-blue debates over traditional values, defense of marriage, and gay rights, reason often seems to take a back seat to emotion. In response, David Richards, a widely respected legal scholar and long-time champion of gay rights, reflects upon the constitutional and democratic principles—relating to privacy, intimate life, free speech, tolerance, and conscience-that underpin these often-heated debates.

 

The Sharon Kowalski Case; Lesbian and Gay Rights on Trial

by Casey Charles

While car-crash victim Sharon Kowalski lay comatose in the hospital, battle lines were drawn between her parents and her lesbian companion Karen Thompson, initiating a nearly decade-long struggle over the guardianship of Kowalski. The ensuing litigation became a rallying point for gays and lesbians frustrated by laws and social stigmas that treated them as second-class citizens. Considered the most compelling case of his lifetime by the late Tom Stoddard, former executive director of the Lambda Legal Defense Fund, the Kowalski legal saga also resonated deeply among AIDS patients who worried that they too might be legally deprived of their partners’ care.

Covid-19: A Compounding Crisis

by Elisabeth M. Eittreim, author of Teaching Empire; Native Americans, Filipinos, and US Imperial Education, 1879–1918

CNN ran a devastating though not surprising headline on Monday, May 18, 2020: “Navajo Nation surpasses New York state for the highest Covid-19 infection rate in the US.” Two months earlier, the New York City region had shut down, including life in the small suburban town where I live. Schools, businesses, and life in general was (and continues to be) quarantined, and daily news briefings counted the highest number of lives lost and rates of community transmission in the country. Only recently have analyses of nationwide statistics regarding the virus revealed the known but often ignored inequities that plague our nation, as higher rates of COVID-19 infection and death are found among African American, Latino, and other minority communities, disproportionately burdening the most oppressed in the land of the free. Perhaps some of the most ignored and neglected among us are the more than 6 million indigenous peoples living in the United States today.

Despite high rates of compliance to some of the strictest stay-at-home orders in the country, CNN reports multiple risk factors that the Navajo nation faces with the advent of COVID-19: 30-40% of households without running water, multi-generational family units, and limited numbers of grocery stores. Disproportionately high rates of disease and poverty also plague the Navajo and other Native American peoples, increasing susceptibility to the virus.

The Navajo nation’s vulnerabilities today are not indicative of history repeating itself. Today’s vulnerabilities—and those of other minority communities—are historical inequities compounded. Moments of crisis, like this 2020 pandemic, exponentially exacerbate existing inequities: inadequate access to food, health care, medicine, living wages, and safety. Many Americans like to tell themselves that they have worked hard and have thus earned their salaries, their homes, and their lifestyles. And yes, many have worked hard, although most have not been burdened by centuries of generational poverty.

Historically, disease and European then American greed—conquest, warfare, forced removal, and enforced reservation life—decimated the indigenous population of North America. Between 1492 and 1900, more than 85 percent of the population was lost. Assaults on native lives, livelihoods, and culture continued into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, including through institutions that many Americans considered the great equalizer: school.

While missionaries had sought to reeducate American Indians since early contact, by the late 1800s the US government increasingly invested in schooling to resolve the so-called “Indian problem”—that posed by Native Americans who continued to insist on their autonomy despite US expansion. In 1879, the US government opened the first off-reservation Indian boarding school: the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. Established in the east, far from most Native American communities, Carlisle and other schools for Indian education sought to “save the Indian” both from their presumed “backwardness” and from extinction itself. Indigenous families were largely coerced into sending their children to such schools, and too many families would never see their children alive again.

From the Carlisle Indian School’s earliest days, disease stole the lives of native children. A Cheyenne child was the first to die in January 1880. Weeks later, an Iowan child died after only three weeks at the school. Diseases like consumption, measles, tuberculosis, and trachoma plagued all Indian schools. Children died of pneumonia, meningitis, and influenza. In the almost forty years that Carlisle was open, more than two hundred student deaths were officially reported, most from disease, though the actual number is much higher, as sick children were often sent home and not counted.

Government-sponsored Indian schools continue to exist today, though their missions now celebrate indigenous heritage and diversity rather than try to squelch it. Still, education alone cannot remedy the poverty plaguing the Navajo nation and other indigenous communities. Education, however well-intended, does not guarantee that households have running water; such children and their families are acutely vulnerable to COVID-19 as they literally cannot wash away the virus.

Most Americans prefer to celebrate the promise of American democracy rather than admit its flaws. We revel in historic victories but minimize the atrocities. We elevate the stories and events of the past that show our best side but ignore those that expose our worst. Such selective storytelling about who we are impacts the policies and perspectives that we hold today. The Navajo nation’s access to running water today may seem disconnected from historic wrongs, but it is the cumulative result of centuries of disease, displacement, deceit, and denial. In fact, most non-native Americans ignore the existence of modern-day indigenous peoples. We confine native peoples to the past, dress up as pilgrims and Indians in kindergarten classroom Thanksgiving celebrations or cheer on a team mascot embodying the bravery and strength of an Indian warrior, but we do not see the plight or resolve of Native Americans today. We do not burden ourselves with the fact that almost half of Navajo households lack running water.

It is now, in times of crisis, that drastic inequities are revealed and worsened. Let us make it a time where we begin to acknowledge our sins of the past and present, where we strive toward understanding, and where we listen. It is not our job to assume that we have all of the answers, but it is our responsibility to respect and hear native voices.

Elisabeth Eittreim is a lecturer in the History Department at Rutgers University and an adjunct in the Women’s Studies Department at Georgian Court University.