RUPERT IN THE FRAY

One of the more curious twists in recent American history is the impact of Rupert Murdoch, the Australian press baron who became an American citizen to keep control of his then fledgling television network.

Politically conservative, he’s nevertheless lowered the social standards of mass media. So much for values. He introduced dirty words to television and thus made them more acceptable in otherwise polite public discussion. His tabloid newspaper journalism, meanwhile, focused on celebrities and scandal in ways that have eroded serious political debate and public policy. That’s even without getting into his influence in Hollywood.

Put simply, we’re a less polite society than we were before his appearance. Or should we just say, cruder? That’s even before we get into the Fox News role as the Republican Party mouthpiece. Or all of the Murdoch-related phone-hacking uproar in Britain.

Now we might wonder how he’s reacting in private to the Donald’s emergence as the GOP presidential race leader. Someone from another television network, free from the Fox connection, all the same rising and then riding on the confrontational entertainment celebrity approach to political argument Murdoch’s nurtured.

Still, Murdoch’s far from the faceless corporate existence we see elsewhere. He’s passionate about print journalism, for one thing, and has been willing to take risks. But when people complain about “the media,” he’s still part of the mix, the one that almost always carries negative connotations. And, for the record, let’s point out it’s really corporate media, focused on big profits, rather than liberal.

WHERE ARE THE GROWNUPS IN THIS PARTY?

“No” is no way to lead.

That’s the lesson from watching two-year-olds or, for that matter, all too many parents.

The only thing the so-called Freedom Caucus members of Congress seem to know how to do is vote “No.” In that way, they’re two-year-olds. And don’t tell me, No, they’re not.

Just see what happens when it comes to voting for their own party leadership. No Speaker.

It’s no way to lead. The grownups in the room need to assert their authority. Perhaps, too, some parenting lessons are in order. If there’s anyone who can teach them.

SPEAKING OF SPEAKERS

Sometimes a detail from a specialized strand of knowledge opens up an insight on a broader field. In this case, it springs from my awareness of Quaker history and the naming of children.

One of the pivotal figures in the schisms within the Society of Friends in the first half of the 1800s was a wealthy English banker and evangelist who traveled widely through the United States from 1837 to 1840. Joseph John Gurney (1788-1847) was so popular that “Joseph Johns” became a synonym for potluck dishes in parts of the American South, and many infant boys were named Gurney in his honor. He was even invited by Henry Clay, the Speaker of the House, to use the Capitol’s Legislation Hall to address members of Congress. In the end, a large branch of American Quakers came to be known as Gurneyites.

All that came to my mind while scanning a list of Speakers of the House and wondering if any had become president. (As noted earlier, one had – James K. Polk, who defeated Clay in that election.)

But the name of another Speaker caught my eye: Joseph Gurney Cannon, a Republican from Illinois who led the House of Representatives from 1903 to 1911.

Could there be link to the English evangelist?

As it turns out, yes.

Although Cannon’s biography has him born a Quaker in 1836 in Guilford County, North Carolina, (home of my Hodgson ancestry for many generations), I find no Cannons in the genealogical minutes. His mother, on the other hand, came from an established Friends family, which would have provided Quaker contact but not membership. In fact, her marrying a non-Friend meant losing her own membership in 1828, though she could still attend worship. Joe moved with his family to Indiana in 1840, eventually married in a Methodist service, joined a Masonic lodge, and died a Methodist in 1926. It’s a common story, actually.

What’s more interesting is the argument that “Uncle Joe” was the most dominant Speaker in the history of the House, as well as being its second longest. Time magazine’s first issue (March 3, 1923) featured his portrait on the cover, for good reason. Cannon was the longest-serving Republican in the House, totaling 40 years in office.

So much for the image of meek Quakers, no matter how tenuous the connection. Not just outspoken and pugnacious, Cannon was apparently tyrannical, leading to a crisis not unlike the one facing Congress at the moment. He was stripped of much of his ironfisted control in something resembling a coup by progressive Republicans aligned with Democrats. Sound familiar?

Cannon’s history also plays into another line of mine. He was followed as Speaker by Champ Clark of Missouri, who was somehow closely affiliated in business dealings with one of my mother’s ancestors.

WHERE’S THE HONOR OR ADVANTAGE?

Once upon a time, being Speaker of the House of Representatives of the United States was an esteemed and quite powerful position.

For one thing, I never previously realized my hometown carried the name of the third speaker. Nor did I realize that Massachusetts had been the source of more of the officeholders, eight, than any other state. (In contrast, Virginia and Ohio provided the most presidents.)

I do remember finding family postcards of the Missouri mansion of Champ Clark, who was Speaker 1911-1919, and being told, in reverential tones, that one of my great-great-grandfathers had somehow been in charge of his affairs in this native state. Not that I’ve ever followed up to confirm the story. Maybe it was a cousin?

Curiously, though, despite all of its prestige, only one president – 0ur 11th – ever served as Speaker. That was James K. Polk, who led the House, 1835-39, before landing in the White House, 1845-49. In that election, he defeated another Speaker, Henry Clay. (For the record, Gerald Ford had been only Minority Leader before becoming president through Richard Nixon’s resignation.)

Looking back, though, the last reference to the position with any general air of full respect from both sides seems to invoke Tip O’Neill, 1977-87.

That’s three-plus decades ago.

For someone with the ambitions of Wisconsin Representative Paul Ryan, these factors have to come into play as he considers Republican Party calls for him to run for the Speaker’s gavel. Even without the current toxic situation, it would add up to a dead end. Or, at best, a final step.

Let’s see how long reason holds out in the end.

ARE THOSE SEAMS TURNING INTO TECTONIC PLATES?

Only weeks ago, I wrote on the longstanding seams in the Republican Party and wondered about their coming apart. (Here’s what I posted.)

Since then, in the dizzying developments in the party’s inability to name a new Speaker of the House of Representatives, along with the mystifying field for the presidency itself, it’s now possible to ask whether those seams have become tectonic plates – the kind that are about to erupt as a very destructive political party earthquake rather than simply ripping apart.

The so-called Freedom Caucus is being called the “kamikaze congress,” one that would rather see the Capitol blown up than do anything for the good of the country. The more moderate or more mainstream Republican congressmen, meanwhile, are awakening to the fact that their party can’t govern in its current state – whether they align themselves as a Reality Caucus with a core of moderate Democrats is making for some fascinating discussion.

As a blogger without insider information, I can only watch all this from a distance. Keeping up with the news, much less digesting it and relaying any conclusions, is exhausting. So here we are, following a big drama. Who knows how many acts there will be or how much figurative blood will be shed. It’s that, or comedy, but I can’t see anyone here laughing anytime soon.

PRIMARY CAMPAIGN TRAIL NOTES

Last weekend, at our town’s annual Apple Harvest Day festival, as I passed the Democratic Party booth in the array along Central Avenue downtown, someone mentioned that Rick Santorum was in the crowd.

“I’m not sure I’d recognize him if I saw him,” I confessed. Not having a television does limit my awareness in some ways.

“Oh, you’d know him if you saw him. He’s taller than me,” my informant said.

As it turned out, I did catch glimpses of the former U.S. senator from Pennsylvania moving through pedestrian jam. It was his blue sports coat and khaki pants, mostly, that said GOP hopeful – or possibly, staff. Still, he was talking to an aide, rather than shaking hands and greeting potential voters. Could it be? What would I say? Or ask, pointedly? Besides, we were being carried along in opposite directions.

Later in the afternoon, at a booth where I was volunteering, I was given a business card at the end of a pleasurable bit of small talk. The next day, reading the news, I learned that this was Santorum’s host for the event. Little did I know that over breakfast just downstream, the candidate had received an earful from two Planned Parenthood supporters.

Maybe he’d had enough for the day?

~*~

As I’ve mentioned, our telephone’s been ringing with presidential primary campaign pitches. Some of them are robo-calls we promptly ignore. Talk to us in person, or else!

And then there are the surveys, sometimes several a day. Some of them are legitimately neutral, but others, well … let’s just say it’s quickly obvious who’s paying the bill.

Sometimes it’s a bit amusing, like the one from a first-time questioner working for the Carson camp. She stumbled through her script but had our sympathy. It’s how you learn the process, after all.

But then there was one that started asking if we were “strongly likely,” “somewhat likely,” “somewhat not likely,” or “strongly not likely” to vote for Trump, Carson, Bush, Kasich … and then suddenly turned to questions solely about Bush. Wait a minute! You claimed to be an independent research firm! What about the dozen or so other hopefuls on the GOP ticket?

At least this one wasn’t turning to a pitch for donations.

~*~

Considering the number of phone calls we’re getting from so-called opinion research outfits, I am concerned about the validity of the results. If a few people are getting the equivalent of “voting early and often” in the opinion sampling, what’s to preclude toying with the results? Why not say something that spins the outrage or anxiety? Why not boost a marginal candidate? Why not jump on a hot-air balloon for a short ride? Or try to deflate it?

More to the point: the only result I truly care about takes place in the election booth. Why can’t we concentrate on the issues until then, rather than the artificial horse race? (Or, in this case, elephant race, for the most part?)

WHERE ARE THE CANDIDATES’ OFFICES?

In remarking about the failure of the presidential candidates to get out and do the ground-level face-to-face meet-and-greets that are the foundation of New Hampshire’s first-in-the-nation primary, I’ve failed to notice a conspicuous change in this particular campaign. I live in a county seat, one of ten in New Hampshire, and usually by this point in the campaign, we’d have prominent campaign headquarters downtown.

Not this time.

No, it finally dawned on me. Nada!

(Well, since drafting this, we got a phone call saying Hillary just opened an office here, just not downtown. Still, something’s akimbo.)

In fact the Republicans, who ought to be the most active in staking out territory, had only eight offices across New Hampshire by mid-September – all in Manchester, the largest city, an hour away from where I live. Much more from the further reaches of the state.

Contrast that to the Democrats: eight offices for Hillary Clinton alone, at the time, four for Bernie Sanders, and two for Martin O’Malley. Fourteen in all. And Joe Biden’s still waiting in the wings.

The local office is where a candidate’s organization offers literature and answers questions to passers-by, does its phone-banking, encourages supporters to meet, plans canvassing and visibility events. It’s where each candidate gains visibility – and credibility – every time a driver or pedestrian comes past.

Maybe the Republicans think advertising will fill the gap. It won’t. Each region of my adopted state is different. I’ll leave it at that.

I’ve also mentioned the lack of living room meetings and am surprised to see the only ones listed on the Republican side are all in Scott Brown’s Rye home – that is, the former U.S. Senator from Massachusetts. Hardly bread-and-butter invitations to the faithful, right?

LOOKING AT THE GOP WHITE HOUSE HOPEFULS

Looking at the pack, I wonder how many voters can even say something about each of the names on the full slate. Even in simply determining each candidate’s state, as a starter, or the major offices he or she’s held.

That’s even before the question of finding some significant way one stands out from the rest.

I’m even asking if they’d make a decent Cabinet, put together.

Here’s hoping things start to get lively. Let us see who they are. Really are.

NOT BY A LONG SHOT

A surgeon is more of an artist than an administrator.

There’s nothing to make me think he can lead a management team, much less a host of competing political and economic interests. Artists, after all, tend to act as soloists or move in small circles. An operating room remains a small stage or studio, all focused on one event, unlike the chaotic forces erupted in the Oval Office.

Before aspiring to the White House, could he show us how he’d function as a big city mayor? Or a small-state governor? Or even as a senator or congressman?

Let’s put this in context. An operating room is much, much smaller than the Pentagon. And the Pentagon’s only part of the Executive Branch.

Ben Carson’s not ready for prime time here. Not by a long shot. No matter how much we might like him.

By the way, his is the first — and the only — GOP bumper sticker we’ve seen on a New Hampshire car to date. This is turning into a first-in-the-nation presidential primary quite unlike any we’ve encountered before.