A new book explores Nixon’s infamous “Checkers” speech and its modern implications.
Nixon once played Checkers and pleaded to the nation, “King me.”
Watergate was not the first time that Richard Nixon was in deep doo-doo. In fact, the press seemed to loathe him from the moment he was nominated to be Dwight Eisenhower’s choice for vice-president in 1952.
In that year, the press discovered a shady slush fund and some fishy political contributions. It forced Nixon to appear on national television (then a brand new medium). He had a lot of ‘splaining to do, to save his political career.
The resulting televised oratory, now called “The Checkers Speech,” has since lived in infamy. In it, Nixon attempted to be an open book. He awkwardly explained away his finances and his role as an everyman with integrity. His wife, Pat, sat nearby, looking like she yearned to be anywhere but there.
The cherry on the cake was a mention of a Texas supporter’s gift to his children: a cocker spaniel they named Checkers. Defiantly (in a deliberate sort of way), Nixon said it was a gift they were not giving back.
For the most part, America bought it. As a result, the era of television politics (i.e., show business) had dawned.
In his new book, Just Plain Dick, Kevin Mattson delves into the implications of that speech, which are far-reaching and truly telling. Ultimately, it would cast a long shadow on the Watergate crisis and beyond.
Would the Checkers speech hold water today?
That Checkers speech, that specific one, could not fly today. But this is when television was very new. It was a very different time from our own in terms of how we scrutinize television performance.
Today, there is no way that that speech would have worked. What Nixon was doing in that speech was trying to put politics on an emotional level. He was trying to say, ‘Hey, I’m an authentic guy. I’m a man of the people. I’m sincere. I can speak from my heart.’
I still think there is a good chunk of the American population that still wants that in their political leaders. It’s not that the Checkers speech was ever redone again, but I think Nixon tapped into something that was still wanting.
I think one of the reasons that [Mitt] Romney did so poorly is that he never came off as authentic, who could reach people where they’re at.
It’s not that the speech would work if it were done in the same exact way. But I think we still search in our political leaders for those things that Nixon tried to play upon. Here’s a guy on a stage set in a television studio, saying, ‘Hey, I’m authentic.’ I think there are more of us wanting that today than we necessarily like to think.
He was lashing out against what was known then as “eggheads,” now known as liberals and elites. Was this a deliberate ploy?
He knew exactly what he was doing, and he tapped a deep current in culture and American politics.
This is something that is still very much a part of our political discourse: a distrust of eggheads, that they come off as knowing better than the average guy. I think Nixon is the mastermind of that.
I think that’s a consistent thing that he does throughout his career. He is taking money from these folks and he is able to flip it around and say, ‘I am the common, everyday guy and I am the one who is at war against the elites who are trying to keep me down.’ That is a master stroke.
What did Nixon himself learn from this horrible experience?
I think the most important thing that he learned from this is that there are ways to get around the media. That’s one of those institutions that he characterized as elite, that a direct form of teleprompterism is the best way to get around all those Ivy League elites and journalists who are going to ask pestering questions.
In many ways, it’s that discovery of how you control your message, how to make sure that you are in complete control and nobody else is tripping you up and that you are communicating this directly to the American people. That is something that sticks with him.
Watch the Checkers speech here (and keep an open mind):
Buy the book here.