Timothy Noah: The Politics of Weeping
Hillary Clinton's teary moment while discussing the rigors of campaigning represents the third and final step in the evolution of crying on the presidential campaign trail.
As recently as 1972, tears were verboten. That was the year in which Edmund Muskie, the front-runner for the Democratic presidential nomination, angrily rebutted a letter published in the (then-pathologically right wing) Manchester Union Leader while standing in front of the newspaper's offices. The letter alleged that Muskie had insulted French Canadians, a significant voting bloc in New Hampshire. According to the letter, Muskie, when asked in Florida how he could understand urban problems given that he hailed from Maine, a state that didn't have many blacks, had answered, "No, not blacks, but we have Cannocks [sic]." The Union-Leader had responded with an editorial headlined, "Senator Muskie Insults Franco-Americans." Officially, the offense was alleged to be Muskie's use of the term Canuck. Unofficially, the offense was to compare French Canadians to African-Americans. Clearly intended to stir racist anger against Muskie, the letter was also pretty clearly a counterfeit—reporters were unable to locate its alleged author, one Paul Morrison of Deerfield Beach, Fla. Later it was revealed by the Washington Post's Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein to have been a product of the Nixon White House's dirty-tricks campaign.
Muskie was even more steamed that the Union Leader had reprinted an article from Women's Wear Daily that depicted Muskie's wife, Jane, as unladylike—a heavy smoker and drinker who swore like a sailor. In denouncing these two attacks in the Manchester paper, Muskie got worked up emotionally, and—this is where the Hillary comparison comes in—the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Boston Globe reported that he shed tears.
To this day an arcane debate rages about whether the droplets on Muskie's face were tears or merely melting snow. David Broder, who wrote the Post story, later confessed to some doubt on the matter and expressed regret that he'd written of "tears streaming down his face." What's relevant here is how preposterously high the stakes were. The simple fact that Muskie might have wept was enough to derail his candidacy. Although Muskie won the New Hampshire primary, his 46 percent showing (to George McGovern's 37 percent) fell fatally short of expectations, in part because Muskie's New Hampshire coordinator had earlier said she would "shoot myself" if Muskie failed to get 50 percent....
Read entire article at Slate
As recently as 1972, tears were verboten. That was the year in which Edmund Muskie, the front-runner for the Democratic presidential nomination, angrily rebutted a letter published in the (then-pathologically right wing) Manchester Union Leader while standing in front of the newspaper's offices. The letter alleged that Muskie had insulted French Canadians, a significant voting bloc in New Hampshire. According to the letter, Muskie, when asked in Florida how he could understand urban problems given that he hailed from Maine, a state that didn't have many blacks, had answered, "No, not blacks, but we have Cannocks [sic]." The Union-Leader had responded with an editorial headlined, "Senator Muskie Insults Franco-Americans." Officially, the offense was alleged to be Muskie's use of the term Canuck. Unofficially, the offense was to compare French Canadians to African-Americans. Clearly intended to stir racist anger against Muskie, the letter was also pretty clearly a counterfeit—reporters were unable to locate its alleged author, one Paul Morrison of Deerfield Beach, Fla. Later it was revealed by the Washington Post's Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein to have been a product of the Nixon White House's dirty-tricks campaign.
Muskie was even more steamed that the Union Leader had reprinted an article from Women's Wear Daily that depicted Muskie's wife, Jane, as unladylike—a heavy smoker and drinker who swore like a sailor. In denouncing these two attacks in the Manchester paper, Muskie got worked up emotionally, and—this is where the Hillary comparison comes in—the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Boston Globe reported that he shed tears.
To this day an arcane debate rages about whether the droplets on Muskie's face were tears or merely melting snow. David Broder, who wrote the Post story, later confessed to some doubt on the matter and expressed regret that he'd written of "tears streaming down his face." What's relevant here is how preposterously high the stakes were. The simple fact that Muskie might have wept was enough to derail his candidacy. Although Muskie won the New Hampshire primary, his 46 percent showing (to George McGovern's 37 percent) fell fatally short of expectations, in part because Muskie's New Hampshire coordinator had earlier said she would "shoot myself" if Muskie failed to get 50 percent....