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There was a time when American political life was at its peak during the national conventions. The serious campaigning didn’t begin until the year of the election. Candidates had been courting votes in every state. When the summer of decision came, before the November presidential election, everything reached a climax of excitement at the party’s national convention. There were people who seemed the frontrunners or some who to have more support than others. The electors from each state were chosen in local caucuses by party members who had a preference, but the individual who would represent the party in the general election was still undecided. Now the candidate is decided in an Iowa cornfield nearly a year before the decision is made. The national convention is like an afterthought. The electoral college was born with America. There was little communication in the late 1700s. Roads were few and often impassable. It was assumed by the framers of the government that local people would have no idea about the qualities of the individual who might be their president. It was impossible for someone who might lead the nation to visit even all of the 13 states. In fact, it was not even considered appropriate for someone to openly seek the position. It was supposed to come to them because of their qualification. It might be someone universally known such as George Washington. It might be someone from Boston who was unknown to the people in Charleston. But people did know the local person they thought could represent them in picking the most qualified person. They voted for their electors and gave them the power to vote in a national gathering for the presidency. The system was sometimes flawed. When Thomas Jefferson sought the presidency and Aaron Burr was asking to be the vice president, they got the same number of electoral votes. The decision of who should be president was thrown to Congress. Enemies of Jefferson urged Burr to seek the presidency. Burr thought about it. He hesitated before stepping aside to acknowledge Jefferson as president. But that hesitation was enough to make Jefferson distrust him, relegating Burr to the political leper colony. The program smoothed off the rough edges to the point of making it clear who was the chosen candidate for the chief executive role. The person wearing the party’s colors for the general election generally was given the choice of picking a running mate. Usually, a noncontroversial nonentity was chosen. The man in the top slot did not want to be overshadowed by the second in command. It was called the most useless job in the world. When Franklin D. Roosevelt sought his fourth term in 1944, he picked a nondescript clothing store businessman who worked his way into congress as Missouri’s senator. FDR kept Harry Truman so far away from the business of the day that the vice president wasn’t even aware of the existence of the atomic bomb when Roosevelt died suddenly. The system of electors and a national convention wasn’t perfect. There were some deals cut in the smoke filled backrooms. But it wasn’t an even playing field and the choice was to be decided at the national convention. You can see old TV reports of the conventions with the excitement and confusion on the floor. The giants of TV broadcast sat in booths overlooking the hubbub. Walter Cronkite, David Brinkley, Chet Huntley and other top anchors kept the viewer updated. It was exciting. The local boy for each state was usually nominated on the first ballot in a roll call of states alphabetically. The larger states had more electors based on population. But everyone had a voice. There are some who remember the small voice from an unseen man far below in the melee saying with a high pitched tone, “And Puerto Rico casts one vote for . . . .” Those days and that drama are gone. Now a president is pretty much picked in a cornfield in Iowa. They are the first state to hold a caucus to decide a presidential choice. You can’t blame the politicians and businessmen of that relatively small state. They bring in the candidates and the money along with political favors by putting the spotlight on campaigns and winners, giving it more prominence than the population deserves. Tennessee doesn’t stand a chance in primary selection. Neither do New York or California. By the time the president is chosen in a cornfield ballot, there is no choice in the candidate. Common sense has to come back into play somewhere and equalize the system. All caucuses need to be held at the same time. And it would be exciting to bring back the thrill of conventions. The person who will decide the future of this nation—and much of the world—should have a wider audience than a few ears of corn.
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