The first election that I remember was 1972 -- Nixon versus McGovern. (By the way, the finest book on that election -- and my personal favorite book by Hunter S. Thompson -- is "Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72". Thompson's Rolling Stone colleague Timothy Crouse's "The Boys on the Bus" is also quite good -- his book covers the boys (and they were all boys then) who covered the campaign. Good stuff. But I digress.)
1972 was the year that Richard Nixon, filled with rage and paranoia and the blackest bile and resentment-filled gut that Washington has ever known (yes, even worse than Dick Cheney) laid the seeds of his own destruction. Watergate, baby. But all that came out later.
Anyway, 1972. The Democrats, torn apart by the war in Vietnam and social issues, have a long drawn out primary campaign. Over the course of it, Senators Ed Muskie, Hubert Humphrey, and George McGovern rip each other and the party to shreds. Muskie started the campaign as the presumptive nominee, but faltered early. Alabama Governor George Wallace killed Muskies chances when he won the Florida primary. In fact, Wallace could well have won the nomination with a combination of racial resentment and blue-collar angst (he also did well in Northern states), but he was put into a wheelchair in an assassination attempt. Humphrey tried to muscle his way into the nomination with support of the party's old guard and big labor, but was outfought by McGovern in several states -- most fatally in the huge winner take all state of California. McGovern and the liberal insurgents had seized the reins of the party, and McGovern became the nominee.
Then, after everyone from Ted Kennedy to Abe Ribbicoff turned him down, McGovern picked for his vice presidential nominee Thomas Eagleton, an unvetted alcoholic who had been in mental institutions for electro-shock therapy. When the news of Eagleton's mental issues came out, McGovern said that he supported him "1000%." At least until he didn't, and replaced him with Kennedy's brother in law Sargent Shriver. And the minuscule shot he had to beat Nixon was gone just like that.
But I didn't know any of that. My experience of the election that year was of GOP swag. For some reason, I was driving with my dad one Saturday in the fall, and we must have been talking about the election. (I do remember that at some point he explained to me that Sargent Shriver was not in the Army -- he just had a funny first name.) So, dad impulsively pulled his Galaxie 500 into the parking lot of the county Democratic Party office, and we discovered that the place was closed. (On a Saturday in October. In The Ancestral Homeland. Looking back, this makes it obvious that McGovern was so toast.) So, we went around the corner to the GOP county office and picked up all sorts of buttons and posters and bumper stickers. I have to admit that CREEP was pretty good at their design:
My father and my uncles were all union guys who hated Richard Nixon, but couldn't believe that the good old US of A was losing a war to a bunch of god-damned pinko gooks in pajamas. And who didn't understand why no one seemed to want to get a god-damned haircut anymore, or why their kids laughed at Glenn Miller. So when the Democrats put up a guy who was for "Acid Amnesty and Abortion," and who after seizing the nomination, seemed like he was stumbling around from mistake (the Eagleton pick and dump) to mistake (the guaranteed income pledge) like a drunk at closing time, they probably held their nose and voted for Dick.
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