Maybe it began with the lionization in the press of the Irish Mafia that helped elect John Kennedy in 1960. Or maybe it dates all the way back to reporters’ fascination with Franklin Roosevelt’s first campaign manager, Jim Farley, and his technological breakthrough—the Farley file, a collection of note cards that prompted FDR to remember that the wife of the North Dakota party chairman was named Velma.
Whatever its origin, the image of campaign strategists as part eccentric visionary, part Rasputin is an enduring staple of presidential coverage. Twenty-four years ago this month, U.S. News & World Report profiled Lee Atwater under the headline, “The bad ol’ boy behind George Bush.” The newsmagazine portrait by Kenneth T. Walsh hit all the standard chords, playing up Atwater’s hard-rock persona (“The young strategist revels in his reputation as an anti-Establishment hell raiser”) and his rock-throwing politics (“He has made a specialty of negative campaigning even choosing the topic as the centerpiece of his doctoral dissertation”).
This memory-lane stroll through Nexis was prompted by Joshua Green’s recent cover story in Bloomberg Businessweek on Atwater’s 2012 counterpart: “Obama’s CEO: Jim Messina Has a President to Sell.” Green’s profile is built around intriguing vignettes of Messina worshipfully consulting oracles from Democrat-friendly sectors of the high-tech world. The article relays how Messina beseeched Google’s Eric Schmidt for advice on the business of politics and enlisted Silicon Valley insights to determine the layout of campaign headquarters; it also portrays—alas, with scant skepticism—the way that Messina was “dazzled” by Vogue editor Anna Wintour and her spreadsheet showing how much money might be made from an Obama-themed designer clothing line.
While the details are very au courant, Businessweek’s portrait of Messina embodies many of the time-honored verities of strategist profiles. There is, for example, the requisite glimpse of campaign manager’s divided soul: “Messina is unusual in Washington, at once a hard-bitten political fixer known for handling unpleasant tasks and also earnestly devoted to self-improvement.” The news peg is often the operative’s passionate belief that this time politics is about to make a quantum leap, so all prior campaigns are ancient history. (The Businessweek cover chronicles Messina’s obsession with social media and metrics to monitor it). And there is always the embarrassing do-anything-to-win incident from the campaign manager’s past: in 2002, as Green reports, Messina produced a homophobic attack ad in a Montana Senate race.
(Full disclosure: Josh Green is a friend with whom I have shared convivial expense-account dinners on the campaign trail. And, yes, I know these disclaimers interrupt the flow of the article. But, hey, this is CJR).
Other Messina profiles have hit similar themes, if occasionally coming to different conclusions. When Messina left the White House—where he was deputy to chief of staff Rahm Emanuel—to head the Obama reelection drive, a 2011 sketch by The New York Times’s Jeff Zeleny noted his “short temper” and described him as sharing “with Mr. Emanuel a penchant for salty language.” And writing about Messina for Mother Jones this month, David Corn captured liberal doubts about the president’s campaign manager: “To some, Messina may symbolize all that is conventional about the Obama presidency.” Referring to Messina’s time in the White House, Corn also writes, “He became known as being as hardcore as his boss Rahm Emanuel if not as profane or flamboyant.” (If only social media metrics could help us calibrate just how salty Messina’s language is, and whether the Times or Mother Jones is right about it.)
These kind of profiles—and I have written a few over the years—are an enduring and often useful part of campaign coverage. But they are also part of a genre that makes it easy for even experienced political reporters to lapse into clichés.