In the 1800s, presidential elections were simple. Sometime during
the summer, party hacks quietly gathered together and nominated a
candidate. The campaign began in earnest on Labor Day. Local
committees put up posters and passed out flyers. The party faithful
paraded around town singing hastily composed ballads praising their
standard-bearer or demeaning the opposing leader. The only way the
people could see the candidates was in person, so special trains would
travel the countryside stopping in every little hamlet long enough for
a short speech. In short, elections were colorful, personal, and fun.
Then along came this guy named Marconi, and politics hasn't been the
same since.
If politics and radio mixed in the next ten years, history doesn't
record it. But inventor Lee DeForest was always willing to try
something new. In 1916, he was running his own amateur "radio
telephone" show of phonograph music and chats from his laboratory in
Highbridge, NY. In November he arranged for a special line to be run
to his home from the offices of "The New York American" to supply him
with election returns, which he then broadcast over the air to his
amateur friends up to 200 miles away. In a foreshadowing of the
famous Dewey "victory" over Truman in 1948, as 11:00 p.m. approached,
DeForest decided it was time for bed and, looking over the returns,
duly confirmed that Charles Evan Hughes had defeated Woodrow Wilson!
Most Americans have learned about the next step of the process in
school; how the nation's first radio station, KDKA started up just in
time to broadcast the election returns of the 1920 election. It
almost didn't happen, though. It was less than two months earlier
that Westinghouse vice president Harry P. Davis conceived of operating
a radio station solely to broadcast to the general public.
Westinghouse could get plenty of free publicity by launching the new
station with a bang, and the upcoming presidential election was the
time to do it. Company engineer Frank Conrad, amateur 8XK, was given
the job.
Technical and legal work proceeded at a frantic pace and the
station was ready just hours before the broadcast. KDKA came on the
air at 8:00 pm on election night, November 2. Election returns were
phoned in to the studio from the Pittsburgh Post as they came off
the wire services, and live banjo music filled the empty spaces.
Estimates are that only about 2,000 heard the broadcast but they
included some very influential people gathered in the homes of
Westinghouse officials and at the Edgewood country club outside
Pittsburgh. Many people telephoned in to ask the station give more
election news and play less music.
Most Americans don't know that KDKA wasn't the only station
broadcasting election returns that night. Earlier that day, the
Detroit News had published a notice that the newspaper's amateur
station 8MK (later WWJ) would broadcast returns. An office boy, Elton
Plant, ran up and down the stairs from the paper's editorial office,
where the wire service results came in, to the radio station on the
roof. He handed the news to whomever was at the microphone or, if no
one was nearby, read it himself. As in Pittsburgh, listeners were
few. In fact, the paper also, as in years previous, announced the
results to the public via a megaphone from their front steps. The
megaphone probably reached more listeners than the station. But, that
was soon to change.
With colorful ace announcer Graham McNamee presiding, AT&T offered
an attractive but expensive package to radio stations around the
country. The biggest expense was rental of AT&T lines, which the
receiving stations had to pay for. Although AT&T offered line rental
at cost as a public service, it was still too expensive for many
stations, especially more distant ones. Stations in Los Angeles and
San Francisco both said no, and Kansas City was the farthest west to
receive line service. However, Westinghouse's KFKX in Hastings,
Nebraska picked up the broadcasts and relayed them via shortwave to
the West Coast, for rebroadcast by KGO in Oakland.
No one was quite sure of exactly how much programming the stations
would receive from the conventions. Station schedules had to be
flexible, so most booked soloists and readings so they could easily
switch back and forth to Cleveland. Hopes, however, were high for the
broadcast, as in this AT&T publicity statement . . .
AT&T & WEAF weren't alone in broadcasting the convention. Rival
New York City station WJZ sent their star announcer, Major J. Andrew
White. He was also carried on WGY of Schnectady. At the time, AT&T
felt it had exclusive domain over broadcasting based on certain
patents it owned, and AT&T had let it be known that no one else should
assist in network broadcasting not involving AT&T lines. AT&T, of
course, wasn't about to rent lines to WJZ in competition with their
WEAF network. WJZ and WGY arranged a special line through Western
Union, without telling Western Union its true use.
There was no contest at the convention - it was Coolidge all the
way, which made coverage easy and allowed the broadcasters to focus on
perfecting their work. Interest in an otherwise boring convention was
maintained by supporters of Progressive Senator Robert LaFollette of
Wisconsin, who fought to put liberal planks into the party platform.
Their failure led to LaFollette launching an independent candidacy
shortly afterwards. Overall, though, the process was so easy that
Will Rogers remarked that the convention could have been done by
postcard.
Still, convention broadcasting became a national drama as some
stations not carrying the convention shut down to avoid interfering
with nearby stations broadcasting it. Around the country schools
closed so that students could listen, radio demonstration rooms in
department stores were packed with people, and sales of radios sets
hit record levels. For the first time, the American people were able
to look in on a national political convention. "Millions of radio
listeners sat before their loudspeakers or listened with earphones -
thrilled or enraged depending upon their political faith, by what they
heard" (Archer).
The main part of the convention, starting with Senator Pat
Harrison's keynote speech, was postponed to 7:30pm because of better
nighttime radio reception. More speeches followed, but the
convention's most memorable radio speech was given by a young New
Yorker, Franklin D. Roosevelt, who nominated New York Governor Al
Smith. Roosevelt was praised for having a great radio voice. The
worst performance was given by 64-year-old William Jennings Bryan, the
Democratic candidate in 1896, 1900, and 1908. A renowned orator of
the old tradition, Bryan was used to wandering around the stage. He
wouldn't stay inside the railings by the microphone and lost his radio
audience for most of his speech.
Finally, after some lengthy platform fights, the first ballot was
taken. As expected, California's William McAdoo came in first with
431 1/2 votes, followed by New York's Al Smith with 241 votes.
Various others were far behind, including little known John Davis with
31 votes. No one was close to winning and there was little chance for
a compromise. Of the two main candidates, McAdoo was a Protestant and
a strong supporter of Prohibition while Smith was Catholic and favored
an end to Prohibition. Other delegates controlled smaller regional
delegations and were not willing to turn over their votes without
getting something in return. Many supported neither McAdoo nor Smith.
Days passed and ballot after ballot was taken. With each ballot
the state of Alabama was called on to vote first. This drew national
attention back to the political drama in New York as Alabama's
spokesman, ex-governor Jim Brandon, drawled out "Alabama casts 24
votes for Underwood" (an Alabaman senator) each time. By the
fifteenth ballot the spectators in the galleries picked up the cry and
repeated it along with the governor. Soon, the delegates joined and
each ballot began with the convention hall chanting in unison "Alabama
casts 24 votes for Underwood." Across the country, millions of people
gathered around radios joined in too. As it was repeated over and
over, "Alabama casts 24 votes for Underwood" became a national joke
and a symbol of a political party too divided to choose a candidate.
The balloting did come to an end with an unusual ticket of Wall
Street lawyer John Davis and Nebraska Populist Charles Bryan ... on
the 103rd ballot after fifteen days. By this time, the Democratic
party had made itself look like a vaudeville sideshow. Still, the
nation listened attentively to their political leaders. At Sing-Sing
prison in upstate New York, loudspeakers were set up allowing the
prisoners to listen in as a special treat on July 4. In New York
City, one cab driver got extra business by putting a radio and two
headsets in his car. In many ways, radio's infancy was clearly
evident. No station today would think of airing dead air, yet when a
Christian Science Minister asked the delegates to pray silently for a
few minutes, the radio stations did just that. When the praying
stopped, more than a few listeners who hadn't been paying close
attention were up on their roofs trying to adjust their aerials to get
the signal back in.
Two national heros did emerge from the convention; Senator Thomas
Walsh who did an admirable job of presiding over the unruly
convention, and Graham McNamee for colorful descriptions of the
convention. McNamee, who later commented that the 1924 Democratic
convention was one of his most vivid experiences, lost 8 pounds while
confined to the little glass booth. WJZ/WGY's Major White also did an
excellent job of announcing a difficult convention, but was heard by
far fewer people that McNamee.
When the conventions finished, station managers saw their public
service obligation over too. If they were going to continue carrying
political speeches, someone had to pay for the time - logically the
political parties. The parties agreed, setting up 1924 as a true
"radio election". This was easy when a speech was carried over one
local station, however, because no set networks existed at the time,
complex negotiations had to be completed before broadcasts linking
multiple stations. Landline rental to link stations also added to the
cost. An hour on one station might cost $500, but an hour over six or
seven stations could easily cost $5000 or more.
In Lincoln, Democratic VP contender Charles Bryan spoke from the University of
Nebraska stadium on August 18. KFKX, Hastings, Nebraska; WOAW, Omaha; WMAQ,
Chicago; and the local university station carried the speech. Republican VP
Charles Dawes spoke the following day from Evanston, Illinois over
most of the stations that broadcast the Republican convention. The
real campaign wasn't kicked off until Labor Day, when all the
candidates spoke on the radio. The most notable Labor Day speech was
LaFollette's, which was the first political speech given in a radio
studio without a live audience.
John Davis started his campaign with a traditional railroad
journey from September 6-17 through western and midwestern cities.
Radio, however, was planned for as his car was wired with microphones,
loudspeakers, and jacks to make it easy for local stations to plug in
and carry his speeches. The center of the campaign was New York City,
where the Democrats paid WJZ to set up a studio in a window in
downtown Manhattan so that passersby could see their officials
speaking over the air. The Democrats even held a contest, awarding a
radio as the prize for the best statement as to why Davis should be
elected president.
As an independent, LaFollette didn't have the funding of the two
major party candidates and worried about the cost of buying radio
time. He soon changed his mind as his speeches carried by radio
brought in enough extra contributions to more than cover the cost.
For example, a speech in Sioux Falls, SD carried on WOAW, Omaha,
netted $900. LaFollette's first major appearance, at Madison Square
Garden, was carried over WEAF. He lost ten minutes of air time when
it took the crowd that long to quiet down after his introduction, but
his campaign took in ten times more in contributions than the radio
time cost.
In October LaFollette launched a railroad campaign tour of the
Midwest. Like Davis, he spoke at radio stations along the way, and
actually took along a throat specialist to keep his voice in good
order. On October 13, he spoke from Kansas City over a network of
Missouri, Oklahoma, and Kansas stations. Two days later, on October
15, LaFollette was denied use of WHO in Des Moines, causing one of the
most controversial incidents of the campaign. LaFollette charged that
business monopoly interests were keeping him off the air. WHO,
however, pointed out that LaFollette's staff had not arranged for the
air time three weeks in advance, as required. The station's
Republican owners were able to offer evidence of how they had enforced
this rule against members of their own party, and allowed Democrats
who had given the required advance notice to speak. LaFollette
continued to criticize the radio monopoly, but his criticism failed to
hold up after October 29 when he gave a harsh speech about General
Electric over GE's WGY in Schnectady. GE didn't interfere and after
that LaFollette let the issue drop.
Coolidge, on the other hand, followed the strategy of Democratic
loser William McAdoo and stayed at home in Washington, just giving
occasional speeches via radio. Even so, Coolidge was on the air more
than either Davis or LaFollette. Radio seemed to be a perfect medium
for Coolidge, who was generally acknowledged as a good radio speaker,
even by Democrats. His shrill Vermont twang, often an irritation when
listening to him in person, disappeared over the air. Davis' clear
sonorous voice was muffled on the radio.
While the Republicans kept vice-presidential candidate Charles
Dawes on the air every night through election day, Coolidge made only
two more speeches before the election. The first was as a guest
speaker at the United States Chamber of Commerce Convention in
Washington D.C. on October 23, 1924. AT&T lined up 22 stations in the
greatest connection of stations by landwire to date, with WEAF; WJAR
Providence; WEEI, Boston; WCAE, Pittsburg; WGY; WGN, Chicago; KSD, St
Louis; WOAW; WCAP; WMAF, South Dartmouth; WGR, Buffalo; WDBH
Worcester; WSAI, Cincinati; WOC, Davenport; WDAF, Kansas City; KLZ,
Denver; KLX Oakland; KFI and KHJ Los Angeles; KPO San Francisco; KFOA,
Seattle and KGW, Portland.
As the campaign began drawing to a close, the Republicans took the
radio game very seriously. For the final two weeks before the
election, they bought all the time on two stations, WAHG, Richmond
Hill, Long Island and WHBF, Providence, RI. With programming
originating from Republican offices in Manhattan, Republican
politicians spoke morning, noon and night from October 21 to election
day. Party committee chairman John Q. Tilson refered to this step as
"the last word in effective radio campaigning" (Weeks), but one might
wonder how many besides diehard Republicans listened in to speeches
with titles like "The Vicissitudes of a Practical Politician" and "The
Foundation of the Constitution".
For a grand finale, the Republicans set up three big radio
rallies. The first, on October 29, brought together several major
speakers on WJZ and six other stations. The following night they put
together a "Midnight Theatrical Revue" of political speeches and
entertainment with stars including Al Jolson and Elsie Ferguson.
Running from 11:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., this was also carried on WJZ and
several other stations. Finally, on the Saturday night before the
election, WEAF and sixteen other broadcasters carried a huge rally of
speeches and music from New York's Metropolitan Opera House.
The Davis campaign wound down on November 1 with big speeches from
Carnegie Hall by Davis and New York Governor Al Smith carried by WJZ;
WCAE, Pittsburgh; WMC, Memphis; WRC, Washington; WTAS, Elgin, IL; and
WHAS, Louisville. Davis's final speech at 9:15 p.m. on election eve,
November 3rd, originated from WEAF and was carried by WCAP, WGY, KDKA,
KFKX, KSD, WMC, and WGN, and on shortwave from Hastings to the west
coast.
Coolidge's final speech was on a record 26 stations, coast-to-
coast. It was estimated that his audience was the largest in history
to listen to one man speak. To ensure there would be no interruptions
on the west coast due to line damage, AT&T stationed several hundred
servicemen along their lines through the Rockies. Coolidge's speech
was non-partisan; he simply urged citizens to vote, then finished, "To
my father, who is listening in my old home in Vermont, and to my other
invisible audience, I say 'good night'". Many listeners remembered
the personal warmth of his ending.
Americans went to the polls the next day, and the following
evening almost every station in the country carried election returns
in some form, with an estimated twenty million people tuning in. Many
stations received the national results from the wire services and made
other arrangements for state and local offices. UPI was hooked up to
32 stations, and many smaller stations listened in to these then
rebroadcast the figures. Music and variety programs usually filled in
the gaps between reports. WLW in Cincinati interspersed the returns
with a comedy program. WEAF headed a 26 station hookup with the
"National Radio Exposition Frolic", mixing election returns in a
variety program hosted by Eddie Cantor with Will Rogers. WJZ and WGY
once again hooked up, this time with WRC, foiling AT&T by
surreptiously using the landlines of the Postal Telegraph Company.
The results were also heard throughout the nation and overseas via
KDKA's shortwave transmitter. It was quickly obvious that Coolidge,
as expected, had won in a landslide. Most stations signed off by 1:00
a.m., although a few such as KDKA stayed on as late as 4:00 a.m. The
United States' first 'radio election' was over.
The election of 1924 was never really a contest. The country was
prosperous and there was little doubt that Coolidge would win. Even
though millions of Americans tuned in speeches and other election
broadcasting, it is unlikely that radio changed many votes. The
medium was still too unrefined for that. Coolidge's warm greeting to
his father during his final speech probably won more votes than any
political pronouncements by any of the candidates. Gleason Archer
wrote that "The effect of the election on radio was more important
than the effect of radio on the election results!" Radio was,
however, credited with focusing people on the election and bringing
out a huge number of voters.
In a sense, radio 'grew up' with the 1924 presidential election.
Although some experimenting with networking had begun, at the
beginning of 1924, AT&T thought it was technically impossible to
interconnect stations coast-to-coast with long distance telephone
lines. By the end of the year, it was a common occurence. This,
combined with increased revenue from the political broadcasts,
encouraged AT&T to continue development of its networking between WEAF
and other stations in the Northeast and Midwest, the forerunner of the
NBC network. Westinghouse used the election to explore the uses of
shortwave, both in the Heinz broadcast and in using its shortwave
station KFKX in Hastings, Nebraska to relay programs to the Pacific
Coast. Obviously, these advancements would have come in time, but the
1924 campaign gave broadcasting the impetus to try them out sooner.
In the short run, money was most important. For their presidential
campaigns, the Democratic party spent $40,000 on radio and the
Republicans $50,000. This doesn't include LaFollette's independent
candidacy nor many state and local races across the country. The
amounts may seem tiny today, but the money kept stations afloat in a
fledgling industry.
Even if radio didn't change votes, it did change politics and
campaigning, especially speechmaking. It quickly became evident that
the old style of the ranting word-artist wouldn't work on radio and
that a new breed of political orator was being born. As The Saturday
Evening Post noted, the old style of "a good personality, a musical
voice, a power of dramatic gesture have served to cover up baldness of
thought and limping phraseology" (Archer). While politicians might
get by with "baldness of thought" with live audiences due to the
excitement of the event, their charm didn't work on the radio where
the listener was focused only on the speaker's message. Candidates
had to speak clearly, intelligently, and sensibly. Furthermore,
excited 'fire and brimstone' type speeches were often unintelligible
on the radio; a warmer personal style came across much better.
Several observers noted that young Franklin Roosevelt, who although
not a candidate had made several speeches for the Democrats, had a
perfect radio personality. When he spoke, listeners felt as if
Roosevelt had dropped in at their parlor for an informal chat.
While before candidates spoke mainly to the party faithful, they
now had to tailor their speeches more for the undecided, and even the
opposition. The audience for political speeches had changed. Because
radio audiences did not feel as if they had to show signs of support
for the speaker, the audience became not only bigger, but more
heterogeneous. Undecided and opposing voters, who might not be
comfortable attending a rally, could easily tune in at home.
Sometimes it was even enjoyable to listen to the opposing side, at
least in the eyes of The New Republic, "At the radio one can make
faces at the speaker, call him bad names, or ... indulge in vehement
refutation to one's heart's content, all without discomoding the rest
of the audience in the least or feeling the slightest embarrassment"
("Electioneering...").
Politicians now knew that voters simply had to turn on the radio
to listen to a speech. While a voter might be too shy to walk out in
the middle of a long, boring speech, there was nothing to prevent him
from reaching over and turning off the radio. Long speeches wouldn't
do, except for special occasions. Strong, brief speeches with the
main point up front became the rule.
Finally, with so many listeners focusing so intently on a
speaker's message, truthfulness became very important. Fredrick
Hicks, a regional director for the Republican National Committee,
acknowledged that when candidates thought about how they were
addressing hundreds of thousands of listeners, they became "conscious
of the importance of delivering messages free from boastful
predictions and demogogic utterances . . . radio would skewer the
insincere" (Clark). LaFollette agreed that candidates were no longer
willing to twists facts which they knew would be quickly received by
millions via radio.
Not everyone agreed that radio was a positive force in elections.
Some felt that radio did not adequately portray the excitement of a
campaign, although for many it was as close as they would ever get.
The "El Paso Times" wrote that people were really more interested in
the shape of a candidate's ears and how his nose wrinkled when he
laughed at his own jokes, which wasn't conveyed by radio. Others
agreed that the lack of facial expressions was a drawback for radio
broadcasting.
Some looked forward to the future. The New Republic commented
Radio may not have been so much a participant as a spectator in
the 1924 election, but it did become an important political weapon and
set the stage for an even greater role in the 1928 election.
Barnard, Eunice Fuller. "Radio Politics". The New Republic. March 19,
1924: 91-93.
Barnouw, Erik. A Tower in Babel. New York: Oxford University Press,
1966.
Bohn, Thomas W. "Broadcasting National Election Returns: 1916-1948".
Journal of Broadcasting. Summer 1968: 267-286.
Chester, Edward A. Radio, Televsion and American Politics. New York:
Sheed & Ward, 1969.
Clark, David G. "Radio in Presidential Campaigns: The Early Years
(1924-1932)". Journal of Broadcasting. Spring 1962: 229-238.
Electioneering On the Air. The New Republic.
September 3, 1924: 8-9.
Politics By Radio. Nation. January 2, 1924: 5.
Ronnie, Art "First Convention by Radio". Journal of Broadcasting.
Summer, 1964: 245-6.
Weeks, Lewis E. "The Radio Election of 1924". Journal of Broadcasting
Summer, 1964: 233-243.
Wolfe, Joesph G. "Some Reactions to the Advent of Campaigning by
Radio". Journal of Broadcasting. Summer, 1969: 305-314.
This article is copyright 1992 by Don Moore.
This website is maintained by Don Moore,
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Clandestine Radio
The 1924 Radio Election
By Don Moore
First Broadcasts
When radio first started, no one thought about politics. Because
radio was viewed as just another novelty, getting politics on the air
was a slow process. The first known incursion of politics into radio
was during the 1906 mid-term elections. A few days before the
election, the Detroit & Cleveland Navigation Line contracted the
Thomas E. Clark Wireless Telegraph and Telephone Company of Detroit to
send the election returns to its ships in the Great Lakes. The
passengers may have been impressed, but it didn't help Clark Wireless,
which went bankrupt a few years later. RADIO DEVELOPS
KDKA launched a revolution in communications and soon dozens of
broadcasting stations were licensed around the country. Thousands and
then millions of Americans purchased receiving sets. KDKA continued
to break political ground. In 1921, candidates for municipal
elections were given the opportunity to speak on the station. This
was followed a year later when Pennsylvania elected a governor and a
senator. Stations in other cities also saw broadcasting speeches by
local politicians at election time as a civic responsibility,
President Harding began making occasional radio speeches. A November
5, 1921, speech by Harding inaugurated a new high-power RCA
transmitter and was heard on every continent. After Harding's sudden
death in 1923, President Calvin Coolidge continued to speak on the
radio. Not all politicians were receptive, however. When a microphone
was placed in front of former Secretary of State Elihu Root, he
exclaimed "Take that away. I can talk to a Democrat, but I cannot speak
into a dead thing." (Clark) 
As the 1924 presidential elections approached, everyone began to
think of radio. Politicians talked so much about using it that
stations were afraid they would be deluged with requests for speech
time. Political committees were set up to manage requests for air
time and see that the best speakers were given preference. In March,
Owen Young, chairman of the Board of Directors for General Electric
and RCA proclaimed "No citizen of this great country need say that he
has not heard the pronouncements of the presidential candidates of the
two great parties" (Barnard). New Republic magazine predicted that the
upcoming campaign would be mainly fought by radio. Nation agreed,
editorializing that 1924 would be looked back on as "the radio year",
but thought that by 1928 the broadcasting fad would be over. William
McAdoo, the most likely Democratic candidate, went as far as to apply
for a license to set up a station at his home in Los Angeles. His
plans were to do most of his campaigning by radio from his living
room! Convention Time
The three-day Republican convention in Cleveland started the
campaign off on June 10. To broadcast the convention, AT&T used
special wires to put together a loose network of sixteen stations in
twelve cities, headed by its WEAF in New York and WCAP in Washington.
Never before had such a linkup been attempted, and it was a major test
of both engineering and programming skill. This will be the first occasion that a program will be supplied
continuously to twelve cities, enabling stations at these points
to broadcast such features of the Convention as they desire to
make available to their respective radio audiences . . . An
announcer will be in constant attendance with concise and vivid
descriptions of the events taking place in the Convention Hall
and explanations of the significance of what is going on. The
announcer will introduce the various speakers so that the entire
matter will be an intersting broadcasting program" (Archer).
The convention took place in a 16,000 seat auditorium with a
stage in the center, a pipe organ to the right, and a band to the
left. WEAF erected a glass booth on the stage with a table, chair,
paper, telephone, headphones & signal light board. Two microphones
were placed in the booth (one a spare), and one each by the organ,
band and speaker. Politicians, however, were not used to speaking
into a stationary radio mic; they normally paced back and forth across
the stage. To keep the speakers from wandering, a railing was erected
around the microphone. McNamee controlled his own mic; the others
were switched in from a control room behind the platform. An
assistant was always stationed near the speaker's spot to pass along
to McNamee observations that he couldn't see. Others throughout the
hall also telephoned in reports. The Democrats Meet
A few days later, on June 24, the 1446 delegates of the Democratic
convention met in Madison Square Garden in New York City. Not only
was this larger than the Republican convention, it promised to be a
real battle as there was no clear front runner. In fact, the
convention was to drag out to be the longest in the nation's history.
Again, AT&T's WEAF and Graham McNamee were there, this time with 17
other stations in their network, as were WJZ/WGY and Major White, for
a total of twenty stations. The broadcasters set up their microphones
and glass booths on the stage as they had for the Republican
convention. The Democrats knew their party was divided and ready for
a fight. Concerned with how the nation would view the party, the
Democratic National Committe kept a censor on stage by the radio
microphones. An agreement with the stations allowed the censor to cut
the microphone at any time (although it was not done). A Slow Start
During the Democratic Convention, the campaign gained a Third
Party candidate, as Progressive Robert LaFollette announced his
independent candidacy. Then the campaign quieted down. As was the
custom of the day, it took six weeks before any of the candidates made
official acceptance speeches. Visiting his hometown of Clarksburg,
WVA, John Davis was the first to make his acceptance speech on August
11,with a speech broadcast on 13 stations, mainly in the south. A
violent downpour severly hampered the quality of the outdoor
broadcast, although Davis continued to give his speech in the rain. A
few days later, on August 14, Coolidge's acceptance speech from
Washington aired on 15 stations as far west as Kansas City and was
heard by an estimated 25 million listeners.Shortwave Used
Through mid-1924, shortwave was still seen as an inconsistent
novelty even by engineers, and few believed it could ever be used
reliably for daytime long-distance broadcasting. Despite that
Westinghouse continued to experiment with SW and by October was ready
to demonstrate its progress. On October 11, the H.J. Heinz Company of
Pittsburgh celebrated its 55th anniversary. Ten thousand employees
sat down in 65 banquet halls across the US and Great Britain.
President Coolidge was the featured speaker - from Washington D.C.
The president's speech was carried by landline to KDKA then broadcast
over shortwave. Other Westinghouse stations in Chicago, Hastings, and
Springfield, MA relayed it off the air over their transmitters. This
was the first time such a broadcast had been attempted, and millions
in the Americas and Europe are believed to have heard it. The Significance of 1924
When the 1924 campaign began, no one knew what radio would be
worth as a weapon in the campaign warchest. For millions to hear the
voices of the candidates was unique - it couldn't be duplicated in
silent movies or newspapers. Many in both parties questioned how they
could know if there was an audience listening and if their message was
reaching them. By the end of the campaign, these questions and more
were answered. It was clear that radio had improved politics and
furthermore politics had improved radio. It remains a question how long the political use of radio
will be merely as a transmitter of the direct campaign
utterances of candidates . . . We may then expect bedtime
stories burbling with anecdotes of some candidate's boyhood,
tenors expanding on his favorite lullaby, radio orchestras
playing his special march directly after the Star Spangled
Banner, even the voice of his aged mother now and then
quavering out a tribute" (Barnard).
The New York Times thought that future candidates might be
chosen as to whether they were "radiogenic . . . or even photogenic."
Losing candidate John Davis agreed, "Ultimately a candidate may be
chosen for two things - first, that he films well, and second, that he
has a good radio voice." Perhaps The New Republic was the most
farsighted when it wrote, "Ultimately a form of hokum will be devised
that can be counted on to captivate the radio listener"
(Electioneering ...).
Bibliography
Archer, Gleason L. "Conventions, Campaigns, and Kilocycles in 1924:
The First Political Broadcasts". Journal of Broadcasting. Spring,
1960: 110-118.
It may not be printed
in any publication without written permission.
Association of North American Radio Clubs
DXer of the Year for 1995.