Goldfish Bowl

In Philadelphia last week, the television camera was more important than a good political slogan--and more frightening than a powerful political enemy. Never had a national convention been so continuously and fully mirrored. Thanks to TV, about ten million spectators along the Eastern seaboard actually saw the convention in action. In scattered communities across the U.S., five million others saw telefilm versions while the news was still warm--three to 24 hours after it happened. It was far & away the biggest gallery television had ever had.*

Radio flashed the convention news to most of the country, but radio plainly had a back seat: network telecasts were on the air for 40 hrs. 20 min. more than network broadcasts. And most televiewers agreed (including a vice president of a rival network) with the New York Herald Tribune's John Crosby that "LIFE and NBC . . . easily ran off with the honors, both in programs and in a technical sense."

The LIFE-NBC Room 22 sideshows often took the shine off the big show at Convention Hall. In a carefully plotted campaign, reporters and radiomen corralled every major candidate and conventioneer before the Room 22 camera, filled in their backgrounds with documentary films, hustled the audience into caucases, scored several newsbeats. Outstanding scoop: Dewey's press conference, where LIFE-NBC television beat radio and newsreels.

Many newsmen lifted some of their stories directly from the telescreen (see PRESS) without bothering to stir from the press lounge. After a few minutes at Convention Hall, Correspondent H. L. Mencken wrote: "I began to wilt and go blind, so the rest of my observations had to be made from a distance and through a brown beer bottle." Television showed just about everything that could be seen in Philadelphia, and a lot more than any one man could see on his own. (Example: a LIFE-NBC televiewer could watch Dewey arriving at Convention Hall, leaving the Hall, arriving at the hotel, appearing in his headquarters.)

The TV camera had the run of the city; it peered and pried everywhere, and its somewhat watery gaze was often unflattering. Good-looking women turned into witches and dapper men became unshaven bums. Under TV's merciless, close-up stare, the demagogues and players-to-the-gallery did not always succeed in looking like statesmen. Besides exposing the politicians' worst facial expressions, the camera caught occasional telltale traces of boredom, insincerity and petulance.

Whiskers & Lipstick. Whatever self-consciousness TV induced may have had a good effect on public manners. Only one drunk was spotted by the camera. Oratory, for the most part, was less protracted than usual. Radio, said Alf Landon, had trimmed convention speeches down by two-thirds; he looked for television to cut it down another third.

The stars of the show--the presidential candidates--were not such bad actors as predicted. Taft surprised his critics (who had rated him the lowest of the candidates, telegenically) with earnest, honest, drily witty performances on two LIFE-NBC interviews. Dewey, at his best in a four-way press conference (newspaper-radio-newsreel-television), proved that he had picked up stage presence. NBC ran a specially prepared MARCH OF TIME film of the governor in his younger, stiffer days, which showed that Dewey had changed much more than the part in his hair.

Moving the heavy equipment to the right places in a hurry was the biggest problem. The next biggest was whiskers. Every dark-bearded man who appeared before the camera without makeup, no matter how clean-shaven, looked hirsute. After the first few telecasts of lined, lipless ladies and black-bristled men, there was a rush for makeup. Governor Dewey did an expert job dabbing the finishing touches on his own pancake base for interviews. In his acceptance speech, without makeup, he looked a little like a baby-faced Lincoln. A Charles of the Ritz cosmetician touched up the wives of the candidates with purple lipstick, and a Chestnut Street barber advertised "television shaves." Singer James Melton's beard photographed as blackest of the week--with quick-footed Commentator Ben Grauer running a whisker behind. Grauer grumbled: "I have a very serious problem. I put on makeup, but people still say 'Why doesn't Grauer shave?' "

Yawns & Galluses. Through the fast-moving telecamera, the balloting, the demonstrations, the tub-thumping speeches and sweating caucuses looked bigger and more exciting than they actually were. It was the delegates who gave the convention most of its strawberry festival flavor --a homy mixture of galluses, shirtsleeves, palmetto fans, odd hats and lax faces. Most televiewers lost the thread of Senator Wherry's address, because of the woman in the background who blandly read a newspaper. Other strikingly human glimpses: a girl delegate smothering a yawn behind her compact during a dull speech; the grave face of a Puerto Rican delegate; a wide-eyed little boy in the gallery.

A few notable shots: the breath-catching moment when aged Cardinal Dougherty stumbled and nearly fell from the rostrum; Speaker Martin's frozen face as Dewey accepted the nomination; Governor Sigler's dejection as he waited to release the Michigan delegation; Herbert Hoover's emotion at the affectionate demonstration that greeted him; the Dewey motorcade, threading its way through the wet, crowded streets to Convention Hall for the acceptance speech.

Some of the TV shows were dull, slow and halting; but technicians and performers learned at least three valuable lessons: 1) that TV programs, like any other good show, must be blueprinted and paced off in advance; 2) that lighting and make-up are a long way from perfection; 3) that the camera, like any other good reporter, must hustle to get a story.

Most televiewers kept staring at their sets until the gavel had fallen for the last time. For all its blurs and fluffs, TV had told a fascinating story. Under the forced draft of its first big assignment, it had proved to be an unpolished but very promising reporter.

* Later in the week, the televersion of the Louis-Walcott fight duplicated the record.

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