Politics for Turned-Off People

By Thomas Griffith

Political conventions may not be as crass and boss-ridden as they once were, but they are just as synthetic in an up-to-date show-biz way. Newsmen used to armor themselves against the hokum by reporting it in the cynically fond style of amused outrage made popular by H.L. Mencken. That tone is harder to sustain these days, and a good many reporters and editors are now asking whether they are covering conventions in the right way.

Being themselves political buffs, journalists are fascinated by the contending ambitions that shape the "great game of politics" (a phrase that badly needs restudy). But aware of their own impatience during boring stretches of both 1976 conventions, they may wonder about the public's reaction. Can it be that there now exists a two-tiered public response to politics as well as to baseball: a few political fans who will follow the fight over rule 16c as avidly as baseball nuts study box scores, while everybody else is at best only tepidly curious to hear how the game finally came out?

That question most expensively troubles television. A mere 30% of the nation's sets were tuned to the Republicans on the first night of the convention, though this was a slight gain over the Democrats' 26%. Is gavel to gavel (even with all the interspersed commercials) worth it for NBC and its advertised "team of 550"? As competitive sports go, the Olympics far outdrew the conventions. Of course, networks have other motives. Conventions are their most conspicuous "public service"; they are also television's own Olympics, with their news departments' prestige at stake. Besides, there is the adrenaline of it: a fatiguing 12-hour day watching over his loyal floormen from a swivel-chaired aerie has to be as heady for Walter Cronkite as describing five blast-offs Into space. Yet all the feats of gadgetry, all the energetic floor work went largely to waste during last week's noisy and frequently mindless prime-time demonstrations.

Print journalists used to pride themselves on reporting the sober but important convention decisions that the restless television cameras ignored. They found precious little to pick over this time, when primaries and advance delegate counts had correctly foretold the results, and conventions served largely to ratify the relative strengths of rival factions. As Ken Galbraith looked lankily down on the serried ranks of pressmen, few of them even taking notes, he wondered aloud how any free-enterprising businessman would regard all that time and money spent for so little result.

Newspaper editors had to wonder too. The New York Times, which gallantly runs page after page of important foreign policy documents, feels no such compulsion at conventions; even the keynote speech is reduced to excerpts. The Times, says Deputy Managing Editor Seymour Topping, aims to set before its readers--expert and nonexpert--a "high quality smorgasbord"; that way, presumably, the reader on the run can find enough nourishment without having to sample every dish. Jim Hoge, the Chicago Sun-Times editor, drastically cut back his paper's coverage and space on the second day of the Democratic Convention, convinced that readers and viewers have "a sensory understanding" that conventions are so unreal that "even the fights are carefully staged."

Are voters not only turned off but also tuned out? Not according to Pollster Lou Harris, who was at the convention to make quickie cameo appearances on ABC. He draws a distinction between what he calls the politics of "disconnect" and the politics of apathy. The public feels disconnected from the political leadership it has been getting, he believes, but has paid attention to, and has been much marked by, the tumultuous political events of recent years.

This ought to reassure editors who are uncomfortable with the notion that political coverage is "good" for their readers but unwanted by them. The real drama of this campaign year --the runaway victory of Carter, the strong challenge by Reagan--has been anything but dull, and the action is about to get livelier. It is not the same mixture as before, and cannot be covered in the old way. If Harris reads the public mood correctly, it is one of skepticism, not apathy. There is a curiosity out there--waiting to be satisfied. Whatever their misgivings, editors are right to press political news on their readers.

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