I walked into the Lebanon, New Hampshire Senior Center five minutes late. I knew, however, that I was at the right place owing to three giant red letters and the one giant red exclamation point mounted on rods and stuck in the ground: J-e-b! The first irony, there are several, is that I hadn’t planned on being at Jeb Bush’s town hall meeting in the first place. A colleague of mine at Rivendell Academy, a 7-12 public interstate school on the New Hampshire/Vermont border, informed me earlier that afternoon of Bush’s planned campaign stop. As the school day came to a close, I went on Bush’s website to see how to attend the event. It was simple. I put in a little biographical information and then was allowed to print out a ticket. I was in. I then began to think about what question I would ask him if I had the opportunity. The school clock read 2:45, five minutes before the dismissal bell. It was at that moment that I recognized an opportunity for the students in my Media & Self class. I would ask one of them what question they would like me to ask the Republican candidate. I raced down the hallway and found Shay, a senior. “I would like to know,” she said, “what PR firm he has hired and how that influences him on the campaign?”
When I entered the venue, I was immediately struck by the wall of media, a jungle of cameras and reporters mounted behind a square of seated voters, some who were holding white and red “Jeb!” signs. The candidate himself was standing in the center of the square. He had just started his speech. As the approximately 160 chairs were taken (I counted), 20 of us were left standing. While I listened to the speech—“ISIS is a threat; Putin is a threat; Obamacare is a threat,” etc.—I found myself paying attention to a well-dressed middle-aged man standing next to me. I quickly deduced that he was part of the campaign team as younger well-dressed men kept coming up to him to whisper something into his ear. To be honest, at least during Jeb’s speech, I was more interested in these hushed words than the candidate’s rhetoric. Had I had the “audacity,” to borrow an Obamaism, I would have moved closer, not only to hear what was spoken, but to see the texts that the older man was continuously sending and reading. Some texts, I noticed, would make him smile, while others would make him frown. Whoever this guy was, it was obvious he was working the campaign in real time.
The fact that I was standing on the fringe of the crowd and adjacent to the media wall—no way they could have all swung their cameras in my direction without hitting each other in the head—I didn’t hold out much hope of having the opportunity to pursue Shay’s inquiry. I politely raised my hand between answers, anyway. And then the unexpected:. Jeb turned in my direction just as someone yelled out, “Last question.” My hand was up and the presidential hopeful picked me. A young man rushed over and stuck a microphone under my nose. Regaining my composure, I spoke: “Governor, I happened to have the opportunity to come here tonight at the last minute. I teach at Rivendell Academy, a public high school just 20 miles down the road. Just before school ended today, I found one of my students and asked what question she would like to ask you. Her name is Shay and this is her question. In modern campaigns, candidates are often packaged as commodities and sold to the public. As you know, in 2008, Obama had David Axelrod’s PR firm crafting his image. What PR firm have you hired and how does it conflict with the man you want to be when campaigning?”
Jeb’s first response was, “Good question.” He then went on to speak about PR firms in general, and in the past tense. He spoke of how sometimes it was troubling when they advised him to take off his glasses, etc. He said that he has no “David Axelrod.” He said to tell Shay that “I have my mother, Barbara Bush, who would whack me upside the head if I tried to be something I’m not.” He ended by saying, “I have two things that I always carry with me. In my pocket I have my rosary to remind me of my faith. On my wrist I have this black band to remind me of a soldier lost in war. And now I have the name Shay to remind me to be [something to the effect] true to myself.””
I realized that Shay and I had provided Jeb with the opportunity to say to the American voter, “Unlike the other guys (Hillary and Carly included), I’m the genuine article, the real deal.” It was masterful spin. There was only one problem, but I wasn’t too worried as the room was packed with members of the fourth estate, intrepid guardians of democracy, who surely noticed it. Bush had not answered the question. He never named one of the many PR firms that work on his behalf.
As audience members filed out of the room several voiced to me their approval of Shay’s question, including Bush’s receiver of whispers and sender of texts.
A few hours later, the first print story was posted on the Internet by a local reporter. It would appear in the local paper later that day. The only reference to Shay’s question was in a caption under the story’s photo which read, “Florida Governor Jeb Bush responds to a question asked by a Rivendell Academy Student regarding Bush’s advertised image during his town hall meeting at the Lebanon Senior Center in Lebanon, New Hampshire.” At 14 hours after the event, the first, and possibly only, national story regarding Shay’s question was published by CNN’s Ashley Killough.
Jeb Bush on eyewear: “I’m not going to take off my stinking glasses.”
Jeb Bush opened up with some rare campaign insight Tuesday night, talking in personal terms about the dizzying array of “pressures” that candidates face “to change who you are.”
“You know ‘do this, do that, be different,’” the Republican presidential candidate said, mimicking suggestions of consultants. “Whatever it is, there’s all sorts of advice. It’s well intended. I’m not being critical. There’s a lot of it.”
In his case, Bush said he was advised to stop wearing his glasses—a suggestion he happily ignored.
“I can’t see without glasses,” Bush said with exasperation, drawing laughs from the audience as he spoke at a town hall in Lebanon, New Hampshire.
“Aiming to appear authentic, politicians rarely reveal the image-conscious side of their campaigns. But Bush did so Tuesday for that exact reason, showing some vulnerabilities in an effort to convince voters of his authenticity.
“It all started when a voter—a teacher who was asking a question on behalf of a student—argued that modern political candidates are often marketed and sold like products. His student wanted to know whether Bush felt stifled or inhibited while he and those around him have been building a brand.
“Bush conceded that there is pressure to be different and said that he’s learned to ‘bite my tongue when the advice is kind of wacky.’ But when he’s really tempted to change, he has a voice in his head that sounds a lot like the matriarch of the Bush family. Barbara Bush is behind me—the looming figure that all children have—and she’s about ready to whack me across the head if I try to be something I’m not.”
Given the amount of press that were present, I am sure that other stories were filed regarding that town hall meeting, but the three news stories above are the only ones that I could find. I found it interesting, and not just a little disturbing, that while all three referenced Shay’s question, not one reported that it was left unanswered. Not one thought to dig just a bit deeper in an attempt to inform prospective voters about the connection between politics and PR firms.
Though Shay probably doesn’t realize it yet, that connection has a profound effect on both the concept and practice of democracy. Killough reports as if the connection is debatable, stating that I “argued that modern political candidates are often marketed and sold like products.” I wasn’t arguing a point, I was stating a fact. It’s not hard to prove.
When a relatively unknown Barak Obama made his bid for the White House in 2008, he hired David Axelrod’s PR behemoth AKPD Message and Media whose slogan was, “Wherever you’re located; whatever the odds; we can help you write history—whether you’re the favorite or the underdog.” In other words, if the odds are that the public doesn’t like you, those odds can be changed.
Jeb Bush may not have a “David Axelrod,” but he does have a “Mike Murphy.” Murphy is a partner in the PR firm Revolution. Its webpage states, “To move public opinion today you need a revolutionary approach. The creativity of Madison Avenue. The strategic discipline of a political campaign.” Murphy is in charge of Jeb’s super PAC Right to Rise and its 100 million dollar war chest. In fact, it was thanks to Murphy that I found Bush’s town hall meeting in the first place. Murphy, a “key pillar of Bush’s inner circle” for more than a dozen years, contributed to the design of what became Jeb’s giant red-lettered lawn logo. And for the record, it’s not like Murphy lurks in the shadows.
On June 18, 2015 journalist Rebecca Berg posted a profile of him on RealClearPolitics. Its title? “Mike Murphy: The Man Selling Jeb! to America.”
And the receiver of whispers? Turns out he’s Rich Killion, partner in the PR firm Elevare Communications which advertises itself as comprising of “a team of experts with experience in a wide range of public affairs, communications, and media services.” Killion is also a senior advisor for Right to Rise. Zeesh, instead of congratulating me on asking a “good question,” Killion could have just handed me his business card. I know Shay would have appreciated it, and it would have saved me 2,000 words.
Z