Making the Sale:

News Management in Reagan's First Term

Ⓒ Mark Mantho

The first term of the Reagan presidency (1981-1985) is a model of how an

administration can successfully manipulate the media to further its political agenda. By

using press management techniques, staged television events, and keeping the press at arm's

length, the Reagan team perfected methods of shaping public attitudes still employed today.

History will judge whether the country was well served by this strategy.

A former Hollywood actor and two-term governor of California, Ronald Reagan

brought unique characteristics with him to the White House. As Lou Cannon1 writes in

President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime, Reagan "had practiced acting as a vocation and

allowed it to become his principal mode of behavior. He had learned to play himself on

screen, and he had also learned to remain on camera when the shooting stopped." (Cannon

51) Reagan lived his life as if it were a movie, and he the leading man. As governor and then

president, Reagan approached policy with a set of deeply held conservative convictions, but

relied heavily on aides to carry them out. Bored with the minutia of governance, he thrived

instead on the theatrical aspect of politics. Michael Deaver, the self-styled "Vicar of Visuals"

responsible for crafting Reagan's image while governor, served the same function in the

White House. Deaver, a former public relations man who became Deputy Chief of Staff,

sought to cast Reagan in the best possible light by guiding his star through a series of

carefully scripted media events. Accustomed to taking direction, Reagan performed

brilliantly.

1 Cannon began reporting on Reagan for the San Jose Mercury-News in 1965, a year before

the star of "Kings Row" and "The Hasty Heart" upset popular incumbent Pat Brown to win

California's governorship. He moved to Washington to cover the new president for the Post,

and along with the New York Times' Hedrick Smith, became one of the top White House

correspondents during the Reagan years.

2

When Reagan reached the White House in 1981, the individuals charged with selling

his image and promoting his policies – Deaver, Chief of Staff James Baker, his assistant

Richard Darman, and Communications Director David Gergen – applied basic principles of

news management to frame the terms of political debate. These principles are enumerated in

Mark Hertsgaard's chronicle of press obeisance during the Reagan years, On Bended Knee:

* Plan Ahead

* Stay on the offensive

* Control the flow of information

* Limit reporter's access to the president

* Talk about the issues you want to talk about

* Speak in one voice

* Repeat the same message many times

(Hertsgaard 34)

From the beginning of the Reagan administration, adherence to these tenets was

strictly enforced. Deaver initiated the weekly "Blair House meetings," where senior aides met

to devise general communications strategy, such as how to respond to Soviet head of state

Leonid Brezhnev's declining health, or Democratic opposition to the '81 budget. Each

morning, the so-called troika of the first term –Baker, Deaver, and Ed Meese, counselor to

the president and later Attorney General – met for 7:30 breakfast at the White House to mull

overnight developments, legislative proposals, and press coverage. By 8:00 a.m., senior staff

members received their assignments. At 8:15, Baker conferred with Gergen, Darman and

Press Secretary Larry Speakes to thrash out "the line of the day" – a daily theme advancing

a White House position – and how best to frame its coverage by the press. Fifteen minutes

later, Deaver chaired the communications meeting, reviewing the day's scheduled media

events and coordinating future "visuals" with his staff. The point of all this, in the words of

one White House official, reflected a fundamental, overriding concern: "What are we going to

do today to enhance the image of the president? What do we want the press to cover today,

and how?" (Hertsgaard 35)

In realizing that goal, little was left to chance. To ensure that everyone was singing

from the same hymnal, the line of the day was disseminated throughout the administration.

3

As soon as a theme was settled on, cabinet officials received it via computer, the better to

prepare for afternoon interviews. Communications director Gergen laid out the storyline to

spokesmen for foreign policy and domestic agencies in two separate conference calls. (He also

arranged in-depth "substance seminars" for spokesmen to enhance their ability to promote

administration aims.) A participant described the conference calls thusly:

It was like, "Okay, what do we say about Lebanon today?"

We'd go through the newspapers and see a story about

South Africa, say, and figure out how we wanted to handle

that. "Well, no comment it," we'd decide, or "That's a

Pentagon story, we will shut up. State, you've got the lead

today on George Shultz's press conference in Brazil." ... The

White House may say, "Look, the president's got a statement

tomorrow, so shut up today, goddamn it, just shut up, don't

preempt the president, (or we'll) cut your nuts off if you

leak anything out on this one"...

Other times we would say, "Here's what we're going to say,

everybody just say it at once. I don't care if you're

asked the question or not, everybody in the

administration today praises (Lebanese Maronite

Christian leader Bashir) Gemayal's leadership," or

(Egyptian President Hosni) Mubarak's leadership,

or whatever it is. (Hertsgaard 36)

Larry Speakes dished out the line of the day to White House correspondents at 9:30 a.m. In

his book The Power Game, former New York Times White House reporter Hedrick Smith

notes that "by making the first comments on major overnight news and foreign

developments, (Speakes) could shape the Washington slant on the news before Congress or

other agencies could react." (Smith 408)

Relentless focus on one or two major themes, such as the budget in 1981, was central

to the Reagan team's game plan. "The key to a successful presidency is that he be seen to be

a leader – somebody who can convert his philosophy into policy goals," opined James Baker,

White House Chief of Staff. "And the way you do that is to pick your issues carefully, and

make sure that once you pick them you win them. And also not to have the focus too diffuse.

... If we had any success in those early years, it was because we were single-minded in our

concentration on the economy in that first year." Speaking to Mark Hertsgaard, Kenneth

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Duberstein, the administration's top congressional lobbyists in 1981 and Reagan's last Chief

of Staff, agreed. "If you can rivet public attention on one or two things, you have a less

difficult time focusing the congressional mind-set. So the economic recovery program became

the agenda. When Ronald Reagan spoke to the nation on television, or did a photo

opportunity, or met with members of congress, it was always on the economic recovery

program." Deputy Chief of Staff Michael Deaver, who controlled Reagan's personal schedule,

made certain the economy dominated the president's agenda. "In 1981 and through the first

half of '82, I would not allow anything to be put on (Reagan's) schedule that didn't have to do

with economic reform," Deaver recalled. "I just said, 'That's all we're going to do.' "

(Hertsgaard 107)

After the administration won "the battle of the budget" in June 1981, the Reagan

team continued to press its advantage. As Mark Hertsgaard writes in On Bended Knee,

"Meeting after White House meeting was arranged that spring and summer in which Reagan

joined with business leaders, state officials, right-wing labor leaders and other friendly

parties. ... Mike Deaver's unsurpassed skill at staging flattering pictures of Reagan resulted

in visual images that portrayed the president as relaxed, decisive (and) in control."

(Hertsgaard 121-122) Washington Post reporter Lee Lescaze marveled at the

administration's facility at selling its economic package. "They focused the press on the

economy, which is mumbo-jumbo to most White House reporters. They had (Budget Director

David) Stockman to give the rapid-fire intellectual briefings and Reagan the from-the-heart

grace notes. Along with (background information sessions) by Baker and Darman, it was a

devastating combination." (Hertsgaard 123)

The Reagan communications apparatus was mindful that a happy White House press

corps was a pliant White House press corps. Explained Communications Deputy Joanna

Bistany, "If you give somebody a comfortable place to work, good facilities, provide food

because you know they can't take time to go to a restaurant ten miles away to eat, and in

general provide the creature comforts, how then can someone turn around and bite the hand

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that feeds him?" During Reagan's whistle-stop reelection campaign in 1984, reporters were

given copies of the president's speeches ("As delivered, with punctuation pauses, etcetera,"

remembered Boston Globe reporter Walter Robinson) 20 minutes after they were delivered.

Within moments of each train stop, journalists were provided with a bank of toll-free

telephones. (Hertsgaard 42) As correspondents for the two most influential newspapers, the

New York Times' Rick Smith and the Washington Post's Lou Cannon routinely received

inside information "on background." The Reagan communications apparatus knew the

evening news programs often led their broadcasts with stories culled from that morning's

Times or Post. By leaking to Smith and Cannon, White House spin doctors could shape the

news to their liking.

The Reagan White House also succeeded in changing perceptions without changing

policies. In April 1983, a commission assembled by Education Secretary T.H. Bell was set to

release A Nation at Risk, a critical look at the nation's public education system that also

contained suggestions for improving the situation without added spending. Already smarting

from charges of "meanness" after slashing programs for the poor, Reagan was vulnerable on

the issue. He had previously cut federal aid to primary and secondary schools, and his

private pollster, Richard Wirthlin, foresaw trouble ahead as the election year of 1984

approached. A poll conducted by Wirthlin in March showed American's disapproved of

Reagan's handling of education by a margin of 48% to 42%. The president's advisors

determined to "ride with the report, not have it ride over him." To that end, Wirthlin was

instructed to "pre-test" attitudes toward education before Reagan was sent out on a

barnstorming campaign to get ahead of the issue. Wirthlin found some of the proposals

offered in the commission report that meshed with Reagan's education philosophy – like

school discipline and teacher accountability – also enjoyed widespread public support.2

2 According to Rick Smith, Wirthlin's firm, Decision Making Information, Inc., had "250

telephone links for rapid polling," allowing for results on hot issues within 24 hours. This

gave the White House a distinct advantage over Congress and the media in responding to –

and shaping – the national mood. (Smith 417)

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Wirthlin told Hedrick Smith, "We tested and found where the hot buttons were. We couldn't

beat (our critics) on the issue of money. We had to change the terms of the debate." (Author's

italics.)

When A Nation at Risk was publicized, Reagan's eventual opponent in the '84

election, Walter Mondale, immediately called for an $11 billion education program. Drawing

on Wirthlin's polling results, Reagan blamed Washington bureaucrats for the education

problem and urged parents to demand rigorous standards, superior teachers, and local

control of schools. He went to South Orange, New Jersey, and talked up merit pay for

teachers. In Shawnee, Kansas, the president averred that court-ordered desegregation had a

detrimental influence on public education. At a stop in Farragut, Tennessee, Reagan had

lunch with home economics teachers and monitored a high school English class. Making his

way to California, the president blasted the National Education Association. Reaching

Albuquerque, New Mexico, Reagan had the "temerity," as Rick Smith wrote, to admonish

that "education must never become a political football." By mid-June, a Newsweek poll

indicated 80% of respondents wanted more spending for education, but the same percentage

agreed with Reagan's stand on merit pay, and 90% sought stringent curriculum guidelines

and competency tests for teachers. More important for Reagan's political prospects, the

White House PR blitz reversed attitudes toward Reagan's education plan. By late June, one

poll found the public approved of his management of education, 52% to 41% - despite the fact

that administration policy remained unchanged. "That's what it comes down to," remarked

Deaver's assistant Bill Henkel, "We are marketing. We are trying to mold public opinion by

marketing strategies. That's what communications is all about." (Smith 418)

****

The single most important element of the administration's public relations success

was its use of television. By the early 1980s, polls showed that 70% of Americans received

their news from TV, and it became the primary means of selling the Reagan message.

"Television," Mike Deaver avowed, "elects presidents." Deaver and his colleagues understood

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that regardless of actual news value, television demands images. Longtime Reagan aide Lyn

Nofziger, head of the White House political office until 1982, attests to a contract of "mutual

back scratching" between network news organizations and the administration. "It's an

unsaid thing. You need each other," Nofziger told Mark Hertsgaard. "Television needs

Deaver to make sure they get something out of the White House today. Deaver needs

television to make sure the president is presented in a good light." Deaver himself stated

baldly that TV "had to take what we were giving them." Robert Frye, executive producer of

ABC's World News Tonight in the early 1980s, concurred, asking rhetorically, "How do you

say, 'We're not going to put that stuff on the air'? You don't. If you tallied the score every day,

the Rose Garden appearances that have nothing to do with policy would be about 95% of

Reagan's appearances, so (if you excluded them) you wouldn't have much to put on the air."

(Hertsgaard 51)

David Gergen, White House Communications Director from 1981 to 1985, would

frequently phone network news correspondents, anchors, and executives shortly before

airtime in an attempt at last minute spin control. ABC's White House correspondent during

the Reagan administration, Sam Donaldson, told Hedrick Smith, "Gergen would always call

me up about six o'clock, five-fifty ... He knew that by (calling) so late, what I would have to do

(was) get the White House version, to some extent, in my 'end piece.' He knew that the end

pieces that sum up the story are the last impact that the viewer gets." If an administration

official had previously told Donaldson one thing, and Gergen then told him another, "He

knew that he would have an impact 'cause I'd feel constrained to say, 'And so tonight, what

seems clear is that the White House is going to do such and so, although a senior official said

late today, 'No, we're going to do it the other way.' " (Smith 410)

Should the networks prove quarrelsome, their affiliates were always accommodating.

Revealed Deaver, "We were playing to the local markets." The communications apparatus

scheduled presidential trips to major media markets in key political states to heighten

Reagan's appeal, knowing local news shows would go easy on their man. "You'd have two

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days of stories before the president arrived, about the security and logistics and all that,"

Deaver informed Mark Hertsgaard. "Then (local news programs) would cover the actual days

of the president's visit. And then many times we'd give the local anchor guy a half-hour

interview, which they'd often run five nights in a row, five minutes each night. And of course

the local anchor, you had a much stronger bargaining position to tell him, 'You can ask

questions about these topics and nothing else,' because for them to have a chance to

interview the president was a very big deal. ... So (the local anchor) got that one shot, but we

got four nights (sic) on the local news with something positive to us in a major media

market." (Hertsgaard 50)

The Reagan White House used television in a variety of ways, and for a variety of

purposes. For example, during the election campaign of 1984, the Pentagon and Air Force

nagged Deaver to showcase Reagan with the B-1 Bomber in Palmdale, California, where it

was assembled. The administration's defense buildup had elicited criticism over deficit

spending, and Deaver was well aware of Reagan's reputation as a war-monger. He agreed to

the photo opportunity, because the B-1 project accounted for thousands of jobs in California,

and the state was crucial to Reagan's reelection chances. Deaver presented military officials

with one caveat, however. He commanded a banner proclaiming "Prepared for Peace" be

draped end-to-end across the bomber. "So you never saw the B-1," he remembered later. "All

you saw was the president with this big sign behind him." When Reagan's budget cuts were

blamed for rising unemployment during the recession of 1982-1983, Deaver dreamed up

photo-ops showing the president conversing sympathetically with laid-off dock workers and

inspecting a job retraining program firsthand. At the first sign of recovery – a HUD report on

slowly rising housing starts – Deaver sent Reagan to Fort Worth, Texas. Accompanied by

construction workers and standing in front of a newly framed house, Reagan announced the

good news before the assembled White House press corps, who had been flown to Fort Worth

at administration expense expressly for that purpose. (Smith 416)

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In Sam Donaldson's words, Deaver and the White House communications staff

recognized "a simple truism about television: the eye always predominates over the ear when

there is a fundamental clash between the two." An oft-repeated case in point is CBS White

House correspondent Lesley Stahl's analysis of how the Reagan administration used

television to induce "amnesia" about the president's record during the 1984 reelection

campaign. The piece, which aired on October 4, juxtaposed facts about the president's

policies (cuts in aid to the disabled and the elderly) against images that told a different story

(Reagan at the Special Olympics, Reagan at the opening of a retirement home). Stahl

expected a firestorm of complaints from the administration. Instead, she received a single

phone call from a senior White House official:

And the voice said, "Great piece."

I said, "What?"

And he said, "Great piece!"

I said, "Did you listen to what I said?"

He said, "Lesley, when you're showing four and a

half minutes of great pictures of Ronald Reagan,

no one listens to what you say. Don't you know that

the pictures are overriding your message because

they conflict with your message? The public sees

those pictures and they block out your message. They

didn't even hear what you said. So, in our minds, it

was a four-and-a-half minute free ad for the Ronald

Reagan campaign for reelection."

Stahl hung up the phone, "numb." (Smith 414)

The foreign stage provided the Reagan presidency with two of its greatest PR

triumphs. The first of these, Reagan's trip to the demilitarized zone between South and

North Korea, took place on November 13, 1983, and was accompanied by camera crews from

the Republican National Committee. Deaver and aid Bill Henkel (who became director of

visuals after Deaver's departure from the White House in May 1985) sought to place Reagan

at the most exposed American bunker, Guardpost Collier, so he could look down (literally) on

communist North Korea. The Secret Service objected, fearing possible sniper fire. Henkel

then persuaded the Army to erect telephone polls from which to hang thirty thousand yards

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of protective camouflage netting. Henkel also instructed the Army to build special camera

platforms on the hill adjacent to Guardpost Collier, and another positioned behind Reagan.

This platform would capture the Commander in Chief looking at enemy territory through a

pair of binoculars.3 ("Echoes of Douglas MacArthur," observed Hedrick Smith in The Power

Game.) Red tape was placed in strategic spots to position Reagan at angles most conducive to

flattering camera shots. Later, dining on hamburgers in the enlisted mess, the President was

cheered by U.S. soldiers – another winning image of the All-American president, recorded for

posterity by the Republican National Committee.

To ensure maximum media coverage, Deaver & Co. covered all the bases. They made

sure the networks had plenty of good camera footage and arranged for an Army helicopter to

airlift their video out in time to make the evening broadcasts. Newspaper journalists were

able to file stories before boarding the return bus to Seoul. The Army, related Lou Cannon in

President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime, "provided a score of telephones from which

reporters could direct-dial their home offices from the DMZ on lines so clear it sounded as if

they were calling from next door." Returning to Washington, the president and first lady met

the microphones on the White House lawn, holding hands with two South Korean children in

need of open-heart surgery. The DMZ trip, declared Reagan solemnly, was "more than

symbolism." (Smith 420, Cannon 476-478)

The president's visit to Normandy in June 1984 to commemorate the fortieth

anniversary of the Allied invasion of Europe elevated Deaver's image politics to its ultimate

level. Originally, the itinerary called for Reagan to greet French president Francois

Mitterrand at Omaha Beach on June 6. The ceremony was scheduled for 4:00 p.m., or 10:00

a.m., Eastern Standard Time. This would have been too late to make the morning television

shows like ABC's Good Morning America, ceding the stage instead to coverage of the

3 To increase the drama, Henkel wanted sandbags surrounding Reagan waist high, low

enough to show off the president's Army fatigues and flak jacket. The Secret Service insisted

on sandbags up to Reagan's neck. Henkel compromised, reported Rick Smith, agreeing to

sandbags "four inches up from Reagan's belly button." (Smith 420)

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Democratic National Convention. Deaver sought a solo Reagan performance a few minutes

after 7 o'clock at Pont du Hoc, where U.S. Rangers had landed on D-Day. Mitterrand's

advisers balked at the suggestion, asserting it was a breach in protocol for the American

president to speak on French soil before meeting their head of state. Deaver summoned the

French ambassador to the United States, Bernard Palliez-Vernier, and reminded him none

too subtly of the first-class treatment Mitterrand received while visiting the U.S. earlier that

year. Palliez-Vernier related the conversation to Mitterrand, who gave the go-ahead for

Reagan to have the opening scene all to himself.

Delivering lines crafted by ace White House speechwriter Peggy Noonan, Reagan

spoke from what Lou Cannon called "the most visually dramatic site in Normandy." In The

Role of a Lifetime, Cannon quotes John Vinocur of the New York Times, who wrote Pont du

Hoc "is a knife, stood on its edge, pointed into the sea. It looks lethal, a palisade of boulder

and mean rocks where Normandy's green softness has reclaimed nothing." Speaking on the

point of this rock, the president addressed U.S. veterans who had scaled a 130 ft. cliff to gain

a foothold in France. In back of him was a memorial to their effort. Reagan delivered his

speech so eloquently that even the Secret Service men had tears in their eyes.4 Later, amidst

thousands of white stone crosses, the president and wife Nancy toured the Normandy

American Cemetery at Omaha Beach. With cameras rolling, "the Reagans walked through

4 An excerpt: "The Rangers looked up and saw the enemy soldiers at the edge of the cliffs

shooting down at them with machine guns and throwing grenades. And the Rangers began to

climb. They shot rope ladders over the face of these cliffs and began to pull themselves up.

When one Ranger fell, another would take his place; when one rope was cut, a Ranger would

grab another and begin his climb again. They climbed, shot back and held their footing; soon,

one by one, the Rangers pulled themselves over the top – and in seizing the firm land at the

top of these cliffs they began to seize back the continent of Europe. Two hundred twenty-five

came here. After two days of fighting, only ninety could still bear arms.

Behind me is a memorial that symbolizes the Ranger daggers that were thrust into the top of

these cliffs. And before me are the men who put them there. These are the boys of Pointe du

Hoc. These are the men who took the cliffs. These are the champions who helped free a

continent. These are the heroes who helped end the war." (Cannon 484)

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the cemetery in silence," wrote Lou Cannon. "A gentle breeze (wafting) in from the English

Channel."

The final touch came when Reagan read from a letter written by the daughter of

Peter Zannatta, an American serviceman who helped take Omaha Beach. In the letter, Lisa

Zanatta Henn wrote the president about her father's dream of returning to Omaha Beach

after the war, which was never realized, and her promise as he lay on his deathbed that she

would make the trip for him. As Reagan read from the letter, cameras pulled back to reveal

Lisa Henn. For a brief, poignant moment, the two exchanged eye contact.5 (Cannon 483-485)

Normandy was the crowning achievement of the visual presidency.

****

Restricting media access became a hallmark of the Reagan administration and

constituted another major weapon in manipulating the press. The most celebrated case of

denied access was the U.S. invasion of Grenada in October 1983. On Monday afternoon,

October 24, CBS White House correspondent Bill Plante received a tip that the U.S. would

invade the tiny South American island to evacuate American citizens after a Marxist coup

five days before. Plante confronted White House Press Secretary Larry Speakes with the

rumor, seeking confirmation. Speakes, in his memoir Speaking Out, relates that he

communicated Plante's inquiry to Admiral John Poindexter, then deputy director of the

National Security Council. Poindexter responded, according to Speakes, that the notion was

"preposterous" and that the press secretary should "knock it down hard." Speakes did, using

5 In his slender memoir Behind the Scenes, Michael Deaver notes that Reagan paid for Lisa

Henn's journey to Normandy out of his own pocket. Deaver also recalls that Kay Graham,

publisher of the ostensibly "liberal" Washington Post, cried as she watched the moment of eye

contact. Affirmed Deaver: "Such moments did bring out the best in Ronald Reagan. At such

moments, the world really was his stage." (Deaver 175-176)

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Poindexter's exact words.6 Based on that denial, Bill Plante and his bosses at CBS decided

not to pursue the story. (Speakes 150-152)

At 8:00 p.m. that evening, however, President Reagan met with senior

administration aides and congressional leaders to discuss invasion plans. Speakes was not

invited to attend. ("I knew something was going on," wrote Speakes, "and when I found out

that the meeting had started with the congressional leadership and a half-dozen White

House staffers, but not their own press spokesman, I got disgusted and I went home.") In the

early hours of Tuesday, October 25, 1,900 U.S. troops, abetted by contingents from various

South American countries, invaded Grenada. At a 6:00 a.m. breakfast briefing that morning

– an hour into the offensive – Chief of Staff James Baker informed Speakes the Pentagon

had requested the press be barred from Grenada. The White House, said Baker, would

comply with the request.

The official explanation for the press ban was concern for the safety of American

reporters. (French and Latin American journalists, presumably of hardier stock, were

permitted to cover the invasion.) Military planners moved quickly to seal Grenada, cordoning

off surrounding air and sea space to all but American military vessels and aircraft. American

reporters seeking to find their way onto the island via commercial ferry were threatened

with fire from U.S. jets. Four American reporters were detained on a Navy ship for days and

prohibited from filing stories. (Smith 435) Consequently, the media blackout was total,

encompassing radio, TV and newspapers. This marked a sharp break with precedent; until

Grenada, the press had covered military operations dating back to the Civil War. When news

executives learned of the blackout, they protested vigorously. On Tuesday morning, NBC's

White House bureau chief, Robert McFarlane, registered a formal complaint with

Communications Director David Gergen. "If you've got an invasion going," insisted

6 Poindexter's record for veracity would prove less than exemplary. Along with Oliver North,

he was convicted of lying to congress about diversion of arms to Nicaraguan rebels after the

Iran-Contra scandal broke in 1986.

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McFarlane, "we've got to get some television crews in there and we've got to get them in

there right now." Gergen's response: "I hear you."

Later that morning, Gergen and Larry Speakes pleaded with Baker to allow the

press entry to Grenada. Speakes, who states frankly in his memoir, "I had been lied to," was

left to face a hostile White House media at the 12 o'clock daily press briefing. Derisive calls of

"Preposterous!" were thrown in the press secretary's face and Speakes was asked whether he

would resign. Demanded a reporter, "You don't believe anybody in this government made a

conscious decision to deliberately mislead the press on this?" Speakes shifted his feet and

replied weakly, "No, I honestly do not." (Speakes 157) Later that evening, Baker finally

yielded and ordered the press ban lifted.

Even so, four days would pass before camera crews not affiliated with the Defense

Department were allowed into Grenada. In the meantime, NBC's October 26 evening

newscast featured Defense Secretary Casper Weinberger, who assured viewers the U.S.

operation was proceeding apace and revealed that "a major Cuban installation" housing

"command and control equipment, as well as ... secret documents" had been secured. No

independent verification of Weinberger's claims was available, of course. The Pentagon set

up its own "news service," replete with sanitized camera footage. The October 28 edition of

the CBS Evening News, for example, thrice flashed "Cleared by Defense Department

Censors" over images of combat. (Hertsgaard 218) After the invasion was successfully

completed, Weinberger defended the press ban as a legitimate "operational order" by the

military. Secretary of State George Shultz justified administration censorship on grounds

that "reporters are always against us, and so they're always seeking to report something

that's going to screw things up." (Smith 435)

Initially, public support for the media blackout was strong, and Reagan's popularity

soared.7 Said NBC's Robert McFarland, "(the press) got an interesting response from the

7 Some critics – notably Democrat Tip O'Neil, Speaker of the House during the Reagan years

– speculated the Grenada invasion was an attempt to deflect attention from the bombing of a

15

American public" after the media raised concerns about censorship. " 'They were right and

you were wrong. Shut up.' "

After the euphoria faded, though, Americans had second thoughts. Three weeks after the

invasion, a Los Angeles Times poll found that although people backed the Reagan policy of

"denying unrestricted press access" to Grenada, they rejected the administration's plan to

impose censorship in future military operations by a margin of two to one. In early

December, a Harris poll showed that a majority of Americans, 65% to 32%, believed

suppressing press freedoms during the invasion was wrong. A majority also felt prohibiting

media coverage of combat might entice the military to "cover up mistakes or lives lost."

White House Chief of Staff Jim Baker later acknowledged that "We took too long to get the

press (into Grenada) on an unrestricted basis. ... We should have given some consideration to

press coverage." (Smith 436-437)

Reagan's advisors also restricted media access to the president himself. In its most

benign form, this simply meant administration officials dispensed the bad news while

leaving Reagan free to deliver happier reports. "I think it's terribly important that the

president not be out on the line every day, particularly on bad news," David Gergen told

Mark Hertsgaard. "My theory on that is that you only have one four-star general in battle,

but you've got a lot of lieutenants who can give blood. It's far better to have your lieutenants

take the wounds than your general." (Gergen, a Navy man, was fond of military metaphors.)

"So on the budget issue, we intentionally put Stockman out front. ... As controversial as

(Interior Secretary James) Watt was, it was better to have (him) out talking about

environmental issues than the president. ... It was a conscious policy in terms of shaping the

news." (Hertsgaard 32-33) To disassociate the president from his unpopular interior

Marine compound in Beirut, Lebanon on October 23, which claimed the lives of 241

American servicemen. In President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime, Lou Cannon dispels this

myth by pointing out invasion plans actually began October 19, four days before the Beirut

bombing. The final decision to invade was made Saturday, October 22. More credible is the

view that the Grenada media blackout was inspired by Britain's handling of the Falklands

War of 1982, when the Thatcher government imposed sweeping press censorship. Thatcher

defended the move as necessary to ensure popular support for the war. (Smith 435)

16

secretary, a major address on environmental policy was cancelled in the spring of 1983, when

Watt tendered his resignation.8 In 1986, Reagan personally announced the release of U.S.

News and World Report Moscow correspondent Nicholas Daniloff, who was being held on

charges of espionage by the Soviet Union. Reagan then ducked out of the White House press

room, leaving Secretary of State George Shultz with the less savory task of informing

journalists that Soviet spy Gennady Zakharov would also be released. Shultz stood under the

hot lights and cameras, fending off questions about "an undeclared swap." (Smith 431)

In the eyes of White House handlers, restricting access to Reagan became imperative

after numerous gaffes raised questions about the president's competency. Reagan held fewer

news conferences than any president in modern times, just 46 over two terms and eight years

in office.9 At a June 16, 1981 press conference, Reagan appeared misinformed or wholly

ignorant when answering foreign policy questions. A little more than a week before, Israeli

jets had destroyed a nuclear reactor in Iraq, justifying the attack as necessary to thwart

Iraqi progress toward nuclear capability. Israel had also refused to sign the Nuclear Non-

Proliferation Treaty and submit to inspections by the International Atomic Energy Agency.

When asked for his reaction to these developments, Reagan was befuddled. "Well, I haven't

8 Watt, a strong advocate for development of public land ("We will mine more, drill more, cut

more timber"), ran into trouble with environmentalists and the media almost from the day he

took over at Interior. There were two kinds of people in the United States, Watt declared –

"liberals and Americans." After calling on him to resign, the Audubon Society was dismissed

as "a chanting mob." Speaking before the U.S. Chamber of Commerce on September 21, 1983,

the interior secretary lauded the work of a commission reviewing the department's coal-

leasing program. "We have every kind of mix you can have," he exalted. "I have a black, I

have a woman, two Jews and a cripple. And we have talent." The remark finally cost Watt

his job.

9 Indeed, according to Playing the Game: The Presidential Rhetoric of Ronald Reagan, by

Mary E. Stuckey, the president gave an average of less than six press conferences a year.

(Stuckey 13)

17

given very much thought to that particular question there, the subject about not signing the

treaty, or, on the other hand, how many countries do we know that have signed it that very

possibly are going ahead with nuclear weapons. It's, again, something that doesn't lend itself

to verification." Reagan added that he did not "envision Israel being a threat to its

neighbors," concluding, "I'll have to think about the question you asked." Would a

conventional U.S.-Soviet war in the European theater inevitably lead to nuclear conflict?

"Well, it's a frightening possibility, and history bears it out. If we want to look for one little

bit of optimism any place, the only time that I can recall in history that a weapon possessed

by both sides was never used was in World War II – the use of poison gas. ... But the weapons

are there, and they do extend to the battlefield use as well – the tactical weapons as well as

the strategic." Later, Reagan called air-defense missiles installed in Lebanon by Syria

"offensive" weapons, an error that led to the first of many official White House retractions of

statements made by the president. (Cannon 157-158)

In President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime, Lou Cannon notes this performance led

Reagan's political advisors to deduce "news conferences were not worth the trouble they

caused. ... The White House team opted to shield the president from the press." Cannon

writes that Reagan "staggered through" his next press conference, when he allowed that

nuclear war could be confined to Europe. That outing, which was held four months after the

June fiasco, "further (reinforced) the staff view that news conferences were ordeals rather

than opportunities." (Cannon 159) "I was deeply worried about the gaffe problem," admitted

Communications Director David Gergen. "The gaffe question went directly to the question of

competence. If you had (Reagan) portrayed as both unfair (in his policies) and incompetent,

you were in trouble." Stories emerged in the press about "the disengaged president." 10

10 Calvin Trillin, writing in The Nation, later mused that the term "disengaged" was "a bit

cumbersome – it struck me as the equivalent of saying, 'She's really more than a disengaged

blonde' or 'It was nothing but disengaged luck' – but apparently it has caught on with the

news magazine crowd." (Hertsgaard 137)

18

To combat the problem, White House advisors moved press conferences from the

afternoon hours – a time when, according to Lou Cannon, Reagan was most in need of a nap

– to prime time. The switch, it was felt, would stimulate the president's taste for the

dramatic and permit his personal charm to prevail over any gaffes.11 (Hertsgaard 139-140)

After briefing Reagan extensively on the issues, the president's handlers ran him through a

series of dress rehearsals in the White House family theater. One set of aides peppered

Reagan with questions on foreign policy while another queried him about domestic issues.

High-ranking aides would then review the president's performance. (Smith 432) Reagan was

also coached to evade tough questions. In Playing The Game: The Presidential Rhetoric of

Ronald Reagan, Mary E. Stuckey analyzed how Reagan responded to press questions in news

conferences from 1981 to 1988. Using a table, she divided the responses up into categories,

such as "Direct Answers," "Delaying," "Direct Evasion," "Blames Media," and "Deflections:

Humor/Story/Anecdote." Stuckey found that direct answers were the most common, but

observed "This is less impressive ... when we realize that all the other responses listed are

forms of evasion, avoidance and obfuscation. ... Reagan used various forms of evasion 3,755

times (80%), and directly answered questions only 960 times (20%)." (Stuckey 14)

Questions in a different setting – during Oval Office photo opportunities – led to the

first real clash between Reagan's advisors and the White House press corps. In late 1981,

Press Secretary Larry Speakes told reporters, "Look, no more questions in the photo ops. If

you feel you can't abide by it, you don't have to go in." Network correspondents replied that

no questions meant no photo ops, and the image sensitive White House backed down – for a

time. But at a photo op with a foreign leader in early 1982, Mike Deaver demanded

journalists stop questioning the president. Deaver said he found it "insulting to bring in a

head of state to the Oval Office and have him surrounded by a hundred shouting reporters."

11 Nevertheless, the gaffes persisted. Reagan confused Supreme Court decisions affecting

administration policy and United Nations resolutions regarding the Middle East, for

example. In early 1982, the president claimed a million Americans had gained employment

since he took office. Actually, a million fewer were employed. (Smith 433)

19

The Deputy Chief of Staff stated that if the hectoring didn't cease, reporters would be barred

from the Oval Office entirely. When network correspondents again countered that they'd pull

the cameras if such a ban were imposed, Deaver called their bluff. Meeting with the

Washington bureau heads of ABC, NBC and CBS, Deaver and Chief of Staff James Baker

presented them with a fait accompli. "We were handed a sheet of paper stating the new

rules, to which we obviously objected," related NBC's Robert McFarland, who attended the

conference. "They said they would think about it, and then it came back to us that the matter

was not up for discussion."

Reagan's advisors employed what Hedrick Smith called, in another context, "media

jujitsu" – turning the networks' strength to administration advantage. Baker and Deaver

realized that with their voracious appetite for pictures, television news executives needed the

White House more than the White House needed them. "My position on the holdout was,

'Screw 'em! They're not going to stick with that,' " recalled Deaver. "I mean, we got the Horse.

They're getting paid $150,000 a year to cover the President of the United States. You mean

to tell me they're not going to bring their cameras in a day or two?" ABC and CBS went

ahead with the boycott threat, but NBC caved. Within two days of issuing its edict –

thereafter dubbed "The Deaver Rule" – the White House once more played host to all three

networks. Oval Office photo ops resumed, sans the questions. (Hertsgaard 141-143) As well

as sending a clear message of intimidation, this decree further isolated Reagan from the

press. Complained ABC's Sam Donaldson, " I would see Jimmy Carter almost every working

day of his presidency. With Reagan, cameras always get in. It's the reporters they don't want

there." (Smith 434-435)

The reelection campaign of 1984 represents the zenith of the Reagan team's strategy

of isolating the president from the press. Writes Mark Hertsgaard in On Bended Knee, "The

formal reelection campaign was merely the culmination of a three-year nonstop propaganda

effort of selling Ronald Reagan to the American public. It was explicitly designed to insulate

the president from serious scrutiny on the part of the press and to equate any criticism of

20

him with criticism of America. It relied on the same news management principles that the

apparatus had so skillfully applied over the previous three years: devise, on the basis of

meticulous opinion polling, a long-term communications plan that emphasizes certain

politically favorable themes, such as 'America Is Back;' provide one handsomely packaged

photo opportunity story per day that reinforces the chosen theme of the day; repeat your

message many times and in many ways; and, to assure control of the agenda, restrict

reporters' access to the president and avoid whenever possible questions on unfavorable

topics." (Hertsgaard 251)

Throughout the '84 campaign, White House advisors sought to promote the president

as the mythical embodiment of American values and idealism. Hence Reagan's lyrical

pilgrimage to Normandy and his Fourth of July appearance at Florida's "Firecracker 400

Stock-Car Race." (On this occasion, the president posed with racing icon Richard Petty and

received a command performance from country music legend Tammy Wynette.) In late July,

Reagan opened the XXIII Olympic Games in Los Angeles. As Hertsgaard relates, "Television

and the print media had been reporting for months on the runners transporting the Olympic

torch across the country for the July 28 opening of the Games; appearing at the opening

ceremonies allowed Reagan to associate himself with and thus capitalize on the red, white

and blue sentiments" sweeping the country.12

Yet in keeping with the White House reelection strategy of isolating the president,

Reagan made just two week-long campaign swings in 1984. "All that the campaign staff

expected from the candidate," writes Lou Cannon in The Role of a Lifetime, "was a sufficient

illusion of activity to generate television coverage and demonstrate that Reagan was not

taking reelection for granted." To that end, the president was sent off a few times a week on

"day trips" to states within easy reach of Air Force One, and then flown back to spend the

night in Washington. These forays were comprised of a series of "set-piece speeches"

12 1984, it will be remembered, was the year of Mary Lou Retton, the all-American gymnast

who scored two "Perfect 10's" on her way to a Gold Medal at the XXIII Games.

21

emphasizing a scripted "theme of the day" against carefully selected backdrops. (Cannon

537) "The mechanics of every stop was perfect," boasted Michael Deaver. "From a visual

standpoint, every press member got a perfect angle, perfect position. Our backdrops were

always terrific, there was always a new gimmick even though it was the same speech. We'd

always try to come up with some human interest thing, either bringing a person up to see

(President Reagan onstage), or including it in his remarks." By the time Reagan kicked off

his general election campaign in Orange County, California on Labor Day 1984, the PR

offensive was on autopilot. Standing before a vast crowd of supporters cheering "Four More

Years!" Reagan grinned his wholesome American grin and rejoined, "Okay, you talked me

into it." Hundreds of red, white and blue balloons were set aloft, while a squad of skydivers

glided to the ground, plumes of red, white and blue smoke streaming in their wake.

(Hertsgaard 255)

White House aides were always extremely wary of setting an unscripted Reagan

loose before the media, and this was especially true during the '84 campaign. One way to

avoid gaffes was to rev up the helicopter engines as Reagan prepared to depart for a speech

or weekend stay at Camp David ("Crude but effective," observed Lou Cannon). More

egregious was the use of Secret Service agents to bar press contact with the president. The

Secret Service issued passes to White House correspondents, some of whom traveled as a

pool with Reagan on Air Force One. But, according to Cannon, the Secret Service blocked

access to Reagan based not on security concerns, but the dictates of his political advisors. At

a July 26 event at St. Ann's Catholic Church in Hoboken, New Jersey, for example, the

Secret Service "parted like the Red Sea" to allow the pool close to Reagan, because aides

wanted close-up footage of the president greeting Italian-American voters. On August 19,

though, when Reagan's lead over Mondale in the polls slipped after his infamous August 11

radio address,13 reporters were kept away as he shook hands with people at the Missouri

13 Warming up for his regular Saturday radio address to the nation, Reagan cracked, "My

fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw

22

State Fair. This approach failed to yield the visuals coveted by Mike Deaver. So when the

president visited the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland on August 30,

photographers were permitted to approach Reagan; reporters were held back. ABC's Sam

Donaldson called this practice "political security." The White House correspondent reserved

his condemnation for Reagan's handlers rather than the Secret Service. "They take their cues

from Mike Deaver and Nancy Reagan and the others at the top. When the staff wants

reporters close, they're close. And when the staff doesn't, they're not." Reagan's advisors,

maintained Donaldson, "have taken the Rose Garden on the road." (Cannon 536-537) The

strategy was successful, however. Reagan won reelection over Democratic candidate Walter

Mondale by 525 to 13 electoral votes – the largest electoral total in American political

history.14

The 1984 campaign was one of the Reagan PR team's greatest achievements, and its

last hurrah. With the president's reelection assured, the people most responsible for selling

his image during the first term moved on to other positions in the administration or left

government entirely. Richard Wirthlin returned to his polling firm. Communications

Director David Gergen became an editor for U.S. News and World Report, replaced by the far

more ideological Pat Buchanan. "Vicar of Visuals" Mike Deaver pursued a career as a

Washington lobbyist. Most fatefully of all, Chief of Staff James Baker swapped jobs with

Treasury Secretary Donald Regan, taking assistant Dick Darman along with him. Regan's

abrasive style and hopelessly inept public relations skills cost his boss dearly during the

second term. Under Regan's watch the president made his ill-conceived trip to Bitburg,

Germany, laying a wreath at a military cemetery containing graves of Waffen SS troops and

Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes." As Cannon observes, this was typical

Reagan clowning, but when leaked to the media, it caused a ruckus. The Soviets protested,

the Allies were rattled, and Dick Wirthlin's polls showed the president's approval rating

dropped several points. Reagan's lead over Mondale was reduced to its smallest margin of

the campaign. (Cannon 536, Smith 411) 14 Reagan won the popular vote, 59% to 41%, and carried 49 states; Mondale carried his

home state of Minnesota and the District of Columbia.

23

sparking a storm of controversy. It was during the second term, too, that the Iran-Contra

scandal unravelled.15

Nonetheless, the principles of news management practiced in Reagan's first term

have become an integral part of how American presidents do business. When George Bush

placed severe restrictions on press coverage during the Gulf War, or Bill Clinton assiduously

exploited polls to divine public opinion and then "triangulated" policies accordingly, they

were stealing from the Reagan team's playbook. The Reagan strategy was also alive and well

during the presidential campaign of 1988, when Bush visited a flag-making factory, and

again in 1999, when Clinton visited U.S. troops in Kosovo. Journalists are apt to see these

stratagems as manipulative, which, of course, they are; presidents believe them necessary, a

way to bypass the media in service of effective governance (and their own popularity).

There's something to be said for the latter argument, particularly in an age when the

relationship between president and press is chronically antagonistic. Even so, something is

lost when presidential power derives less from the quality of leadership than slick visuals

and marketing ploys. One can hardly blame Reagan and his first-term handlers for taking

15 On November 3,1986, the Lebanese news magazine Al-Shiraa reported the United States

had sold arms to Iran in exchange for the release of American hostages held by Islamic

fundamentalists in Lebanon. On November 5, the story broke in U.S. newspapers. Initially,

the administration denied any involvement, then admitted to the deal. In a November 25

news conference, Attorney General Edwin Meese revealed profits from some of the arms

sales had been illegally diverted to the Nicaraguan contras, then fighting to overthrow the

Marxist Sandinista regime. The scandal provoked an uproar, leading to a precipitous drop in

Reagan's poll numbers and seriously damaging his credibility.

Lou Cannon writes in President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime that Reagan's colorful new

Chief of Staff saw himself as a master salesman who was confident the situation could be

salvaged. Regan's solution to the Iran-Contra fiasco was to "create a diversion" by having the

president tour the country delivering speeches on unrelated issues, such as U.S.-Soviet

relations. "Some of us are like a shovel brigade that follows a parade down Main Street

cleaning up," Regan bragged witlessly to the New York Times. "We took (the 1986 Soviet-

American summit) Reykjavik and turned what was really a sour situation into something

that turned out pretty well. Who was it that took this disinformation thing and managed to

turn it? Who was it (who) took on this loss in the Senate (sic) and pointed out a few facts and

managed to pull that? I don't say we'll be able to do it four times in a row. But here we go

again and we're trying." (Cannon 686-726, Smith 448-449)

24

advantage of the PR tools at their disposal, but elevating style over substance inevitably

exacerbates public cynicism about government. Reagan's team used news management and

public relations techniques to advance a conservative agenda they genuinely believed in.

That they succeeded as well as they did remains a source of amazement to friend and foe

alike. Yet one wonders how Huey Long or Joe McCarthy might have employed the same

tactics. Presidential historians like to point out that the United States hasn't passed through

its "fascistic phase." If it ever does, the demagogue in the White House won't have to look too

far for a game plan.

Bibliography

Cannon, Lou. President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime. New York: Simon and

Schuster. 1991

Deaver, Michael K. Behind the Scenes: In Which the Author Talks about Ronald and

Nancy Reagan... and Himself. New York: William Morrow and Company. 1987.

DeGregorio, William. The Complete Book of U.S. Presidents. Fifth Edition. New

York: Wings Books. 1997.

Hertsgaard, Mark. On Bended Knee: The Press and the Reagan Presidency. New

York: Farrar Straus Giroux. 1988.

Noonan, Peggy. What I Saw at the Revolution: A Political Life in the Reagan Era.

New York: Random House. 1990.

Smith, Hedrick. The Power Game: How Washington Works. New York: Random

House. 1988.

Speakes, Larry. Speaking Out: The Reagan Presidency from Inside the White House.

New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 1988.

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Stuckey, Mary E. Playing the Game: The Presidential Rhetoric of Ronald Reagan.

New York: Praeger. 1990