The successful candidate of this past presidential election was bound to be a “first” in one form or another: one would be the first woman ever to hold the office; the other without holding a previous political office or having served in the military. One thing that was not going to be a first, of course, was that pollsters might get things wrong—just ask Thomas Dewey, a “progressive Republican” and governor of New York who lost not one but two historic races: in 1944 against Franklin Delano Roosevelt (who was reelected into the first and only presidential fourth term as a result) and in 1948 against Harry S. Truman in what was arguably the greatest popular vote and electoral college upset in the modern era. Dewey was an “insider” in both elections, having worked up the ranks as a Wall Street lawyer, federal prosecutor, a special prosecutor against the infamous “Tammany Hall” political machine of New York City and the gangsters with whom they were in cahoots, then Manhattan District Attorney (think “Law and Order”), governor of New York, and, finally, presidential candidate (thrice). Through it all, Dewey was known best by a single adjective—honesty—he was literally like one of those guys in the film “The Untouchables.” But he was also known to be vague in his political speeches, given to broad and unsupportable promises, as well as appearing stiff and unapproachable in person. As one reporter put it, Dewey was “as cold as a February iceberg.” And he, of course, wasn’t the first presidential candidate to lose despite running on promises to clean up Washington.
Historians and political analysts alike will undoubtedly spend years drawing parallels—and distinctions—between this election’s results and those of 1948. And pollsters will, again, work to develop more reliable practices and methodologies. But let me offer a couple more interesting parallels up front. Like President-elect Trump, Truman won the electoral college (Dewey received 189 to Truman’s 303). Truman won, also like Trump, following division within his own party. The two third parties involved in the race didn’t break against the winner like many pundits thought. Truman, like Trump, campaigned in an aggressive populist style; in retrospect, Dewey failed to respond effectively to such a campaign. The United States was clearly divided between those who desired change and those who looked for continuity with the party holding office. And the victorious party not only won the presidency but both houses of Congress.
Of course, there were also considerable differences. Dewey lost the popular vote, whereas Clinton (it appears) has won it. The Democrats won a fifth straight presidential election; again, unprecedented in modern politics. And the Republicans lost, rather than won, the rural—and “Rust Belt”—vote and, thus, lost the election.
So, again, this was an election of “firsts” but not one without parallels and precedents to previous ones. And as we all celebrate or mourn the results, it is vital to keep in mind the truth that more and more “firsts” will follow.
Consider, for instance, that my 6-year-old daughter only knows a world in which an African American has held the highest elected political office in this nation—and been elected and re-elected with strong majorities. Or that a woman has (likely) won the popular vote of the presidency. Even back in 1984, which isn’t exactly the distant past, as my high school peers and I debated the candidacies of Reagan and Mondale, we could only envision a world in which white men, and heteronormative ones at that, could ever hope to be president. (This is not to slight Geraldine Ferraro, Mondale’s running mate, and the first woman to ever appear on a dominant party ticket, but she maintained far less political capital and influence than Secretary Clinton.) My daughter lives in a world in which that paradigm no longer holds complete sway. In fact, she cannot imagine a world in which the color of one’s skin or one’s gender disqualifies an individual for the presidency. Put another way, she takes for granted the world that an institution like the University of Maine at Presque Isle and its collective community of scholars, staff and students takes as its mission: that the transformative power of education will create a more just and humane world.
Some other firsts: U. S. Grant was the first to host Native American and African American leaders in the White House; Andrew Johnson was the first not to receive a formal education—and also the first to be impeached; Theodore Roosevelt was the first to receive a Nobel Prize; Franklin Delano Roosevelt appointed the first woman to his cabinet; Lyndon B. Johnson the first to appoint an African American to the Supreme Court, Reagan the first to appoint a woman, and Obama the first to appoint someone of Hispanic heritage. Increasingly, our presidents have responded to a nation that has consistently, although sometimes far too slowly, recognized the need to support and represent all of its citizens—not just those who represented the gender, race and wealth of those who first established this nation.
Much more important, here are some other firsts I hope that my daughter will soon see: the first openly LGBTQ president; the first Jewish president; the first Muslim president; the first Native American president; and, indeed, the first woman president. What’s truly remarkable about this nation is that my daughter just assumes that those things will happen—because she assumes that this is, indeed, a progressively more just and humane world. It’s the essential job of the rest of us, of all of those of voting age—of faculty, staff, students, and all Americans, whether we live in cosmopolitan or rural areas, on the Coasts or in the Rust Belt—to ensure that her assumption and expectation is a reality.
