Kennedy Runs for President—But Can He Possibly Win?
Forty-seven years ago today, on January 2, 1960, a 42-year-old senator announced his candidacy for what he called “the most powerful office in the free world.” Standing beside his wife, Jacqueline, John F. Kennedy declared to the nation, at a press conference in Washington, D.C., that he aimed to serve as President in the new decade. His speech was brief but to the point.
He outlined his biography, highlighting his service in World War II and his time in Congress as well as his experience traveling in foreign countries. He also outlined “the real issues of 1960”: the state of education, the difficulties facing farms and cities, the growing tension between the United States and the Soviet Union. Just 11 months later he would narrowly defeat the sitting Vice President. First, however, he would have to overcome a host of rivals for the nomination and answer questions about his own qualifications for the office.
His announcement was greeted with enthusiasm but not surprise. In fact, the New York Times editorial page, which was certainly not unfriendly to the senator’s candidacy, dryly called his speech “the least surprising development conceivable.” In 1956 Kennedy had mounted a bid for his party’s vice presidential nomination, ultimately losing out to Tennessee Senator Estes Kefauver. And even before 1956 he had been considered a promising potential candidate for national office. He was a charismatic young man from a prominent family, a naval veteran, and a savvy media operator who had deliberately positioned himself in the middle of the political spectrum. His shifting positions on issues like civil rights and his temporary associations with figures like Joseph McCarthy left some skeptical about his sincerity. But sincere or not, he was clearly skilled at gauging the country’s mood.
As long as his star had been rising on the national scene, however, it had also been forcing debate on a difficult question: Could a Roman Catholic really be elected President? In his announcement, Kennedy addressed the issue head-on. He said, “I would think that there is really only one issue involved in the whole question of a candidate’s religion—that is, does a candidate believe in the Constitution, does he believe in the First Amendment, does he believe in the separation of church and state.” The candidate, though, was politically astute enough to know that the significance of his Catholicism was far greater than that. Catholics were a growing force in American politics. In 1956 Kennedy’s aide Theodore Sorensen had argued that selecting him as the vice presidential candidate could help Adlai Stevenson turn out Catholic voters. Now prominent Catholics like Edmund Brown and Michael DiSalle, the governors of California and Ohio, promised to play important roles in supporting Kennedy.
There were still many Americans who wouldn’t trust a non-Protestant to lead their country. Just days after his announcement, Kennedy became the target of criticism from a high-profile clergyman, Bishop G. Bromley Oxnam, leader of the Methodist church in the Washington, D.C., area. Speaking at a public gathering, Oxnam praised Kennedy as a “sincere, able person with a very fine mind” but warned “Protestant and Jewish” voters to be wary of whether that “fine mind” could to operate independent of the Vatican’s influence. “The Roman Catholic hierarchy,” Oxnam said, “does not believe in religious freedom as we know it.” In the first days of January, Oxnam spoke only for himself, but the coming months would show that he was not alone in his concerns.
Fortunately for Kennedy, presidential primary elections were becoming popular in 1960. Rather than send a host of uncommitted delegates to a national party convention, states were beginning to hold elections to determine who their delegates would vote to nominate. On January 2 Kennedy told the press that he would compete in the New Hampshire primary and consider entering others. He challenged potential opponents, like Missouri Senator Stuart Symington, to run against him in these primaries rather than wait for a floor fight at the convention in Chicago. Kennedy wouldn’t necessarily have been defeated in a traditional contest; he had many powerful backers, particularly among Northeastern leaders like Connecticut Governor Abraham Ribicoff. But without the primaries it would have been easier for an opponent like Lyndon Johnson to rally support from anti-Kennedy forces in the party, which included prominent figures like Dean Acheson and Harry Truman.
Still, getting the nomination wouldn’t be easy. Kennedy had to run against several strong opponents, including Johnson and Minnesota Senator Hubert Humphrey. He needed to defeat both men without alienating their supporters by attacking them too bitterly, which could lead them to unite behind an anybody-but-Kennedy candidate at the convention, possibly Symington or the two-time nominee Adlai Stevenson. As it turned out, he played his hand supremely well. He didn’t limit himself to winning New Hampshire; indeed, in early April he bested Humphrey in Wisconsin, next door to the Minnesotan’s home state. Capturing 56 percent of the Democratic vote there, he proved that “a Harvard-educated Bostonian”—not to mention a Catholic—could win in the heartland. As the primaries proceeded, a consensus began to emerge: He was a talented and moderate liberal fully capable of carrying his party’s standard in a general election. In Chicago, the Democrats would choose him as their candidate. From there he would go on to face his most formidable opponent yet, Vice President Richard M. Nixon.