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In a book of reminiscences just published, appropriately titled Uphill, Eleanor McGovern tells about being late for a press conference during the 1972 Democratic National Convention in Miami. "I was in the penthouse pullman kitchen washing the dishes after cooking bacon and eggs for George and the children and the grandsons and the other relatives and staff who wandered in and out." One of her aides reprimanded her: "I can't tell the press that you're late to talk about being a potential First Lady because you're scrubbing a frying pan." Eleanor shot back: "Then go and find me a cook." That night she got one.
During a campaign, a wife is considered a surrogate for her husband and the closest approximation to him. She must perform as skillfully as he does but without his experience or all-consuming drive. Seasoned campaigner that she became, Joan Kennedy was forever wondering whether Ted would approve of what she said. Even such an articulate speechmaker as Abigail McCarthy worried constantly. In her reminiscences, Private Faces/Public Places, she wrote, "After every interview, I lay awake in a black nightmare of anxiety, fearful that I had said something which would do Gene irreparable harm."
Occasionally this nightmare becomes a reality for political wives. During the critical New Hampshire primary campaign in 1972, Jane Muskie was reported in the Manchester Union Leader to be fond of drink and salty jokes. Incensed at what he considered to be a snide attack on his wife, Muskie was reduced to tears in a public appearance one snowy evening. This display of emotion, observers agree, cost Muskie a considerable number of votes in the primary and slowed his momentum as a Presidential candidate.
The political wife is essential to the campaign, and then again she is not. For the jealous staff surrounding the candidate, she may become an adversary—a rival claimant on their hero's time, which they think should be devoted exclusively to getting elected. "The wife sees the staff as a rapacious group of self-serving people, and they see her as a jealous old bag," says Washington Psychiatrist William Davidson. "The political wife is at the whim of the staff," adds an aide to Eleanor McGovern. "When the candidate can't be there, she is expected to give the speech and know the issue. When he is there, she is expected to cross her legs at the ankles and listen adoringly." Eleanor, in fact, got in trouble with the staff in 1972 when her speeches began to earn better press notices than her husband's. She was instructed, in so many words, to cool it. Be good, but not too good.
Can a more dutiful, adoring, enduring wife be found on the campaign trail than Muriel Humphrey? Nor is her husband inconsiderate. Nevertheless, she was taken by surprise when Hubert announced that he would run for the presidency in 1960. She sent him a wry wire:
LET ME KNOW IF I CAN BE OF HELP. During the 1972 Florida primary, she was bone tired, homesick and "sobbing my heart out." She asked her husband if she could go home to Washington for her birthday as she had been promised. Replied Hubert: "I want you there." There she stayed.