In late July 1968, against the beautiful backdrop of Skipper’s Cottage at Gurney’s Inn in Montauk, Long Island, Richard M. Nixon worked on the acceptance speech he would soon be delivering to the Republican National Convention in Miami.  Working on yellow legal pads, as was his custom, he experimented with words and ideas.  He was looking for something beyond the routine campaign speech he had been giving along the primary trail.  Somewhere during this incubatory phase, he decided to wax a bit sentimental and do something not usually done with major political addresses; he would talk a little about his journey.  This was a break from tradition. 

FDR had not talked in his speeches about his polio, nor had John Kennedy ever discussed descending from Irish immigrants.  LBJ didn’t reminisce about his school teaching days in Texas.  In fact, Dwight D. Eisenhower didn’t even talk about World War II.  But when Mr. Nixon addressed the party faithful – and the nation at large via television - at 11:00 p.m. on August 8, 1968, he ended what had already been a very good speech with a personal touch:

“I see another child tonight.  He hears the train go by at night and he dreams of far away places where he'd like to go.  It seems like an impossible dream.  But he is helped on his journey through life.  A father who had to go to work before he finished the sixth grade, sacrificed everything he had so that his sons could go to college.  A gentle, Quaker mother, with a passionate concern for peace, quietly wept when he went to war but she understood why he had to go.

A great teacher, a remarkable football coach, an inspirational minister encouraged him on his way.  A courageous wife and loyal children stood by him in victory and also defeat.

And in his chosen profession of politics, first there were scores, then hundreds, then thousands, and finally millions worked for his success.  And tonight he stands before you -- nominated for President of the United States of America.

You can see why I believe so deeply in the American Dream.”

So when Barack Obama uses his stadium moment next week to tell us about humble origins and his unlikely path to the presidency, he is walking down a road paved by our thirty-seventh president.  In fact, both candidates will do so – and we are better for it because we get to know more about the men themselves.

Though the political conventions convene relatively late this year, and promise little in the way of compelling political drama, history shows that acceptance speeches can actually matter.   

Mr. Obama has changed the address for his address to Invesco Field in Denver - no doubt to continue his not-so-subtle quest to be John F. Kennedy when he grows up.  Watch for a rocking chair any day now.  Maybe even an accent.    

John McCain will give his acceptance speech to Republicans in Saint Paul, Minnesota a week later.  But it will not – in fact, it could not – be as big of a deal as Barack Obama’s pre-inaugural media coronation.  The fix is in on that. 

Then again, maybe the Arizonian can use what the current resident of the Oval Office might refer to as “misunderestimation” to his advantage.   

Back in 1896, William Jennings Bryan, a man with even less political experience than Barack Obama, gave a Democratic convention address that brought the audience to its feet.  Then those feet marched to give the Boy Orator of the Platte the nomination.  He was only thirty-six years old.  Speeches can make a difference. 

Actually, up until 1932 it wasn’t accepted practice for a nominee to even appear at a convention to accept in person.  No – instead, after the votes were counted, a delegation would travel to the candidate’s hometown to notify him.  This, for example, was the case with Republican Warren Harding, who accepted the nod in 1920 from his front porch. 

Franklin D. Roosevelt changed all that.  He broke with tradition and flew from New York to Chicago to promise a New Deal for Americans in 1932.   The next time he was nominated (1936), he told that audience about America’s “rendezvous with destiny.”   But that was only after some high drama.  As he approached the podium that night, one of his leg braces broke and the polio-stricken president fell to the floor as thousands watched in horrified silence.   But not a single flashbulb burst – nor did the radio audience hear about it.  The press had more ground rules back then.

We all know, of course, that John F. Kennedy accepted the 1960 Democratic nomination speaking at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.  What is seldom noted these days, however, is that the speech didn’t play well on television.  JFK would make up for that with a better tube moment a few months later.

There have been occasions when a nominee’s speech has been overshadowed by someone else’s appearance and rhetoric.  There is actually some potential for this in Denver as Hillary and Bill have their respective moments in the spotlight. 

Very few remember what Lyndon Johnson had to say in Atlantic City as he accepted his party’s nomination in 1964.   But Robert Kennedy’s moment, complete with a twenty-two minute ovation, has not been forgotten.   And RFK’s contempt for his brother’s successor could not be completely disguised, in spite of the surface appearance of party unity.  He shared a quote from Romeo and Juliet that referenced the “garish sun.” Some saw this as a thinly veiled reference to the president.   Lyndon sure did.

Though not widely-known at the time, Mr. Johnson, just the day before he was nominated, was seriously considering withdrawing from the race.  He wrestled with chronic issues of insecurity – even inferiority.  It was left to Lady Bird to talk the tall Texan from the ledge.  She had to do that a lot.  Years later, she would recall many such moments in her husband’s career, referring to his chronic self-doubt as “the same old refrain.”  

Though he won re-nomination in 1980, Jimmy Carter came in second to Ted Kennedy on the rhetoric meter at that year’s Democratic convention.  Not only did the flawed heir of all things Camelot outshine him in the speech-making department, he wouldn’t do that thing all good losers are supposed to do.  You know - when they join hands and raise their arms up in victory with a candidate.  Poor Jimmy chased the senator all around the stage, but Teddy did the old stay-away-from-Jimmy shuffle.

Mr. Carter’s performance was so bad that night that he botched what should have been a great applause line.   Democratic icon Hubert Humphrey had passed away a couple of years earlier and Jimmy wanted to say something gracious about the former vice president.  But he butchered the line, not to mention the name, calling the late liberal “Hubert Horatio Hornblower…er…Humphrey.”

Too bad we didn’t have YouTube back then. 

John McCain would do well to study a couple of great acceptance speeches delivered by men who were not known for their oratory and had been given little chance of ultimate victory.  One of them came close to winning a race he seemed destined to lose by a wide margin.  The other man actually won his race – to the shock and dismay of many political experts.

In the summer of 1976, Gerald Ford, who had assumed the presidency upon the resignation of Richard Nixon, was nearly thirty percentage points behind Jimmy Carter in many polls.  He was not a great speaker; nor was he known for his quick wit.  But he managed to pull off the greatest speech of his career at just the right time.   Continued...