As this year’s campaign moves toward the final stretch, the frenetic media-driven discussion about whether or not Sarah Palin is prepared for the presidency continues.  Apparently, few have noticed that she is not actually running for that office.  But how does she compare to others who have sought the nation’s number two job since World War II?

Once upon a time, the choice of a running mate was made in cloak-and-dagger secrecy - as little more than a political afterthought.  Those who ran, and even those who eventually served as vice presidents, became for all practical purposes historical footnotes.  Of course, the few who moved up to the highest office due to the death of a sitting president were notable exceptions.

Harry Truman was ill prepared to ascend to the presidency in April of 1945.  This had little to do with whether or not he was up to the job.  It was because his predecessor didn’t bother to give him the time of day.  His selection was matter-of-fact and his interaction with President Franklin D. Roosevelt was – well – there really wasn’t any.  Finding out about the secret Manhattan Project day or so into his presidency, Truman remarked: “I didn’t know.”  There were many things he, in fact, didn’t know – and this was not really his fault.  Fortunately for the nation, the man from Missouri was a quick study.

By 1952, a vice presidential candidacy was taken more seriously.  Richard Nixon in many ways created the modern vice presidency.  Though his relationship with President Dwight Eisenhower was not without its generational complications – including a measure of dysfunction – he was an energetic and effective team player who expanded the public’s perception of the vice presidency.

His conduct during Ike’s illnesses, and his global travel as the administration’s emissary, increased his stature, not to mention his political stock.  Nixon’s transition to the Republican presidential nomination after eight years of playing second fiddle was virtually inevitable, late-minute machinations by his intra-party nemesis, Nelson Rockefeller, notwithstanding.

The 1960 presidential race has been analyzed and debated probably more than any other election in the past one hundred years.  Even the protracted and polarized 2000 campaign fails to fascinate us as does what happened forty-eight years ago.  Three men – all who would eventually become president – occupied center stage that year: John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, and Richard M. Nixon.

Immortalized by the first book in Theodore White’s The Making of the President series, the race of ’60 has recently been revisited by historian-author David Pietrusza in his book, 1960: LBJ vs. JFK vs. Nixon.  A sequel of sorts, at least in the genre sense, to his earlier book, 1920: The Year of Six Presidents, this new work brings one of the great political narratives to life weaving together well-worn stories and some material that is not as well known.

Parallels are already being drawn between Barack Obama’s recent rejection of Hillary Rodham Clinton and John F. Kennedy’s cold-calculated selection of Lyndon Johnson in 1960.  If Obama eventually loses, this will no doubt be where blame will be placed.  The ultimate vice presidential nominee mistake, however, may actually have been made that very same year nearly five decades ago - but it was on the Republican side.

The biggest VP crash-and-burn candidate in recent memory was a man by the name of Henry Cabot Lodge Jr.  He was Nixon’s running mate as they battled the Kennedy-Johnson Democratic ticket in 1960.  Though conventional historical wisdom generally suggests that Kennedy beat Nixon because of Nixon’s first debate performance, or his failure to call Coretta Scott King, or vote-fraud shenanigans in Illinois, the real story may have much more to do with Mr. Lodge’s role.

Writing about the Lodge vice presidential candidacy, Mr. Pietrusza says:

“On the surface he seemed quite impressive – articulate, handsome, experienced, a true public servant from one of the nation’s most distinguished families.  But in the long history of vice-presidential nominees Lodge – though scoring extremely well in abstract popularity polls – ranked as among the more puzzling of selections.   He was unable to carry his home state, nearly powerless to affect any outcome in his region, a toxin to his party’s conservative base, and, ultimately, a drag upon the ticket in a region – the South – where real breakthroughs might be gained.

Mr. Lodge was described by chronicler Theodore White as, “like medicine – good for you, but hard to take.”

Why would Nixon - the consummate political strategist – choose someone who would go over like a lead-balloon?  Well, the answer seems to be in his desire to base his decision on the qualifications to actually serve as president, more than political considerations such as campaign skills or the ability to help the ticket geographically and demographically. 

Mr. Nixon also sensed that the crucial issue of the campaign was foreign policy – possibly a reflection of his own interest-bias.  To try to go “toe to toe” with the Democrats on domestic issues would, he thought, give the natural advantage to his opponents.  Lodge had, in fact, been a very effective U.N. Ambassador during the 1950s and had some good press recently.  After the U-2 spy plane fiasco in May of 1960, he helped the U.S. regain the Cold War public relations initiative by highlighting the fact that the Soviets had been eavesdropping on our embassy in Moscow.  A device was hidden inside a gift that had been given to our ambassador back in 1945 – a great seal of the United States carved in wood.  Gotcha. Continued...