The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, November 11, 1977, Page page 4, Image 4
page 4 daily nebraskan friday, november 11, 1977 o Ouch. We knew it all along, but never really sat down to figure out what we're paying for the conven ience of a short walk to campus bookstores for drugstore items. The price of convenience varies with each item, but on many of the small things-like aspirin to deal with our financial headaches-it can run up to 40 or 50 cents. That stings. It's hard to blame the campus bookstores. They have to make a living, too. As the bookstore managers explain today (see page 1), they just don't sell enough goods to get a discount for volume. What is there to do? Maybe there are some les- sons to be learned from the Nebraska Union. A few years ago, the Union was losing money cashing checks for students. But they wanted to continue it as a service for students. The Union's solution was the campus bank. A larger business was sought to take over the loathesome chore in return for a shot at the grow ing student market. The campus bookstores or the university might encourage a similar arrangement, if it's possible. A deal with one of the city's busy discount stores-which already qualifies for reduced volume rates-might prove profitable for both students and the business. Canned candidates Mr. Whipple for time New York-Now nothing touches you. National political campaigns long ago went out of our lives and onto television, and in New York's recent elec tion the last chances for local campaigns to remain human dissolved. Through the dark, wet day and night before Election Day, politicians placed more than 250 commercials on city's six television channels. No longer is it necessary to meet a neighbor. He, too, is somewhere on the dial. The commercials shown were of people running for mayor of New York City, governor of New Jersey, dis trict attorney of Queens, county executive of Nassau County, Long Island, and for even smaller offices in Connecticut. Each winner believes that it was his face, that great stirring face on television, Which did it all for him. jiil Ol n -Ja Soon, candidates for local school, board elections will be trying to raise money for commercials. The rest of the country will follow, as usual. Only a little while ago, people in New York came out and saw the candidates running for mayor at least once during the campaign. Hie candidate stood on a street corner someplace and spoke and breathed and changed expressions naturally. You got a sense of the guy. The voters got a reflection of the candidate from the newspapers and television, but the personal appearance was the hard charge. On television Now candidates are on television so much-and the newspaper stories about them speculate on the candi dates' television spots-that less and less of the public bothers to come out to see anybody in person. The things you once used to judge a candidate, the look in his eyes, the tone of the unpolished voice, the spontaneous wit, are unimportant. You see him on commercials now, and you cannot hear him through the smoothness. I think the commercials for the two main contenders for mayor of New York, Ed Koch and Mario Cuomo, were of nominal value in the election. They impressed newspaper reporters more than voters. For the big push in their campaigns, candidates bought time as close to a news program as possible. TV news audience Television news audiences are mostly women with children and old people. The usual commercials in news shows are for diapers, loose dentures, toilet paper, multi vitamins, bathroom cleansers and old age tonics; accord ing to television, irregularity is the major problem in the United States. So the day before the election you had men running for mayor appearing on commercials that were sand wiched between the Tidy Bowl man and stained dentures. Koch was pitted against Mr. Whipple. Television makes everything of the same weight: the viewer assigns equal value to a candidate talking about jobs and to an announcer pitching for clean bathroom enamel. The political commercials were senseless to run. All the candidates accomplished by being on was to allow television to turn them, too, into trivia. Voice from cold A man standing outdoors in the November chill, calling out in a hoarse voice about a city's troubles, has an im pact. He fails. He stumbles over a word. But he is alive and trying to tell you something. You hear him once and go away with the memory. But the mayoralty race in New York this year began with television commercials in June. The candidates wanted to tell the viewers about the great crisis. But when you place the problem of the South Bronx in 30 seconds in the company of cleaners and end less toilet paper rolls, then the South Bronx becomes just another product. People begin to think of the South Bronx as something that comes in a box. They become bored with it. The South Bronx again? We've heard so much about it. Isn't there something new? But the South .Bronx is real and what it stands for could end New York as we know it. - Commercial campaign Between Koch and Cuomo they spent about $3 million on their campaigns, most of it in commercials. As news paper people rarely see television and know less about it than anyone, they immediately make the commercials the most important and mysterious part of the campaign. Koch won runoff because of fine political ability. He won. The commercials didn't. For the campaign in New York we had Jerry Rafshoon who has been called by newspaper writers a "media genius" for hisjvork for President Jimmy Carter. The notion is, however, that the initial success that opened the nomination to Carter came because many Northern people, hearing that Southern accent, felt Carter was the proper person to handle the blacks for them. You needed no geniuses for this. Just somebody to make sure that Carter didn't lose his accent. In New York, Rafshoon tried to help Mario Cuomo, who did well in the primary because he was inept at normal, healthy political bargaining. It was as if Rafshoon were not present. Which is good, because if his ability counted, Rafshoon would have Cuomo under 10 percent. Make name known In the future, local politicians could walk away from the insanity and enormous expense of competing with bathroom products and use the medium only for what it can do best for your campaign: make your name known. A politician could buy 10-second spots. His ad would consist of his name coming on the screen and staying there for 10 seconds. The name would be in simple block letters, sans serif. This means with no fancy curls on the letters. Then an announcer would read the name for the aud ience. "Jimmy Breslin for Comptroller. A Fine Man." Then give the paid for by and the commercial would be over. It would cost $30 to make and would require almost loose change in comparison to the cost of 30-second commercials. Soon, in the street, people would think they had heard great things about you. And it would be so much easier on the ego than the present system, which recently had politicians all around New York losing badly to Pre paration H on the screen. Copyright 1977, Jimmy Breslin Distributed by the Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate, Inc. Jimmy edgy, is candidate for Ideas Anonymous It's ?in mnre than a u,tkr inr limmv Tartar n unn kM - It's been more than a week since Jimmy Carter faced up to charges that his administration was floun dering in too many undertakings. That's when he pro mised a nationally-televised press conference that he wouldn't have another idea until next January at the earliest. arthur hoppe innocent bijotandof While I wholeheartedly approved his taking the pledge, I realized at the time how difficult it must be for a president not to have an idea now and then. So I dropped by the White House the other night to see how he was bearing up. I found him in the Oval Office. On his desk was a sign: Don't Think! He was watching 'The Gong Show.' "J have no idea who you are, praise heaven," he said, "but have a seat. Thank goodness for television. It's all tliat'f pulled me through this first awful week. Do you have any idea "No, thanks," I said hastily. "None for me." "I appreciate that," he said. "It's terrible watching ither people having wonderful ideas when you can't have one. That's why I don't mind cocktail parties." Beads of perspiration glistened on his upper lip. "Sometimes 1 don't see how any president could go through this!" b 'Think of Jerry Ford," I said quietly. He pulled himself together. "Right, he said. "And somehow I must. Oh, I knew I was in trouble when I realized I had to have an idea first think in the morning. Even before break fast! Then I'd sneak out of the office for another around ten. 'Three-idea business lunches were routine. I'd have several before dinner and a couple of hot ones at bed time to help me sleep. He shuddered. Tt got so that on the morning after 1 couldn't remember a single idea I'd had the night be fore. Then came this terrible fear: What if I woke up in bed with a strange idea? How would I explain it to Rosalynn?" By now his hands were trembling. "I tllOU&ht I COliU taiw nff arwt hcrnmc a social thinker. You know, just a couple of ideas a day. But I can't handle the stuff. I'd have a teeny, little one. like: "Hey! Let's double production of the Cruise missile!" And the next thing I knew I'd be off on a week-long binge on the Middle East. "So I quit cold turkey. What did it was that I noticed t all my friends kept saying the same thing: That's a nice idea, Jimmy, but don'l you think vou've had enough?" - "It's tough," I agreed. "But think of the rewards. Youll wake up every day clear-headed, aglow with new-found energy. . .' "Energy!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "Now here's an idea. .." I tried desperately to stop him, but it was too late. He was carousing around the room, be Hawfc s- If we grant a 6.2 percent tax credit to "those who achieve 2.9 percent solar efficiency by removing 31.6 percent of their shirts to offset a S3.24per-barrel tax on crude sun tan oil. . .' No, I know Jimmy Carter meant well. But presidents who have no ideas are all too few and far between. Copyright 1977. Chronicle Publishing Co.