Teacher's Pet
If there is one region where
President Clinton's popularity has probably not been affected by the recent
wave of scandals, it is the Hispanic-dominated south Texas 28 th
Congressional District, which just held a special election for the seat of Rep.
Frank Tejeda. A Vietnam hero who died in January of cancer, Tejeda received
special mention in the president's State of the Union address. Clinton himself
has carried this district twice--his focus on education jibes perfectly with
the work-driven ethic of a place to which so many come precisely because they
believe in the "American dream."
In Texas, special elections
pit all comers against one another on one ballot. In the 28 th
District, 11 Democrats and four Republicans vied for Tejeda's seat. The top two
finishers in this especially acrimonious campaign, the labor-endorsed state
Rep. Ciro Rodriguez and the conservative, pro-life ex-San Antonio City
Councilman Juan Solis, will face each other in an April runoff.
Ciro Rodriguez for
Congress , which ran during the special election, responds to Solis'
challenge, to his niche appeal in a district that is also home to two Air Force
bases (with presumably more conservative and fewer Hispanic voters), by playing
to Rodriguez's strength--education. The 10-year Texas House veteran has a
strong track record on the issue: Not only did he make it his priority during
his tenure in the Legislature and through 12 years as a school-board member
before that, but he has also identified it as a key issue in the second round
of campaigning ahead of the runoff.
Rodriguez was the only one
of the 15 candidates able to afford television advertising (his successful fund
raising has been the subject of much invective). This spot opens in the school
library, with him making a direct grab for Clinton's coattails that
simultaneously showcases his own focus on education; it then moves to close-ups
of three students, two Hispanic and one African-American. Tejeda's district is
only 9 percent African-American, but the spot makes this politically correct
nod to diversity and to the blacks enlisted at the Air Force bases that are the
lifeblood of the area.
A wider shot of the student
audience reinforces the overwhelmingly Hispanic character of this class and the
district at large. Rodriguez's pledge to meet the president's challenge to
"make our schools the envy of the world" is followed by a question that implies
far more than it says: "Are you with me?" The call for solidarity reaches
beyond the issue at hand to tap a deeper sense of ethnic and cultural
identification. Rodriguez (like Solis and Tejeda before him) is considered a
Mexican-American success story, a local who overcame cultural, class, and
linguistic barriers to rise to positions of leadership in the area. His appeal
aims to strike the balance of people politics, community, and patriotism that
was Tejeda's hallmark through his years in office.
The students affirm their
support in a scene double-exposed over an off-center shot of Rodriguez walking
down a school hallway. Overlapping frames are one of several gimmicks the ad
maker uses to get around the fact that the spot was shot not on film but on
videotape, which tends to look flat, metallic, too much like the local ads for
discount stores and used-car lots. Clever edits, angles, and--as we'll see--a
series of quick cuts give this spot some depth and visual interest.
As Rodriguez walks down the
hall, he is identified first by name, then as the person who "led the fight to
improve south Texas colleges and universities." Repeating visuals flow fast and
furious--a shot of an empty classroom; of someone donning graduation robes; of
the empty classroom; of the faces in the library; of the robes. A bigger budget
might have brought us visuals of a college campus, of "our children" actually
"compet[ing]," of the "better jobs" they might get. But this political shoot
saved money not only by using tape, but by finding all its education visuals in
one high school. The visuals aren't particularly narrative, but they work. So
does the plain, almost nonpolitical language. The narrator draws a direct link
between education and jobs--no Clintonian rhetoric about the "new economy,"
"the 21 st century," or that "bridge" here.
The next scene, of Rodriguez
deep in thought by the window, recalls the black-and-white photos of John F.
Kennedy in a virtually identical pose in the Oval Office. What could seem at
first glance self-important strikes a chord nonetheless--and in this Hispanic
district, this kind of visual cue can't hurt.
Ciro is "taking a stand"
now, we are told. He is working to bring "the cost of college into reach for
working people," for the kid in the robes and the young woman whose photograph
(in another cut-rate scene that works) is double-exposed over a hallway of
empty lockers. As the smiling graduate finally puts on his mortarboard, we know
where the students from the empty classroom and hallway have gone--to college.
We hear the most political language yet, a near cliché about "the American
dream." The spot's directness thus far papers over the tired language--and the
camera moves swiftly to Rodriguez facing his student audience again, asking
once more: "Are you with me?"
It's a
straightforward, empowering conclusion to an argument that is as much about
pride and shared experiences as it is about the more tangible issues. Political
consultants have given the edge in this race to the candidate who best
addresses concerns about education, economic development, and the security of
those who depend on San Antonio's military bases. But an increasingly ugly race
to the tape suggests the intangibles might make the difference. Each candidate
has sought to outdo his competitors in claiming closeness to Frank Tejeda and
his family. This spot doesn't overtly link Rodriguez with the man whose mantle
he is trying to win. But by focusing on the populism that made the
28 th District Tejeda's own, it hopes those watching will make the
connection.
--Robert
Shrum
