When Obama, in an attempt to be self-deprecating, compared his modest bowling ability to the Special Olympics, critics fell over themselves to point out that this is why presidents should stick to State of the Unions and the occasional news conference. Though it would be surprising if Obama and his team paid any heed, it will be interesting to see how they download this new information ("limit self-deprecating asides to self") into the ever-evolving hologram of the new-media president. The one who understands that part of his job is to keep the populace engaged, as he did on Leno's couch by comparing Washington to "American Idol" -- "except everyone is Simon Cowell." The one who is unapologetically redefining the word "presidential."
Certainly, Obama isn't the first to tinker with the image or to circumvent the traditional gatekeepers. As the first real television president, John Kennedy managed to make even civil service seem glamorous. Bill Clinton tried to replace press conferences with town hall meetings, though that ended rather disastrously, with very little national resonance and a super-miffed Washington press corps.
And then there was "the Great Communicator," Ronald Reagan, who brought a movie star's savvy to his appearances, employing big-screen backdrops, gentle humor and a grandfatherly tone to speak over the naysayers and directly to the folks eager for morning in America. Pre-dating them all was Franklin "Fireside Chat" Roosevelt, who used radio as Obama is using TV -- to his best advantage. Radio brought him into American homes on a regular basis and suited Roosevelt's calming patrician tones.
But video killed the radio star years ago. These days, if it didn't happen on TV, if it can't be found in highlight form on YouTube or a network website, it might as well have not happened at all. Which is why Obama sent a video statement to Iran last week, as opposed to a masterfully written letter.
Appearances on "Leno," ESPN and even "60 Minutes" allow the president to control his image and his message in a way the traditional news conference, with its barrage of disparate questions and personalities, does not. Still, many find the act of hanging out on Leno's couch or showing up on ESPN less than presidential. Historically, part of the job is to hold the office, and oneself, above the common touch; to offer the illusion that though the shirt sleeves may be figuratively rolled up, they aren't literally because, you know, the jacket is still on.
