The Cult of Beauty pt. 3

Cult: a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.

A simple definition, and yet it feels lacking, doesn’t it? The emotional connection is missing.

I must admit I’m sensitive to cultish behavior. My family was Catholic. I went to Catholic schools the majority of my life. Not every Catholic or a person of any religious affiliation is cultish, but at a young age I was aware of people that went ‘a bit overboard’ with their devotion.

How do cults take hold? How do they persist? Let me back up a bit and weave a few strings together from past posts.

I’d mentioned Martha Mitchell before, a wonderfully complex woman in a good old boys world. What you may not know about her is she and a group of fun loving socially savvy Republican women designed successful fundraisers for Richard Nixon in his bid for the White House.

In the 1950’s to early 60’s, only businessmen attended campaign fundraisers. These were luncheons or dinners at $50.00-100.00 a plate. Held in VFW cafeterias, dark conference rooms, and Bingo halls. The purpose was to gain votes and contributions for the candidate. Naturally, the businessmen wanted a quid pro quo: I’ll back you if you reduce taxers, ease EPA guidelines, or get tough on crime.

In 1968, Nixon was a dark horse candidate. Considered a sore loser to John F. Kennedy in 1960 because he told the press “You won’t have Nixon to kick around any more.” How could the party make him an agreeable choice a mere eight years later?

Republican women rolled their sleeves up and reinvented fundraisers. Martha Mitchell, an ambitious, flirtatious, socially connected woman who loved elegant parties, got involved.

I’d like to mention whenever businessmen get together, the goal is to make connections. Business cards are passed and meetings set. These women capitalized on that desire. Sullen somber events with cigars, complaints and alcohol were transformed into elegant celebrations.

First on the agenda was location. The dinners were moved to four-star hotels. No longer spaghetti and meatballs served on paper plates, these were black tie events with carving stations of Prime Rib, Roast Turkey and Pork Tenderloin.

Next, wives were included on the invitation. And to add a dash of motivation, the events were painfully exclusive. If you weren’t invited, you knew. Couples did everything possible to attend.

Imagine an average guy in his mid forties, married to his high school sweetheart with three children. Not an Ivy League graduate, he and his wife started an office cleaning business and built it from the ground up. She ran the office and he ran the employees. By chance one of his clients, the manager of a prestigious law office, invited him to a black tie event for a political candidate.

Never political by nature, he handed the invitation to his wife. Her eyes lit up and told him they had to go, it was the event of the season, think of the connections they could make. He was sunk.

He rented a tux (something he hadn’t done since his wedding day) and she bought a new dress with shoes and matching bag, and spent the morning at the beauty parlor. On top of the $500.00 to get in, they both knew their budget was stretched. They got a babysitter, piled into the station wagon and headed out.

Expecting a night of awkward conversation and dry speeches, he and his wife are stunned when a beautiful woman in an evening gown warmly welcomed them by name at the door. Placing herself between them, she hooked her arm in theirs and guided them to the nearby bar. As they stroll, she mentioned her son attends the same school as their youngest boy and expressed hope that the two of them go to the same high school next year; wouldn’t that be fun?

Lounging at the bar, are a group of tall men. She introduced each man by deftly highlighting their accomplishments, the hospital in which they are head surgeon, the position held at a Fortune 500 corporation, or the attorney and his string of successful cases won in court. The woman turns to him and his face flushes. What on earth will she say about him?

With a dazzling smile, she spoke of him as a self-made man, of his awards from the Better Business Bureau for Finest Cleaning Service four years in a row, and that her son, were he only more athletically inclined, would have loved to play on his little league team because all the boys adore him as coach.

Taking his wife by the arm and glancing back over her bare shoulder she said, “We will leave you, gentlemen. Play nice.” The men hid sheepish smiles behind large hands. The Surgeon slapped him on the back and asked what’s his poison. He was in.

Later at the table, he and his wife can’t believe how wonderful the food was not to mention the business cards he passed. He told her he gathered more connections in one night than four years serving with the Lion’s Club. She whispered to him she was asked to help with the events. Wide eyed they agreed this was a gold mine.

At the top of the night, there were speeches but not until the crowd was primed with humor. This is where Martha Mitchell stole the spotlight. With her Southern charm, she played Master of Ceremonies by introducing the speakers and teasing the crowd. While a local congressman spoke of the stellar political record of Richard Nixon, beautifully dressed women stopped at each table and asked for contributions.

By this time the husband and wife figured why not, the connections they made had no price tag. Their loyalty is set.

Loyalty is key to a cult, without it the cult will fail.