There is one word that describes the Republican delegate selection process in Pennsylvania: chaotic. Much proverbial ink has been spilt trying to decipher what might happen when the state’s Republican voters cast ballots on April 24 in the presidential preference primary and the delegate elections, but nothing definitive really can be written. If all four presidential candidates had filed a full slate of delegates in the 18 congressional districts, 216 delegate candidates would have been on the ballot. But only 184 delegate candidates actually filed to appear on the ballot.

At first it seems simple enough to understand. The state has a total of 72 delegates, 54 of whom will be elected on April 24—three at most out of each of the state’s congressional districts, plus five additional delegates awarded to the five best performing districts. Some delegates go to the convention by virtue of their office such as Gov. Corbett and Senator Toomey. So far so good! Now here’s where it gets chaotic. Delegates officially run unpledged, meaning they are not bound at the convention and are theoretically free agents there. Adding to the confusion, candidates appear on the ballot with no indication of support for a presidential candidate. There is therefore no legal relationship between the beauty contest at the top of the ticket—with Santorum, Romney, Gingrich, and Paul on the ballot—and the voting for delegates. We hear that Romney has the big names on the delegate ballots and that Santorum has grass roots support, but little that is helpful in clarifying the obvious confusion has appeared. READ MORE »

In our last column Mike Young and I wrote about Rick Santorum’s loss to Bob Casey in his reelection bid in 2006. That 18-point loss has been the subject of much discussion in recent weeks. Here are some additional thoughts about that loss.

Not often mentioned is the fact that Santorum was never a big winner in his congressional elections. He won his first House term in 1990 by two points and his first Senate victory in 1994 over Harris Wofford by two points—in the best year for Republicans in the state since the 1950s. He outspent his weak Democratic opponent Ron Klink in 2000—$10.6 million to $3.4 million—but only won by 6 points, getting 53% of the vote.

Four factors played into his big loss to Casey:
1. The 2006 election took place at the height of the Iraq War, which, along with President Bush both nationally and in Pennsylvania, had become very unpopular. Santorum could not escape the wave that struck Republicans nationally as the Democrats stormed back into control of Congress for the first time since 1994. But neither could Lynn Swann in Pennsylvania, who lost by 20 points to Governor Ed Rendell seeking reelection. The Democrats won four congressional seats in the state and regained control of the state House, which they had lost in 1994.
2. Santorum’s opponent was unarguably the strongest candidate the Democrats could have run against him. Bob Casey had become the biggest vote getter in state history when he won the state treasurer’s post in 2004. Moreover, the Casey name had become one of the celebrated brand names in state politics given the popularity of his late father Governor Bob Casey. Casey’s quiet, unassuming manner compared favorably to the polarizing Santorum. Casey was out spent $17 million to $24 million, but he raised enough to be a TV force.
3. Both Casey and Santorum were pro-life, but Santorum was far more provocative and combative about it. For example, in 2003, he suggested that if the Supreme Court approved gay marriage, it would the equivalent of the Court approving polygamy, incest, and adultery. In Santorum’s book, It Takes a Family, he argued that radical feminism deterred women from remaining in the home and made work outside the family affirming. Casey and Santorum got into a series of arguments about that. Casey said women were forced to work because Santorum and the Republicans pursued policies that hurt working families. Santorum responded that Democratic spending and tax policies forced women into the work force. In the end, as part of Casey’s sweeping victory, Casey won independent swing voters, many of whom were female, in the Philly suburbs and the Lehigh Valley, proving disastrous to Santorum’s re-election prospects. Also Santorum sought election to the Senate three times; in two of them he faced pro-life candidates–in 2000 against Ron Klink and in 2006 against Casey.
4. Finally, Santorum ran into some personal situations. The first was his family residence. He owned a home in the DC suburbs and questions were raised about whether he was in fact an absentee state resident. Interestingly, he had won his first term in the House by using that argument against Democratic incumbent Doug Walgren, who had taken up residence in the DC suburbs. The residency issue hit home, no pun intended, and developed into a secondary issue. It didn’t help Santorum’s cause that his children were educated by a Pennsylvania cyber school with tuition paid for by state taxpayers. As might be expected, the Casey campaign used the issue effectively.

The overwhelming nature of the defeat can be placed in historical perspective—it was the biggest defeat by an incumbent U.S. senator in state history. Certainly, many of those factors no longer exist, nor would they automatically spell defeat for Santorum in Pennsylvania should he become the Republican presidential nominee.

With each passing week questions get raised about whether the Republicans will end up with a deadlocked presidential nomination. Jeb Bush has been mentioned as a possible choice of a brokered convention, and if it becomes clear that a deadlocked convention will occur, other names will surface.

While still unlikely, it’s been more than 70 years since a Republican convention went more than one ballot. The last time was 1940 at Convention Hall in Philadelphia. And even stranger for a party whose nominees had been selected by a cadre of political bosses, the nominee was dark-horse outsider candidate Wendell Willkie. More likely to be nominated was one of the more conventional, well-known Republican candidates: Ohio Senator Robert Taft, New York District Attorney Tom Dewey, and Michigan Senator Arthur H. Vandenberg. There was also host of favorite sons, mostly governors, one of whom was Pennsylvania Governor Arthur James. 

At first blush, Willkie seemed like a strange nominee. He had voted for FDR in 1932; left the Democratic Party because of the expansion of the role of government during the New Deal, especially in the form of new regulations; and initially had little Republican support. His claim to prominence came as a lawyer for an energy company when he became enmeshed in a lawsuit against the Tennessee Valley Authority, which he followed up with a national speaking tour in which he railed against the New Deal. His meteoric political rise was assisted by the formation of almost 500 Willkie Clubs.

His opponents believed he was no threat to their nomination. The Republicans had not turned to an outsider since the Civil War, which is what made his nomination so unusual. But Willkie was aided considerably by his national popularity and tremendous grassroots support. He was nominated on the sixth ballot, rising from third place on the first ballot, to win with 998 votes. 

Well, 2012 is not 1940—nothing is the same. A brokered convention is without modern precedent. The old boss-run conventions are dead. The ability of boss kingpins to move large blocs of state delegates and wheel and deal for patronage are part of history. Modern conventions are geared toward launching a candidacy; they’re made for TV and lack suspense or drama. What would the effects of a bruising convention have on the eventual nominee? That’s anyone’s guess. The convention’s role has been completely transformed in modern history. 

But maybe, just maybe, we are about to find out how much of the past is prologue.

My writing partner, Mike Young, and I are working on a new column taking on the subject of the possibility of a deadlocked Republican convention–stay tuned.