This week, President Obama participated in his last White House Correspondents' Dinner, concluding his speech with "Obama out," and dropping the mic. The rest of the evening featured another speech by comedian Larry Wilmore and a lot of shoulder-rubbing between Hollywood celebrities, political figures, and, of course, members of the press.
These days, the White House Correspondents' Dinner is a night touted by the White House Correspondents' Association as a scholarship benefit and recognized by the public as the night when the President gets roasted by comedians, the press, and themselves. But where did this tradition of schmoozing and lampooning begin?
According to the White House Correspondents' Association website, the association, which "represents the White House press corps in its dealings with the administration on coverage-related issues," began in 1914 in response to fears that President Woodrow Wilson would end presidential conferences. The group worked to set standards of certification for journalists covering the White House, and has solidified its presence in Washington and in the White House itself, where members attend press conferences in the West Wing's Press Room.
The first White House Correspondents' Dinner didn't resemble the flashy, publicized galas we know today. For one thing, President Warren G. Harding didn't attend the first Dinner, held at the Arlington Hotel in 1921, or any of the others while he was in office. President Calvin Coolidge was the first to attend in 1924. There weren't any women at the first Dinner, either--they were banned from attending until 1962. The entertainment was very different as well. Until World War II, the Dinner featured singing in between courses, a movie, and a post-dinner show. The annual roast of the current president wasn't a central part of it until 1983.
Over time, the Dinner has gained notoriety, and with that, criticism. Despite claims that its main goals are "to let the WHCA introduce and inaugurate its new officers for the coming year," and to raise money for and award scholarships to aspiring journalists, these noble pursuits are easily overshadowed by celebrity guests and disconcerting coziness between the press and members of the Administration. Among the detractors are big names in the press, like NBC Nightly News Anchor Tom Brokaw, who noted the presence of celebrities and politicians at the event “separates the press from the people that they’re supposed to serve, symbolically,” and "The New York Times," which does not send reporters to the event. According to Executive Editor Dean Baquet,
We are not being holier than thou [by not attending], or criticizing anyone who chooses to go. “But we came to the conclusion that it had evolved into a very odd, celebrity-driven event that made it look like the press and government all shuck their adversarial roles for one night of the year, sing together (literally, by the way) and have a grand old time cracking jokes. It just feels like it sends the wrong signal to our readers and viewers, like we are all in it together and it is all a game. It feels uncomfortable.
Like most aspects of the American political scene, the Correspondents' Dinner has a complicated history, a variety of critics and proponents, and is likely here to stay.
