“…A FAIR CHANCE TO BE
HEARD…”
Êíèãà
Profiles in
Communication
ñîäåðæèò
43
î÷åðêà
î
òåõ,
êòî
óäîñòîåí
âûñîêîé
÷åñòè
áûòü
÷ëåíîì
Çàëà
Ñëàâû
(the Hall of Fame)
â
School of Journalism and Mass
Communication
óíèâåðñèòåòà
Àéîâû.
Â
î÷åðêå î Äæîðäæå Ãýëëàïå èñïîëüçîâàíû ìàòåðèàëû èíòåðâüþ ñ Ãýëëàïîì,
ñîñòîÿâøåìñÿ çà äâà ãîäà äî ñìåðòè ó÷åíîãî.
 îòâåò íà
íàøó ïðîñüáó Ïðîôåññîð Êåííåò Ñòàðê ñîîáùèë, ÷òî
Max
McEwain
- àâòîð êíèãè – ïîäãîòîâèë åå â êà÷åñòâå èññëåäîâàíèÿ, âûïîëíÿåìîãî
ñòóäåíòàìè äëÿ ïîëó÷åíèÿ ñòåïåíè
MA.
Áåçóñëîâíî,
ýòîò ïðîåêò çíà÷èòåëüíî ïðåâîñõîäèë îáû÷íûå òðåáîâàíèÿ, ïðåäúÿâëÿåìûå ê
ïîäîáíûì èññëåäîâàíèÿì, è âîçíèêëà ñèòóàöèÿ, ïðè êîòîðîé «ïðîåêò âî ìíîãîì
ðóêîâîäèë àâòîðîì, à íå àâòîð óïðàâëÿë ðàáîòîé» (it
almost
began
controlling
him
rather
than
him
controlling
it).
Íî âñå
çàâåðøèëîñü óñïåøíî, è àâòîð ïîëó÷èë èñêîìóþ ñòåïåíü.
If the
American Institute of Public Opinion had been in existence in 1917 and had
surveyed the 1,500 voters – the standard number of people interviewed in any
Gallup poll – of Jefferson, Iowa, about the likelihood of success for an
enterprising hometown son of theirs, chances are they would have said that
the future looked rosy for 16-year-old George Gallup.
In that
first year of America’s involvement in World War 1, the athletic coach at
Jefferson High School was drafted into service, leaving school officials
with no choice but to drop sports. Gallup, captain of the football and
basketball teams, was raking in considerable pocket change from the six cows
he milked on his father’s 10-acre place in Jefferson. He decided to make an
offer the administrators couldn’t refuse.
“I told
them I would not only outfit the teams in uniforms, but I would serve as
coach, too,” remembered Gallup. “The only stipulation was that I got to keep
the gate receipts at the games. They agreed.”
“Ted
Gallup was always very enterprising,” mused Kenneth Mac-Donald, who was
three years behind Gallup in school at Jefferson, and who, like Gallup,
wound up in the UI journalism Hall of Fame.
George
Gallup’s enterprising nature soon led him to monitor activities of greater
international importance than high school athletics. Having revolutionalized
the surveying of public opinion, George Gallup, without picking up a gun,
may have done more to advance the practice of democracy than anyone in the
20th century.
He saw
Gallup Poll affiliates go to work in 35 nations, evidence enough of Gallup’s
revolutionary contention that what people think is as much news as what they
do. In the Scandinavian countries, a “gallup” is the generic word for poll
or survey. In Russia, Gallup said, the idea of a cross-section “is like the
old Literary Digest’s: that magazine polled car and telephone owners.
The Russians talk to young people getting off the trains in Moscow.”
In his
1964 book, The Miracle Ahead, Gallup contended his aim was “to move
civilization to a higher level.” Twenty years earlier, in A Guide to
Public Opinion Polls, Gallup saw the poll as “giving the rank and file a
fair chance to be heard,” and its greatest contribution as “the redemption
of the common man.”
George
Gallup’s startlingly simple view of polling – that a small but accurate
polling sample can improve the quality of government – sprang from the
vision of life he said he learned in Iowa.
It’s a
rainy Friday afternoon in Iowa City, and George and Ophelia Gallup sip tea
in the River Room at the Iowa Memorial Union, whisked in from the Iowa City
airport where they’ve arrived from Rochester, Minnesota. Gallup, born 82
years ago, has just visited the Mayo Clinic for his annual checkup.
“One of
the most interesting polls we ever did was about aging,” he recalls. “People
who aged most gracefully were those who took life as it comes.”
He is
certainly relaxed. Wearing a black suit, black topcoat and black hat
straight out of the’30s, George Gallup has the demeanor of a retired Iowa
farmer strolling through a stubble field. Hunched over the table, he jabs
the air with his knife and fork in emphasis as farmers do at the Sunday
dinner table.
Belying
George Gallup’s relaxed manner are his eyes. At 82, Gallup’s eyes are as
steely hard and black as beans – like those beans he started using 50 years
ago to explain his method of cross-section polling.
“Suppose there are 7,000 white beans and 3,000 black beans well churned in a
barrel,” he says. “If you scoop out 100 of them, you’ll get approximately 70
white beans and 30 black, and the range of possible error can be computed
mathematically. As long as the barrel contains many more beans than your
handful, the proportion will remain within a small margin of error 997 times
out of 1,000.
“My
early background had everything to do with my life later on,” he continues.
“I went to a very good school – the school system in Jefferson was
excellent. Our children went to private schools in the East, and they didn’t
get a better education than I. With the money I made from milking cows, I
started a high school newspaper. The high school building was condemned as
unsafe, and a temporary structure was put up, without a basketball court. I
wrote a long diatribe against the school board. After he read it, my father
said, ‘You ought to be a journalist.’
“One
problem with education goes back to the permissive era,” says Gallup, whose
father, brother and wife were teachers. “Nothing in education failed so
badly. But it’s changing now for the good. As far as journalism education
goes, I have two ideas about journalism schools: they should give attention
to liberal arts training, offering a broad education with less emphasis on
technical training. At the same time, they should play the same role as
medical schools, serving as a source of new journalistic ideas. If schools
were churning out ideas, editors would sit at the feet of the professors.
“Dealing with problems of education has been the most interesting work I’ve
done. Democracies are effective only when the people are well-informed;
almost every country in South America has taken the U.S. Constitution word
for word, but many have failed because their people are not informed.”
So
George Gallup, who says he is “surprised occasionally” by his poll results,
set out to raise democracy to a higher level. While “what people think” is
now news (although not always on the front page), more work remains to be
done.
“Right
now, there is no effective way of covering ideas,” he observes. “The news
media cover catastrophes effectively – but not ideas. All countries have
about 65 to 100 identifiable problems in common. Some of these countries are
doing exciting things about them, but the press doesn’t cover them
adequately.
“By nature, I’ve always
believed in change,” he says with a wry smile. “I guess I’ve always had a
messianic delusion.”
Gallup’s action-oriented intellect flourished on the University of Iowa
campus. Though he earned three degrees and an honorary doctor of law degree
from the University of Iowa and also taught at the university, his
university years cannot be separated neatly into student and teacher.
The two roles blended naturally.
Gallup’s most “pleasurable” pursuit, the field of education, was an
obsession. He founded Quill and Scroll Society, the international honorary
society for high school journalists, whose base is at the UI.
The
idea of establishing an honorary society for high school journalists was
proposed in the fall of 1925 by Gallup, when he was a young journalism
instructor at the University of Iowa.
“For
many years I had been aware of the excellent training which high school
journalism offered me, both as an editor of a high school paper and later as
editor of The Daily Iowan,” Gallup remarked. “It also seemed
grossly unfair that high school athletes should march off with all the
honors, and those who were equally outstanding in journalism should go
unrewarded.”
It was
on April 10, 1926, that 23 enthusiastic high school journalism advisers met
with Gallup in Iowa City, Iowa, and wrote the Quill and Scroll
constitution. Since 1926, the numbers of new charters and individual
memberships have increased at phenomenal rates.
By 1990
more than 13,225 charters had been granted to high schools in every state of
the Union and in 41 foreign countries. The Society has an estimated one
million “alumni” in all walks of life, many of them distinguished
journalists.
Quill
and Scroll Society, through its Foundation, established the first chaired
professorship at the University of Iowa. Today it is known as the George H.
Gallup Professorship in Journalism.
George
Gallup’s notions of journalism, education and democracy came together in the
sampling technique he developed in the late 1920s while a journalism
instructor and doctoral candidate at the UI. His doctoral thesis developed a
method of measuring readership interest in news, features and advertisements
in a newspaper by interviewing readers with different backgrounds. He used
his method for the Des Moines Register in 1928, the same year he
received his Ph.D. Four years later, Gallup put his theory to work again
with voters, as he helped his mother-in-law, Ola Miller (he had married
Ophelia Miller, a UI French major, in 1925) become Iowa’s secretary of
state.
In
1935, the first Gallup Poll, sponsored by 40 newspapers, was released. And,
of course, a year later he predicted correctly that Franklin
Roosevelt would defeat Alf Landon in the 1936 presidential election,
although he underrated FDR’s popular vote by about 7 percent. The Gallup
prediction was particularly noteworthy in light of an incorrect prediction
made by an influential magazine of the day, the
Literary Digest.
In the
years since the emergence of the poll (there has been at least one public
release weekly since October 20, 1935), sweeping changes have been made in
election polling and product marketing as a direct result of the
Gallup-method. Two staples persisted in George Gallup’s thinking: the
stubborn belief that democracy works best when the will of “the common man”
is known, and that society continually changes.
George
Gallup died on July 27,1984, at his summer home in Tschingel, a village near
the Lake of Thun in central Switzerland, at the age of 82. The Gallup
organization was sold in September 1988 to Selection Research Inc., in
Lincoln, Nebraska.
Max
McElwain Profiles in Communication, Iowa Center for Communication
Study, Iowa City, 1991, p. 1-5.
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