According to conventional wisdom—not to mention a study or two—most e-mail recipients decide whether or not to open their messages based on who is in the “from” line.
If recipients recognize who sent the e-mail and found previous messages to be valuable, they’ll open it. If they don’t know the sender, or recognize the sender but found no value in previous messages, they’re likely to trash it—or even worse, report it as spam.
So why is John McCain sending me, a lifelong Dallas Cowboys hater, e-mail from the football team’s former—albeit legendary—quarterback Roger Staubach?
And who the hell is contact@alankeyes.com?
At the suggestion of the founder of Maynard, MA-based ad agency Mothers of Invention, Robert Rosenthal, I signed up a Yahoo account for e-mail updates from every presidential candidate who has a 2008 campaign Web site.
Some candidates seem to think their supporters want to hear from lots of folks.
For example, on John Edwards’ behalf, in two weeks I received e-mail from Jonathan Prince, David Bonior, Joe Trippi, Tracy Russo, Cate Edwards and Elizabeth Edwards. I recognized a grand total of one of those names. I had to look Cate up to find out she’s Edwards’ daughter.
On Joe Biden’s behalf, I received messages from campaign manager Luis Navarro, Valerie Biden Owens and some purporting to be from Biden himself.
Signing up for Barack Obama’s e-mails resulted in messages from blogger Sam Graham-Felsen, David Plouffe, Michelle Obama, Obama himself and “Obama for America.”
On behalf of Chris Dodd, I heard from Tim Tagaris, Mat Pierson and Dodd.
Making matters worse, many of the e-mails failed to explain who the person named in the “from” line was. For example, Obama’s campaign manager, Plouffe, simply signed his “David.” Even the most ardent Obama supporters shouldn’t be expected to automatically know who Plouffe is.
The e-mails from Pierson and Tagaris on Dodd’s behalf also offered not a hint as to who they are.
Same for Edwards’ Tracy Russo.
It’s okay if politicians’ teams decide e-mail messages should come from various people. But all the e-mails from a particular candidate’s campaign should have the same “from” line, no matter who the message inside is supposedly from. They should also assume supporters didn’t sign up to hear from a bunch of random staffers.
In any case, Dave Cantarino, Bill Richardson’s campaign manager, took the prize for weirdest subject line with: “Appalachian State’s Victory Over Michigan.” Huh?
Halfway through, the e-mail explained: “Last week in Time magazine, William Kristol compared Governor Richardson's campaign to Appalachian State’s victory over Michigan in college football. He predicted there could be a big surprise in January.”
Oh. Okay, Dave.
In defense of Edwards, Obama and Richardson, their various from lines at least included their names—albeit usually truncated because of the name of the campaign manager, deputy manager or whoever it was preceding theirs.
McCain’s e-mails contained his name in the from lines, as well—all except one: the one from Roger Staubach. Even the subject line said simply “From Roger Staubach.”
John, John, John.
I have a message for you: Like many non-Texan, middle-aged football fans, I hate the Dallas Cowboys with a passion that burns like the core of a thousand suns. My extreme dislike of the Cowboys began in the seventies when some media moron dubbed them “America’s Team.”
My Cowboys hatred grew stronger when I was in boot camp in Texas in 1979 and my drill instructor would ask three inches from my face: “Why does Texas Stadium have a hole in its roof?” only to offer the lame punch line: “So God can watch his team.” Ha, ha, ha.
Then the Cowboys beat my Buffalo Bills—yeah, yeah, I know; it’s been a character-building three and a half decades—in two Super Bowls in the nineties. Oh yes, John, I truly loathe the Cowboys with every ounce of my being. My second favorite team is anybody playing Dallas.
Even today, whenever I see someone who is not from Texas wearing a Cowboys jersey, I want to make them feel physical pain—no, really; I’m not kidding.
As a result, the only time I want to hear from Roger Staubach is if he wants to confess he hands out Halloween candy containing glass shards, kills kittens and puppies, and tears the wings off butterflies.
This is a classic example of the hazards of a surprise “from” line.
And to any reader who is tempted to send an angry e-mail because they think they’ve discerned some political bias from this column dissing their candidate or party, save it. You’re right. I hate your candidate and your party. I hate ‘em all.
