The specter of a possible “October surprise” looms over Kamala Harris and Donald Trump as they hurtle toward the conclusion of their race for the White House. William Safire, the Richard Nixon speechwriter who became a New York Times columnist, once defined “October surprise” as a “[l]ast minute disruption before an election.” The audiotape released in 2016 in which Trump discussed groping women and the Hunter Biden laptop story in 2020 are its most recent examples.
While regarded as a feature of modern politics, the history of the October surprise dates to the late 19th century. Then, as now, embarrassing revelations, last-minute disclosures, or ill-chosen rhetoric threatened to alter the outcome of a closely fought presidential campaign. A letter published in October 1880 over the forged signature of Republican candidate James A. Garfield appeared to endorse the use of immigrant Chinese labor. Republicans exposed the letter as a fraud and Garfield hung on to win in the fall.
In 1884, the surprise emerged when a group of religious leaders endorsed Republican candidate James G. Blaine in late October. Overshadowing the endorsement was a foolhardy rhetorical flourish that insulted key voting blocs courted by the Republican nominee in his campaign against the Democratic nominee, New York Governor Grover Cleveland.
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A former House Speaker and U.S. Senator, Blaine was a well-known but controversial figure. Admirers hailed him as the “Plumed Knight” of the Republican Party for his ability to foil Democrats. Detractors called him a “continental liar” who exploited his power for personal gain.
In 1876, Blaine was the front-runner for the Republican presidential nomination until the publication of the “Mulligan letters”—correspondence that detailed Blaine’s involvement with investors in an Arkansas railroad he aided while Speaker. Named for the bookkeeper who kept the correspondence, the Mulligan letters derailed Blaine’s nomination and haunted him for the rest of his career.
Blaine failed in a second bid for the Republican nomination in 1880 but went on to serve as secretary of state under Garfield. In 1884, Blaine finally won his party’s nomination for president, but reform-minded Republicans—derided as “mugwumps”—bolted to Cleveland.
While Blaine had been at the forefront of Republican party politics for decades, Cleveland was a newcomer with a reputation as an upright, honest politician. As governor, he challenged the power of New York City’s Democratic bosses and worked with reform-minded legislators in Albany, including Republican Theodore Roosevelt.
But Cleveland’s image suffered a body blow when a Buffalo newspaper reported in July that he had fathered a child out of wedlock before becoming governor. Cleveland famously urged supporters to “tell the truth” about the episode, but some of Cleveland’s allies went on the attack. They alleged that Blaine falsified the date of his marriage to cover up pre-marital sex leading to the birth of his first son, who died in infancy. Blaine explained his side of the story in a letter to a supporter, but as historian Mark Wahlgren Summers has noted, that only kept the story in the headlines.
With character issues dominating the campaign, Blaine needed the blessing of the religious leaders he met at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York on Oct. 29. Taking Blaine by the hand, the Rev. Samuel D. Burchard pledged the backing of the clerics with shots at Blaine’s critics and veiled allusions to Cleveland’s private life.
“Notwithstanding all the calumnies that have been waged in the papers against you, we stand by your side,” Burchard declared. “We have a higher expectation, which is that you will be President of the United States, and that you will do honor to your name, to the United States and to the high office you will occupy.”
Burchard then went too far. He questioned the temperance and patriotism of Democrats and employed a nativist euphemism for Catholicism to slander the faith of immigrant voters, particularly Irish Catholics.
“We are Republicans, and don’t propose to leave our party and identify ourselves with the party whose antecedents have been rum, Romanism, and rebellion. We are loyal to the flag, and we are loyal to you.”
Blaine stood by mutely after Burchard’s declaration. In the years that followed, Blaine—and many historians—suggested he didn’t hear what Burchard said. But in the months after the election, Blaine confided to Supreme Court Justice John Harlan that he stayed silent because he believed Burchard’s provocative declaration would be overlooked.
It was a disastrous miscalculation. Democratic newspapers in New York immediately published Burchard’s statement. Burchard insulted Catholics by referring to their faith as “Romanism,” the Brooklyn Eagle thundered the next day, knowing that the phrase “is offensive to a great number of Christians.” Adding to the aspersion, the newspaper asserted, Burchard linked Catholicism “with intemperance, which he calls ‘rum,’ and with the ‘rebellion,’ which multitudes of Catholic Irishmen gave their lives to suppress.”
It took two days for Blaine to repudiate Burchard’s comments. Meanwhile, Democrats circulated them nationwide. “If anything will elect Cleveland, these words will do it,” Cleveland campaign manager Arthur P. Gorman predicted.
Burchard’s remarks proved particularly problematic for Blaine in New York, where Blaine’s managers believed voters would decide the election. To carry the Empire State, Blaine courted Irish Catholics and hoped to exploit the discontent of New York City’s Democratic bosses with Cleveland.
Blaine’s failure to quickly distance himself from Burchard wasn’t the only blunder he made that day. Blaine attended a lavish dinner at Delmonico’s with millionaires including Andrew Carnegie and Jay Gould. The opulent gathering made headlines nationwide and indelibly fixed Blaine’s reputation as a servant of monied interests.
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But Burchard’s inflammatory alliteration proved especially damaging by dampening enthusiasm for Blaine in New York among disaffected Democrats and Irish Catholic voters, Summers and historian Robert D. Marcus conclude. An immediate, forceful repudiation of Burchard’s comments might have minimized the damage. As it was, Blaine lost New York by 1,047 votes and became the first Republican to lose a presidential election since John Frémont in 1856.
After the election, Blaine cited the ill-chosen remarks of his clerical supporter as a significant factor in his defeat. “[T]he Lord,” Blaine admitted to Republican journalist Murat Halstead, “sent upon us an ass in the shape of a preacher.”
As Harris and Trump sprint to the end of the campaign, they would do well to expect the unexpected. The October surprise emerged in the era of the telegraph and the steam engine, but its potential to alter the outcome of a close election remains as current as today’s headlines.
Robert B. Mitchell is a retired Washington Post news service editor and author of the forthcoming The Partisans: James G. Blaine, Roscoe Conkling and the Politics of Rivalry and Revenge in the Gilded Age (Edinborough Press).
Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.
