Meeting President Clinton
I usually try not to make judgments about people I have never met, but it’s hard when you have probably a snowball’s chance in hell of meeting them. This would be true, say in the case of a dead person, mega celebrity with 100 bodyguards or a President. I got an e-mail from a friend about this event for the Clinton /Library and Foundation at which Clinton would appear! I went to the web site (www.clintonevent.org) and saw that tickets/donations started at only $100 and or $250 you got your photo with the president! Seeing that I am a lowly office temp and rock star in training at this point, I opted for the less expensive option, with the hopes I could get close anyway, using my Coogrrrls charm. The ticket includes open bar, and lord knows I can consume $100 worth of hooch in 3 hours.
I have heard that Clinton was a magnetic personality. That his charisma was undeniable. That women fall to his feet. That he is charming, witty and engaging. I’ve only seen him on a 27″ TV screen at best, so I was skeptical. I had great respect for his presidency, and his wife as well. I was unfazed by The Starr Report, which was silly at best, and the worst thing you could say about the guy is that he lied about inappropriate behavior with an intern – and who wouldn’t. The man had a lot to lose, and national security was not at risk, government money (i.e. my taxes) was not spent and the only people that were hurt were the members of the Clinton Family (Monica didn’t seem to mind). Since anything I bought while Clinton was in office appreciated massively and I never had any trouble finding a job until now, Clinton was AOK in my book.
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So, I send for the tickets and wait for the day. I still can’t believe he’s actually going to show up. The last time I got close to a president, I think I was sitting on my dad’s shoulders while Nixon rode a fire truck through our town, and I don’t even remember catching a glimpse of him. I tell my friend April, “This will be my first president, and your second!”, as I know she met Nixon. She starts counting, “This will be my…third, fourth, fifth, sixth President, I think.” She has met every president that help office during out lifetimes except for Reagan, who is a lost cause by now for that opportunity! I have a LOT of catching up to do.
The event is at a place in Chinatown on the border of Little Italy that I have never heard of. Somehow, The Bowery does not really sounds like the locale for an event of Presidential stature. This Clinton must be a down to earth guy, because his office is in Harlem rather than some brass ‘n glass midtown office building. April and I get there and the building looks like an old bank, with tall columns and Federal-style architecture. Looks presidential enough, but it seems out of place. We look at the line, and it goes around the corner, we turn the corner and the line goes all the way down the block. Rats. April forgot film for her camera, so I run to a little Chinatown booth where they sell everything from turtles to girdles to yo-yos and get the film. I can’t believe I did not bring my own camera – I think I just assumed no cameras. Hell, I’m not allowed to shoot half the rock shows I go to, I certainly didn’t think they would let me point an electronic instrument in his direction without Secret Service clearance. I mean Frank’s connected and all, but…
So we wait on line and it seems interminable. Everyone is dressed to the nines, like a mini inaugural ball. People are discussing their lives back at Harvard Law School and other subjects that are six degrees of Bill Clinton. Finally, the line starts moving. Every time a limo pulls up, the heads of the crowds turn in a synchronized fashion like “The Wave” at a Baseball game to see if it is our former Executive-in-chief. When I get up to the door, I see there is a VIP line, which I am not in, and see a familiar face. “Richard” I call, and he turns to me. It’s the artist more commonly known as Moby. I didn’t want to draw attention to him. I asked if he remembered April from “back in the day” and we talked about our friend chuck. Suddenly, he says excitedly, “I’m getting my picture taken with Clinton!”. I am very envious. So he is whisked away and we are left out with the masses.
When we get in I head straight for the bar. The ceilings are 50 feet high and it looks more like the Sistine chapel than a defunct bank – very posh with gilded trim and a complete 180 from the outside rush hour traffic, throng of street vendors and smell of fish. Everyone else has the same idea, and people are pushing and shoving to get a drink as if they are trying to get the last chopper out of Saigon.
After we sip our refreshments, we case the joint for a possible presidential podium. There seems to be two daises set up, but only one has the official “Young Professionals for Clinton” banner or whatever behind it. That is the place for the photo op. We decide to casually stay put there while others fight for drinks and lose their opportunity to brush with greatness. There are only two hours left for this event – so he has to be out soon – right?
Wrong. We see the VIPs and other people being led upstairs. Rumor is that Elvis is not even in the building yet. We don’t see any people coming down until about half an hour later. We are guessing that is the place people get their photo with the president – and this time it’s not a cardboard cutout. That has to be it. We are standing there so long we start to make friends. There is a girl with a thick Chinese accent called angel waiting with us. She was talking about how the company we work for, an investment firm, was calling her all the time to meet with her, she didn’t know why. This was her way of telling us, “I have a lot of money”. She asked us if we brought a camera. April whips out her Elph – which is this tiny camera we were sure we could sneak in. Angela whips out her “l’il ‘ol thing” and it’s a digital camera the size of a credit card – no joke. Brand spanking new. She asks me, will you take my photo with Clinton if I take yours? Sure, if we get close enough, ifs my answer. I can at least get her in the foreground and Clinton in the background to prove they were in the same place at the same time. That is what I am looking for, too, so our pact is set.
There is a false alarm as a flurry of flashes is set off on the other side of the room. I go to check to make sure we did not miscalculate the presidential Positioning with our fine-tuned sensors. I have April hold our spot while I investigate. It’s just Moby. In order to make sure our Global Presidential system is correct, I ask security, “where will Clinton be speaking from?”. She points to the platform we have fixed ourselves in front of. By now, there is a crowd starting to accumulate by the platform, but not was much as I though. I’ve never cared LESS about an open bar – I’m not missing my chance. We wait another half an hour. The event is almost over…by the time stated on the invite. We hear raised voices, almost hoots and hollers, which is very atypical of this well-heeled crowd. We look up. Clinton appears in the hallway upstairs. People start almost shrieking a la Beatles at Shea stadium in 1964. It’s Clinton! People are cheering, and he flashes this smile. The room fills with electricity. It’s hard not to be caught up in the excitement. Holy Christmas, I am less than 100 feet from President Clinton! I am cheering , too! Yay Clinton. As he gets closer and closer to the platform, I am mesmerized. Those who said he had palpable charm and charisma were not exaggerating or star struck. It is this really weird cosmic energy he emits that I can’t explain without running the risk of sounding like a complete hippy.
After a brief introduction from the president of the Young professionals for Clinton committee or whatever, Clinton bows his head and lets his boyish smile fly in this total “aw, shucks” fashion, which is completely charming. I am trying not to be star struck so I can really pay attention to every word he says. I’ve been waiting two hours for this!
Clinton spoke for about 25 minutes about the economy and economic policy, what is going to happen to poor people and children if things continue the way they are, and how young people need to participate in the democratic process and vote, as voter turnout is at a record low for young people, even though they are the most civically active generation. He was captivating, motivating, and spoke without notes or pausing so it comes off with complete conviction and sincerity. He makes eye contact with the audience. He made eye contact with me for a brief moment, and I could tell – he means what he is saying.
Angela hands me her camera. I frame it expertly so I get both her face and Clinton in the same frame. She is also six inches in front of me, so the perspective is going to be extreme, since Clinton is 15 feet behind her. She looks at the image. “My face is too big!”, she declares. Whatever! She goes to take my picture – we have a film camera so we can’t preview it, but at least I have my photo with Bill Clinton. I snap the same composition to get April’s photo with the President so we each have the moment captured for all eternity.
Mark Twain had a quote – if you don’t lie, you have nothing to remember. Makes you think about those who had to be taught to read off cue cards and teleprompters. It also made me long for a leader that is SMART. He’s so smart and amazing. It’s easy to see why he had the respect of many world leaders. It was just so refreshing. I had a glimpse of the way it could be.
After he is done speaking, he moves off the platform, and the crowd behind the velvet rope moves again in unison in the Direction of Clinton. He comes down in front of us and begins shaking hands. Suddenly, like a rip tide, I am moving toward the back of the crowd, as so many people are trying to get up front. Clinton is a rock star! In fact, I have never even seen a reception or people behave like this for rock stars. New Yorkers are so jaded they like to pretend they don’t notice Madonna or Bono sitting at the table next to them. But this is different – this is a PRESIDENT, which is off the scale in terms of stature.
Clinton moves down the line, not just shaking hands and moving on. He grips everyone’s hand firmly and looks them in the eye. He pauses to talk with people – about every fifth or sixth person, he stops and is engaged in conversation. He is really listening. You could tell that he could repeat everything back that the person is saying to him. He looks at you as a friend would. I’ve never seen anything like it. I move along with the Crowd. April has moved to where the end of the line would be. I’m not leaving here without shaking Clinton’s hand! This may be my only brush with Presidential greatness. About halfway down the line, I move to the front within hand-shot. Clinton is talking to a woman, so I don’t want to interrupt. I see April in the background, and try to get her in the frame with Clinton, but the crowd is too wild and is moving in waves to obscure the view. I finally get my hand in there and blurt out, “You may see me in your Harlem office!”. So I am completely motivated. When I am booted out of my job, as I will at the end of September, if I can’t find work, I actually WILL become an intern in Clinton’s Harlem office. Why not? April gets to shake his hand twice, so she is up on me in Presidential Encounters and Clinton handshakes.
Then I saw something very interesting. Clinton mentioned in his speech that there were many young interns and office staffers in attendance. A young woman comes up to talk to him. I’m sure it was a girl who worked in the office or something. He gives her his full attention, and smiles upon her like a proud father. As she spoke, and he looks at her, he smooths her hair in the most adoring but paternal fashion. I recall hen that whole Monica monkey business came out, Hillary said that he was often very affectionate and fatherly toward his interns, and that’s why she thought the whole thing was B.S. Now I can see why. Every girl knows the difference between a letcherous advance and genuine affection. This was the real deal, and was in no way inappropriate. It was very sweet and touching, and it was amazing to be able to see this moment and understand why some people would misinterpret this kind of behaviour – especially if you didn’t see it for yourself.
We leave the building after Elvis, and are so giddy, we can’t contain ourselves. That was the best! Clinton rules! That was the greatest! We each call our parent and tell them of our escapades – it’s that monumentous. I tell my mom, “Remember when I last called you and told you I was never washing my hand again after I shook Robert Redford’s hand? Well, guess what! I’m not washing this hand either!”. As a concerned mom, she has to say, “Well, what are you going to do if you can’t wash both your hands now?” In an even more bizarre turn, while I’m blabbing with my mom, April starts shouting, “Monkey! Monkey!”, and she’s trying to get my attention. I have no idea what she is talking about. “Monkey!” I turn, and there is right in front of us a zoo-quality monkey, right out of Wild Kingdom! This wasn’t just a Chinatown monkey. This was a really big exotic-looking monkey. I’m now not paying attention to my mom anymore. “Mom, I gotta go, there’s a monkey”, I say as I hang up, and she must think that I’m on drugs and making up the whole thing about Clinton, too. We go over to the monkey to take a photo but the man with the monkey quickly disappears into the doorway of his building.
How do we top of a most excellent and fabulous evening? How do we top BOTH Clinton AND a monkey? We go to Balthazar for dinner to wax poetic about our evening and continue our high of feeling as we kibitz and dine among the beautiful people. The next morning, I rush the photos to get the photos processed. They came our surprisingly well, and I have some amazing shots of Clinton. April’s photo with Clinton comes out surprisingly well. Then there is this photo. What the hell is it? It’s a photo of my eye and my cheek. What, did the camera go of randomly? Then, I realize – THIS is the photo Angela took of me! And she was bitching about HER photo! So much for doing people favors. I should have had April take mine!
Mostly, I talk here about rock and roll, and I feel strongly about not being afraid to be a fan – to participate in rock and roll and live shows by being up front, cheering, dancing, and letting the performers know how much you enjoyed their show. I feel the same way about CIVIC life. I think people need to participate in LIFE in general. So many people are spectators, watching their lives go by while others create and contribute. Contributions can take any form, so just don’t stand by and watch. JUST DO SOMETHING, even if it’s getting yourself to a voting booth, dancing at a show when no one else is or making chalk pictures on the sidewalk.
I have about 30 shows, including Stockage – the music festival sponsored by ALL in Colorado – to write up, so you will be hearing from me soon!
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