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Being at the Centre of Attention. . .
. . . The
political season is like a big Grandy-Bo tomato, so plump it's beginning
to split down the sides before it's even ripe.
And for the two of us, the gun lap is under way, now that the national
focus moves away from Danville and its vice presidential debate. It started
months ago when Centre College threw its hat into the ring, and then the
announcement that it had been picked by the commission. But after Labor
Day (when I was trolling the salmon waters of Lake Huron) the college
and the community and the state had to go to bat again to secure the event.
For countless reasons it was a good thing the debate was earned a second
time One very small reason is what it allowed Dana and I to experience
this past Thursday.
.
. . It's
impossible to calculate or even fully appreciate all the effort that went
into preparing for and producing the event. Our home was in the national
spotlight and everyone here is proud to have pulled things off with so
much class, professionalism, and small town charm. Centre wanted to set
a new standard of quality by which future debates are measured, and they
just might have done it. President John Roush (son of Coach Chet) remarked
that events like this can occur in a major city and hardly anyone who
lives there notices, but he guaranteed one thing that was not the
case in Danville, Kentucky.
.
. . Dana
and I rolled the dice and decided to take our chances by volunteering
to assist with the Republican dignitaries who were scheduled to come to
town.
The mode all day was "hurry up and wait." For a long time we
didn't know if we'd hit the jackpot or were the biggest chumps in Central
Kentucky. But then things started to look up when we were assigned to
escort Donald Rumsfeld from Lexington to Centre (your mission, should
you decide to accept it). One of many Secretaries of Defense that Grandy-Bo
had worked for over the years, Rumsfeld wasn't the most famous guy on
his way to Danville that day, but we couldn't have drawn a more friendly,
engaging person to spend time with. He asked us a lot of questions about
our lives in the Bluegrass and talked about going to school with Ralph
Nader and hiring Dick Cheney while he was still at the University of Wisconsin.
Through some amazing mix-up he'd been given no debate credentials and
there was a tense moment when we got to the campus checkpoint. Dana said,
"Don't you recognize Secretary Rumsfeld? He has to be on CNN at five
o'clock!" Cinnamon couldn't have done a better job if he had been
Rollin Hand in a Rumsfeld mask. Needless to say, I loved it.
.
. . This
was not the only "snafu" and we both were challenged to "keep
our cool" countless times throughout the day.
Everyone operating at our level of the totem pole was playing it by ear
on shifting sand, and one of the low-level transportation operatives wasn't
showing volunteers like us much respect.
Maybe he was used to barking orders at college students. When he thought
it would work with Dana, he'd made a major mistake (probably not his only
one of the day).
.
. . Our
final role of the day was to function as a "spotter" on the
floor of the big media room, which would become "Spin Central."
Five
of us were each given a zone to work, were wired for radio communication,
and were briefed on how to coordinate the "surrogates" as they
poured into the space after the debate. The Dems jumped the gun and released
their team before Senator Lieberman had even done his summation, which
at least one reporter took as an indication that they felt he'd "lost."
A good chunk of my time was eaten up trying to corral Senator Alan Simpson
and get him to his interviews. From what I could tell, he'd allowed CNN
to hold him through a break and missed a scheduled GOP satellite feed.
The whole thing was a pretty wild scene, just like it appears on TV, and
Simpson seemed to be one of several spinmeisters in high demand. There
were so many famous faces in the converted gymnasium that when a Senator
(Biden, McConnell, Glenn, Frist, Snowe, Cleland, Bunning, Daschle), or
a Governor (Engler, Keating, Patton), or a household-word journalist like
Bob Novak would walk by I'd just think to myself, "Oh yeah, him,
too."
.
. . When
Donald Rumsfeld saw me he smiled and winked, as if to signal his amusement
at the absurdity, but that's probably just my take on it. Nevertheless,
he'd come to spin for a serious reason, and, as always, was doing his
duty. I'm sure he couldn't have gotten back to his hotel before 12:30
am, and he'd told us he needed to be up at 5:30 to catch an early flight
to Portland to make a speech. One staffer told us he'd gone two weeks
with an average of 3 hours sleep per night during the period around the
National Convention in Philadelphia. Thank goodness we only had a one-day
gauntlet to run, but it made for an interesting and memorable glimpse
behind the show-biz scenery of Campaign 2000.
October 6, 1998
Two years ago . . .
.
. . The
big news these days are the proceedings in the U.S. House Judiciary Committee.
Clinton's troubles get progressively more serious as he goes through the
motions of leading the country. Democrats have settled into a defense
that amounts to,"He may be a sexual misfit who broke the law, but
he's not so bad that he should be removed from office." What he should
do is resign, but he doesn't seem to have the capacity to put anything
above his own self-interest. Amazingly, he still continues to raise a
lot of funds from his hard-core constituencies.
October 9, 1997
Three years ago . . .
.
. . I've
been looking for a creative assignment that I can really sink my teeth
into. Perhaps I've found it with this "Producer Feeds" project.
On the surface it looks like a dry graphic environment to work within,
but after careful assessment it has many interesting aspects, including
the opportunity to work with 19th-century motifs and to harness a traditional
equity with a contemporary identity system. Similar to Dental Care One,
except this time I have a much deeper market sector with a superior client,
a chance to really bring something to the equine genre.
October 3, 1994
Six years ago . . .
.
. . A
dog ran out in front of me and I crashed my bike. Only minor gashes, scrapes,
and bruises, thanks to my wearing a helmet. In the meantime, things are
hectic in the studio and I'm not getting to devote the time to the Town
House that would satisfy me. Had a nice "conference" with Grammo
about orchard trees and then a pleasant picnic lunch in the back yard
with her and Caitlan. Finally executed the Ivan picture for Ian. Turned
out fine.
October 7, 1985
Fifteen years ago . . .
.
. . Dana
and I are on a vacation in Charleston. Our plans call for a couple nights
camping in the Smoky Mountains and then on to KY for Hurray Day. Today
we're taking a boat ride around the harbor with a stop at Fort Sumter.
Yesterday we did a little sightseeing in the Battery district and took
two tours through some historic homes. I had this thought--if you had
to compare Charleston with a Legend location, Minson might be comparable,
with its harbor and history. Well, do I sound like the Legend is on my
mind? Funny how this old fascination has revived to occupy my interest
so much. Perhaps it is a creative form of escape.
T O P
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