Who is that young fellow?
Four years ago, a small crew of us traveled to Charleston, South Carolina, helping then-inspirational candidate Senator Barack Obama in his pitched primary battle against Senator Hillary Clinton. After a long day of canvassing we retreated to our hotel and flipped on the TV. The Republicans in South Carolina hold their presidential primary a week before the Democrats, and had voted that day. As the numbers came in, it appeared that Senator John McCain was headed for a narrow win over already ex-Governor Mitt Romney. I called the “McCain for South Carolina” headquarters. Their victory party was at a hotel in downtown Charleston. Soon we were on our way.
We expected some kind of security or line when we got there, but Johnny Mac had few die-hards in his camp. We waltzed right into the half-empty ballroom, where we drank whiskey and chatted up our “fellow” young Republicans. We were in the third row for his victory speech, and afterwards, were interviewed by the Canadian National Broadcasting Network. When asked “why young people were supporting John McCain”, my friend Pat, putting his improv training to good use, jumped in with, “John McCain embodies youth! He embodies vigor, and the future. What other candidate could young people possibly rally behind?”
Like many of you, I’ve been following the intellectual midgetry that is the 2012 Republican presidential primary with great amusement. With my old friend Sally living in Charleston, the stars were aligned for a South Carolina victory party reprise. Unfortunately, attempts to ingratiate myself with the eventual victor proved elusive, as the fickle Republican base soured on one candidate after another. The friendly emails between “Jack Martin” and Herman Cain staffers were for naught. Ditto for the “Sarah Martin”, who could be reached at the dutiful mrsjackmartin@gmail.com. The night before the primary, Sally and I decided that win or lose, Newt was going to have the most raucous party. He was the Saturday night destination.
After a relaxed drive into the South Carolina heartland, we came to Newt’s last campaign stop of the day, a burger joint shaped like a burger. We were too late for the previous event, which had been a few towns over at a Chick-fil-A. Having worked in two Democratic presidential primaries, I can’t recall a single Democrat holding a prime-time campaign event in a fast food restaurant. I also can’t recall a presidential campaign event ever starting on time, but as we stepped into the burger joint 20 minutes late, Gingrich had just concluded his remarks. The people around us looked disappointed. ”He basically just said how he was going to win tonight,” explained the woman next to me. ”I thought he’d at least take a few questions,” remarked her husband.
Meanwhile, Newtmentum himself was slowly plowing his way through the crowd. Sally and I got ourselves into position to grab a picture with the candidate. When our turn came, I rambled about how much I loved his “big ideas”, to which he sleepily grunted. As I lined up to take Sally’s photo with Callista, Callista noted that she also had a Canon G-10. They exchanged pleasantries about what a good camera it was, Sally choosing not to reveal that she had a G-11. No need to one-up Callista in fanciness. Continue reading
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Living the Dream 