August 14, 2000, 9:00 pm EDT:
Act 1, Scene 1, enter THE KING

e strolls voraciously in extended tracking shot down the gleaming white brick hallway. It is all I can do to sit still, to watch my TV screen, to wait for him to arrive on stage. Right away, I am reminded of the backstage shenanigans of David Letterman and Jerry Springer and the WWF, and also of Laurence Olivier's famous film of Shakespeare's Henry V, which begins with Olivier backstage playing an actor preparing to play the great king. In contrast, there is no acting in this present performance, no red power tie (it would have only fought him, and lost) and, curiously, no big presentation by name during his introduction. (See Note #3)

No matter, for here is the star of the whole show: the embattled hero of the last eight years,the king of this court, the Princely Machiavel at the very epicenter of American empire. No sign of any cloistering, for he loves the camera almost as much as it loves him back. No ending in sight, either, before this last big political speech, no one riding off into the sunset tonight. Rather, here is a beginning, a strident, striding entrance to remember. Mental images to savor: here is the great orator Cicero entering the Senate; here is the wildly popular Earl of Essex, triumphant in foreign wars, entering the court of Elizabeth (with no monarchial challenge in sight); here is Churchill entering Parliament; here is Kennedy entering West Berlin; here is de Gaulle entering liberated Paris; here is Harrison Ford, Sean Connery, Clint Eastwood or Errol Flynn entering a set made just exactly for his entrance; here finally is the candidate-from-Hope turned leader-in-triumph entering the convention hall of the 2000 Democratic National Convention. (See Note #4)

To dolly back from that shot: all of these images were competing for my mental space, I now realize, with an almost overwhelming sense of urgency: before he says anything -- someone, quick! -- repeal the 22nd amendment!

The next evening, I found it difficult to believe that the podium from which Caroline and Edward Kennedy spoke was the very same one toward which Clinton had walked. (See Note #5)

No jockeying for position in my mind this time, but indeed only one thought: that of the reluctant idealist (and grandson of a civil rights leader), Henry Burton from Primary Colors, who explained his reasons for joining the '92 campaign to the Hillary Clinton character:

You had Kennedy. I didn't. I've never heard a president use words like 'destiny' or 'sacrifice' without thinking 'bullshit.' And maybe it was bullshit with Kennedy, too, but people believed it. And that's what I want. I want to believe it. I want to be part of something that's...history." (See Note #6)

How many of us have felt that we believed it, at least at some point during the last eight years (and before, during the campaign)? And understandably so, I think: after the trickled-down leadership of our politically misspent youths, here is the first President in memory to actually engage us in real dialogue, to like and admire popular culture, to be interested and interesting, to be young of ideas and passionate, to know the difference between the 10,000 Maniacs and his own White House staff. (See Note #7)

For many of us -- before Clinton's long goodbye that night, before the seemingly invincible economy, before any of us knew the words "dot com," before the 2000 or 1996 campaigns, before the endless scandals with Starr and Tripp and Monica and Newt, before the Contract On America, before the prospects for brokered Middle East peace, before slain Israeli (and unorthodox Orthodox American Jewish) leaders, before JFK, Jr.'s untimely death, at some point before all of this, at some not-so-irrecoverable point in the political history of personal memory, at just such a point from our not-so-distant political past -- a wily young newcomer seized consolidated power and the throne to America's Camelot was forever voraciously usurped.

On that first night of the convention while I was directing a wide and rather varied cast of heroic actors on some far-flung stage of memory, I was also rather consciously swapping the evening's soundtrack, measure for measure (so to speak), with one from the Napster.com archive of the mind: in place of the booming Hollywood-style technophonics, I heard a popular song, reportedly one of Clinton's personal favorites and the "theme song" of his second Presidential campaign:

These are the days you'll remember.
Never before and never since,
I promise,
will the whole world be warm like this.
And as you feel it, you'll know it's true
that you are blessed and lucky.
It's true that you are touched by something
that will grow and bloom in you. (See Note #8)

Remembering this 10,000 Maniacs song and the feeling of being touched by something at once both larger than and deeply within myself, I was transported right back to another beginning of sorts, feeling young and full of hope and the undeniable energy of my first campaign season as a legal voter (don't touch the 26th Amendment) as though the last eight years had never even taken place. (See Note #9)

1. Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past was originally published in 8 parts, 1913-1927. Reprinted: New York: Random House (translated by C.K.Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin), 1981. (Return to Text)

2. Don McLean, American Pie, EMD/Capitol, 1971. (Return to Text)

3. On this point, see Frank Pellegrini, "Clinton's ardent farewell is a love note to America," available at http://www.cnn.com/2000/allpolitics/stories/08/15/clinton8_15.tm/index.html. For the full text of Hillary Clinton's convention speech (August 14,2000), see http://emediate.dems2000.com, "a DNCC media-specific 'extranet'site." (Return to Text)

4. On Clinton's theatrical (televisual, cinematic) sensibility, Caryn James wrote in the New York Times of August 16, 2000 (A26), "The true iconic image had been created the night before, when Mr. Clinton hoisted an Oscar in his right hand, given to him by California's governor, Gray Davis, at a party at Paramount studios. The image, which popped up on cable news and Entertainment Tonight, was almost too telling: Bill Clinton is a once-in-a-lifetime political performer, at home at this Hollywood convention." Additionally, the opposite is true: if Bill Clinton is a successful performer, then performers are just as successful playing the American President. In addition to Primary Colors, the Clinton White House has seen the unprecedented success of NBC's The West Wing, with Martin Sheen in the Oval Office. For more on this show's phenomenal popularity, see http://www.emmys.tv/. (Return to Text)

5. This entrance is important, too: "Caroline took the stage to the sound of the theme from Camelot, the 1960's musical that became identified with her father's administration," wrote Adam Nagourney, 40 Years Later, Invoking Spirit of New Frontier, New York Times, August 16, 2000 (A24). (Return to Text)

6.Mike Nichols (director), Primary Colors, 1998 (123 minutes). For a copy of Elaine May's outrageously biting screenplay (dated April 8, 1997), go to http://www.scriptshop.com. (Return to Text)

7. As early as January 15, 1993 (pre-inauguration), this Clintonesque phenomenon was becoming readily apparent, as plainly noted in Scholastic Update (teachers' edition), January 15, 1993 (page 12), "Beyond setting a tone for the nation, Presidents can influence popular culture simply through their likes and dislikes." (Return to Text)

8. 10,000 Maniacs, These Are Days (Merchant/Buck), Our Time in Eden, WEA/Elektra, 1992. (Return to Text)

9. Citing attacks between Clinton and Bush, Sr., Maureen Dowd interestingly postulated that "It is as though the tape of the '92 election, on pause all these years, has started rolling again." (New York Times, August 2, 2000, page A25). (Return to Text)

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