8 November 2004
Peter Slatin
Bill's back
Subdued, exasperated and exhausted – but sharp and cogent as ever - Bill Clinton made his first post-surgery, post-election speech on Friday, November 5 in New York City. The long-scheduled occasion was the closing luncheon of the annual fall convention of the Urban Land Institute, the leading research and lobbying organization for real estate developers. Clinton addressed the roughly 3,000-strong crowd in the ballroom of the New York Hilton & Towers, a place where Clinton has spoken many times and where, during his first presidential campaign, a kitchen worker offered him support as he was brought through the hotel’s back-street corridors. He would recount that story often during his first term, but not on this day.
On entering the hall, Clinton received an almost raucous standing ovation – driven, it seemed, by a sudden, sweeping nostalgia for everything he represented as president, from budget surpluses to meaningful discourse to a bit of up-front sinning. It didn’t matter that this audience, overwhelmingly wealthy white and male, is also overwhelmingly Republican. Indeed, as Clinton dissected Tuesday’s demographics, he found a surprising silver lining in the roll call of slipped support for Kerry: despite the security moms and the Hispanics who gravitated a percent or two to the right, it turns out that college-educated white males went the other way. Too bad (sort of) that this is one demographic that is sure to shrink in proportion to the rest of the electorate.
After expressing deep gratitude for his “second chance” at life following surgery, followed by brief descriptions of the work of his Harlem-based foundation and of the soon-to-open Clinton Library in Little Rock, Clinton turned to the election. Despite a delivery that was saturated with the labor of post-op recovery, Clinton pointed forcefully to the viciousness of the Republican campaign. The audience was swiftly (!) reminded of the image of a war-ravaged Max Cleland portrayed on a billboard next to Saddam Hussein in 2002. Without tying this outrageousness directly to Bush, he disparaged its hateful message and its progeny, which set the tone and the course for this year’s election.
As he went on to discuss the future of American democracy ( “fact-based” or “faith-based”?) in a voice strained by physical effort yet clear as a bell with the force of reason, he managed somehow to cast the state of the Democratic Party as something less than on the brink, albeit something more than well set to take on the challenges posed by four more years of George W. Bush. He urged the president-elect to engage immediately to bring the Israeli and Palestinian rulers to the table, suggesting that it will be possible to reach some kind of peace accord within the next four years – and thereby remove the major stimulus to terrorism in the larger region.
Such off-hand logic – carrying a message of hope and of firmly encouraging rational action and dialogue among nations – permeated the president’s speech, which was frequently interrupted by approving applause. We were hungry for this voice of intelligent, experienced authority. Clinton’s display of real anger at the Republican campaign was tempered with caution and optimism. His willingness to hold his own party to account for losing was balanced nicely by his insistence on holding the newly elected administration to account for what will happen next, at home and on the world stage.
My personal nostalgia peaked when, during a Q&A following the speech, Clinton’s interviewer asked him what books he was reading.
His answer didn’t really matter, although he reeled off a list that included, among others, a political thriller (fiction) and a political thriller (history). So what was it that got to me?
It was the fairy tale thing. Once upon a time, O Beloved, there was a reader in the White House.
Copyright 2004 by Buffalo Report, Inc.