Democratic National Convention, Day 2
Tonight started off as the sophomore slump of the Convention. Prime time opened with Ted Kennedy, the most Republican looking of the Dems. Ted has taken on the appearance of a bloated plutocrat, and could easily play an oily political boss in a Frank Capra epic. His growing years and girth, combined with his Irish-American heritage, brings to mind Jimmy Cagney's turn as the crooked police chief in Ragtime.
When Ted speaks, though, there's no doubt where his allegiances lie. He revels in welcoming the delegates to a town he calls the cradle of liberty, and makes pointed comments comparing George Bush II with King George III. He draws a line from John Adams to John Kennedy to John Kerry, and conjures Paul Revere and the Boston Tea Party. He paraphrases FDR and evokes the marches in Selma and Birmingham in a speech that, save for references to the Berlin Wall and Tiananmen Square, could easily have been delivered 30 years ago.
But for all his fiery rhetoric, there are few sparks in his delivery. Ted is 72 years old, and could easily pass for 80. His oratory skills have weakened, and his voice croaks and cracks like that of a highschooler in his first play. He stumbles frequently: when he speaks of George Bush dividing the nation, he says that he sets "City against surba ... surban ... suburrrrr." God bless the old coot, he rails against Enron and Haliburton and says Dick Cheney should be "retired to an undisclosed location." He quotes John Adams' prayer that "none but the honest and wise" ever live in the White House, with the implication that the current resident is neither. But he is little more than the shambling wreck of his former self. Commentators refer to him as a Lion in Winter, but there's more winter than lion in evidence.
Old home week continues with Howard Dean's appearance. Dean's remarkably brief speech is little more than a compilation of his greatest hits. He opens by saying, "I was hoping for a reception like this. I was just hoping that it would be on Thursday night," as if he is unaware that Al Gore made almost the exact same joke 25 hours previously. He then goes on to recycle his time-honed maxims: "we ... represent the Democratic wing of the Democratic Party," "we can take our country back," "never again will we be ashamed to call ourselves Democrats."
I appreciate all that Dean has done for the Democratic Party. He is credited with demonstrating how to use the Internet to build a grassroots movement, but for me, his real strength was telling Democrats it was okay to be pissed off, and encouraging them to go on the offensive. The Democratic Party has become such a middle child, trying so hard to make everyone else happy. For me, Howard Dean is a descendant of that other Howard, Beale, who encouraged us all to say, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!" The Dean Scream, for which he was chided, was little more than the natural extension of his rallying cry. That said, his appearance at the Convention serves as a reminder of what a bullet we dodged when his ship finally sank. For all his past vigor, Dean comes across as the governor of a small New England state. He is an avuncular firebrand. There will be little press response to his remarks.
Then Barack Obama shows up and blows the roof off the joint.
Obama is being hailed as a rising star in the Democratic Party, despite the fact that he is, at present, merely a state senator. That is likely to change in November, as he is currently running unopposed for the US Senate. The Party's confidence in him is demonstrated by placing him in the plum keynote spot. His speech serves both to support that confidence, and to further narrow the field of Republicans who are likely to run against him.
Whoever serves on Obama's writing staff deserves a huge raise after this address. It is structurally brilliant. It serves to introduce him to the American public, the vast majority of whom - including, most likely, many of those at the Convention - have never heard of him. It highlights his particular experience of the American Dream: the son of a Kenyan student, himself the son of domestic servant; his mother a child of the heartland, his grandfather a veteran of World War II who signed up the day after Pearl Harbor. He tells us his parents gave him an African name, "believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success." He omits his Harvard education, understanding that in today's America, brains are perceived as a drawback.
Obama addresses his remarks to all Americans, "Democrats, Republicans, Independents," and this inclusion serves as the keystone of his address. He mocks the notion of red states and blue states, he holds the belief that we are all our brothers' and sisters' keepers, he takes to task the pundits and spin masters and ad peddlers. He uses repetition and parallel construction, creating a presentation that offers as much in sound as sense. He ties his fortunes in with Kerry and Edwards in a politics of hope, climaxing with a call for "the audacity of hope." After the rambling rhetoric of Kennedy and Dean, this is a speech.
Still, a speech is only as good as the speaker, and Obama brings the goods. Clips of the speech will be shown on the news, but as with Clinton's address the night before, the speech works best in totality. Obama holds the audience in his grasp, capturing them with a style which is compelling without the "speechifyin'" of a Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton. He is confident without being aggressive, portraying himself as "a skinny kid with a funny name." When he speaks of people he's met in his travels, it comes off not as a tired political trope, but as a tale from the heart. When he calls to "eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white," both blacks and whites rise in applause. In fact, his greatest flaw as a speaker right now is that he has difficulty judging when to hold for applause. As he learns to ride an audience's mood, to surf the swells of their response, his effectiveness will continue to grow.
Ron Reagan speaks next, in support of stem cell research. I become nostalgic for August of 2001, when this topic was supposed to be the defining issue of the Bush presidency. Reagan acquits himself well enough that his presence comes across as more than mere stunt casting, a Reagan opposing a Bush. He has the cantor of a higher pitched John Wayne, however, and all I can focus on is that he has the worst hair and teeth in show business. He manages to reduce Chris Matthews to gushing, though, so the appearance is worth my while.
Then comes Teresa Heinz Kerry. THK has been portrayed as something of a loose cannon, especially after she told a reporter to shove it earlier this week. I, of course, am all in favor of political pundits being told to shove it, so this is not a problem for me. Still, there is some concern about her presence at the convention. The audience is warmed up by a video playing out her now well-known saga: raised under a dictatorship in Mozambique, protesting apartheid in Johannesburg, meeting and marrying Jack "Ketchup King" Heinz, his early death in a helicopter accident, her second marriage to John Kerry. She is introduced by her son, Chris Heinz, who is young and funny and good-looking, which puts the audience more at ease. Then out comes this little lady in a bright red suit, who hugs her son, praises her children, and then says, "I hope it will come as no surprise to anyone that I have something to say."
Trepidation gone.
For my money, Heinz Kerry is the star of the show. She does not have the rhetorical chops of Barack Obama, but she speaks from the heart, and says what she thinks. In particular, she speaks on behalf of women. "My right to speak my mind," she tells us, "to have a voice, to be what some have called 'opinionated,' is a right I deeply and profoundly cherish. My only hope is that, one day soon, women - who have all earned the right to their opinions - instead of being labeled opinionated, will be called smart or well-informed, just as men are."
Heinz Kerry has certainly earned that right. In admitting that apartheid grew in South Africa despite the efforts of its opponents, she still proclaims the value of taking a stand, even if it fails. When she speaks of her concerns - the role of America in the world, civil liberties, the environment - she does so as someone who has devoted millions of dollars and thousands of hours to these causes. She speaks with pride of her husband and family. She does not pull her punches, saying, for example, that the Vietnam Memorial "testif[ies] to the awful toll exacted by leaders who mistake stubbornness for strength." Her words are pointed, even when her tone, at times, is light.
For me, her speech is weakest when it focuses on her husband, the candidate. Heinz Kerry has strong views. We can assume she shares many of them with her husband. Even when they do not agree, we can assume that he is man enough to accept their differences. She is speaking in support of John Kerry, of course, and so we must expect her to put forth his agenda. But for me, she makes her point best when she speaks of our need for "a leader willing to draw again on the mystic chords of our national memory and remind us of all that we, as a people, everyday leaders, can do," and then undercuts it with, "I think I've found just the guy."
The question put forth by the pundits is how THK will play in Peoria. There is a feeling among many that she it too highly spiced for the breadbasket of the nation. She speaks five languages, she speaks with an accent, she speaks her mind. There is a sense that a nation raised on mayonnaise with not be able to digest Dijon mustard. For truly, she is no more highly spiced than that. Chris Matthews compares her to coffee: when you first drink it, you find it bitter, but later you discover you can't live without it. I want to shake the pundits, to tell them that as long as you say she is strange, Middle America will find her strange. In truth, though, many of us have had a Teresa Heinz Kerry in our life. She is the sharp tongued aunt who tells you what you need to hear, even when your parents won't. She's the hard teacher you love because for once, someone won't let you get away with slacking off. She's the waitress at the diner who doesn't pull her punches, whether you're the mailman, mayor or King of Egypt.
She will be painted as an elitist when in fact she simply refuses to apologize for being smart. And it's about time.
Tonight, the Convention continues with John Edwards accepting the Vice Presidential nomination at 9 pm CDT. Also on hand will be failed candidate Dennis Kucinich and Convention Chairman, Governor Bill Richardson.
When Ted speaks, though, there's no doubt where his allegiances lie. He revels in welcoming the delegates to a town he calls the cradle of liberty, and makes pointed comments comparing George Bush II with King George III. He draws a line from John Adams to John Kennedy to John Kerry, and conjures Paul Revere and the Boston Tea Party. He paraphrases FDR and evokes the marches in Selma and Birmingham in a speech that, save for references to the Berlin Wall and Tiananmen Square, could easily have been delivered 30 years ago.
But for all his fiery rhetoric, there are few sparks in his delivery. Ted is 72 years old, and could easily pass for 80. His oratory skills have weakened, and his voice croaks and cracks like that of a highschooler in his first play. He stumbles frequently: when he speaks of George Bush dividing the nation, he says that he sets "City against surba ... surban ... suburrrrr." God bless the old coot, he rails against Enron and Haliburton and says Dick Cheney should be "retired to an undisclosed location." He quotes John Adams' prayer that "none but the honest and wise" ever live in the White House, with the implication that the current resident is neither. But he is little more than the shambling wreck of his former self. Commentators refer to him as a Lion in Winter, but there's more winter than lion in evidence.
Old home week continues with Howard Dean's appearance. Dean's remarkably brief speech is little more than a compilation of his greatest hits. He opens by saying, "I was hoping for a reception like this. I was just hoping that it would be on Thursday night," as if he is unaware that Al Gore made almost the exact same joke 25 hours previously. He then goes on to recycle his time-honed maxims: "we ... represent the Democratic wing of the Democratic Party," "we can take our country back," "never again will we be ashamed to call ourselves Democrats."
I appreciate all that Dean has done for the Democratic Party. He is credited with demonstrating how to use the Internet to build a grassroots movement, but for me, his real strength was telling Democrats it was okay to be pissed off, and encouraging them to go on the offensive. The Democratic Party has become such a middle child, trying so hard to make everyone else happy. For me, Howard Dean is a descendant of that other Howard, Beale, who encouraged us all to say, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!" The Dean Scream, for which he was chided, was little more than the natural extension of his rallying cry. That said, his appearance at the Convention serves as a reminder of what a bullet we dodged when his ship finally sank. For all his past vigor, Dean comes across as the governor of a small New England state. He is an avuncular firebrand. There will be little press response to his remarks.
Then Barack Obama shows up and blows the roof off the joint.
Obama is being hailed as a rising star in the Democratic Party, despite the fact that he is, at present, merely a state senator. That is likely to change in November, as he is currently running unopposed for the US Senate. The Party's confidence in him is demonstrated by placing him in the plum keynote spot. His speech serves both to support that confidence, and to further narrow the field of Republicans who are likely to run against him.
Whoever serves on Obama's writing staff deserves a huge raise after this address. It is structurally brilliant. It serves to introduce him to the American public, the vast majority of whom - including, most likely, many of those at the Convention - have never heard of him. It highlights his particular experience of the American Dream: the son of a Kenyan student, himself the son of domestic servant; his mother a child of the heartland, his grandfather a veteran of World War II who signed up the day after Pearl Harbor. He tells us his parents gave him an African name, "believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success." He omits his Harvard education, understanding that in today's America, brains are perceived as a drawback.
Obama addresses his remarks to all Americans, "Democrats, Republicans, Independents," and this inclusion serves as the keystone of his address. He mocks the notion of red states and blue states, he holds the belief that we are all our brothers' and sisters' keepers, he takes to task the pundits and spin masters and ad peddlers. He uses repetition and parallel construction, creating a presentation that offers as much in sound as sense. He ties his fortunes in with Kerry and Edwards in a politics of hope, climaxing with a call for "the audacity of hope." After the rambling rhetoric of Kennedy and Dean, this is a speech.
Still, a speech is only as good as the speaker, and Obama brings the goods. Clips of the speech will be shown on the news, but as with Clinton's address the night before, the speech works best in totality. Obama holds the audience in his grasp, capturing them with a style which is compelling without the "speechifyin'" of a Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton. He is confident without being aggressive, portraying himself as "a skinny kid with a funny name." When he speaks of people he's met in his travels, it comes off not as a tired political trope, but as a tale from the heart. When he calls to "eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white," both blacks and whites rise in applause. In fact, his greatest flaw as a speaker right now is that he has difficulty judging when to hold for applause. As he learns to ride an audience's mood, to surf the swells of their response, his effectiveness will continue to grow.
Ron Reagan speaks next, in support of stem cell research. I become nostalgic for August of 2001, when this topic was supposed to be the defining issue of the Bush presidency. Reagan acquits himself well enough that his presence comes across as more than mere stunt casting, a Reagan opposing a Bush. He has the cantor of a higher pitched John Wayne, however, and all I can focus on is that he has the worst hair and teeth in show business. He manages to reduce Chris Matthews to gushing, though, so the appearance is worth my while.
Then comes Teresa Heinz Kerry. THK has been portrayed as something of a loose cannon, especially after she told a reporter to shove it earlier this week. I, of course, am all in favor of political pundits being told to shove it, so this is not a problem for me. Still, there is some concern about her presence at the convention. The audience is warmed up by a video playing out her now well-known saga: raised under a dictatorship in Mozambique, protesting apartheid in Johannesburg, meeting and marrying Jack "Ketchup King" Heinz, his early death in a helicopter accident, her second marriage to John Kerry. She is introduced by her son, Chris Heinz, who is young and funny and good-looking, which puts the audience more at ease. Then out comes this little lady in a bright red suit, who hugs her son, praises her children, and then says, "I hope it will come as no surprise to anyone that I have something to say."
Trepidation gone.
For my money, Heinz Kerry is the star of the show. She does not have the rhetorical chops of Barack Obama, but she speaks from the heart, and says what she thinks. In particular, she speaks on behalf of women. "My right to speak my mind," she tells us, "to have a voice, to be what some have called 'opinionated,' is a right I deeply and profoundly cherish. My only hope is that, one day soon, women - who have all earned the right to their opinions - instead of being labeled opinionated, will be called smart or well-informed, just as men are."
Heinz Kerry has certainly earned that right. In admitting that apartheid grew in South Africa despite the efforts of its opponents, she still proclaims the value of taking a stand, even if it fails. When she speaks of her concerns - the role of America in the world, civil liberties, the environment - she does so as someone who has devoted millions of dollars and thousands of hours to these causes. She speaks with pride of her husband and family. She does not pull her punches, saying, for example, that the Vietnam Memorial "testif[ies] to the awful toll exacted by leaders who mistake stubbornness for strength." Her words are pointed, even when her tone, at times, is light.
For me, her speech is weakest when it focuses on her husband, the candidate. Heinz Kerry has strong views. We can assume she shares many of them with her husband. Even when they do not agree, we can assume that he is man enough to accept their differences. She is speaking in support of John Kerry, of course, and so we must expect her to put forth his agenda. But for me, she makes her point best when she speaks of our need for "a leader willing to draw again on the mystic chords of our national memory and remind us of all that we, as a people, everyday leaders, can do," and then undercuts it with, "I think I've found just the guy."
The question put forth by the pundits is how THK will play in Peoria. There is a feeling among many that she it too highly spiced for the breadbasket of the nation. She speaks five languages, she speaks with an accent, she speaks her mind. There is a sense that a nation raised on mayonnaise with not be able to digest Dijon mustard. For truly, she is no more highly spiced than that. Chris Matthews compares her to coffee: when you first drink it, you find it bitter, but later you discover you can't live without it. I want to shake the pundits, to tell them that as long as you say she is strange, Middle America will find her strange. In truth, though, many of us have had a Teresa Heinz Kerry in our life. She is the sharp tongued aunt who tells you what you need to hear, even when your parents won't. She's the hard teacher you love because for once, someone won't let you get away with slacking off. She's the waitress at the diner who doesn't pull her punches, whether you're the mailman, mayor or King of Egypt.
She will be painted as an elitist when in fact she simply refuses to apologize for being smart. And it's about time.
Tonight, the Convention continues with John Edwards accepting the Vice Presidential nomination at 9 pm CDT. Also on hand will be failed candidate Dennis Kucinich and Convention Chairman, Governor Bill Richardson.
posted by John Bliss at
10:14 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home