8/16/00 4:00 p.m.
The Joy of Selling Out
My encounter with a protestor.

By Ramesh Ponnuru, NR senior editor

s I was walking into the Democratic convention today, I heard one of the protesters yell out, "You're a sell-out!" I wasn't sure whom he was condemning. But the next cry I heard was definitely directed at me: "You're a total sell-out to all people of color!" A white kid with a scraggly beard was pointing at me. My first thought, as always when faced with this accusation, was, "If I've sold out, where's my check?" I was, also as usual, too dumbfounded to say anything in response.

It seemed unlikely that my accuser knew that I worked for National Review. Was he hostile to me because I was covering the Democratic convention, or because I was attending it? In all probability, he thought I was a Democratic delegate. I suppose a case could be made that since Democratic policies work against the interests of most "people of color," his charge would then have some validity.

Finally, it occurred to me that if I had been a liberal, tied up in race and sure I was helping "my people" by being a Democratic activist, this little punk's comment would have been pretty hurtful. Before I knew it, I was smiling.

Notes on Night One, 08/15/00 10:20 a.m.
Jay Nordlinger, NR managing editor

uch to the vexation of some Republicans, the convention in Philadelphia offered little criticism of the Democratic party. There was certainly nothing harsh. (The big boys said such things as, "It's time for them to go," and, "I will restore honor and dignity to the Oval Office." If this is red meat, then I might as well be a vegetarian.) The Democrats in Los Angeles are far less shy. For example, Gov. Gray Davis of California said that he had saved the public school system of his state, after "twelve years of Republican neglect." Now, this is a convention. This is politics.

On the floor of the Republican convention, there was not one anti-Democratic sign. Not one lousy graffito. Here in L.A., however, the Democrats are free to wave anti-Bush signs. But will Katie Couric cluck-cluck over Democratic "nastiness"? She may instead celebrate the delegates' fighting spirit.

lexis Herman, the secretary of labor, is a surprisingly good speaker. She certainly has a greater gift for oratory than she does for policy.

When a video of Jack Kennedy was shown, a delighted wave of applause swept the hall. Bill Clinton, Hillary . . . sure. But, for sheer titillation, JFK is still the one.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein came up with one of the most charming lines I have ever heard a politician utter. When she stepped up to the rostrum, the California delegation went nuts waving "Dianne 2000" signs. Feinstein, embarrassed-seeming, said, "Oh, dear: Someone must have realized I'm running for reelection."

Sen. Barbara Mikulski is a helluva platform speaker. She is, in a way, a throwback, peeling the paint off of union-hall walls. She has a distinctive, intensely regional voice (greater Baltimore). She is not made for the television age, but Samuel Gompers, probably, would have loved her.

Sen. Barbara Boxer, speaking amidst her delegation (California), said, "I'm proud to be here with the people!" Oh, so that's the people! The delegates at the Republican convention — they were not the people. People, maybe, but not the people.

ere is one of the differences between the Democratic party and the Republican party, as scholar Charles Kesler points out: The Democrats are overtly proud of their party, constantly naming it, constantly hailing its (putative) achievements. (Said Barbara Boxer, repeatedly, "Only one party — the Democrats —  . . ."). The Republicans, on the other hand, hardly ever mention their party, instead talking about "America," etc. Speakers in L.A. have enthusiastically touted the Democratic party. But Republicans . . . they sort of whisper behind their hands.

s each Democratic woman senator spoke, she introduced the next one — and in the most amusing way: AND NOW, HERE IS "THE DEDICATED AND DYNAMIC MARY LANDRIEU"; AND NOW, HERE IS "THE INDOMITABLE AND DOWN-TO-EARTH PATTY MURRAY"; AND NOW, "HERE IS THE SMART AND TENACIOUS DIANNE FEINSTEIN"; AND NOW, HERE IS "THE HARD-WORKING AND HARD-CHARGING DEBBIE STABENOW" (a House rep. from Michigan who is running for the Senate).

And speaking of the hard-working and hard-charging Debbie Stabenow, she has one of the most stabbing Michigan accents I have ever heard (and God bless it, because I'm a Michigander — I wish I could spell the "a" in "Michigander" the way we say it; but it is unwritable). I almost fell off my chair when Stabenow said, "My message to Michigan's families: I'm on your side!" The vowels in "I'm on your side" would have made flowers wilt.

Further on the subject of Stabenow, she wanted the world to know that she is undyingly devoted to "the Family Medical Leave Act" — only she may wish to learn the name of that particular law: the Family and Medical Leave Act.

Looking down at the floor, I could have sworn I saw Howard Metzenbaum, seated, distinguished-looking, with that head of gleaming white hair. Then I noticed the man was sitting right next to the "Ohio" sign. It must, indeed, have been "Sen. Obnoxious (D., Oh.)," as James J. Kilpatrick used to write.

he star of the video introducing President Clinton was, of course, Nelson Mandela. His approval means everything to this president. Clinton has let us know in a hundred different ways that, if Mandela thinks he's okay, he's okay. He has even likened his Lewinsky-related suffering in 1998 to Mandela's long imprisonment. Mandela, however, is not a cut-and-dried saint. Recently, Iran prosecuted 13 Iranian Jews for spying (convicting ten of them; the other three told lies in order to save their own skin). The charges were obviously and absurdly false. The trial was completely sealed from public view. The prosecutor and judge were one and the same man. Yet Mandela — the world's moral arbiter, and not without reason — pronounced these vile show trials "fair and open." This to go with his praise of Quadaffi, Arafat, and Castro. Mandela is grateful (returning to Iran) for Tehran's (purely pragmatic) support of the African National Congress. But still . . .

ll right, I'll say it: I thought that Clinton's long walk through the corridors, before his speech, to that ridiculous portentous music, bordered on the fascist — in style, mind you. I thought — wholly involuntarily — of Mussolini and Leni Riefenstahl and certain scenes from the recent movie Gladiator. I also thought of that famous Apple commercial — the Orwell one — shown during a Super Bowl halftime, years ago. So help me, this is not right for the American republic.

fter the session, I found myself on a bus with a group of delegates. Overhearing them, I was struck by their utter devotion to — love for, really — Bill Clinton (who had just given a boffo speech). They were at least as passionate about him as any group of Republicans ever was about Ronald Reagan. They were also concerned about Joe Lieberman's (alleged) conservatism. Here are a few of their comments: "They should look into George Bush's background. It certainly wouldn't take forty million dollars [the amount spent by Ken Starr] to find something." About Clinton: "I miss him already." About Lieberman: "He was far out there on certain positions, like vouchers and affirmative action, but he is evolving — and fast [wink, wink]." "We have to swallow Lieberman, because Gore has to win — anything to get Gore to win. Then it's Gore, not Lieberman, who'll be the president."

Notes on Convention Eve, 08/14/00 8:00 a.m.
Jay Nordlinger, NR managing editor

iding out here, I was reminded of the precise moment when I lost respect for Al Gore. It was a long time ago, and it had to do with his wife's campaign against abhorrent rock lyrics (no, not "Blueberry Hill"; the stuff that incites murder, suicide, and other such things). There was a hearing in the Senate, at which Tipper and her sidekick, Susan Baker (wife of James A. Baker III), testified. Later came Frank Zappa, the renowned rocker. He was amazingly cruel about those two women: mocking them, ridiculing them, and attacking them "in a very personal and ugly way" (as President Bush would say). Al Gore, instead of rebuking Zappa, or walking out, or defending poor Tipper, was committed to kissing Zappa's arse. Gore kept telling him how wonderful he was, what a national treasure he was, what a genius he was. He was trying desperately to be cool, to ingratiate himself with the lout who had just insulted — publicly and nastily — his wife. I found this incredibly gutless and wrong; Gore seemed no man at all; he seemed like one of the worst types found in any high school: the guy who will say or do anything to be thought cool by the coolest kids; the guy who will jettison his own beliefs in a second if they cause him the least discomfort in the social world.

Later, of course, both Al and Tipper traveled to Hollywood, to reassure entertainment moguls that they (those wacky Gores) were, like, really hep. They were more concerned about Madonna's opinion of them than about the justice of Tipper's cause.

So what occasioned this political flashback? I was reading an article about famous delegates to the convention this year, and one of the delegates is . . . Frank Zappa's widow. Dick Cheney suggested at the Philadelphia convention that we will never think of Gore without thinking of Clinton; well, I myself will never think of Frank Zappa without thinking of Al Gore; for me, they are e'er entwined.

(Oh, could I say one more thing while I'm still flashing back? The night after that Senate hearing, Zappa appeared on Nightline, where Ted Koppel behaved exactly — exactly — as Al Gore had. Zappa was being shockingly rude and stupid, yet Koppel was constantly telling him how articulate he was, what a sage he was, what a brave and unique voice he was — begging him to engage seriously, or at least civilly, in the discussion. Really, you have never seen anything more pathetic.)

ate this afternoon, some of us NR types dropped by an unusual art gallery — a gallery in Santa Monica devoted to political cartooning. The gallery, owned by Josh Needling, is no less than unique: There isn't one like it in Washington; there isn't one like it in New York.

For a special exhibit, many stars from this world were on hand, including two who are very close to conservatives' hearts: Roman Genn and Michael Ramirez. Each of them is a jewel in the Right's crown, and NR readers are particularly familiar with Genn's work, seeing it in our every issue. Several of his NR covers were on display, and next to them was a brief bio of him, informing us that he grew up in Moscow and was arrested and otherwise harassed for his daring doodlings. Roman was actually published in Pravda. (Are there others who have appeared in both Pravda and NR?) He came to this country nine years ago, and is, as I judge it, as American as apple pie.

here are, believe it or not, Republicans here in L.A. — I mean, official ones. Jim Nicholson, chairman of the Republican National Committee, is making the rounds. His personal story is a compelling one: born very, very poor, scrapping his way up in classic Horatio Alger fashion. I told him, "Every time the Democrats attack the Republican party as the party of the rich, I think of you and laugh." He said (roughly), "I know what you mean: There are so many like me. So many small donors. And yet, there's that idiotic image" — the image of the Republican as the little fellow on the Monopoly card, dressed in top hat and tails.

The media, of course, contribute mightily — daily — to the perpetuation of this image. Some conservatives are embarrassed by mention of media bias; they consider it a sign of primitivism. Yet, as a friend of mine (a conservative editorial writer) once said, "Media bias is the 800-pound gorilla sitting smack in the middle of our table. We may try to ignore it; we may try to talk around it. But eventually, someone has to say, 'For heaven's sake, there's this great beast here, and we can't just pretend otherwise.'"

nother conservative made another apt point tonight: In Philadelphia, news stories were filled with accounts of lavish GOP parties — you know, a swirl of lobster and champagne. (For the record, I didn't see any of those parties, but that's another matter.) In Los Angeles, of course, there is endless money, and glamour, and lavishness, and material excess — all of it liberal Democratic. Will the monied side of this convention receive as much attention as the monied side of the Republicans'? Ah, there's a dumb question.

ob Long — Hollywood TV writer, contributing editor of NR, literary star at Yale, the writer of "Letter from Al" — lives here, and if you, dear conservatives, ever get to moping that there's no one really, really cool on the Republican side, just remember this: You have Rob Long. And that is something of a miracle.

e will end, I'm afraid, on a gloomy-ish note: When it comes to the presidential election, some conservatives are optimistic, others pessimistic. The pessimists tend to be pessimistic in the same way: They worry that the Bush campaign is just not tough enough, not savvy enough, not aggressive and hungry enough to beat Al Gore and his team. "Austin," these conservatives complain, is arrogant, complacent, and smug; and the Gore people are knife-fighters, ready to do anything to survive and prevail. Do the Bush people really know what the Gore campaign is going to throw at them — abetted, always, by the president of the United States, who is far from powerless? They say yes; I say . . . we'll see.