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He Stoops to Conquer
The Black Brimmer American Bar and Grille in downtown Manchester (NH) is not usually a daytime venue for anything, bar the City Hall gang who use the place as a lunchtime watering hole. But 9:45 am on Saturday, July 31, 1999 found a clutch of photographers huddled outside the "nite spot", swapping cigarettes and war stories and occasionally scanning a deserted Elm Street. Entering the Brimmer, we were asked to fill out a brief registration form and guided toward coffee and Danish. We helped ourselves and found seats with uninterrupted views of the stage. By 10:00, the place was starting to fill up. We shuffled up and made space for a pair of elderly couples. At 10:20 - fairly punctual for a politician - Bill Bradley arrived to spontaneous applause. I knew little of Bradley, other than having read John McPhee's essay on the Knicks' fabled basketball player (A Sense of Where You Are, 1965). I had deliberately avoided reading anything about the former New Jersey Senator's bid for the Democratic Presidential nomination. I wanted to see the man, get a sense of his being. He's tall, but not as tall as you might expect for a former basketball player (I suspect they've got taller in the 30 years since Bradley dominated the court). He has a paunch. His smile is attractively lop-sided and his eyes twinkle. There's more than a touch of the Jimmy Stewarts about him. One of his first acts on entering the room was to sign a basketball proffered by an eight-year-old boy. Ann nudged me in the ribs. "I knew I should have brought mine!" she hissed. After preambles by a couple of local Democrat honchos, Bradley took the stage. He wore a gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the pocket stuffed with pens. His chinos were wrinkled. He spoke for about half an hour. He admitted to having no specific proposals - they would be coming "in the fall". Instead, he outlined his positions on a variety of issues: campaign finance reform (for it); gun control (ditto); wider access to healthcare; a "war on poverty" through wealth redistribution. Bradley spoke of his childhood and his background, his motivation, his "legacy" should he be elected. He is an effective and charismatic speaker, with an attractive line in self-deprecating humor. He speaks of "seeing the good in your neighbor", of "the scandal of poverty", and uses words like "stewardship" (of the environment, of the economy). Campaign finance reform is his major issue. He deplores the influence of "soft money" and PACs. He is running his campaign in accordance with his beliefs, accepting no more than $1,000 from individual donors. To date, this approach has garnered him some $11m (Common Cause), much of it through his website. And therein lies the paradox of Bradley's campaign. He's not playing by the "rules" of current campaign funding, an approach which almost guarantees that he will be overwhelmed by lesser candidates with bigger war chests. Bill Bradley speaks to your soul. He taps into my generation's residual idealism (interestingly enough, there were few young people at the Brimmer rally). He seems to be a man of integrity, of intelligence, honesty and sincerity. He dares you to live up to him. And he stands about as much chance of being elected as a snowball in hell. A Gore/Bradley ticket, on the other hand... August 1, 1999 |
Home© 1999 John Blower