Welcome, to the Hotel California
Monday, August 14, 2000
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From Los Angeles, California
The Democratic National Convention
"� And still those voices are calling from far, away."
The big story here, as we begin Democratic Convention Week is whether Hillary and Bill will cast a shadow so long and wide that Vice President Gore may never see the light again.
Late last week Hillary was passing the word in New York that it was SHE, not Gore, who was the behind-the-scenes mastermind behind everything that went right within the Clinton/Rodham administration.
Over the weekend, Hillary did an interview, on CNN do discuss that very issue. First, she said she was there to help "Al and Joe" (which immediately diminished them both). Second, she did the interview from inside the Staples Center - the site of the Democratic National Convention. What message did that send?
Translation? "Not so fast, Beta-Boy!"
"� We haven't had that spirit here since 1969."
Al and Joe will be coming to a convention in which their support is, at best, very, very tepid around the edges. In yesterday's LA Time's curtain-raiser, Jim Newton (with the help of no less than 28 other reporters) wrote about Congressman Jesse Jackson, Jr. who "twice resisted a direct response" to the question "should Blacks vote for Gore"
"The only option is Al Gore. But if there was another campaign
that was speaking to our issues that had the possibility of
winning, we should support that campaign."
"�Plenty of room at the Hotel California."
There are many differences between the two conventions. The first is the sheer size of Los Angeles. In Philadelphia, once you were in center city you could pretty much walk from anywhere to anywhere. My first night here I got a cab to take me from my hotel, right near the Staples Center, to a restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. The fare? Fifty One Dollars round trip. I could have flown there on Southwest, cheaper.
Another difference: The police and protesters have an edge they didn't appear to have in Philadelphia. There were 15 cops in the lobby of my hotel Sunday afternoon. The first protest - an anti-death penalty deal with some anti-breast feeding protesters on site, just to confuse me - seemed like a pre-season football game: Full speed, full pads, first teams, for the first half.
Businesses in the area surrounding the Staples Center have boarded up their windows in preparation. I told one reporter, if this were Miami, I'd be glued to the Weather Channel.
"� Living it up at the Hotel California."
I am staying at the Hyatt Regency at Macy's Square. It is part of a small shopping center anchored by Macy's. After all these years, I'm living over the store.
Saturday night I went to the party welcoming the media. I asked the head of the catering service how many people they had prepared for: 20,000. Think about that when your sister, brother-in-law, and their three kids invade your backyard for a barbeque this Labor Day and you are tempted to complain about having too many people to cook for.
"� I was thinking to myself, this could be heaven, and this could be hell."
I decided to walk back to my hotel, a trek of about 12 blocks. The hotel is at the intersection of Hope and 7th Streets. Of course, I got lost.
I stopped to ask one of the many knots of police standing around on street corners, "can you tell me how to find Hope?"
A cop said - this is true - "Well, that's an existential question."
I said - this is true, too - "Great. 17,327 cops on the streets and I get the one guy going to night school to get his masters in philosophy."
"�Up ahead in the distance, i saw a shimmering light."
The end of the story is, the cop sent me in the wrong direction. I finally realized it and, after getting into a section which was most assuredly not full of happy convention-goers, and crossing streets two and three times to avoid people drinking from paper bags, I finally found my way back to the hotel.
Moral? You have to find the way to Hope on your own.
"� You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."
� 
