Superman comes to the Rockies

Glen Arbor Sun newspaper

Inspired by the late Norman Mailer’s essay on John F. Kennedy, “Superman Comes to the Supermarket” (Esquire magazine, November 1960).

DENVER — Could you hear it? The roar of 85,000 people rising to the upper stratosphere of Mile High Stadium (officially called Invesco Field) and bouncing off the Rocky Mountains to the west. Could you feel it? The vibration of 170,000 hands clapping in unison, and as many feet pounding the football bleachers as if their beloved John Elway were about to launch another improbable, come-from-behind touchdown drive. Could you sense the emotion? On the forty-fifth anniversary of Reverend Martin Luther King’s march on Washington, D.C. and his “I have a dream” speech, another African American stood at the altar of history, while in the crowd, thousands of descendents of slaves reached out their ebony hands and felt that next threshold, so close, in the late summer air.

Barack Obama — the son of a vagabond mother from Kansas and a dead-beat father from Kenya; the grandson of poor African sheepherders and a soldier in Patton’s army which marched to Berlin; the owner of the most compelling narrative journey of any presidential candidate in this country’s history (and conversely, according to our favorite “rags to riches” fable, the most quintessentially American of stories) and one who has called Kenya, Kansas, Hawaii, Indonesia, the south side of Chicago and Washington D.C. home — Barack Obama accepted the Democratic Party’s nomination for president on this Thursday night, and if he wins the election on November 4, the event (and his primary election triumph over Hillary Clinton) may go down as one of the greatest, equalizing events in our history … perhaps even mentioned in the same breath with Lincoln’s freeing of the slaves, Jackie Robinson’s breaking of baseball’s color barrier, King’s march on the Mall, Ali’s refusal to go to Vietnam.

Obama was cast in his most natural role tonight, as a rock star orator in front of a huge crowd. The junior senator from Illinois beat Hillary by a hair this spring, mostly because he dominated caucuses, that is, people voting in groups instead of alone. His strength has always been in his ability to inspire people en masse, especially the young, and especially African Americans. Specific policy proposals have sometimes lagged behind, but in a country depressed and enraged by eight years under a bullheaded idiot in the White House, lost jobs, an economic recession, an illegal and counterproductive war, thousands of dead or maimed soldiers, a flooded city, a collapsed bridge, and faith in government that’s never been lower … inspiration itself is not unwelcome. That’s why David Axelrod and the rest of Obama’s campaign staff decided to present him not inside the dark, cozy Pepsi Center, where the first three days of the convention had taken place, but in the football stadium, out in front of 85,000, the nation and the world.

The strategy had worked well during the primary season, as Obama campaigned in front of loud, boisterous crowds from Iowa to South Carolina, his two most crucial victories. More recently, he had played basketball in Kuwait with enthusiastic U.S. soldiers waiting to deploy to Iraq, and after appearing with Israeli and Palestinian leaders in front of panoramic shots of Jerusalem, he seduced as many as 100,000 ecstatic Europeans at the Siegesäule victory column in Berlin. The intention here was not just to show Obama’s populist popularity with the masses, but to all but establish him as an active president, thus creating an air of inevitability. Indeed, while on his Middle East tour, Iraqi leader Nouri al-Maliki agreed with Obama’s timetable for withdrawing U.S. troops — a blow to Bush, and John McCain. Multiple heads of state in Europe greeted him with open arms (though not too warm, for fear of awakening the anti-European, anti-anyone-outside-our-borders sentiment on the American right), thereby putting Obama in a position to influence White House foreign policy even before the November election. And tonight, Obama appeared in Denver on a stage of Roman columns that sought to resemble the White House. If he looked presidential enough, the thinking went, then enough voters will actually vote for him as president.

Family Ties

There was, of course, another image that the powers that be in the Democratic Party wanted to burn into the minds of voters: the Obamas as family people — non-condescending, non-threatening, solid, Christian, Midwestern, even mundane. This image was far preferable to the Hollywood rock star image the McCain campaign was trying to manipulate, or The New Yorker magazine’s provocative parody cover of Barack in a turban, Michelle toting a Kalashnikov, a picture of bin Laden on the wall (of the Oval Office) and an American flag burning in the fireplace (note to readers: the Obamas are devout Christians, as is much of Barack’s ancestral Kenya … and Obama favors military incursions into Pakistan, if necessary, to find and kill Mr. Jihad).

On Monday night, after Michelle Obama gave her convention speech, and used familial words such as mother, daughter, grandfather and family 47 times over 42 paragraphs, their daughters, Sasha and Malia, joined her on stage and talked to their dad through a giant video screen. Barack was in Kansas City, wearing an American flag on his lapel and watching the first night of the convention at the home of a white family of four while sitting on couches in their living room. When Barack addressed his daughters and told them he’d be back in Denver in a few days, a typical framed wedding photo of his Caucasian hosts was visible on the mantel behind him.

Norman Mailer wrote that the scene when John F. Kennedy arrived at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles for the 1960 Democratic National Convention resembled an Italian wedding, in its pomp, its pastel colors, the cloud of cigarette smoke permeating every ounce of space, the seemingly Mafioso gang accompanying the Kennedys, and even Kennedy’s sparkling white teeth, which Mailer noticed immediately.

Obama’s team has appealed to Kennedy analogies when useful — they share youth, a handsome presence and beautiful wives, minority status (Kennedy as Roman Catholic, Obama as African American), civil rights and political crossover appeal — but shied away from them whenever anyone mentions Dallas or 1963. Axelrod and company have also milked the obvious analogies to Abraham Lincoln, another Illinois senator, historic unifier and civil rights champion. Obama announced his candidacy for president on the steps of the state capital in Springfield, Ill. in February 2007 and returned there the weekend before the convention to introduce Delaware Senator Joe Biden as his running mate.

If Kennedy’s convention was an Italian wedding, Obama’s party was a live episode of “The Cosby Show” or any American television show in which the viewers are supposed to connect with the typical family on screen. Forget pomp, or skin color, The Audacity of Hope or troop levels in Baghdad. See the mom and pop, and their two daughters, on stage (Barack has white teeth too, but more eye-popping is the flag on his lapel), looking up into the night sky after the speech and seeing, perhaps for the first time, all 85,000 people, roaring like adoring fans, and fireworks, and sharp shooters ominously lining the perimeter of Mile High Stadium. Could the daughters actually grasp the immensity of what was happening? This was far beyond American Idol!

Supporting Cast

Of course, this was only the curtain call — the final, tear-jerking scene before the cut to commercials. The real drama, remember, had been taking place off-stage for months — since the dawn of 2008. And how close the directors came to settling for a completely different cast of characters. How different the Democratic Party’s scripted show would have been had Hillary and Chelsea, and maybe even Bill, taken the stage tonight. Is there a sitcom television corollary to Mom supplanting Dad as the family breadwinner? Dad and his ego, his bygone days and his libido, sitting back on their haunches to bask in his own presidential glory days … while their daughter, yes their daughter, announcing that Mom is her hero now.

How could a man, who was once the leader of the free world for eight prosperous years, stomach this abuse? Well, he did, on Tuesday night of the convention. Chelsea introduced Hillary, first by narrating a documentary video about the New York senator’s life, and then by preceding her onstage. Hillary, the perpetual working class, Crown Royal-swilling, red meat-devouring girl from suburban Chicago, took the mic and announced herself as a “proud mother, a proud Democrat, and a proud Barack Obama supporter” … but not as a “proud wife.” And the jolly, red-cheeked husband from Hope, Arkansas — the statesman who made a gallant run for universal healthcare, talked tough to Slobodan Milosovic, fought off two Republican election campaigns, succumbed to a White House intern and then survived an impeachment — clapped robotically at first before finding his statesman’s stride and flashing his million dollar smile. Suddenly, the donkeys were braying in unison and all was well again in the house that FDR built.

Everything seemed to be going the way of the Obamas, for the party’s other first family had graciously stepped aside to let them pass (despite “18 million cracks in the highest glass ceiling in the land”), and the recognizable guests at the ball were all waxing poetic about Barack, hope and change. There was Howard Dean, the Vermont populist still recovering from his enigmatic Edvard Munch impersonation during the 2004 campaign, Nancy Pelosi, the tough-talking new-agey grandmother who scared heartland conservatives more than a walk through Golden Gate Park at night, Joe Biden, who was trying his hardest not to trip over his words and offend anyone who didn’t resemble a hard hat Delaware commuter. There was Al Gore, the Moses of global climate change awareness who still needed help to pep up his speeches, and John Kerry, who briefly considered un-learning his French and his love for New England clams to make another run for the White House, and Dennis Kucinich, the feiry, short guy from Cleveland who carries a mini Constitution in his coat pocket and claims to have seen UFOs. There were the new guys on stage: Mark Warner from Virginia, Brian Schweitzer from Montana and Evan Bayh from Indiana — all states the Obama team thinks they can win in November. There was even Ted Kennedy, almost literally risen from the dead, to stump for the guy who filled in for him at the Wesleyan graduation commencement this past spring.

The facelift Denver got for the Democratic National Convention didn’t make it feel all that genuinely Rocky Mountain-esque, unless you count leather boots and steaks all over town (and the “Obamanator” beer — not too dark, not too light — at the Wynkoop Brewery, which boasted an alcohol content of about six percent and teamed with the thin mountain air to kick your ass if you were from out of town). This convention was equal parts Washington D.C. and Hollywood, to the chagrin of populist writer and author of The Uprising, David Sirota, who left the Beltway to get away from its constant political fraternity party. Sirota was done in by fatigue and five-o’clock shadow when I met him Thursday afternoon to get our press passes for the Obama speech at Mile High Stadium, and the realization that all of the economic players from the centrist Clinton camp and the Chicago School of Economics (Milton Friedman) who sought to keep Barack a laissez faire, NAFTA-loving capitalist were here too, wining and dining each other. (When Obama assured working-class Ohio voters during the primaries that he would rework the North American Free Trade Agreement to keep their jobs in the Midwest, his Hyde Park chum Austin Goolsby was telling the Canadians not to worry, this talk was just political, and their free trade deals were in no danger.

As for Hollywood, the celebrities were everywhere: Stevie Wonder, Cheryl Crow, Will.i.am, Bruce Springsteen, Darryl Hannah test-driving electric cars, Ben Affleck, Rosario Dawson and Tai Diggs participating in revolutionary monologues at the Starz Movie Gallery; the Kennedys at events all over town, serving as a constant reminder that, if he wins in November, Obama will inherit the torch not from a Clinton but from JFK. In this hype, even former presidents (Jimmy Carter) are treated like gods, and when pedestrians, delegates or self-righteous journalists cross paths with them (at a men’s urinal in the Hyatt, for example) the immediate impulse is to ask for an autograph or to text message everyone back home with the happy news.

How change? How much race?

The most on-point criticism of Obama has been that his rhetoric is vague, that he offers few concrete suggestions to engender hope or to enact change. His speechwriters knew this, and they made sure that, on this night at Mile High Stadium, he addressed policy proposals, halfway through his presentation, as specifically as possible but without sounding wonky. Obama built to this crescendo through familiar themes: thanking family and the powers-that-be in the Democratic Party; briefly rehashing his life story; appealing broadly to populist sympathies; referring to the tragedies of New Orleans and Iraq; bashing George W. Bush and Dick Cheney; and appealing to the inherent greatness of this country and to the American dream.

And then, he got specific:

“So … let me spell out exactly what that change would mean if I am president. … Change means a tax code that doesn’t reward the lobbyists who wrote it, but the American workers and small businesses who deserve it. … Unlike John McCain, I will stop giving tax breaks to companies that ship jobs overseas, and I will start giving them to companies that create good jobs right here in America. … I’ll eliminate capital gains taxes for the small businesses and start-ups that will create the high-wage, high-tech jobs of tomorrow. … I will — listen now — I will cut taxes — cut taxes — for 95 percent of all working families, because, in an economy like this, the last thing we should do is raise taxes on the middle class. … And for the sake of our economy, our security, and the future of our planet, I will set a clear goal as president: In 10 years, we will finally end our dependence on oil from the Middle East.”

Later, Obama offered his trademark crossover appeals to personal responsibility and compromise — facets of his rhetoric that have drawn the ire of radicals on both sides of the political aisle, and some, like Jesse Jackson Sr., who accuse him of being tougher on blacks than whites. Obama reminded the crowd that he opposed the U.S. invasion of Iraq, the single biggest difference between him and John McCain, the cause of so much bloodshed and so many ruined lives, and the reason we’ve all but forgotten about the war in Afghanistan and the hunt for bin Laden.

And then, nearly at the end of his speech, he dared to pet the sleeping giant, the factor that may still decide the contest to come, and measure how far this nation has come since the shackles of slavery …

Throughout the presidential race Obama has resisted overplaying the race factor. He and his young African-American “post racial” club that includes Newark, N.J. Mayor Corey Booker, Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick, Harold Ford Jr. and Jesse Jackson Jr. understand that a black candidate appealing mostly to black issues can never ascend beyond the status of city major or state representative. These were the pitfalls of Jesse Jackson Sr. and Al Sharpton in their day. Reports of nooses appearing at some Obama campaign rallies in the Deep South during the primary season were downplayed or squashed by his team; Barack was intentionally slow to respond to the school racism case in Jena, La., and he has said very little about affirmative action. When the South Carolina primary looked like it might be a close contest, Michelle, not Barack (she being a true African-American, as in the first adjective modifying the second; he is African while also being American) was dispatched there to win black votes.

Even so, I expected that Obama might make more out of his official nomination coming on the anniversary of Dr. King’s “I have a dream” speech. He didn’t drop a reference to the 1963 march on Washington until the end of the night:

“It is that American spirit, that American promise, that pushes us forward even when the path is uncertain; that binds us together in spite of our differences; that makes us fix our eye not on what is seen, but what is unseen, that better place around the bend. … And it is that promise that, 45 years ago today, brought Americans from every corner of this land to stand together on a Mall in Washington, before Lincoln's Memorial, and hear a young preacher from Georgia speak of his dream. … But what the people heard instead — people of every creed and color, from every walk of life — is that, in America, our destiny is inextricably linked, that together our dreams can be one.
‘We cannot walk alone,’ the preacher cried. ‘And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.’
America, we cannot turn back ...”

As the crowd of nearly 100,000 left Mile High Stadium and was corralled into tiny walkways that inched back toward downtown Denver, I found myself sharing breathing space with a young African-American woman, her white Jewish husband and their two interracial children. I asked her if she had expected to hear more King in Obama’s speech. Not at all, she replied, adding, gently, that we whites all overplay Obama’s skin color. Remember, she said, he’s half white … his mom’s from Kansas. Making tonight all about race would have done an injustice to King.

No more than five minutes later, when the herd lost its patience, and a couple activists broke down a temporary chain link fence and climbed through the space to an open field, and breathing room, I heard the same woman cheer as she quoted King, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, Free at Last!”

Founding editor Jacob Wheeler was at the Democratic National Convention in Denver last month reporting and blogging for Chicago-based In These Times magazine.

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