at John Grady’s request, I pulled this out of the files . . .
The Franken Fracas
(Democracy in Action – Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!)
Manchester, NH —
Howard Dean’s Town Hall appearance
High Noon, the Sunday just before Super Tuesday
Hundred year old theater, core heart downtown Manchester,
in a city & state completely consumed by the primary;
every corner and window painting a candidate’s name in red white & blue.
Beatlemania outside the theater.
Obviously the hot show of the hour.
Frank Luntz, David Brooks, Al Hunt, Paul Begala, Jonathan Alter . . .
Every seat filled,
Back of floor and side aisles packed with cameras and media and people all ages in parkas.
After the stump speech, the Q & A starts,
By 2nd question an early twenty-something guy approaches the hostess with the mike in the aisle,
Weird vibes from question man
Hostess begs off with promise he’d be next.
I’m crouching right beside him, also waiting to ask a question,
Then Howard asks to take one from the balcony,
hostess uses the opportunity to move up to front row,
Suddenly Question Man starts to yell out about Dean not being a real Democrat, and that he’s a phony, and why doesn’t he go after Dick Cheney, and what about the drug war, and all these non-sequitors, and everybody’s kinda “huh”, until he mentions Lyndon LaRouche and everybody’s “ohh.”
Some guys in dark suits try to talk him down, he doesn’t stop,
More big guys in jackets show up,
Huddle around him, then inch the huddle up the aisle to the back of the house –
darkest opposite back corner from lobby doors
Dean keeps talking to the next audience questioner . . .
the show goes on.
As soon as the huddle gets past the final row,
Another guy stands up in his seat,
Bigger, louder, five rows behind me, picks up the rant,
It’s choreographed!
Professional activists!
How many are here?
Coordinated political terrorists emerging from among us . . .
“You’re not a real Democrat! What about the drug war? You’re part of the establishment!”
Other dark suits try to reason with the guy.
They coax him out of the seat to the aisle where
There’s only me and some other girl crouched down waiting to ask a question.
The acting ushers are thinking he’s a reasonable New Hampshire theater-goer –
their hand held politely to guide him to the rear.
I see his eyes, the face, the anger, the punching finger-pointing,
“No way he’s going back.”
Most staffers and “security” have left with the first heckler.
No one’s in charge.
Sure enough, as soon as he steps out of the row of seats, he bolts down the aisle for the stage.
Big guy, six-footer, big belly, storming right toward me,
Nobody but me and the girl between him and the stage,
I leap up from the crouch
Throw a shoulder & back block into his middle.
solar-plexus bull’s-eye thump
Whale stops
Bounce, blubber blubber,
My feet regain grip on downward slopping aisle, and he charges ahead again, boom!
Stay low, bounce back, “solid force,” one foot way back as deep anchor.
I’m turned sideways, he tries to go around behind,
No one’s stopping him,
“Stay with him. Be a wall,” pushing back,
He tries to go around front, we crash into the row of seats,
Eyes closed, using The Force, responding to how his body moved,
This is my home turf — a theater concert aisle 🙂
He keeps pushing, no one comes to the rescue,
Stay low, shoulder to his mid-section, following his center, pushing back,
Everybody’s yelling, finger pointing, Dean supporters trying to shut him down, suits got their huddle back.
I’m like, “Holy shit!”
As soon as he’s to the back, a girl stands up right in front of me and starts yelling at Dean.
I say, “Hey you guys already had lots of time, you said more than anybody else already,” and I engage her in a conversation just as she started her speech and kept her attention and she stopped yelling.
And while I’m talking to her, the big angry immovable whale train guy is being ushered out in the back of the theater where it’s impassable with cameras and press and campaign staff and
The passive campaign ‘security’ is about as tough as a church so
Suddenly the guy appears over the back wall in the one open spot where some camera had vacated.
And he starts all over again – Dean n Cheney, loud n angry . . .
I feel like – “I’m dealing with the girl” who was next in their choreography,
and had just shown you can be pro-active & stop jumbo-guy, but
Nobody’s stopping him
And I’m holding the girl with words but
He keeps on yelling , and meanwhile
Dean and the questioner are trying to keep talking over it.
Finally I go, “This is nuts,” and I leave the aisle to stop him.
Just as I get there, there’s all sorts of people sorta tapping him on the shoulder,
and one guy in a parka (turns out, Al Franken) tries to pull him back from the partition,
The guy lashes out, throws his arm,
Action, people, arms, dark, flurry
Parka-guy gets thrown to the ground
Just as he does that – the violence has escalated and camera gear is at risk —
the Road Warriors’ babies are threatened.
and they mobilize like Special Forces, but
Too many move for the guy at once, and
He falls back into a tri-pod, and a camera goes over, but
There’s so many people, it doesn’t have room to hit the ground.
The fire exit door’s kicked open with a bang
The area fills with sunlight
A body flies out, coat flapping like a cape.
The door slams shut.
Emergency Room doctors rushing to check cameras’ vital signs
Big parka body still on his back on the floor,
I look down — it’s Al!
“Al, no way!”
He’s holding half a pair of glasses, broken at the nose,
One hand blindly fumbling among a million dark feet for the other half.
Finds it. Holds them together. “Oh shit.”
He stays on the floor, kind-of mild shock. Been there.
“I’ll just stay here. Safe. Legs shaky. Don’t stand.”
A few more seconds, it’s getting dangerous being down there, too many feet.
Me and some other guy each reach a hand down and pull him up.
He’s kinda stunned, looking at us funny,
Faces a foot apart.
We’ve talked a few times, there’s recognition,
He’s staring right at me almost scared, stunned, looking for an answer.
“Good job, man. Way to go!” reassure him. “You did the right thing.”
He’s staring at me, nodding like he’s coming back.
“Yeah, he broke my glasses,” is all he can say.
Dean’s voice fades back in from the distance.
Finally some friend nods, “Let’s go this way,”
And leads Al off to fix the specks, and
He gets taped up and is back in the game in minutes.
A bunch of YouTubes of the Summit can be found here.
The Grand Humanity Jam Continues
Summer Summit ’09
The “We Made It This Far” Anniversary.
July 31st — August 9th, 2009
An historically great crew reuniting . . .
Amassive scene recreated . . .
Look homeward, Angels.
* * *
Overview: (July 31st thru August 9th)
August Long Weekend (7/31-8/3) — Opening Reception, and gatherings at various lakes.
Wednesday Night Summit (8/5) — at the new District nightclub, a block from Portage & Main.
Friday Night — “A Midsummer Night’s Social” (8/7) — the reunion “dance” at Earl Grey Community Club.
Saturday Afternoon (8/8) — Ball Hockey under the Dome, Yoga in the Park, and Brunch on the Bridge. Saturday Evening — various house parties.
* * *
BREAKDOWN: (for Woodstock in Winnipeg)
With all the characters, the settings, the soundtrack, and the images, we’re recreating Winnipeg life in our time.
Tuesday or Wednesday morning I’ll be on CBC’s “Information Radio” with Terry Macleod talkin about all this — 89.3 FM in the Peg, or you should be able to hear it here: www.cbc.ca/inforadio/
FRIDAY, July 31st — “Christmas in July” — Opening Reception and welcoming home out-of-towners at a classic house in River Heights. (7 PM on)
LONG WEEKEND:
Gimli: the 120th annual Islendingadagurinn festival weekend 🙂 Gotta crew. Contact me if you wanna joyn in. (Andthe joy will be emphasized. Not to mention Jerry Garcia’s birthday celebrations on Saturday.) Lake of the Woods: a singularly dense mob of old gangsters in the hood.
Monday — travel back to The Peg
Tuesday — chill, regroup, recoup, and reacquaint with family.
Full moon is August 6th — so it’s going to be blazing for the next three nights. 😉
WEDNESDAY night (Aug 5th) at The District: 6PM till 2AM last call.
177 Lombard at Rorie, a block from Portage & Main. Includes separate nice hundred-person restaurant with full dinner menu for those who want to start with an excellent meal.
“It’s super-deluxe comfy everything — like somebody’s really nice house.”
It’s a just-opened nightclub, like one of those secret New York hideaways — antique couches and mystical chairs — 20-foot ceilings — surround-sound music — flat-screens, pool tables — and it’s all a wireless hot-zone for Skyping the missing.
* Evening includes 200 of the best songs you ever heard at a party in 1979.
7:30 or 8 PM — Group Photos at nearby Hollywood & Vine signpost. I mean, Haight & Ashbury. I mean, Portage & Main. Take your own, and/or we’ll shoot from a ladder and have 8x10s by the Friday dance.
(click on picture and it will expand)
THURSDAY — 1PM — Tour of Kelvin High School! Including photo-ops around the classrooms, in the stepped theater on the 2nd floor,and on the classic Kingsway stairs outside. Followed of course by a trip to “Tubby’s” for some Italian health food, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some beer & wine involved.
Evening — much needed time with family and pillow. Or . . .
The Pre-Kelvin “Gang” Summit — the River Heights Junior High Reunion at a house in River Heights, and maybe a bar-b-que at “the club.”
FRIDAY night (Aug 7th) — A Midsummer Night’s Social — the big “Grad Dance” 30 years later 😉 at Earl Grey Community Club — 7:30-PM till 1-AM (and counting) — with theCowpokes, One Life,etc. (see details below)
SATURDAY afternoon (Aug 8th) — 1 PM The All-Star Celebrity Old-timers Ball Hockey Game — at “The Dome” at Grosvenor School, btwn Guelph & Wilton.
1:00 “Yoga in The Park with Francie” — in a peanut park near the hockey game.
Brunch on the Bridge
The Sals on the Provencher Bridge
or with nearby alternates maybe it’ll be Food at The Forks 🙂 — four restaurant/bars with patios:
Muddy Waters BBQ patio holds 60, no reservations, the best place.
Beachcombers – patio holds 80.
Finn’s – terrace holds 50, 150 inside, serves “pub food”
Spaghetti Factory – has a patio
The Tallest Poppy – Saturday all-day breakfast – at Logan & Main (Dunc’s place)
Saturday Night (Aug 8th) — It ends as it all began . . . with a circuit of house parties.
Sunday (Aug 9th) — multi-denominational church service — time and location TBD.
The All-Volunteer Executive Improvised Winging-it Committee —
Brian Hassett — Prankster-at-Large, Sherpa Shepard, Lead Detective on the case
Bill Hodgson (from Philadelphia) – Official Bandleader Composer & Conductor
Duncan Lennox — The Wizard of Wednesday — and Cent-Com Commander
Joanne Gillies — Mother of the House, Saturday’s Reunion Award Winner
Kim McDuff — “Lady McDuff” — President of Earl Grey Community Club
Jeff Cantin (from Boston) –The Gang’s Official Curator of Photography
Su Lowery (from Victoria) — Bureau Chief — West Coast Operations
Diana McGhee (from Oman) – Official Midsummer’s Poster Artist
Leslie Stafford — Official Reunion Media Relations Liaison
Francie Adamson (from Toronto) – Official Reunion Artist
Joseph & Pat Myles — Honourary Reunion Chaperones
Mrs. Terry Kupchak — Honourary Reunion Teacher
Mrs. Jamieson — Honourary Reunion Teacher
Mr. Hutton — Honourary Reunion Teacher
Mr. Belton — Honourary Reunion Teacher
Bobby Stahr – Senior Reunion Prankster
[yes, that is The Stanley Cup’s profile]
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Prairie buffaloes are returning to the herd from 3 continents and 25 different cities, and counting. Victoria, Vancouver, Whistler, Banff, Calgary, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Regina, Kenora, Hamilton, Oakville, Mississauga, Toronto, Barrie, Ottawa, Boston, Buffalo, Detroit, Philadelphia, Washington, Tampa Bay, Miami, London Ontario, London England, and Oman in Southwest Asia.
From the left edge to the right coast, from Argyle to Ravenscourt, from St. Paul’s to St. Mary’s, from the class of ’65 to the class to ’07, from grey hair to pink hair
This is multi-school, multi-year, multi-national, & multi-disciplinary.
There’s going to be music, video, photography, spoken word, oil paintings, posters, improv madness, and the whole thing’s gonna be some kindatheater! 😉
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
“A Midsummer Night’s Social” (Hodgstock) — every Winnipeg musician you ever heard of will be playing Friday August 7th at the Hodgson social at Earl Grey.
“From Woody & Hank,
to Jerry & Frank.” There will be versions of:
The Clearwater Boys (bluegrass quintet to open), the Cowpokes, both acoustic and electric, One Life, Million Civilians, The Wake, The Yipmen, Inna Riddim, you name it.
Think Rust Never Sleeps meets The Last Waltz.
It’ll start acoustically, gently, inspiringly, with a greatest-hits of wooden music — bluegrass into folk into country into unplugged rock n roll;
Followed by scorching electric rock, from dancing classics to shredding mayhem,
and through it all streams a steady flow of guest performers and different Band configurations.
At Earl Grey Community Club: 7:30 – PM till 1- AM (and counting). $10
360 Cockburn St. — at Fleet St. — btwn Stafford & Pembina, and Corydon and Grant. And may we suggest coming by Duffy’s cab. Parking isn’t real great, and you’re going to be way past drinking-&-driving by the end of this. 😉
We all know about Neil Young at Kelvin, but Earl Grey Junior High was where he went when he first arrived in the Peg during the start of grade 9 — and this next door Community Club was where he was a 45-playing DJ for the canteen dances, and is where he played his very first gig with his very first band! — (The Jades)
And besides all this madness, anybody can arrange any other kind of a “just us” gatherings! Could you imagine?!?
And of course there’s a “Kelvin 30th” Facebook group for those so inclined.
Most common comments so far — “Before, I wouldn’t want to do this, but now I really do!” — “This just made my summer!” — “This is fun already!”
Most common comments from those Not in the Class of ‘79 — “I wouldn’t wanna go to my own class reunion, but THIS is gonna be wild!” — “I went to my high school reunion and it was fun, but this sounds crazy!”
The Grand Humanity Jam continues . . . .
I wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t for you.
This festival is made possible by generous contributions from Google and Facebook. 😉
Post script:
Here’s when Linda Ranson and I did Breakfast Television …
or here’s the Shaw TV lead story …
here’s what it was like flying into the Peg for the first time in ten years … and getting met by the Rolls …
and here’s from the Portage & Main photo shoot adventure …
and here’s the Christmas In July party at the Myles’s . . .
and here’s Harv’s footage of a dozen class of ’79ers at Tom Hendry’s mural on the second floor . . .
FANTASTIC, inspired filmmaking. (I gotta look for more Todd Haynes.) Maybe I was super-well prepared for it by this late date, but as it was, I could easily follow it, and it painted a brilliant million-dollar-picture.
Obviously the unsuspecting could be caught off guard by the allegory and non-linear storyline, and I can see how it might come across as not entertaining for non Dylan fans — but for those familiar with this major artist’s life and work, it’s full of humor and impeccable detail in scene recreations (which are then played with), all mixed in with archival footage of Greenwich Village and such — especially the dustbowl Hattie Carroll, and all the Don’t Look Back reenactments! 🙂 . . . the press conference, the hotel rooms, the encounter with the Duchess, and the overly analytical fan!
I just LOVED the script! How it skipped around in time, but still flowingly told a chronological story. It was like a merge between Bob’s books Tarantula and Chronicles — poetically licensed autobiography (see, also: Kerouac, Jack).
And nobody seems to talk much about the editing, but it’s Brilliant! And the sound editing, and cinematography.
It was a lot like Masked & Anonymous — both very surreal musical dramedies starring Another Side of Bob Dylan — both with similar wonderful soundtracks of original Bob mixed with other’s versions — and both featuring a calliope of strange characters, and with a black child singing and stealing the show.
And B), it’s a helluva lot like Renaldo & Clara in many of the same ways. Life is a crazy, dark circus.
This is the kind of movie, like a great CD, that you could just put on at a party and let it play in the background — a series of music & words with images, called “scenes” instead of “songs” — you can dip in and out anytime, for as long as you want, then go back to your conversation. 🙂 With all the Bob-inspired dialog and songs woven together it’s like a Dylan musical for two hours.
And how ‘bout that hilarious scene at the cross on the hill with Ginsberg & Bob yelling up at it! “Why don’t you do your early stuff?!”
Or that sweet Hitchcockian overhead B&W slow zoom-in of Dylan writing Tarantula with all the pictures surrounding him on the floor.
Or the scene in the car after the great, “That was Allen Ginsberg, man!” –> into the battle between Bob and the reporter –> into that epic Ballad of a Thin Man!! Sick!
And do not miss the continuous-take soliloquy Cate Blanchett delivers in the car at end. The lighting, the window reflections, the final wicked sly smile to the camera … that‘s what filmmaking is all about. And not fer nuthin but — Cate Blanchett is the living actress I’m most blown away by performance-after-performance.
And the whole thing interspersed with a Spinal Tap mockumentary vibe 🙂 woven into Don’t Look Back and a nature documentary about a grizzled Grizzly Adams Gere living in the woods! Great poetic storytelling.
I loved every one of the Dylan actors’ performances — Cate Blanchett (of course), the black kid (Marcus Carl Franklin), Heath Ledger, Bale, Gere, and even the 19 yr old in B&W at the table, Ben Winshaw. And how cool about Richie Havens playing the soulful father figure?! Or David Cross as Allen Ginsberg! And his partner mother-figure telling the young boy, “Write about your own time.”
It was realistically surreal — like Terry Gilliam might capture it, or van Gogh, or Lewis Carroll, or Alvin Ailey. It’s crazy, it’s distorted, but it’s real.
All around, a playful joyous complex poetic work of art befitting its subject.
* * *
oh, and I noticed in the Special Thanks at the end: Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, David Mansfield, Roger McGuinn, Ellliott Roberts, Jeff Tweedy (Wilco), Gus Van Sant, Wolfgang’s Vault, Neil Young! 🙂
And that it was mostly shot in Montreal! Beauty, eh!
and — A Grate Family Friendly Film Tip — watch Masked & Anonymous RIGHT after this —
the greatest One-Two, Blow-Off-My-Shoe
Bob Brain-blast Double-Feature Ever!
Bake the brownies in advance.
Movie revisited upon release of A Complete Unknown. Here’s my plot breakdown with DVD chapter breaks and times. When I did this for The Beatles: Get Back it’s been read online by people every day since I posted it, so maybe some will find this helpful.
I’m Not There — Kris Kristofferson narrator –
Cate Blanchett nominated for Oscar, BAFTA & SAG for Best Supporting Actress, won Golden Globe & at Venice * others for it
Opening title card: “Inspired by the music and many lives of Bob Dylan”
numbered chapter breaks:
1. 0:00 – Poet, Prophet, Outlaw, Fake – POV walking on stage – intro to all the characters – Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again – opening credits
2. 5:00 – Busy Being Born – black kid “Woody” hops on hobo boxcar 1959 – investigation/
interrogation (B&W) Ben Whishaw – Lead Belly album cover – carnival, Gorgeous George
3. 9:45 – Fatalistic Farmer? – interrogation – Richie Havens & young Marcus Tombstone Blues on porch – in Richie’s kitchen
4. 12:45 – Troubadour of Conscience – Greenwich Village faux documentary (historic footage) – Christian Bale singer-songwriter (B&W) – Julianne Moore as the Joan Baez character – Heath Ledger (B&W) – Bale (really Mason Jennings) singing Hattie Carroll at Black truck in Mississippi – Bernstein promoter
5. 19:35 – Series of Dreams – Black Woody runs away from black family – Winslow in interrogation – Woody gets robbed on train, falls out of train into river
6. 22:25 – Visions of Robbie & Claire – Charlotte Gainsbourg as Heath Ledger’s girlfriend Claire (sort of Dylan’s wife Sara’s character) – Heath Ledger in Paris hotel room – Nixon on news ending Vietnam war – Visions of Johanna by Bob
7. 27:50 – Love Was In The Air – Heath Ledger on a movie set – then a cafe flashback meeting – flashback of ’64 Village – I Want You by Bob – Heath & Claire falling in love – go to Woodstock – Heath on motorcycle – beatnik Gaslight-like Village cafe – Claire influencing Bob with French writings
34:50 Kerouac mentioned
8. 35:05 – Famed Folk Stylist – black Woody in hospital – white woman saved Woody from river – When The Ship Comes In by Marcus/Woody in living room; talks about writing songs “about what’s goin on” – phone call looking for juvenile center looking for Woody – Woody on train – Blind Willie McTell by Bob – “Woody” goes to see Woody in hospital
9. 41:15 – Fingerpointin’ Songs – civil right footage – Julianna Moore about her & Bob splitting apart – Christian Bale – Civil Liberties Union dinner with James Baldwin where Bob gets drunk –
* 10. 44:00 – Jude Blasts The Disciples – Pete Seeger, Newport, Bob going electric – Cate BlanchettJude/Bob – (B&W) 45:45 machine guns from stage – Newport audience booing Cate – Pete Seeger and the axe – the Grossman fight – disillusioned / disgruntled fans
* 11. 48:05 – No Faith To Lose – Positively 4th Street by Bob – Cate/Bob arrives in London – Cate at press conference in London – Bruce Greenwood reporter
* 12. 51:55 – A Strange Thing Happens Every Day – Cate in hotel room in London – Don’t Look Back revisited – Albert Grossman – Neuwirth in room (playing banjo?!) – talking about Warhol’s girl Edie Sedgwick – Cold Irons Bound by Tom Verlaine – fight in hotel room
13. 55:25 – Million Dollar Bash – Heath Ledger on plane – Simple Twist of Fate by Bob – house party – Clair as a painter (like Suze) –
* 14. 58:00 – Medicine Sunday – Cate – (B&W) press gathering at fancy garden on British estate – Grossman & Neuwirth – Beatles running around with Dylan scene – comical patrons like the First Lady in Don’t Look Back – comical fan asking about lyrics POV – Bruce Greenwood reporter confronts Bob/Cate –
* 15. 1:01:15 – In The Garden with Coco – Cate (B&W) with Edie Sedgwick/Coco (Michelle Williams) dream-like confrontation sequence – 1:03:12 – car scene with Lennon-like guy “Do you suffer from sore eyes and groovy foreheads?” – reporter in car – * 1:03:30 Allen Ginsberg (David Cross) in golf cart –
* 16. 1:05:00 – Trying My Best to be Just Like I Am – Cate (B&W) in car with reporter – Cate quotes Bob’s answers to Time reporter in Don’t Look Back
* 17. 1:08:10 – Mister Jones – Cate (B&W) – Ballad of a Thin Man (Stephen Malkmus from Pavement) – Bob in concert ’66 with The Band / carnival show – surreal – reporter not getting it – Black Panthers – Bob addressing the audience who doesn’t get it – “Judas” “I don’t believe you.” – fans storm the stage – Ben Whishaw
18. 1:14:15 – Billy The Kid Revisited – Julianne Moore – Richard Gere section starts – cowboy country guy living in the woods
19. 1:16:53 – Lo and Behold – Richard Gere – surreal flashback to war scenes – All Along The Watchtower (Eddie Vedder) – Heath Ledger comes home to girlfriend – Gere’s dog Henry runs away – the highway’s coming thru and the valley is going to be destroyed
20. 1:21:50 – Sign Language – Heath Ledger – One More Cup of Coffee (by Bob) – Heath at table in Woodstock being cynical & sexist – photographer shooting him from a distance
21. 1:25: 40 – The Valley Below – Richard Gere – One More Cup of Coffee (by Bob) – in surreal old Western town – very Masked & Anonymous – people evacuating – great costumes & production design
22. 1:27:30 – “Seven Simple Rules” – Whishaw (B&W) – Richard Gere meets young Black ‘Woody’ – more surreal Masked & Anonymous in old West – 1:28:45: Cate Blanchett (B&W) watching reporter talk about him on his Culture Beat TV show –
23. 1:30:25 – Tarantula – Cate writing on typewriter – B&W Don’t Look Back – David Cross/Allen Ginsberg voiceover – Dylan writing with picture collaged around him – Ginsberg reading (from Tarantula?) by a cross on a hill
24. 1:31:35 – Long Distance Operator – Heath & Claire – she asks for a box of her photos
25. 1:33:25 – Waiting For The End of The World – Richard Gere’s surreal Western town – 1:34:25 – Bob’s “Goin’ To Acapulco” (from The Basement Tapes) – hauntingly sung by Jim James (from My Morning Jacket, but here backed by the Arizona indie band Calexico) with a wicked horn arrangement – the musical highlight of the movie –
26. 1:37:05 – Charles Atlas & The Bomb – (I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone – Cate at Warhol party in white loft art gallery – manager Grossman’s booked Bob for 83 show tour! – Brian Jones exchange – Coco/Edie Sedgwick reappears – Lyndon Johnson speaking Dylan lines in faux newscast – Dylan vomits on guest’s lap
27. 1:42:25 – Trouble In Mind – Cold Irons Bound (Bob’s version) – Dylan & Ginsberg at cross like they were in Kerouac’s Lowell – Trouble In Mind (by Bob) –
28. 1:44:20 – Finding A Home In Jesus – religious conversion – Christian Bale preaching – Pressing On –
29. 1:49:15 – Family Photos – Heath Ledger finds/spills box of Claire’s family photos – Claire leaves Bob – Idiot Wind (Bob acoustic) –
30. 1:52:20 – The End of Betrayal – Richard Gere in old West – “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” newspaper blows to his feet – Heath & Claire courtroom divorce – Heath on TV as an actor
31. 1:55:20 – Every Man’s Conscience – Gere puts on plastic mask at political rally, confronts long-haired old man on stage, Garrett to Bob/Gere’s Billy the Kid (played by an unrecognizable Bruce Greenwood, the Mr. Jones reporter from earlier) – Gere/Bob gets arrested
32. 1:58:05 – Restless Farewell – I’m Not There (Bob’s unreleased version from The Basement Tapes sessions, 1967) – Whishaw monologue – Cate unconscious on floor – POV of Cate looking up at Don’t Look Back crowd: Ginsberg, Grossman, Neuwirth – Heath / Claire Christmas visit with kids – Gere breaks out of jail and hops a train – his lost dog from earlier shows up running alongside the train but doesn’t get on and Gere says goodbye to his dog and his western town life
33. 2:02:10 – Mona Lisa’s Highway Blues – motorcycle crash – Cate in car a la Don’t Look Back talking about songs & songwriting – Gere wakes up in boxcar, takes out dusty guitar from a “This machine kills fascists” case – speaks in voiceover including Dylan quote from 1997 Newsweek interview about waking up as one person and going to sleep as another – ends with clip of the real Dylan doing a sweet harmonica solo from Mr. Tambourine Man
34. 2:08:30 – credits roll to Like A Rolling Stone (Highway 61 version) and Sonic Youth doing I’m Not There – Special Thanks at the end: Neil Young! Jeff Tweedy (Wilco), Ramblin’ Jack and Gus Van Sant
Or here’s a review of the lost footage of the historic roc n roll train trip that was finally released as Festival Express, starring the Grateful Dead, The Band and Janis Joplin.
Or here’s the Scorsese’s Rolling Stones concert film — Shine A Light.
Or here’s a fairly unknown but perfectly offbeat comedy — Lucky Numbers — with a comedic Travolta, Lisa Kudrow, Tim Roth, Michael Rapaport, Richard Schiff, Michael Moore and many others.
Think of this 111th Senate full of all these kick-ass, get-things-done progressives & centrists:
Pat Leahy, Carl Levin, Russ Feingold, John Kerry, Chris Dodd, Dianne Feinstein, Barbara Boxer, Chuck Schumer, Dick Durbin, Barbara Mikulski, Ron Wyden . . .
not to mention Senior Statesmen like Robert Byrd, Ted Kennedy, Jay Rockefeller and Tom Harkin;
Then add in Jim Webb, Claire McCaskill, Jon Tester and Mark Udall who are just rockin in their first terms;
Not to mention Al Franken coming on stage soon, and ol’ Bernie Sanders, the Vermont Socialist, who’s enthusiastically blowing his bugle with the band.
In fact, this is a full all-star line-up of players jamming right now in the Senate!
But this Harry Reid guy couldn’t get a stimulus bill passed in the middle of a recession if he had 59 votes to start with!
What’s wrong with this picture?!
Maybe Reid’s a great guy — I don’t know what he’s good at, frankly — certainly not being Majority Leader at this point in Our History.
We’re wasting once-in-a-lifetime momentum, political capital, and time here. We’re one freakin seat away from filibuster-free clear-sailing and this guy can’t make it happen.
And get this — Dick Durbin from Illinois is the #2 Democrat in the Senate after Reid! He’s the Assistant Majority Leader (aka Majority Whip). When Reid goes, he’s currently next in line — and then Obama’s got his man from home (and chaperone in the Senate) in charge. This has GOT to happen, and as soon as possible.
Maybe the same’s true of Nancy Pelosi, but I can’t say that for sure (yet).
But Reid!! It’s so typical of us Democrats to have a milquetoast muttonshop like this in charge! 🙂
We’re so hopeless! 🙂
But not anymore.
Watch for which Democrats emerge as leaders in the Senate. I’m a lifelong Democrat who’s been considering this Reid question since he was first elected Leader — but I now have no problem making this call. He has GOT to step down (or the Dems force a new leadership vote) or we’re never gonna get anything done.
Feel free to forward this anywhere, and(or) please contact your Democratic Senator. Here’s the list of all of them with their phone numbers and most of their email addresses: http://democrats.senate.gov/members/
and A Great P.S.: — “Good Morning America” just did a piece on the recent meeting between a former KKK member and now-Representative John Lewis (my favorite Rep. in the House) who the KKK guy beat-up back in 1961 in South Carolina. Everything with the Obama election / inauguration made this guy reach out and apologize. Lewis says he’s the first person from those days to have stepped forward.
Hey Homies of the BrotherHood of all that is Good!
🙂
The “Mission Inauguration” — Shucks-&-Awww Ground Operation has Commenced.
Other than Tuesday’s 11:30 – 1:00 swearing-in coverage, this Sunday’s concert will be your best chance to enjoy the Inaugural jazz without being there.
Here’s what we know . . .
2:30PM — The Welcoming Event –
“We Are One: The Obama Inaugural Celebration at the Lincoln Memorial”
Obama & family WILL be there.
HBO is producing.
The Official Line-up so far . . .
Bruce Springsteen
Stevie Wonder
Bono
Sheryl Crow
John Mellencamp
will.i.am
John Legend
Herbie Hancock
Beyonce
Shakira
Mary J. Blige
James Taylor
Garth Brooks
Usher
Josh Groban
Martin Luther King’s son, Tom Hanks, Jamie Foxx, Denzel Washington and Samuel Jackson will be among those reading historical & inspirational passages.
More as it develops 🙂
Brian O’Bama
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We’re Gonna Sing
[#2 — January 16th]
Checkin in from Yasgur’s Farm,
Maggie’s Farm,
Obama’s Farm.
Just got the physical ticket in hand and’ll be right up front for the swearing-in on Tuesday.
Going On The Road in a few minutes to Baltimore for the Whistle Stop tour — the train tracks, Festival Express, my grandfather George the CPR engineer, the Dream Tracks Indian book with Teri McLuhan, the hopping trains in the Peg to get around town — all clicketty-clackin into one.
Barack and Joe ridin’ the rails,
from Constitution Hall in Philadelphia to Constitution Avenue in Washington,
and Brian & Mitch are Jack-&-Nealing in the salt-streaked Blue Bomber Cruiser
lookin like it’s burned white through re-entry
from driving like lightning through the salt-dusted blizzard roads,
chasing history’s trains
and America’s future.
*
The HBO stage at the Lincoln Memorial is just Gorgeous and HUGE!
This is SO Woodstock —
in the 21st Century.
It’s entirely custom designed and built for this one concert,
with camera booms swooping,
and dozens of Jumbotrons rippling the images across the Reflecting Pool
to America,
and the world,
this one, short, creative human fireworks celebration.
So right.
And now
Breaking News:
This musical spiritual moment will be beaming live into your eyes starting at 2:30 Sunday for free on every HBO station in North America!
This is a visual auditory novel — a large canvas that’s being painted by many of the greatest artists of our time, for one moment only.
As a species, we’ve done some things right.
And there’s Lots of work ahead,
But for a moment,
We’re gonna sing.
I saw The Man in Baltimore today! 🙂
woo-woo!! goo-goo ga’chooo-chooo!
He & Michelle and Joe & Jill all went up the steps at the small old-world town hall square in front of City Hall, maybe 30,000 people, we breezed right in. You can watch the speech online but he was talking a lot about the history of America and how the great works that prior Americans did need to inspire us to rise to that in our own lives, and collectively as a nation.
*
He just came across as so comfortable — staying a long time afterwards shaking hands and just hanging and waving and being very calm and kind to people.
The guy’s in the middle of this Whistle Stop whirlwind and about to start the hardest job in the world in the middle of two wars and a depression, and he’s just buoyant. He instills confidence. And earnestness. And honesty. And a friendliness.
Afterwards, the streets in every direction were like a Dead parking lot with happy people selling just about anything you could think of with some image of Obama on it — toy trains, toques, posters, postcards, baby clothes, flags, car window flags, every possible article of clothing from jackets to underwear, every type of glassware for the kitchen, wooden flutes, bobblehead dolls . . .
Baltimore is the third city I’ve been to that was completely jazzed and transformed by the joy, pride and hope that this guy brings to people’s hearts (after New York and D.C.) You could hear “O – ba – ma” randomly hollered from car windows. And groups of strangers starting to chant, “Yes we can,” for no particular reason, and then laughing that they’d all done it together.
*
We drove back from Baltimore (where we’d parked at the classic Camden Yards Ballpark) and went straight to The National Mall for the concert rehearsal, joining maybe a hundred people there in the cold sub-zero night.
And who should be playing as we walk (and then run) in but U2! 🙂 Priiiiiide, in the name of love. And City of Blinding Lights, Obama’s campaign and favorite U2 song, and which the band also played (debuted?) outdoors at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City. Bono’s struttin around like Mick Jagger, and Clayton’s wearing this huge hooded parka that looks so ridiculous, like a Neil Young Road-eye. : -)
Then James Taylor came out and did three takes of this beautiful, long Shower The People you love with love, with John Legend, Jennifer Nettles and others really stretching it out vocally into some transcendent channeling chant off the final refrain. [and P.S. — that 3rd take was even better than the Sunday show!]
Then Garth Brooks ran though a couple takes of a 3-song medley that includes bye bye Miss American Pie, which is just gonna go over so freakin’ well! The guy’s such a born entertainer. He has this whole choir of kids that come out and just lift it. There were about a hundred of us in a space designed for millions, but he was just giving it like we were the world.
And then afterwards, I’ve never been much of a Garth Brooks guy, but he came over to where we were standing and talked to every single person, signed anything for them, posed for pictures. I talked to him for bit, asked him how Don McLean was doing — he said, “He’s doing great. He’s too stubborn to have it any other way.” 🙂 I told him I’d seen them duet at his show in Central Park, and he was, “Ah boy, you sure hit the big ones!” 🙂 After he’d talked to everybody and his handlers were sighing, “Thank gawd! Let’s gooo!” just then this whole bus full of people suddenly arrive. “Hey, Garth! We’re from Texas!” they’re yelling as the whole herd of them runs up to him waving their cameras. 🙂
Brian (and Garth)
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Democracy is Something you Do
[#4 — January 18th] (post-concert)
There was a joy that I’ve rarely felt before,
and it came after the concert
biking around the Washington Monument and the Capital Dome
with all the families of America,
whether they were foreigners just arrived,
or descendants of slaves,
whether in new full-length leather coats,
or mama’s cloth rag from the attic,
whether they squeezed the family in the car and drove up from Atlanta,
or flew in from Boston for the day,
everyone was united in their love passion for Democracy —
and how it’s not something you have,
but something you DO.
And these people and this spirit
is what’s on display for the world to see in Washington DC right now.
Here’s kids running up the steps of the Capital
and jumping for joy that they are where they are,
trading off cameras to send pictures home.
Today, it was all about the kids
in each of us
being ignited.
All that was powerful . . .
But it all came down to families,
of relations or not,
of natural-born Americans
or not,
who recognize how great
voting
and voting for Hope can be.
And we’re all the living proof
we need.
Brian
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The Day That Could Never Happen
[#5 January 19th] (pre-Ianug)
Brothers and Sisters of the Universe,
The final and official stage of our National Transformation is here —
And all of us are taking The Oath
to be more understanding of others
and to help each other as ourselves.
And masses of Hopesters and Democracy-loving Americans have made it to the mountaintop, running like water through the streets, which are all closed to cars this glorious day. There’s t-shirt and button vendors lining every riverbank; giant rows of port-o-potties are winding through the trees like a giant Christo installation; and packs of police and fatigue-wearing National Guard everywhere are — but never a single arrest is ever made.
The High temperature tomorrow is predicted to be maybe 32 degrees –
so, feel that freeze when you sees
those couple million standing there in majestic dignity (as MLK called it).
After it’s over, Obama and everyone on stage will walk back inside the Capital Building where the new President has lunch with the members of Congress.
As usual for this kind of moment, I highly recommend hitting “mute” as soon as it’s over so you can let it sink in and form Your Own opinions — You saw it for yourself; the talking heads will still be babbling about it years from now.
At 1:20-ish, a large helicopter will rise up from the other side of the Capital building and ex-President Bush will fly the hell out of our lives. It’s a very cool visual moment — the peaceful hand-off of the leadership of the most powerful country in the world.
3:45-ish the parade begins — as President Obama rides in his new tank Caddy from the Capital Building along Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House.
There’ll never be anything like this in my lifetime.
The greatest moment of my life? Probably.
And I got to spend it all with my best poli-warrior buddy, Mitch!
He always “got it”, and we fully lived Clinton’s election and inauguration — but as great as all that was . . . this was transcendent, beyond words.
It’s changing history — besides everything else, a major nation electing a minority to lead it — and as it was happening, every single one of the 2 million people I met were Beaming with joy. In terms of a crowd euphoric, the only thing I ever heard of that was like this was Woodstock in ’69. And that changed a lot, but this was Woodstock in the seat of power. Jimi’s Star-Spangled Banner was the prelude, and a scant 40 years later, here’s that scorching soul of new thinking actually overtaking the reigns of government. As Barack put it in his speech, roughly, “That a man who not long ago might not have been served at a local restaurant could now stand before you to take the most sacred oath in this nation shows how far we have come.”
Rollin in after 9 hours of sub-zero frost I looked like a guy stumbling down off Everest — white parched lips, face scorched red from freezing, but liquid eyes blazing. And the thing I miss most in the tranquil heat of home are the screams of joy I heard all day long.
Until I began to warm up and come to, the only words my frozen hands were able to write were —
Blissfully ravaged in democracy.
So, please excuse if this isn’t polished sculpture — but the levee’s broken and emotions runneth over. I know you have our own wonderful memories of this day and what it all meant, but here’s a tale of the day everything changed from someone who was there . . .
*
I left the apt. in Virginia at 9:30 by bike. It was 22 degrees — without riding into the wind. Starting out in the carless streets of Rossyln and crossing the scary-empty bridge it was like living through one of those end-of-the-world movies. Not only were there no cars, but all the people were already at “the show” and it was just me and the wind. I finally got to the last point they’d let me ride by about 10:15, worked the miles of snaking security line, and was inside the gates by 10:45.
My ticket was for the Blue South field which was off center, but after seeing the freeform mayhem once you were inside the security zone, I figured I could wing it, and weaved and excuse-me’d toward the center, and in no time I was right in front of the stage!
And then the whole show goes down, which you saw on TV. Part of the fun of being there was all the running commentary everyone was making, like me yelling, “Dr. Strangelove” at Dick Cheney in his wheelchair, the comical booing of Bush, the “Na-na, na-na-na-na, hey hey, good bye” chants. It was all in good fun. And of course I just loved Aretha singing, “Let freedom ring!” And that beautiful orchestral piece by John Williams, with Yo-Yo, Itzhak & company elevating us like wind into heaven. And my new-favorite Reverend Lowery closing the show with the poetry of Amen. And of course Barack’s speech. But you saw all that for yourself.
{That’s Barack delivering his Address, looking to his left.}
*
THE PARTY AT THE PODIUM
When the official program was over, the fun started. 🙂 Just as I figured, everyone started to leave. Once again I was happy I grew up in Winnipeg and could handle a little cold, and I just stepped over the green fence and walked straight to the podium. Security was over. The new President and all the ex’s were back inside the Capital building — there was nothing to “secure” anymore. So I just breezed right the heck up there and started the party.
Those who were really touched by what happened were still sitting there aglow. A few others, like me, had shimmied up on the energy waves. I just kept riding it till I was right below the podium with the music stands and walls of cameras on either side. It was just a gorgeous party — and it went on for hours. People from all over the country and all over the world were handing each other their cameras, laughing, and ouing and awing. And looking out at the crowd from the Capital hill and seeing people all the way to the horizon — what a sight! What a moment. There was no one there who’ll ever forget it.
And then of course when the Marine One helicopter rose up from behind the Capital with the now-former President on board, and once again without a shot being fired, the most powerful nation on earth changed it’s leader — and elected a member of a minority “race”. We gotta be doing something right.
*
I could’ve lived in that party for the rest of my life. And in fact I think I will. Everyone was SO happy, beaming, radiating, loving, friendly. Any which way you turned was another amazing picture. Straight up at the glowing Capital Dome. Looking out at the masses of people as far as you could see. Looking into the blissful faces right next to you. Looking up at the deep rich red, white & blue flags draping the brilliant white Capital. The sun coming out from behind occasional clouds in the bright blue sky with the flags flapping against it. Just overwhelming beauty.
Cell phone access was way-intermittent — messages coming in from Canada, New York City, Pennsylvania, California, and friends in the crowd trying to find me. So I head on down outta the party to the now vacant Mall, and go to my favorite General’s monument, Ulysses S. Grant majestically on a horse right at the foot of the Capital, looking straight down the Mall — I was just communing with the big guy. And right in front, the Capital Reflecting Pool is frozen, there’s one person skating on it, and scads of kids running and sliding on the first ice surface they’ve ever seen.
It’s a grounding spot for people to find me, and Democracy-loving road warrior Nadette from New York (the only person I know who made both the election night at Barackefeller Center in NYC and the Inauguration in D.C.) pulls it off, and so up we ramble back to the Podium Party, and Lord knows it’s still goin on.
*
And after another hour of New Years Eve hugging and doing unto others, I walked over a few feet to where you could actually look all the way from the Capital down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House — all cleared off and waiting for a parade. And then Boom ! — suddenly there’s a roaring stream of blue motorcycle cops to my right. A loud cheer go up from a crowd far away. Some flags are marching past. A band is playing. “The parade’s starting!”
Everybody said you can’t do both. It’s either the parade or the Inaug.
But I’m walkin forward.
I ask a cop, “Was that Obama that went by right in front?”
“No, there’s a couple of bands first, then him.”
Oh my God, really?
The whole thing is — I’m still inside the Capital grounds. Everyone coming for the parade is on the other side of the Avenue. So I just start walking towards it, skip over a few fences, la dee-dah across a grass field, and I’m right at the point where the cars are pulling out of the Capital!
And there’s the press trucks shooting backwards behind them — there’s Andrea Mitchell reporting from the back of one of them.
“They’re coming!” I realize. “I’m right here!”
And then Boom! — there he is! There’s “the Beast” — the new nuclear-proof Cadillac — and there’s Michelle 20 feet in front of me, there’s the kids sitting facing their parents and all waving and beaming out the windows, and there’s Barack on the other side! I’m right freakin here! This is the whole Big Parade Moment that people have lined up for since 7AM.
Not only did I see the swearing-in beginning of this Presidency right up front, but I’m standing on the curb as our new President Obama drives by on his Inaugural trip to the White House!
*
This was God’s gift. I had put so much into doing the Inaug right, I had no plans or hope of seeing the parade — and here I am a few feet from the family sedan!
All sorts of other amazing, touching, life-giving moments happened with people of every age and color, it would take a long night of beers just to scratch the surface, but this was The Moment — God’s glowing gold bow on the gift of the Inauguration, after a day of freezing, weeks of planning, months of campaigning, and a lifetime of volunteering in Democracy — and this is the thanks I get!
🙂
*
Take what You’ve gathered from the day, or let contemporary historians nudge you, but I just wanted to share one person’s experience of participating in Democracy the day history changed.
This will be on postage stamps and dollar bills a hundred years from now. And no matter where you were, you lived to see it. Thank your spirit source.
Roman Polanski (French-born, Polish raised) (director, Rosemary’s Baby, etc.)
Robert Frank (Swiss) (photographer, filmmaker)
Arnold Schwarzenegger (Austrian) (former Governor of Caleefornia)
John Lennon (English – famously applied for U.S. naturalization)
Bob Marley (Jamaican) (musical philosopher)
Neil Young (Canadian) (musician, green car investor)
Joni Mitchell (Canadian) (songstress)
David Byrne (Scotland) (musician)
Yo-Yo Ma (French) (cellist)
Itzhak Perlman (Israeli) (violinist)
Leonard & Phil Chess (Polish) (founders of Chess Records)
and Martin Short, Jim Carrey, Seth Rogen, Mike Meyers, Michael J. Fox, Dan Aykroyd, Phil Hartman, Howie Mandel, Catherine O’Hara, Samantha Bee, Lorne Michaels, David Steinberg, Norm Macdonald, Tommy Chong, John Candy, Rich Little, etc, . . . (all Canadian comedians)
Early morning in the Universe — sunrise over a New America.
I arose from the floor of a Harlem hotspot dreaming of something way bigger than me. And right off the mat, the Election Morning Ritual of tea & subtlety, pacing & breathing, and dreaming in the bright new light of it.
And there’s the widescreen of Barack & Michelle & their girls walking into the polling booth in Chicago and taking their time to burn in the memories of casting their historic ballots.
And all over New York you could hear doors slamming on apartments and taxis and trains as young and old, black and white went through their daily rituals — and today’s quite singular one.
I realized we were getting Obama as President, at least as Veep to Hillary, back on Super Bowl Saturday in January when I first watched will.i.am’s “Yes, We Can” video (here). It had just been uploaded the night before, and I watched it early in the jingle-jangle morning and just lost it — couldn’t watch it without getting choked up for weeks afterwards. It was so obvious then that he was ours — America’s, the world’s, right now’s. Somehow it felt more ancient than futuristic, more traditional than trendy, more Rushmore than YouTube. And it was good.
But of course there was still a helluva race ahead — first the primary against Hillary and then the general against McCain, and it did look close a couple of times, but especially starting that Monday of the Lehman Brothers collapse and McCain “suspending” his campaign and stumbling around like Henry Fonda in the woods in On Golden Pond, followed by Colin Powell coming out on Meet The Press, you knew who was going to win. In fact, I was able to post the final election results on this here site on Halloween, a full four days before election day — 367 to 171, and it turned out 365 to 173! — or 99.5% accurate.
I spent the afternoon getting all gussied up in black velvet tails and Ben Franklin knickers with knee-high socks topped off with a top hat, accented with colorful Obama buttons, and everything underneath my waving homemade Obama pennant flag with a little red & white Canadian one on top. All I needed was a clanging bell and some rolled parchment.
Heading into the Election Night, for the first time in my life I was the most popular person in Harlem! Looking like a “Hear-ye, hear-ye!” town crier from the American Revolution, I was carrying Obama’s flag into battle — lighting up faces of people who still haven’t come close to learning English. Shopkeepers were waving, and mothers were pointing me out to their small children. Passing pedestrians were either breaking into huge smiles or full-out hollering, “Obama!” It was dusk on the final day of The Nightmare From Texas, and minorities may have been happier than anyone that the lying war sap’s reign of error was ending.
Riding the subway through Harlem in black velvet regalia — facing beaming white smiles from dark African faces, shining and sharing across the aisle like Washington will soon be if all goes according to plan. A little boy beside me is admiring my buttons, and finally says in the cutest voice, “All Barack!” So I reach in my bag and find a button for him just before he gets off. And some guy’s watching me do this, and he pulls out his keys from his pocket and wound off and his little Obama key-chain and handed it to me across the subway car. It’s the coolest thing and I’ll cherish it forever. And so I looked in my bag and found another button and handed it across to him. And there was some guy standing nearby smiling as he watched all this go down, and the guy I just gave the button to handed it to him. A crowd got on right after that and we all got separated — but within seconds all us strangers had just given each other something for nothing. America was changing right before our eyes.
Then I’m off, flying between the towers of Midtown, when suddenly a-ha, a “Vote Here –>” sign for a polling station, and, decked head-to-toe in Obama, I enter most illegally and go beaming around. Poll site day-workers are smiling back huge hugs, and then I spot the ancient New York State steel levered polling machine and go over to open the curtains and have a good gander —
but Nooooo — The Big Bossman spots me wearing partisan duds and nearly football tackles me the heck outta there! So there I was; Tossed back into the Manhattan rush-hour of snappy suits and swinging briefcases, big ego scowls and some big-hearted smiles.
And then ah into the ah of the Election Plazah at Barackefeller Center! People. All beaming faces. Lights. A red, white & blue skyscraper. Broadcast trucks. Giant screens. And rows of flags waving wide and high in tonight’s heavy winds of change.
There’s lots of people, but it’s not crowded. And NBC had once again laid out the red carpet. Well, actually it was blue. And plush and thick, from one end of the plaza to the other — “Election Night 2008” woven into the ground that democracy’s participants were walking on. And not just Americans, but thousands and millions who came here from foreign countries, like me — because “America” is so much a part of so many.
And meanwhile, I’m getting photographed more than I ever have in my life. Plus, they’ve got somebody dressed up like donkey and somebody like an elephant, and for an hour the three of us become the most in-demand trio in New York. And on top of that, the inside of my coat is lined with buttons that I’m selling. Which I never even mentioned to anyone, but people kind of figured it out. All I kept saying was, “Vote Socialist! Vote Obama!”
And a couple times I actually get challenged about being an interferring Canadian, but I quickly bounce ’em back with ol’ Christopher Columbus and Thomas Paine and Alexander Hamilton as pretty cool un-Americans. And if that don’t shut ’em, I drop Albert Einstein, Andrew Carnegie and Madeline Albright. And if that don’t do it, John Lennon, Neil Young and Charlie Chaplin usually does. You can be American from wherever you’re born.
And waving my colorful homemade flag was doing the trick! It was like a freakin’ antenna pulling in the channels. Friends were tuning in from all over. Philip the Iraq war reporter with his big pro camera weaves in documenting the stories of regular people in the eye of history. And here’s Levi, the online LitKicks disturber, happily dancing through the crowd like it’s an outdoor Dead show. And there’s the Jimmy Carter staffer Zoe waving from her comfortable perch, soaking in the immensity of it all.
And friendships are being made instantaneously all over the plaza, conversations starting without introductions. It was a family reunion and we all knew each other. And even though it was early it felt pretty late, with everybody already a little giddy, a little silly, a little too happy — and it didn’t matter to anyone.
And of all excellent things they were actually handing out plastic beer mugs! Or maybe they were coffee mugs, but I figured they’d work way better for beer. So, I copped several for the crew, and away we go.
It was getting time to plant the flag and hold the fort. There are two main giant screens: one for NBC, and one for MSNBC, which has been my network of choice since it came on the air about 10 years ago. And to boot, it’s their side of 30 Rock that’s completely bathed in Democratic blue and turns out to be the naturally livelier side of the grand plazoo all night. So, I promptly claim n maintain the center screen-front fort-site!
There’s a six-inch high curb running across the battlefield a perfect distance from the screen and it makes the best forward line I can think of. Next, I’m lookin for SOUND — where some half-deaf old people can hear what’s being said even while crazy New Yorkers are screaming in joy. And right along the curb line directly in front of the MSNBC screen, there’s a nice big Bose speaker on a stand, squared off by barricade stantions. So that becomes our solid right flank; and I’m holding down the front curb-line; and our left flank is held by Gina Gershon’s sister and a wall of her girlfriends who haven’t moved in an hour. “We’re solid.” “We’re bull’s-eye center.” “It’s a go, General.”
We had our private box at the theater — once we had our perimeter secured, there was a buffer of about 50 people deep in every direction around us — and we could just GO! And lemmi tell ya, nobody’s burners were on “medium”!
And as I keep waving my Canadian–Obama flag, along comes Winnipeg-Manhattan guitarist brother Terry; and Paul, who I only just met but who’s been a friend for life; and Anna, Philip’s pregnant wife blessing her child who’ll be born around the same time as the next President in January. And here comes Ralph the producer, and Brad the net oracle, and Anne the global adventurer. And then comes somebody holding up a giant Obama yard sign as they’re dancing and weaving through the crowd, and as the sign floats closer, sure enough, underneath it all is Nadette, an actress friend of nearly 30 years bringing suburbian lawns into this uber-urban plaza.
And from our private box we could easily make runs to the deli which you could almost see from our “seats”. The only trick was getting back through the outer ring of the scene — excuse-me-ing through the tight outer strata of late-comers and non-insiders, then weaving through the gentler inner rings of patriots to our secret center where we had enough room to dance.
And dance we did. Along came four cute girls from England who’d flown over just for this moment and were as funny as that other Fab Four who flew over here. Or the flowing French poet who’d also flown in just for this. Or the gorgeous Kim Basinger with the flower in her long blond hair. Or the Canadians who kept appearing all night from Vancouver and Montreal and Toronto and Edmonton. It was like all the Americans who materialized in Ontario when we were registering people to vote with Democrats Abroad. In fact, as the night comically revealed itself, our encampment became surrounded by Canadians — typically too shy to say anything, but when they saw my flag came and stood near and felt safe. I had become the freakin’ Canadian Consulate at Barackefeller Center on Election Night.
As Zoe & I are making what we thought at the time was the final beer run of the night at about 7:40, and we bump into this group of four Midwestern couples in their 40s and 50s leaving the scene. Of course we start talking and they mention they’re heading out to get something to eat, to which I say, “Are you freakin’ crazy?! The big moment is coming right up and you’re gonna be staring down at a tuna sandwich?!” They all laugh as I give ‘em hell, Harry. So, Zoe & I hit the deli, and sure enough a minute later the whole crew of ‘em come in and say, “You convinced us.” 🙂 And they just grabbed some road grub and headed back into Democracy’s mosh pit.
Another wonderful thing about the scene was the diversity of people. Besides there being every conceivable shade of pigmentation from the darkest African blacks to translucent northern whites, there was also every body type, age, and orientation. There were turbans and ball caps, piercings and wheelchairs, suits and sandals. It was America, and it was the world.
I was talking to this bunch of Jamaicans and we were all laughing and beaming and “Yesing,” and their accents were so damn thick I understood not a word they said the entire time! Except “Obama.” Yet we were totally communicating for a good long time — our faces and hearts knowing what the other was saying all along.
And I’ll tell ya, there’s been a buncha times I wished John Lennon was here, but oh boy, none more than while we’re talkin’ bout a revolution, well, you know. And how this was the world playing out that he and so many other visionary men of peace have shared through sermons or songs or non-violent stands. This was the dream — and it has manifested and is dancing and cheering and wired.
It’s like tonight had gone into sudden-death overtime where you couldn’t leave because it could be called and be over at any moment! The best part of course was when the Dems scored points by winning a state — and a cheer went up as far as you could hear, echoing through the canyons of our spines. And for every Kentucky or Mississippi there was a playful boo, then we laughed out loud at our own silliness.
And as each state was called, just like in ’04, NBC had these two giant tapestries, one Dem blue & the other Republican red, that were being pulled up the side of 30 Rock, one foot for each electoral vote won. Except this time the blue side was climbing much higher than the red one. 🙂
Although my predictions for the Presidential winner, electoral college numbers, percentage split, and Senate and House seats were all Dead on or close damn to it — the one thing I (joyously) didn’t get right was the time the news organizations would project a winner. I knew it could come at 8, and if not then, at 9 for sure. “There’s no way we’re not going to know before 10.” But all those hours came and went with nothing.
Here’s an obvious conspiracy for those who enjoy those sort of things: There was obviously collusion between the networks to all hold off their Presidential projections until 11PM. They obviously didn’t coincidentally all make the “call” at exactly the same time. They coulda called it a week ago, or anytime all night . . . but what the heck, the whole county was riveted until the match was sparked and the emotional fireworks set off. No matter when you tuned in or arrived at your election night gathering, by 11:00 you’d been on the edge of your seat for a while. Or, the edge of your curb, as the case may be.
There was a clock on the bottom of the screen — and although it was obvious to some of us what was going to happen when it struck 11:00:00, most in the crowd didn’t know it was coming.
But after hours of good-vibe build-up, the clock ticked eleven and the screen tocked Barack — and the voices and the spirits and the hands shot up, fingers splaying, eyes blazing, thousands jumping, people hugging, falling into another, high-fiving hands so fast you never see the arms, screaming, tear-soaked faces like thousands of brand new parents — but no romantic midnight New Year’s Eve couples kissing — for just a moment there was something even bigger than one loved one.
Some people were frozen in Buddha-still calmness, others were bent over crying and shaking. People were hanging out windows, flashbulbs were flashing from every direction, horns honking over everything, girls screaming like Beatlemania, it all swirling into a roaring, deafening tornado, tossing us side to side, but hardly anyone falling down. And the cheering kept going — there was no person telling us to simmer down so the show could resume. Talking heads were yammering away on movie screens and the speakers were still blaring but we were all chanting “O – ba – ma” or “Yes we can” so loud nobody heard a word. And after one wave of peak cheering would begin to subside, another would start out of nowhere and everyone would raise their voices and arms again for no reason except the joy of it, the beyond-beliefness of everything — as new layers of what just happened were rolling through people’s hearts and minds and out their faces.
For some it was a tearful release of exhaustion after sleepless nights for days or weeks or months — defenses down, fatigued openness, sleep-deprivation delirium. And for others it was such a sweet gentle smile of serenity. . . . “Finally.”
But so-sadly, with the networks calling it at 11:00 — that was the exact time of the last elevator to The Top of The Rock rooftop so there was no way to kiss the sky as well as all the pretty girls in the plaza.
After a prolonged evening of anticipation, the dominoes fell quickly. I lost any sense of time at this point, but it seemed like right after the projection, John McCain was walking out to give his concession speech. As I expected, he was huge and gracious — his best speech since I-dunno-when. Poor old guy got waylaid somewhere, off into the Rovian practices of kill n torture what you don’t like and ask questions later (See, also: Iraq, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, Clelland, Kerry, Bush-McCain 2000, etc., etc.)
Everybody was in a “boo-McCain” spirit, but I knew he was better than what we’d seen in this campaign. So every time he said something particularly gracious, I’d yell, “Alight! Give it up for John McCain!” And nobody would. 🙂 The crowd had followed my every cue all night — when to clap, cheer, laughing at my one-liners — as Zoe said, “You had those people eating out of your hand,” — but when it came to giving props to the distinguished gentlemen from Arizona, I had zero pull. 🙂
And geez I just gotta say — in politics, your opponent is your enemy onlyuntil you win; and the moment it’s over, you become colleagues again. You compete as hard as you can, or “vigorously” as Obama wonderfully called it; then we all work together. Done.
So, immediately after McCain finishes his concessionary congratulatory comments to the new President-elect, the world was transported via Marshall McLuhan stacks of amped televisions to the massive gathering in historic Grant Park in Chicago where Democratic supporters had their heads bashed in by billyclubs in 1968 — and had them blown off by words in 2008.
And once again, Obama Presents a beautiful stage, with a classic row of flags like those waving around the Washington Monuments and this Barackefeller rink in New York City.
And as the soul-speaker soars, the Barock Center New York crowd is cheering like we’re at the greatest Central Park concert ever. Except there’s no rock star. There’s not even a person. Just “two big screens and a politician.” And we’re peaking all over the city, all over the country, all over the world in a synchronized riot of joy. This is not just an American story, not just a black story, not just a Democrat’s or young person’s story, nor just an immigrant’s story or this story — it’s all of us — all North America, Africa, Europe — dancing as one, in more ways than one. It’s every underdog, every book-reader & book-writer, every neighbor, every one with hope in whatever language they speak — this Rose smells as sweet tonight.
And Obama’s calmly asking for our collective help, our common good. It gets so quiet you only hear the people sobbing in the crowd of thousands. Complete breakdowns. Some couples now hugging like they didn’t at the New Year’s Moment — because now one of them is shaking and crying. We see the soon-to-be-famous tears from Jesse and Oprah, but seeing them for real glistening in the Barockefeller Lights on the cheeks of both women and men, old and young, white and black, red-eyed and helpless, weeping uncontrollably — there wasn’t an unblurry eye in the house.
“This is our time to reaffirm that fundamental truth, that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.”
And your cells and limbs harmonize with the words, and you’re “Yes!” And Joe Biden walks out, and that gem finally kicks in – “Oh my god! Joe freakin’ Bidenis Vice President!!”
And as the guests began to leave, I stayed and shook hands or winked into their dazey eyes or stood for a picture next to their ear-to-ear smile as they passed from the plaza womb out to the new world of New York tonight where strangers were stopping strangers just to shake their hand.
As we were leaving the light and into the night, my final image was of the giant blue column still climbing up 30 Rock, and the whole plaza bright and glowing . . . like it should be.
Meanwhile the streets were all a half-hour-after-midnight on New Year’s Eve — laughter echoing through every canyon, girls holding hands and skipping down the sidewalk, old shopkeepers watching everything from their doorways.
Terry and I whirl around the corner onto Sixth Avenue and Boom! Right into the Midwestern crew we talked into staying at 8:00! And it was now a whole lot more than a few hours later. The well-put-together folks we’d met were now red-faced and joyous with their glasses listing crookedly, their hair a shambles, shirt-tails flapping, just a puddled mess they were, and as soon as they saw me rounding the corner they dropped their bags and ran over with giant bear-hugs of joy, thanking me most profusely for encouraging them to stay. And the leader goes, “Hey, wait a minute,” and rushes back to his bags, and another guy says with a beam, “You’re gonna get something special.” And sure enough he comes back with this high-end print of an almost 3-D painting of Obama & Biden that will beam tonight from my walls forever.
And after a boatful of giant hugs, off they sailed into the glistening New York Sea as Terry & I floated on down the Avenue of The Americas, following The Great Invisible Forces to . . . . Times Square.
And as we whoosh around the corner into Times Square’s trash & vaudeville — the barricaded streets, shut-down sidewalks, yellow police tape everywhere, battalions of uniforms, and eight lanes of traffic racing through the center of it! The massive crowd has dissolved down to a nice loud throng — so we fit right in! — bolting directly to the center island — the core of the core — ground-to-sky screens all around — Obama’s ears 8 Miles High — a constant roar — traffic, different speakers blasting different speakers, and a very high cheers-per-second ratio.
cue: “Dancing In The Streets” — loud. [Phil Lesh & Friends, NYC, Nov. 6th, 2008 recommended]
And my Canadian flag’s immediately attracting a flood of delirious Canucks, some from the city I just left, some from places I never heard of. And again it’s the celebrity flash-flash of my town crier top-hat n tails hailing in the news in Times Square routine.
All heck’s broken loose — for a moment it seems like old New York — people having a good time and no one interfering. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” is being belted out by an ensemble well beyond any concerns over harmony. There’s a thousand Lady Libertys with one arm raised holding torches of camera-phones broadcasting beacons of freedom’s light to the rest of the world. It’s the first time New York’s been like this since the Rangers won the Stanley Cup in game 7 at Madison Sq. Garden, when all the cars on Seventh Avenue were caught in the human flood, and the streets for blocks around became an instant street party — and you could walk up the avenue between rows of cars high-fiving both drivers and passengers from their open windows.
It was like that all through Times Square, except it seemed every car was coming from an Obama party, not just arriving at one! It wasn’t random drivers caught up in some random New York street party, but every person in the city was in on it. Or at least every person who was awake and outside. The few Republicans here were long since safe behind their security systems, and anyone who was alive for the last few hours couldn’t help hearing and seeing and feeling the emotional and literal fireworks shooting off of every streetcorner in New York.
It was Fourth of July. It was Beatlemania screams still echoing outside Ed Sullivan’s Paramount Theater. Not only was every car smiling like a cartoon, and every driver too, but there was a person sticking out of every sunroof that went by — and people leaning out the side windows to high-five the Times Squarers as they drove through the piazza. And if you weren’t honking your horn enough and got stuck at a light, brothers reached in your open window and honked it for you. And not only were people chanting as they marched, a fire truck went by honking out “O – ba – ma” on its horn in time with the crowd, and the young Irish cops were doing stand-up routines for the crowds and working the passers-by like the best street comedians.
I talked to one of the officers in charge who said there’d been no problems at all over the entire city all night.
Nice, eh?
New York, I love ya! So much like the blackout night five years ago — happy positive vibes emitting from everywhere. It was Woodstock without the mud. It was a sunrise without the hangover. It was a White House without a Bush.
And word filters up that Union Square was overflowing with people, and St. Marks Place in the East Village has broken into a spontaneous street-long block-party, and it was clear this was not going to be over anytime soon. 🙂
And it was so gawdamn global — the giant screens were flashing crowds of people in Paris and London and Rome and Rio and Sydney and Toronto and hot-damn, summer in the city! The back of my neck feelin’ all goosebumpy.
It was great that we were not dancing just cuz it was some date on a calendar, but because of something worked for by people the world over — and because of all the changes this will bring, from the smallest of human exchanges to the speeches of kings — it’s “a transformation of civilization” as Neil Young is currently singing it — it’s the hundredth monkey cracking the cocoanut for milk — an evolutionary step in our species — a turning-point that’ll be taught long after we’re gone.
And it’s happening now. If you can read this, you’ve got your invitation. We are the cells that are multiplying. We are the lucky ones that make it across the river to The Promised Land. This is a moment all people will wish they lived through. And that this is even bigger for the world than it is for America.
It is our time, as he kept saying.
Live it or lose it, as I keep saying.
= = = = = = = = = = =
And wonderfully P.S.
A night later, a bunch of us went to the best band goin’, Phil Lesh & Friends, and at the beginning of the show, the 68 year old bandleader came out and Dedicated the show — something I’ve never seen any GD member ever do . . .
Phil: “Two days ago, we lived through and participated in a turning point in history, as important as anything that we’ve seen in our lives. And I bet everybody in this room was a part of that in some way. So, I want to dedicate this show tonight to that uniquely American spirit, which was just thrown up, at the perfect moment, with this man, and this movement, and these people. So, here’s to you!”
Followed by chants of, “U.S.A., U.S.A., U.S.A.,” at an underground Grateful Dead concert in the core of Manhattan! 🙂
I finalized my predictions on Nov. 1st, and called the final Electoral College to be:
367 to 171
and it turned out:
365 to 173
🙂
“My bad”: I thought the Dems would pull off North Dakota; and I gave Indiana to the Repubs, but the Dems squeaked it out by .9%. And then McCain eventually won Missouri by .1%! 🙂
Missouri & Montana were my two final changes 🙂 All along, I was calling Missouri for McCain, but at the last moment (!) I switched it, figuring the national “mo” that was with Obama would sway the “.1%” in Obama’s favor and keep Missouri’s streak going. But, nooooooooo.
Also: I figured McCain would get 56 million votes, and that’s exactly what he got on election night, but ended up with 59 million after all the absentees were counted.
I called Obama hitting 70 million votes, and he ended up with just over 68,500,000 — so, damn close there.
I figured the spread would be: 54% – 45%. . . . Turned out: 53% – 45.7%.
I called the Senate: 56 – 42 – 2
and at present it’s: 56 – 41 – 2 — with Minnesota yet to be decided.
Without knowing much about the House, I guessed it would end up 265 – 170, and it currently stands at 255 – 176, with 4 undecided.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Final Numbers (as of Dec. 9th):
Obama: 68,520,000 votes, . . . 52.79%
McCain: 59,455,000, . . . 45.81% (1.4% for “other”)
total votes cast: 129,786,000
(source for the above: The Green Papers)
November 2008 U.S. population: 305,836,000 (U.S. Census Clock)
Total registered voters: 169 million (86 m. Dems, 55 m. Repubs, 28 m. independents) (source: Wikipedia)
and listen to a radio show about the election while you’re reading! What fun!
7:00 – – 6 states — The Bellwethers — doing their hit “Georgia & Indiana” — If McCain is doing worse than winning by 3%, he’s in trouble. If McCain’s winning by 8% or better, it’s NOT going to be a full blow-out night.
8:00 – – 16 states – – Ahoy Missouri! 🙂 They’ve only voted correctly for the winner in every Presidential election for the last hundred freakin’ years (except, like, once).
Dems (138) – – Florida 27, Pennsylvania 21, Illinois 21, New Jersey 15, Massachusetts 12, Missouri 11 (but will be too-close-to-call until Way-later), Maryland 10, Connecticuit 7, Maine 4, New Hampshire 4, Delaware 3, D.C. 3 . . . . . . (16 + 20 + 138 = 174)
