"The Election of Dave Barry" Part 2/6
July 13
Rocked by a week of charges and countercharges, the 1992 Democratic National Convention opens at Madison Square Garden. What had started out as yet another quick, boring party gathering-slash-coronation is now something else entirely. Trust in the three leading candidates has been shattered, and many delegates aren't too thrilled about voting for any of the them! By now, a slate of would-be substitutes - Tennessee's Al Gore, Iowa's Tom Harkin, Nebraska's Bob Kerrey, Illinois's Paul Simon, Virginia's Douglas Wilder, Arizona's Bruce Babbit and others - has begun to pop up, each hoping to profit from the top tier's sudden fall from grace.
The man on everyone's mind, though, has yet to utter a word. All weekend, the buzz has centered around Governor Mario Cuomo of New York. Even before the past week's imbroglio, he was the true choice of many convention delegates. At this point, he's considered to be the one man (according to the pundits) to have the best chance of both re-uniting the party and defeating President Bush this November.
But the silence from Albany is deafening - and becoming more so by the hour! Simply by sitting in the Governor's mansion and saying nothing, Cuomo deepens the tension and confusion already running rampant in Madison Square Garden.
Finally, Wednesday night, the night before the balloting is scheduled to begin, Governor Cuomo issues a statement. In what is generally agreed later to be an extraordinarily poorly-worded press release, he states, "I will not send a team to campaign openly for the nomination, nor will I present my name to the assembled delegates for balloting. However, if the convention wishes to turn to me and request that I accept the nomination, I will seriously consider it."
The overall effect is not what the Governor had hoped for (at least one supposes not, since he never discussed it in public afterwards). Instead, the feeling was succinctly summed up by one Kansas delegate who remarked heatedly to "Nightline", "He wants us to crawl to him and beg him to allow himself to be nominated?! The hell with that! I'll vote Bugs Bunny before I'll vote for Mario Cuomo!"
July 16
Thursday arrives - and it looks like a gray, gray day to the Democratic Party bosses. Their top candidates are effectively out of action, their presumptive fall-back man has played his "Hamlet" card one time too many, and all that's left are the wannabes and favorite sons skulking about the Gardens, hoping for lightning to strike.
A depressing spectacle, to be sure - but, the bosses tell themselves, not a totally bleak one. Sure, the embarrassment factor is running high, and most of the potential fill-ins aren't exactly brimming over with charisma. Still, most of them would be reasonably serviceable candidates, particularly when backed by the party machinery, and President Bush still looks weak at the polls. So, they ask themselves, how bad can it really get?
Fate (as it is wont to do) sets out to quantify an answer for them.
The balloting begins, and to no one's surprise, a winner is not chosen. Technically, of course, delegates are bound to vote for the candidate they're pledged to, but no one wants to vote for damaged goods, and in this case, the penalty for violating the rules seems to be far outweighed by the price of following them. So despite many protests from Governor Clinton and his staff, the party discreetly ignores its own by-laws, and the leadership resigns itself to running the first multi-ballot convention in decades, expecting that someone will emerge around the fourth or fifth ballot to collect the prize.
But even after seven attempts, no one seems to be polling very well. And there are no signs the situation will improve soon. There are still supporters for Bill Clinton, Paul Tsongas and Jerry Brown, but their numbers have dwindled significantly. A few stubborn souls in the New York delegation are still booming Mario Cuomo, but almost no one else is. Ditto for small but vocal groups backing Jesse Jackson and Ted Kennedy. And the brace of would-be candidates are far too scattered and disorganized to have much impact.
And so the balloting goes on. And on. And on. And, in fact, on. Finally, shortly after 2:00 AM, 16 ballots have been taken, the convention recesses, and Thursday ends with no result.
July 17
It's drawing close to 11:00 PM on Friday night, the night that had once upon a time been set aside for acceptance speeches by Governor Clinton and his chosen running mate. The possibility that *anyone* will be giving an acceptance speech anytime soon is growing dim, though. 26 ballots have been cast and there's still no nominee. Stubbornness, pride and anger have taken hold in the hearts and minds of the candidates, and none of them are willing to withdraw in favor of any of the others. This evening's should-have-been celebration has devolved into a half-hearted waiting game.
That's when a clutch of bored and disgusted delegates from Florida cast a total of 10 votes for Miami Herald columnist and author Dave Barry. Bemused by this, 5 delegates from Georgia do the same. This is followed by 2 Dave Barry votes each from Hawaii and Idaho. Then 12 from Illinois. And 14 from Indiana.
By the end of the 27th Ballot, with 398 votes, Dave Barry is in third place, outdistancing Governor Brown.
Belatedly awakened to this new (and to them, dangerous) trend on the floor, the party leadership tries desperately to adjourn before the next ballot can be taken - they fear this will make them appearing even *more* ludicrous on national television (this convention is drawing the highest ratings of any since 1968 - not that, under the circumstances, the Democrats consider this to be a good thing). But by now, the delegates are sick to death of the party leadership - after all, look at the candidates *they've* managed to produce - and plow ahead, unmindful and in the grip of what one of them later described as "some weird combination of antipathy, euphoria and sheer desperation".
It's later described as the first real nomination by acclamation in memory. It happens so fast, in fact, it occurs almost before the nominee learns he's even in contention.
In fact, when he receives the news, Dave Barry is at a Manhattan bar with a bunch of fellow journalists where they've gone to escape the overpoweringly desperate atmosphere of the Gardens. Barry suggests switching from the baseball game back to the convention to see what's going on. "That way," Barry jokes, "I can claim all this beer on my expense account". With a shrug (after all, the Mariners are leading the Yanks by a dismally wide margin in the eighth), the bartender flips to CBS.
As they tune in, they hear muted cheers, "Maybe somebody's finally got things moving," one of the bar patrons suggests.
"Mister Chairman," comes an accented voice, "The great state of Louisiana casts 8 votes for Bill Clinton, 6 votes for its own former Governor, the honorable Edwin W. Edwards," (a description that succeeds in producing a loud snort from a "New Orleans Times-Picayune" reporter) "2 votes for Senator Albert Gore, and 19 votes for MISTER - DAVE - BARRY!"
More applause fills the hall. Dave Barry fills the table with a mouthful of spewed Heineken.
Barry leaps to his feet, half-convinced this is an elaborate gag, desperately trying to remember if there's anyone else named Dave Barry he should know about. A quick glance at the screen bursts that bubble, as he sees his face (a shot from the back cover of his latest book) projected behind a frankly befuddled Dan Rather. Dan, it seems, doesn't quite know what to make of this situation where an undeclared candidate, a fellow journalist from Miami and a Pulitzer Prize winner at that, has seized the lead in the race for the Democratic Presidential nomination and is rapidly closing in on the magic number needed to actually...
Leaving his now-speechless drinking buddies behind, Dave bursts from the bar and hails a cab for the Gardens, not sure if he's aghast, hysterical, or just plain terrified. He tries to get the cabbie to switch to live coverage, but all the radio in the taxi seems to get is Paula Abdul and something called Nirvana. Finally, he spills out of the cab, makes his way into the Garden, and rushes breathlessly (and blessedly unobserved) up to the press box just in time to see and hear Washington cast 25 votes in his name - just enough to put him over the top.
On the 28th Ballot, the Democratic Party has nominated Dave Barry to be its 1992 candidate for President of the United States.
(End Part 2)
Rocked by a week of charges and countercharges, the 1992 Democratic National Convention opens at Madison Square Garden. What had started out as yet another quick, boring party gathering-slash-coronation is now something else entirely. Trust in the three leading candidates has been shattered, and many delegates aren't too thrilled about voting for any of the them! By now, a slate of would-be substitutes - Tennessee's Al Gore, Iowa's Tom Harkin, Nebraska's Bob Kerrey, Illinois's Paul Simon, Virginia's Douglas Wilder, Arizona's Bruce Babbit and others - has begun to pop up, each hoping to profit from the top tier's sudden fall from grace.
The man on everyone's mind, though, has yet to utter a word. All weekend, the buzz has centered around Governor Mario Cuomo of New York. Even before the past week's imbroglio, he was the true choice of many convention delegates. At this point, he's considered to be the one man (according to the pundits) to have the best chance of both re-uniting the party and defeating President Bush this November.
But the silence from Albany is deafening - and becoming more so by the hour! Simply by sitting in the Governor's mansion and saying nothing, Cuomo deepens the tension and confusion already running rampant in Madison Square Garden.
Finally, Wednesday night, the night before the balloting is scheduled to begin, Governor Cuomo issues a statement. In what is generally agreed later to be an extraordinarily poorly-worded press release, he states, "I will not send a team to campaign openly for the nomination, nor will I present my name to the assembled delegates for balloting. However, if the convention wishes to turn to me and request that I accept the nomination, I will seriously consider it."
The overall effect is not what the Governor had hoped for (at least one supposes not, since he never discussed it in public afterwards). Instead, the feeling was succinctly summed up by one Kansas delegate who remarked heatedly to "Nightline", "He wants us to crawl to him and beg him to allow himself to be nominated?! The hell with that! I'll vote Bugs Bunny before I'll vote for Mario Cuomo!"
July 16
Thursday arrives - and it looks like a gray, gray day to the Democratic Party bosses. Their top candidates are effectively out of action, their presumptive fall-back man has played his "Hamlet" card one time too many, and all that's left are the wannabes and favorite sons skulking about the Gardens, hoping for lightning to strike.
A depressing spectacle, to be sure - but, the bosses tell themselves, not a totally bleak one. Sure, the embarrassment factor is running high, and most of the potential fill-ins aren't exactly brimming over with charisma. Still, most of them would be reasonably serviceable candidates, particularly when backed by the party machinery, and President Bush still looks weak at the polls. So, they ask themselves, how bad can it really get?
Fate (as it is wont to do) sets out to quantify an answer for them.
The balloting begins, and to no one's surprise, a winner is not chosen. Technically, of course, delegates are bound to vote for the candidate they're pledged to, but no one wants to vote for damaged goods, and in this case, the penalty for violating the rules seems to be far outweighed by the price of following them. So despite many protests from Governor Clinton and his staff, the party discreetly ignores its own by-laws, and the leadership resigns itself to running the first multi-ballot convention in decades, expecting that someone will emerge around the fourth or fifth ballot to collect the prize.
But even after seven attempts, no one seems to be polling very well. And there are no signs the situation will improve soon. There are still supporters for Bill Clinton, Paul Tsongas and Jerry Brown, but their numbers have dwindled significantly. A few stubborn souls in the New York delegation are still booming Mario Cuomo, but almost no one else is. Ditto for small but vocal groups backing Jesse Jackson and Ted Kennedy. And the brace of would-be candidates are far too scattered and disorganized to have much impact.
And so the balloting goes on. And on. And on. And, in fact, on. Finally, shortly after 2:00 AM, 16 ballots have been taken, the convention recesses, and Thursday ends with no result.
July 17
It's drawing close to 11:00 PM on Friday night, the night that had once upon a time been set aside for acceptance speeches by Governor Clinton and his chosen running mate. The possibility that *anyone* will be giving an acceptance speech anytime soon is growing dim, though. 26 ballots have been cast and there's still no nominee. Stubbornness, pride and anger have taken hold in the hearts and minds of the candidates, and none of them are willing to withdraw in favor of any of the others. This evening's should-have-been celebration has devolved into a half-hearted waiting game.
That's when a clutch of bored and disgusted delegates from Florida cast a total of 10 votes for Miami Herald columnist and author Dave Barry. Bemused by this, 5 delegates from Georgia do the same. This is followed by 2 Dave Barry votes each from Hawaii and Idaho. Then 12 from Illinois. And 14 from Indiana.
By the end of the 27th Ballot, with 398 votes, Dave Barry is in third place, outdistancing Governor Brown.
Belatedly awakened to this new (and to them, dangerous) trend on the floor, the party leadership tries desperately to adjourn before the next ballot can be taken - they fear this will make them appearing even *more* ludicrous on national television (this convention is drawing the highest ratings of any since 1968 - not that, under the circumstances, the Democrats consider this to be a good thing). But by now, the delegates are sick to death of the party leadership - after all, look at the candidates *they've* managed to produce - and plow ahead, unmindful and in the grip of what one of them later described as "some weird combination of antipathy, euphoria and sheer desperation".
It's later described as the first real nomination by acclamation in memory. It happens so fast, in fact, it occurs almost before the nominee learns he's even in contention.
In fact, when he receives the news, Dave Barry is at a Manhattan bar with a bunch of fellow journalists where they've gone to escape the overpoweringly desperate atmosphere of the Gardens. Barry suggests switching from the baseball game back to the convention to see what's going on. "That way," Barry jokes, "I can claim all this beer on my expense account". With a shrug (after all, the Mariners are leading the Yanks by a dismally wide margin in the eighth), the bartender flips to CBS.
As they tune in, they hear muted cheers, "Maybe somebody's finally got things moving," one of the bar patrons suggests.
"Mister Chairman," comes an accented voice, "The great state of Louisiana casts 8 votes for Bill Clinton, 6 votes for its own former Governor, the honorable Edwin W. Edwards," (a description that succeeds in producing a loud snort from a "New Orleans Times-Picayune" reporter) "2 votes for Senator Albert Gore, and 19 votes for MISTER - DAVE - BARRY!"
More applause fills the hall. Dave Barry fills the table with a mouthful of spewed Heineken.
Barry leaps to his feet, half-convinced this is an elaborate gag, desperately trying to remember if there's anyone else named Dave Barry he should know about. A quick glance at the screen bursts that bubble, as he sees his face (a shot from the back cover of his latest book) projected behind a frankly befuddled Dan Rather. Dan, it seems, doesn't quite know what to make of this situation where an undeclared candidate, a fellow journalist from Miami and a Pulitzer Prize winner at that, has seized the lead in the race for the Democratic Presidential nomination and is rapidly closing in on the magic number needed to actually...
Leaving his now-speechless drinking buddies behind, Dave bursts from the bar and hails a cab for the Gardens, not sure if he's aghast, hysterical, or just plain terrified. He tries to get the cabbie to switch to live coverage, but all the radio in the taxi seems to get is Paula Abdul and something called Nirvana. Finally, he spills out of the cab, makes his way into the Garden, and rushes breathlessly (and blessedly unobserved) up to the press box just in time to see and hear Washington cast 25 votes in his name - just enough to put him over the top.
On the 28th Ballot, the Democratic Party has nominated Dave Barry to be its 1992 candidate for President of the United States.
(End Part 2)