Anyone who says that politics is show business for ugly people (a) hasn’t worked in show business and (b) hasn’t been to a national political convention.
In order to keep my day job, I won’t comment on (a) beyond saying that a not-insignificant number of actors, some of whom fancy themselves politicians anyway, look much better coming out of their trailers than they do going into them.
As for (b), there are plenty of good-looking people around, and not all of them are in the convention-entertainment-hostess business, if you know what I mean. (If you don’t, see this story.)
And if watching last night’s television coverage—which was kind of like being at a rock concert, waiting for the band to come on, when the camera operators try to pick out all the pretty girls in the crowd—didn’t convince you, you should have been on Marquette Avenue this morning as Senate heartthrob John Thune headed out for a run. (As John McCain recently quipped, if he were as handsome as Thune, he’d already be president.)
Or just watch Sarah Palin. Before her speech, the pressure was certainly on for the former beauty queen, but you’d never have known it. She’s been in town for a couple of days now, getting ready for her acceptance speech, and has displayed an almost preternatural confidence.
She was up early today (which meant 4:15 a.m. wakeup calls for her staffers—see yesterday’s post) for a walk-through of her speech at the Xcel Center, shocking reporters as she unexpectedly strode out onto the stage and smilingly delivered the first line of her address right in the middle of their morning shows. Then, just as quickly, she disappeared.
Meanwhile, the Straight Talk Express finally landed in Minnesota, and this week’s No. 1 parlor game—Where will John McCain give his acceptance speech from?—came to an end. He’s here, he’s speaking Thursday, the show will go on.
The minute McCain arrived, the mood here changed. Much of it has to do with security—the city went from heavily patrolled to locked-down. Law enforcement officers from all over the country have been here for weeks preparing, and have effectively controlled protesters and rioters around the convention hall. (With an assist, it must be said, from the weather. During yesterday’s rain squalls, the anarchists were nowhere to be found, and I doubt it’s because the water diluted the bleach they’ve been throwing on delegates since their supply of urine bags ran out.) But now, serious-looking people with badges, guns, and bulletproof vests are everywhere—set up at checkpoints all over the city and taking over the hotel McCain and Palin are occupying.
Now, in addition to multiple security layers in the lobby, there are guards on every floor when you get off the elevator. And, apparently, in other places, too. This morning, I had to get from one floor down to another and figured I’d take the stairs to get in a little exercise. But when I opened the exit door, I came face to face with three Secret Service agents posted on the landing. They didn’t say anything but made pretty clear with polite smiles that I needn’t worry about aerobic activity for the next 48 hours.
Given this new regime, the usual currency of the convention—those party tickets and convention passes—has become decidedly less valuable. Now, it’s access to John and Sarah that everyone wants. Precious few get it, but those who do are easy to spot: If they’re really on the inside, they have Secret Service hard pins on their lapels. Temporary visitors to the “bubble,” as they call the area around the candidates, get tin “S pins.” But everyone wants at least a glimpse.
Just this afternoon, as I came back up to my room to write this, the lobby was filled with people, including U.S. senators and people whose faces you’d recognize from the front of Forbes magazine, milling around, trying to look as if they had something to do but watching out of the corner of their eye for the telltale Secret Service detail that presages either of the nominees blowing through.
It’s a scene not unlike the crowds around the red carpet at a movie premiere. And as I write this, I guess, everyone has gone to see the show. Or is watching it on TV. Later, everyone will be checking the ratings to see how it went.
So, fine, politics is a lot like show business. It’s just the ugly-people part that kind of hurts.
