An Early Exit
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
‘Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg & The New York City Host Committee invite you to the official Media Welcome of the Republican National Convention.” Thus read the invite to a reception at the Time Warner Center Saturday night. The unbearably humid evening did nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for meeting my fellow journalists, who, I was later told, numbered in the thousands. The entire shopping mall was blocked off by tight security and no one was permitted to enter without official credentials. Luckily, I had one and with my press pass was ushered inside with ease.
All three floors of the city’s most exclusive shopping center offered gourmet treats from the restaurants in the Time Warner Center, and liquor and drinks were plentiful. Staff wearing orange and blue T-shirts roamed the mall doling out gift booklets with discount coupons to the stores. I had three diet cokes and a bite of a quesadilla but found that my plebian tastes ran more to the hot dog vendor outside. That was free, too, as was the entertainment, which consisted of two harlequin clothed acrobats wearing springed footgear and lights coiled around their bodies.
Jumping and twirling and generally working hard for their money, they delighted the visiting press who wandered out of the mall. I’m a native New Yorker who’s used to seeing oddities like this on any given weekend in Central Park, but I appreciated the bravado it takes for anyone to work up such a sweat on a hot August night.
The New York contingent was there in full force along with Governor Pataki and Mayor Bloomberg, who addressed the crowd – but don’t ask me what they said because I was shopping in Borders for sketch books that were on sale for $7.99. Wolf Blitzer, Larry King, and surprisingly tiny Greta Van Susteren were familiar faces. Other cable pundits were on hand but their names escape me.
Rep. Peter King and Senator Graham of South Carolina were on hand, but whatever journalistic instinct one needs to schmooze to get scoops, I clearly do not possess in abundant supply. Only one person there intrigued me enough to introduce myself – Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly. I had a thousand questions to ask him, but ended up just handing him my card, muttering a few words, and then scampering off into the night.
With all the free booze available, I half expected to see members of the fourth estate collapse in varied states of Bacchanalian excess. In the hour and a half I spent there, nothing much of this nature transpired. I would have stayed longer but my mood shifted to a downward spiral of intense ennui.
I was sitting outside watching the acrobats and listening to the canned music blare through the outside speakers. The Rolling Stones were a treat and so were the other classic rock tunes. Then I heard what sounded like a choir of angelic voices and I wondered who switched that record on. Through the window, I saw a man on the stage swinging his arms rhythmically to the sounds of those heavenly tones and I moved closer to see if there actually was a choir.
The upper two floors were ringed along the railing with singers clothed in black shirts, and their voices filled the atrium gloriously. I couldn’t hear the words clearly but I did ascertain that it was a gospel song. I did hear unmistakably the words angels and God. Did they sing, “I believe in God?” Gasp!
I was still standing outside when the sound ended so perhaps my judgment was off, but I expected more than the smattering of applause that greeted the singers. They deserved more of a response than that. A standing ovation would have been appropriate, especially because most of the invited guests were standing already.
Maybe everyone was too soused to appreciate the musical treat or more likely they just don’t like religious music unless it’s offered by a choir at a Democratic church fund-raiser. Maybe the mainstreamers are just a bunch of jerks or more likely I am what my husband dubbed me, the ultra-sensitive A.V. Colon.
I don’t know how Boston greeted the Democrats at their convention, but the mayor is doing his best to show the Republicans and visitors to our city a good time. Perhaps the mayor needs to remind all New York City that the invitation to host the convention here was made to both parties more than two years ago. The city was bleeding after 9/11 and the mayor felt that the conventions would be a major boost to helping the city’s recovery. The DNC insisted that it be the only party invited. The Republicans made no such demand. Clearly, the DNC was more concerned about politics than the welfare of the city. Now the liberal press is trying to its darndest to portray the GOP as exploiting 9/11 when the DNC demonstrated how little it cared about the damage done to this city.
What the thousands of protesters are doing to try and sabotage the convention with their sophomoric gestures is the result of the demonization of the GOP by the mainstream press, many of whom were present last Saturday night.
Do you blame me for leaving early?