What dawned on me during the televised grief period goes back to another town whose name came to represent not a location on a map but a pivotal point in U.S. history as a result of the words of a president whose views on the issue of race – though hardly radical – made many people uncomfortable, one who used the state of Illinois as a springboard to the White House.
What got my mind headed toward Gettysburg was the sheer volume of commentary on President Obama’s speech “at Tucson” not after the speech was delivered but before the president even boarded his jet and headed to Arizona. Before, I’d guess, or bet, were I a betting person, the first word was even committed to the page, or to the screen.
Is this weighing in about what the president should say during an upcoming speech normal? I realize I took a hiatus from the news that spanned more than a decade, and that I was perpetually, progressively drunk for eight of those years, but my God, is it a fact of life during the Obama era for David Brooks, John Dickerson, Jon Meacham and so many others to commandeer the national airwaves night after night to offer up their pre-address wisdom to the president and his speechwriters? He should strike a somber but hopeful tone. He should not mention the issue of gun control, because it’s controversial, and when the nation is in pain controversy is the last thing you want to touch on. He should be more emotional. He should let us see his human side. The American people are yearning for guidance, for reassurance that there is hope ahead, right out there on the horizon, just beyond … Tucson.
Here’s what most of the American people I know are yearning for: Would David Brooks and Jon Dickerson and Jon Meacham and all the other lifelong members of the debate team please (pardon my language) shut the fuck up and let the president make a goddamn speech?
And speaking of one-word expressions, the answer to that question is no.
The first reason is obvious: fame, and everything that goes along with it. Without being particularly exceptional, these goons have a frightening amount of exposure. John Dickerson, for example, spews forth his nonsense all over Slate, CBS News and, worst of all, PBS, where he often appears at Gwen Ifill’s table. And Jon Meacham, for some reason, was allowed to become the editor of Newsweek magazine and then given his own show on PBS, in addition to his numerous appearances on Charlie Rose’s show, where his advice to the president seems to always run along the same lines: Barack Obama needs to be more emotional. Apparently, it’s that level of analysis that qualifies someone to advise the president of the United States on national television.
But what struck me during Tucson goes beyond the immediate gratification that must go along with sitting on a television set and advising one of the most powerful people in the world. I think these jesters are waiting for Gettysburg. I should be too embarrassed to reveal this, but I know precious little about the speech Abraham Lincoln gave there. But here is what I do know: A speech that wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal turned out to be a very, very big deal indeed. So big it’s in all the history books. I think that’s where these guys want to be, I think that’s what they consider their rightful place, and in order to help them get there, every time Obama gives a speech, we can listen to their blather not only for a week after the speech, but for a week before it as well. More than once – they do repeat each other, often – I heard Tucson described as “Obama’s Oklahoma City moment.” But I think Gettysburg is the ultimate destination here. When whatever speech Obama is going to give turns out to be indeed pivotal, the talkies can smirk and gloat and say, “I knew this was going to be big,” and, of course, “I told you so.” And without having ever won an election themselves – a feat clearly beyond their capabilities – the infrastructure is in place for them to transcend the television and the newsmagazines –what’s left of them – and assume their place in history.
