Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

We had a lot to lose four years ago—and we lost a lot of it

07.21.2020 by David Murray // 1 Comment

I WAS IN CLEVELAND FOUR YEARS AGO TONIGHT, watching Trump’s speech at the Republican National Convention, trying to get pictures of the mesmerized crowd while making it look like I was just taking selfies.

I stood in a security line for an hour waiting to get out of the arena. I stood next to David Frum, the former Bush speechwriter, who would have been grateful to talk to me, or anyone other than the old woman who was haranguing him. I didn’t introduce myself to him. I didn’t feel like talking. I was trying to gather my thoughts, rather than add to them.

I rode my motorcycle back to my pal’s boathouse in Rocky River, took a beer out of his fridge and wrote this in the pitch black on his back deck, in one passionate go.

***

CLEVELAND—I had a couple of beers before heading over to the Quicken Loans Arena, where alcohol was only served in the private suites. So when I saw a guy with an “America First” sign, I felt just loose enough to ask, “If America’s first, who will be second?”

“The rest of the world!” the guy shouted happily.

We’ve seen what happens when one nation sets itself against the rest of the world.

My dad fought in Europe, in World War II. He wound up in Berlin, and what he saw there, and the rotting death he smelled there, he didn’t say much about when he returned. He said so little, in fact, that his steel-executive father, on a fact-finding trip to assess what it would take to make German industry work again, was shocked by the total demolition and human degradation he saw, two years after the end of the war.

“Bud,” my grandfather said to my dad when he got back. “You didn’t tell me.”

My dad’s response was, “How could I have?”

When Adolf Hitler had spoken to the German people during the Great Depression 15 years earlier, he had convinced them they had nothing to lose. The currency was worthless, the country was secretly controlled by Jews and had been unfairly treated by all its neighbors, and it was time to take drastic measures. Many Germans must have been skeptical that he could deliver them from such dire straights, but even when it’s a drunk who knocks on your door at midnight and tells you your house is on fire, you’re susceptible, however skeptical, to suggestion.

By 1945, the German people realized they’d had far more to lose, back in the early 1930s, than they’d thought. Despite their troubles, they’d still had everything to lose.

The vision of the United States of America that Donald Trump laid out in a commanding and mesmerizing speech last night at the Republican National Convention—“look at them eyes!” shouted a guy behind me. “He looks like he’s looking right at you, talking to you personally.” “He’s not afraid!”—was of a place with not one decent thing in it, and a people with nothing to lose.

We’re being taken advantage of and screwed by every country in the world, on every front from trade to foreign policy. Our borders are being overrun by violent criminals “roaming free to threaten peaceful citizens.” And while we’re being raped from without, we’re being smothered from within. “America is a nation of believers, dreamers, and strivers that is being led by a group of censors, critics, and cynics.”

Imagine if you sat down on a barstool and struck up a conversation with a stranger who described his life in these terms: His job is boring, his boss is a bastard, his wife is a shrew, his kids are lazy ingrates and his house needs a new roof. You’d start to figure out the problem might not be the world, and it might be the guy. And you’d excuse yourself to pee and climb out the bathroom window.

But Donald Trump is appealing to a nation that has a lot of people like that. People too proud to express self-pity directly. But people who express their self-sorrow through sorrow and rage on behalf of other Americans, and America itself.

The contrast between the American horror story described in the arena and the atmosphere outside the arena was stark. These were a beautiful four days in Cleveland, Ohio. I grew up near here, and boy, if you want a nothing-to-lose vision of an abandoned, crumbling, hopeless place, you should have visited these downtown streets and this polluted water in about 1979. This town was on its ass, and if you delivered a Clevelander from back then to the hip and cheerful place these Republican delegates partied in here this week, he would have thought he died and went to San Diego.

I heard from a number of Clevelander/Trump fans this week how far the city has come back over the years. But then they went into the gleaming new Quicken Loans Arena and cheered angrily as Trump relentlessly described an America that looked like last page of The Lorax.

And of course Trump has been painting that picture for a year, pounding on it long enough and consistently enough that it sounds familiar. And what’s familiar rings true. And what rings true—even partly true—becomes acceptable in polite society. A tanned, middle-aged Clevelander in a red cocktail dress told me she’d been for Trump from the very beginning. “Quietly,” she said. “Now, I think everybody is willing to say it.”

All around me, men and women were laughing with giddy astonishment that somebodyfinally dared to say these things, in front of God and everybody. “He’s not a politician!” a man behind me cried. “No politician would ever say that!”

But what Trump is saying is only emotionally accurate. In America we do have an incredible amount to lose by electing the wrong president—and especially by electing a president so animalistic in his hunger for this power that he would describe a nation with as many resources and as many fine and brilliant human beings we still have here as a filthy latrine of a place, in need of drastic measures of every imaginable kind.

On the day that the police officers were shot in Dallas—the dark culmination of a month of utterly discouraging incidents that do seem to be building in frequency and in magnitude—American symphonies played, the Mayo Clinic cured people of cancer, Silicon Valley engineers worked on projects unthinkable by most of us. Americans taught their children well, Americans nursed their aging parents, Americans gave beautiful eulogies for beautiful Americans. And the next day, the wise and eloquent Dallas chief of police led a pitch-perfect and spiritually healing response to the madness that had occurred in an American city where American life will go on.

This is such unfamiliar territory for me. Over the years I’ve been the asshole telling my fucking golf and sailing buddies that life isn’t a bowl of cherries for everyone, and resources must be directed toward poor and downtrodden people in forgotten neighborhoods and dying farm towns and Appalachian hollers.

To have to remind Republicans not to forget that almost all of us are still infinitely more comfortable, clean, healthy and safe than any of us were 100 years ago. To have to ask fellows with big bellies full of steak and gin—people like multimillionaire Jack Nicklaus, who supports Donald Trump because “he’s turning America upside-down”—just how exactly Barack Obama has cramped their style. To have to wonder if these people ever drive down their own leafy streets, wave at their helpful neighbors and walk into their loving homes and think, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.”

Yes, we witness incredible shit on television, and it seems to get more incredible every day. I have recently been put in mind of 1968, and what it must have felt like when Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were shot, and then riots broke out all over the country as arguments erupted over dinner tables about Vietnam. It must have felt scary. It must have felt out of control. It must have also felt exciting.

And with the backdrop of the shit we’ve witnessed this month, this week in Cleveland felt exciting, too. It felt like meeting everybody on the Internet, in person. It was at turns confusing, funny, vulgar and profound. It was dumb and smart and representative of reality and a total distortion. In short, it felt like the world.

Not the end of the world, but rather life: American life in a middle-American city under mostly sunny skies and often with music in the background. Americans opening doors for people, Americans saying excuse me, Americans thanking Americans (and American police) for their help.

The world outside the Quicken Loans Arena was a lot better than the world Donald Trump described inside of it, to the cackling glee of some of the Americans sitting around me, and also to the more thoughtful and discerning applause of others.

I understand the appeal, especially after eight years of a slightly egg-headed leader who values balance and nuance and measured responses, of a guy who promises to clean house. One of the surest applause lines for Trump, no matter what issue he was describing—from trade deficits to immigration to crime—was when he promised to fix the problem right now. Barack Obama, and also Hillary Clinton, do not make such promises. And it does feel, as ISIS blows up a group of innocents seemingly every week, like being told, “Your business is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.”

But in a democracy, citizens do have to use their common sense. “Everything he’s saying is just common sense,” said a very happy Trump supporter sitting behind me last night. No, sir, it’s not common sense to say we’re going to destroy ISIS in short order. Or that President Trump could solve any of our other large, complicated and stubborn problems right away.

Here’s some common sense for you: We have a lot left to lose in this country, and ask anybody who lived in Dresden in 1945: We each have a lot left to lose if this country gets under the control of someone desperate and dishonest enough to tell you we don’t.

We each—still—have everything to lose.

–30–

***

And though it may not seem like it today, we still do. And don’t let anyone, of any political stripe, convince you otherwise.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // 2016, Donald Trump, Republican National Convention

Will he or won’t he? Let’s find out together on the live blog tonight, for GOP National Convention!

08.30.2012 by David Murray // 7 Comments

10:32

We must keep our own council. If Mitt Romney walked into my house right now I'd offer him a drink. And then apologize, because there is no drink left. I'd offer him a hug, and try to conceal my drunkenness. I'd make us a pot of coffee. But the Mormon fucker wouldn't even drink that! And I'd sit him down and try to figure out why he feels he wants to be president of the United States, despite the facts that he has no ideas whatsover, hates meeting new people and will have hundreds of grandkids to attend to in his retirement.

I would ask him earnestly. He would eventually tell me. And I would tell you!

Alas.

Goodnight.

(For now.)

10:27

Over to MSNBC, to learn from the most insufferable bastard of all time, Lawrence O'Donnell, that Romney's speech convinced the audience that they had a guy who could take the presidency. I flee to FOX. Where a cigar-shaped priest is talking like the King of Saudi Arabia.

10:20

Republican strategist Alex Castellanos: "I thought that speech was good enough." Democratic strategist James Carville: "He competently delivered a speech that was utterly predictable." Professional fence-sitter David Gergen says the speech has "lots of heart" but "needed more soul." I can't take this anymore.

10:18

Blitz just said balloons and confetti are coming down. Nothing gets past him!

10:15

Michael Beschloss is in bed, so I've got to go to CNN. (Where are the fucking balloons? There they are! Where's all the kids? There they are!)

10:10

This speech is getting Romney nowhere.

10:08

The ideal solution of all what I have mentioned will not take place except through solidarity, tolerance and moderation and also through standing side by side to face whoever tries to harm our religion and unity.

Thus, we could, by God willing, preserve the history, dignity and pride of our … nation …. If we observed justice, then we could conquer injustice, if we practiced moderation, then we conquer extremism and if we reject dispersion, then we could keep our unity, strength and determination, by God willing.

I suggest hereby the establishment of a center for dialogue … help us stick firmly to our religion and keep the unity and dignity of this nation. God's peace, mercy and blessings be upon you.

Oh, my bad, that wasn't Mitt Romney. That was King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia. I keep getting these guys mixed up!

10:05

Energy independence: An empty promise since 1977.

10:04

12 million new jobs. And a nation leans forward in its chair.

10:03

Americans do not need to be told that it's okay to switch party allegiances. My late father's presidential voting record:

Dewey

Eisenhower

Eisenhower

Nixon

Goldwater

Nixon

Nixon

Ford

Reagan

Reagan

Bush

Bush

Dole

Bush

Kerry

Obama

9:58

President Obama did not, has not, will not, could not "attack success." You'll be judged on your applause lines, Romney, and I do hope you come up with more honest ones than this.

9:51

Great stuff about the kids. He's a loving father. But hey, so am I!

9:49

Love that talk about family love. He knows it because he had it. But what can he do as president to increase it?

9:45

Still cheering that moon landing after 40 years. "When the world needs to do really big stuff, you need an American."

9:44

The wife, from the kitchen: "I can't watch it."

9:40

I feel a special kinship with the future. Don't you?

9:38

Janesville's population is 63,479, FYI.

9:37

He accepted!

9:33

Switching to something stronger. Run past the wife, now watching the other TV, in the kitchen: "It all just kinda makes me sick. I don't like watching it."

9:29

This boy can speak.

9:28

"They were never rich. But they were successful." Thank you, Marco.

9:25

Making religion the central tenet of American life is not a good idea.

9:23

Putting America in context of human history is a good idea.

9:21

Our problem with Barack Obama isn't that he's a bad person. Just that he's lazy and plays golf all the time. Sorry, Marco, it doesn't resonate with anybody—as humor, or truth.

9:16

Rubio comes on. I want to go to bed.

9:05

Regarding Clint Eastwood:

"But why are actors, in general, such blatant and obnoxious asses, such arrant posturers and wind-bags? … The answer is quite simple. To reach it one needs but consider the type of young man who normally gets stage-struck. Is he, taking averages, the intelligent, alert, ingenious, ambitious young fellow? Is he the young fellow with ideas in him, and a yearning for hard and difficult work? Is he the diligent reader, the hard student, the eager inquirer? No. He is, in the overwhelming main, the neighborhood fop and beau, the human clothes-horse, the nimble squire of dames. The youths of more active mind, emerging from adolescence, turn to business and the professions; the men that they admire and seek to follow are men of genuine distinction, men who have actually done difficult and valuable things, men who have fought good (if often dishonest) fights and are respected and envied by other men. The stage-struck youth is of a softer and more shallow sort. He seeks, not a chance to test his mettle by hard and useful work, but an easy chance to shine. … He is, in brief, a hollow and incompetent creature, a strutter and poseur, a popinjay, a pretty one … He is this silly youngster grown older, but otherwise unchanged." —H.L. Mencken.

9:02

OK, Blitz, you're right. A pretty good video.

8:48

OK, I'm sticking with CNN. Wolf Blitzer—or "Blitz," as Herman Cain hilariously called him—says there's an "amazing" video about Romney coming up. I don't care about the video … I just want to know what sort of thing Blitz might find "amazing."

8:45

Here's George, making the infamous "brainwashing" remark that was said to torpedo his candidacy in 1968. That, and the fact that, as Ohio governor Jim Rhodes said, "Watching George Romney run for the presidency was like trying to watch a duck make love to a football."

8:41

Okay, the PBS guys are killing me. And Mitt's over on CNN talking about his dad: Mitt's best subject. Because his dad doted on him and he loved his dad. He won't say a false thing about his father … and he ought to talk about his father a lot tonight.

8:32

Taylor Hicks was just bizarrely dancing on the stage, and my wife looked up and said, "Oh my God, is that Joe the plumber?"

8:21

One tragic consequence of this election is sociolinguistic: The re-equating, after years of good hippie instincts and marijuana-influenced dialogue toward the contrary, of the word "success" with that other clammy word, "wealth." One thing I like about liberals is that we don't refer to people as "successsful." We say, "He's made a lot of money in the stock market." Which we think is cool. We just don't think it makes him a wholesale "success." He could be an unhappy creep in every other way!

Sorry to say it, but I guess we have to start over: You're successful to the extent that you're happy, and you're rich to the extent that your days and nights are full of joy and excitement and love.

And no, by that definition, we do not resent people who are successful.

We call them our friends.

8:14

In my continuing effort to be a good boy, I'm tuning in to public television rather than any of those hideous cable channels. (For now.)

8:05

I know what everybody wants to know: What exactly is Murray drinking tonight? Well, in the spirit of bipartisanship and a hatred for social warfare, I'm drinking what you know damn well Mitt Romney would be drinking, if Mormons could drink: chardonnay. (For now.)

***

On my way out to the liquor store, I’ll tell you essentially where I stand on this election, so that I won’t have to spend the rest of the night concealing it.

I’m an Obama guy. I voted for him and have spent much of the last four years defending him, from friends on the right who think he is a socialist killer of babies at home and friends from the left who think he is a capitalist-oligarchical murderer of innocents abroad.

Me, I like him—and have a hard time figuring out what I’d have done differently in his place, given the political realities of the moment.

But Mitt Romney is hardly some foreign nightmare to me. He’s from where I was born and he grew up in the same context I did—the Detroit car culture in its glory days. My oldest sister actually double-dated with Mitt and my mom worked for Mitt’s dad George.

I felt such a connection with Mitt that I researched and wrote a feature story about Mitt’s growing up years, for the June issue of Automobile Magazine. In the course of that research I found a lot to like about George. And I was very much impressed by how much Mitt’s childhood friends admired him. Here’s a section from my piece:

With his powerful father, "He could have been an arrogant, stuck-up, snotty little brat," says [teenage friend Greg] Dearth. "But he was a great guy—an all-American kid with a great sense of humor, very self-effacing." And although it's been documented that Romney played a teenage prank or two—including once impersonating a police officer in order to scare some female friends—Dearth remembers Mitt as the most straitlaced kid in the neighborhood.

"Those of us who tested the boundaries in high school still marvel at the self-discipline he displayed," Dearth continues. "With a father who was then governor, Mitt knew where the line was and never crossed it. I think it was a sign of his deep respect for his dad and the way he was brought up. I often tell people he has more personal integrity than anyone I know. And I was raised a Unitarian."

Others went out of their way to praise young Romney's moral spine. What of his more recent reputation as a political changeling? "Well, you've got to separate his principles from this incredible drive," says [boyhood friend Phillip] Maxwell matter-of-factly. "He's determined to claim the highest office in the land—to be the first Mormon to do it. He keeps that undercover because he doesn't want to frighten people."

I don’t like Romney’s financial backers and I don’t like political base. I also think he’s actually miscast in the role of political campaigner, and I think the country deserves articulate campaigners as well as good politicians. And no, I don't think being the first Mormon president is the right motive for the job. But I’m eager to hear the man out tonight—to see what he can do to introduce the guy his friends and family sincerely love so well: himself.

See you at 9:00 EST.

***

Tonight The Indecisive Candidate will attemt to win over The Undecided Voter.

You know the Undecided Voter, right?

He's the fellow who likes the Red Sox and the Yankees.

This dame likes her steak rare and well done.

His shoe size is 10 but 11s feel so good he wears 13s.

She doesn't know whether to wind her wristwatch, or shit out of the hole in the ground.

He has padded toilet seats and wears shoes with velcro fasteners.

She would believe the last thing she heard, if she could remember it.

An empty cab drove up and these two got out.

And they're the ones from whose cold, dead hands Mitt Romney—who has troubles of his own when it comes to commitment—has to pry the proverbial fence tonight.

This should be good.

Join me back here tonight as I live blog the Republican National Convention. I'm going to be out of town and out of pocket for next week's Democratic show, so let's get our rocks off here—TONIGHT!

I'll come online about 9:00 EST. I hope to see you here.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // Barack Obama, Mitt Romney, Republican National Convention, undecided voter

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