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Jewish World Review Oct. 23, 2000 / 24 Tishrei, 5761
Philip Terzian
I confess I tended to switch back and forth between Letterman and a rerun of Third
Rock from the Sun, partly because the sitcom was funnier, and partly because I felt a
little badly for Governor Bush, and couldn't bring myself to watch him suffer. Late-night chat
shows are not his natural milieu, and David Letterman didn't help much by persistently asking
"serious" questions about the Middle East and capital punishment. There's something a little
discordant about discussing intifadas and executions in front of an audience that's primed to
laugh.
To be sure, I may be wrong about all this. While the Governor seemed slightly awkward and
ill at ease under the circumstances, it is possible all that worked in his favor. For while his
answers tended to be brief -- perhaps a little too brief -- he got off some good lines, laughed
at Letterman's jokes, was relentlessly pleasant and good-natured, and kept his dignity, more or
less. Do the American people crave a president who is great on late-night television? I don't
know. But let us hope we haven't reached a moment in our history when it's imperative.
Of course, in a perfect world, things would be slightly different. Imagine a presidential
candidate telling David Letterman -- or Rosie O'Donnell or Regis Philbin or Oprah Winfrey or
Jay Leno -- that he wishes them well, and is flattered by their invitations (or demands) to
appear; but that the nature of the office they're seeking precludes performing on TV chat
shows. Imagine such a candidate -- and keep on dreaming. We live in an imperfect orld, and so
it's on to Oprah for a blessing, or Regis for a chance to behave like a buffoon.
It is safe to say that, while earlier presidents might have had similar opportunities, it
would not have occurred to most to seize them. Abraham Lincoln never sought to join Petroleum
V. Nasby on the platform, or even Mark Twain; and Franklin Roosevelt never shared a microphone
with Walter Winchell, or traded quips with Charlie McCarthy. At one time the president was
perceived as a kind of republican monarch, and the dignity of the office was considered a
sacred trust. We still think of presidents as semi-royalty -- consider the presidential seal on
lecterns, or the ever-increasing retinue and praetorian guard -- but our idea of dignity has
certainly changed.
Political archaeologists are bound to argue about when that happened. Some would ascribe it
to Bill Clinton, playing his saxophone in sunglasses for Arensio Hall, or answering questions
about his underwear from a giggling teenager on MTV. Others would cite Richard Nixon who, after
losing his race to be California governor, and considered politically dead, played the piano on
Jack Paar's program in 1963. A few years later, when Nixon had been resurrected and elected to
the White House, he did his old friend, TV producer George Schlatter, a favor by appearing for
three seconds on Laugh-In before the Inaugural: "Sock it to me?"
Whoever is to blame, the damage has been done. When David Letterman proclaimed that "the
road to the White House runs through here," all the candidates duly obliged. When his poll
numbers dropped in relation to Al Gore's, George W. Bush paid obeisance to Oprah, planted a
kiss on her copious cheek, and swiftly rebounded. Al Gore pretended to hypnotize Regis Philbin
to cluck like a chicken, and submitted to Rosie O'Donnell's patented fawning. On Saturday Night Live Gore made light of his ill-mannered debate style, and Bush
deliberately mispronounced words. For the cover of te latest Rolling Stone -- which regards
its endorsement of Al Gore as strictly a "no-brainer" -- the Vice President of the United
States appears in a windblown pose, in open-neck shirt and khakis that clearly emphasize what
Inside Media magazine calls his "national endowment."
Well, as Clausewitz might have said, politics is the extension of war by other means, and
there are no higher stakes than the keys to the White House. Candidates will do what they have
to do, in accordance with the spirit of the age. What is saddening is that voters clearly want
some vivid contrast to Bill Clinton, whose puppylike pursuit of TV and movie stars, and Oval
Office onanism, have made the presidency a minor embarrassment.
To paraphrase Governor Bush, it won't be difficult restoring honor to the White House --
both Clintons depart in January -- but dignity will take some effort. And, perhaps, there's
still hope, even on the David Letterman show. In George W. Bush's "Top Ten" list of things he
would do in the White House, number two seemed most appropriate, and got the biggest laugh and
round of applause: "Give Oval Office one heck of a
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