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Wednesday, July 22, 1999

Rest in Hype

When did you scream at the television screen?

For me, the moment came last Wednesday, when MSNBC's John Gibson wondered on air if "way too much effort and money" was being spent on the recovery of the wreckage of the plane of John F. Kennedy Jr. It took mucho nerve for Gibson -- whose network (like CNN and Fox News Cable) was pumping out never-ending, regurgitative coverage -- to question the extent of the salvage operation.

He should have been on his knees, thankful for the ratings boost brought on by this accident.

The awful death of Kennedy and the Bessette sisters provided the national media, which craves that One Big Story, another opportunity to show how inanely it can behave. By now, you have probably heard enough blah-blah-blahing about the media treatment of the event, but I cannot resist a late-hit. When there was no news, the cable stations repeated non-news incessantly, shoving aside coverage of most everything else. Democrats and Republicans were slugging it out last week in the House over a weighted-toward-the-rich, GOP tax cut of $792 billion -- that's a mess of money -- but the cameras were trained on the folks who had made the pilgrimage to the Tribeca loft of John Kennedy and Carolyn Bessette. "John-John manifests everything that is good in this country," sobbed one TV-friendly mourner who never met the guy.

For expert commentary, Fox News Channel turned to a man who runs a company managing the images and names of famous dead people, such as Marilyn Monroe and Malcolm X. Kennedy's "fame will only grow now," he opined. What empty calories. Before funeral arrangements had been announced, MSNBC rushed a Catholic nun on air to discuss whether a burial at sea would be in keeping with Catholic dogma. Short answer: yes. But the network stretched the segment to kill time. FNC enlisted David Dinkins for help on Thursday. Why Dinkins? Because, as anchor David Asman, explained, Dinkins "was mayor of New York when John Kennedy was here." What did Dinkins add to the national media conversation? He informed us that "the women referred to him as a hunk." Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Even level-headed reporters such as CNN's Frank Sesno slipped. Before the bodies were located, he somberly noted that the nation was maintaining a "painful vigil." The nation? Most people were at work.

On Thursday, television cameras showed a barely-changing shot of the USS Briscoe for hours, and Chris Jansing on MSNBC said that Kennedy was "known so well to us." Not really -- unless you believe he was "known" because millions read about him in People. I knew him slightly -- we overlapped a year at college and then we were acquaintances in New York in the mid-1980s -- and I didn't feel that Jansing was speaking for me. That same day, The Washington Post Style section ran a piece on "a grieving nation" that ludicrously lumped Kennedy with his dad, Martin Luther King Jr., Elvis, and John Lennon. The article approvingly quoted Gary Laderman, a professor of religion of Emory, who noted, "When you do have people of that magnitude [die], there is a kind of collective participation that takes place." It's not an insult to Kennedy to wonder on what basis he rates the magnitude of Lennon and King. And despite the mountain of flowers that grew on the doorstep of his apartment, how collective was the grief? In another article on the same page of the Post, reporter Emily Wax spoke to a number of twenty- and thirty-somethings in Washington and found them reasonably untouched by the death. "Personally affected?" asked Laura Bull, 20. "Maybe for Americans who are not my age. But I mean, I'm too young for that. I never thought of him until George magazine."

Kennedy was a decent fellow, who bore his good-looks-enhanced celebrity with a touch of class and a portion of humility. He published an erratic magazine that sought to attract people to politics, though it unfortunately focused more on the game and glitz of politics than the substance. But the aforementioned Style article went so far as to compare his demise to those of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. In a media universe dominated by celebrity, the death of a celebrity may well be the paramount news event (years ago there was a wonderful parody of The New York Post that bore a front page announcing a nuclear war. Michael Jackson and millions die, the headline shouted.) Ultimately, there was not much to say about Kennedy's death. The hype exceeded the information stream. The television news and the newsweeklies had declared this a mega-story, which meant there was all this damn space to fill -- but little of substance to put into that hole. Consequently, the television networks aired meaningless footage of circling ships that was reminiscent of the long-burning Yule log WPIX used to show on Christmas eve. Did we really need to see columnist Mike Barnicle outside the Kennedy compound, vulture-like, saying that at least Kennedy's life was not taken by a psycho-killer? Barnicle deserves special attention for his prattle-filled commentary. During the burial at sea, he observed that the Kennedy crash was "bathed in irony." Name one. Coincidences, yes. The fatal accident did occur on the 30th anniversary of Chappiquiddick. But there's not much ironic about an airplane slamming into the ocean. Certainly, the Kennedy crash was a major story. But it again proved that much of the big media is incapable of proportionality.

This was a sad event -- but one without much meaning. In itself, Kennedy's death, as tragic as it was for those who loved and cared for him, does not bear deep cultural, social or political significance. It just offered more evidence of the trite-but-true rule of life: shit happens (and it can happen to anyone) and each of us lives our days perilously close to non-existence. As the Kennedy clan returned to shore after casting the ashes of Kennedy and the Bessettes upon a choppy ocean, Time's Richard Stengel on MSNBC solemnly pronounced that in years ahead, "we will tell our children" about this.

It's no reflection on Kennedy, but I doubt it.

Done Deals

In Washington, both political parties have been trying to brand the other as responsible for a "do-nothing" Congress. But, as Russell Mokhiber and Robert Weissman, the co-authors of "Corporate Predators: The Hunt for MegaProfits and the Attack on Democracy" (Common Courage Press), point out, Congress this year has been quite productive, with a bipartisan majority churning out legislation sought by corporate lobbyists. Congress passed Y2K immunity legislation which would make it tougher for consumers and small companies to seek compensation from businesses for problems associated with Y2K computer failures. The measure would also hamper the filing of class action lawsuits related to Y2K glitches. The National Association of Manufacturers and other business lobbies had drooled over this legislation for months, and Congress delivered. (Clinton, who at first threatened to veto the legislation, has now agreed to sign a revised bill that closely resembles the original.) Both the House and the Senate passed a measure supported by Democrats and Republicans that would allow investment companies, banks, and securities firms to merge. In this brave new world, Mokhiber and Weissman speculate, "The financial lobby would tighten its political stranglehold on Washington. Giant conglomerates would lock in a too-big-to-fail status, ensuring a future marked by bailouts of mega-financial firms. The mega-companies will invade consumer privacy by trading insurance, bank and other personal data between affiliates, and then conducting intrusive direct marketing schemes accordingly." The House of Representatives also has passed the so-called "bankruptcy reform" bill, and the Senate is poised to do the same. This legislation, a gift to the credit card industry, would make it harder for consumers to file for bankruptcy and for debtors to prioritize food and housing payments ahead of credit card debt. On these fronts, a do-nothing Congress would have been a better alternative. The issue is not how much Congress does, but what it does.
 

It's Money That Matters

What's the one figure you need to know to understand this presidential election? The answer is $100 million. That's how much money George W. Bush, the one-and-a-quarter term governor of Texas, may raise. He's already over a third of the way to becoming the first nine-figure presidential candidate. It's driving his Republican competitors nuts and, no doubt, freaking out Vice President Al Gore, who will have to spend many of his millions beating back ex-Senator Bill Bradley, while the Bush cash register will keep ca-chinging. Republican Lamar Alexander, the former Tennessee governor, has been wailing about Bush's money. At the start of this presidential season, Alexander was a contender -- not a favorite but a candidate who had a shot. GOP yuppie, country-club suburbanites fancied him last time round. And it was only a few months ago that Alexander was boasting to political reporters of his fundraising prowess. He noted that in the 1996 presidential race the most generous source of individual campaign contributions was not New York, LA, or Washington but Tennessee. That's because Alexander squeezed every nickel he could out of his neighbors, pals and cronies. Alexander told us political scribblers that he would easily meet the ante of $20 million.

That's not happening. At last count, Alexander had $90,000 in his campaign coffers. Bush had $30 million. So Alexander is no longer talking up his cash-collecting skills. Instead, he's griping about the influence of money in politics. "They want to hold an auction on the White House lawn and sell the presidency to the highest bidder," he moaned last week. (Actually, the auction is taking place at Republican National Committee headquarters, not 1600 Pennsylvania.) "These moneyed interests," Alexander continued, "contend the so-called money primary matters more than the Iowa caucuses or the New Hampshire primary." In private, Alexander is probably not so upset about the auction as he is about the fact he doesn't have the bucks to be competitive on eBay, let alone within the GOP big -- bucks primary contest.

Steve Forbes, the never-done-anything-but-inherited-a fortune publisher, also was playing the crying game. After Bush declared he would not abide by federal spending limits in the primaries and forego federal matching funds, Forbes' campaign whacked W. for sheer opportunism.  Excuse me, but Forbes practically invented sheer opportunism. He dropped his 1996 anti-anti-choice position and became a born-again abortion foe for this campaign. Moreover, he is only in the race because his daddy's fortune allows him the opportunity of pretending he's important.

Hypocrisy is not reserved for the jealous. The Bush campaign is not accepting donations from tobacco political action committees. That comes across as a principled position. But -- you knew there was a "but" -- Bush pocketed $50,000 from tobacco executives and their spouses during the previous three months, according to the Dallas Morning News. Here's the explanation, courtesy of Bush spokesperson Karen Hughes: "Individuals have the right to be involved in the political process, and Governor Bush is accepting contributions from individuals." That is some standard Bush has set. He won't take money from the companies of drug dealers, but he'll pocket checks from the pushers. He can't kick that GOP habit of mainlining tobacco money.
 
 

The Missing Clyde

Bill Bradley is rolling out the long guns. On July 27, the onetime basketball star was scheduled to hold a fundraiser in Chicago starring former N.Y. Knicks teammates Phil Jackson. Dave DeBuscherre, Willis Reed, Cazzie Russell and Earl Monroe. Also signed for the event were former Celtics John Havlicek and ex-76er Billy Cunningham. For an  extra $500, a donor could play a game of B-I-L (a shortened version of H-O-R-S-E) with one of these basketball greats. This was an event tailored for a 40ish lawyer who would gladly part with two hours or so of billing to go mano-a-mano with the Pearl or Hondo. But the line-up begs an obvious question: where's Clyde? Walt Frazier was the only starter from the championship Knicks lineup Bradley didn't corral. Could he be a Gore man? In any event, this fundraiser hinted at what might be Bradley's secret weapon: Michael Jordan. The world's most famous athlete has already contributed money to Bradley's campaign. (Jackson, who coached Jordan on the Chicago Bulls, has been a lead money-chaser for Bradley.) But imagine the boost Bradley would receive if he gets Jordan out on the court -- that is, in a television ad or on the campaign trail. It's too early for Bradley to play the J-card. He ought to wait until it is closer to voting time to be seen with Jordan. Gore better get his game together by then.  

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