PINK ELEPHANTS
So the Governor Takes the Speaker to a Bar, All in the Name of New York
By GLENN COLLINS - NYT
The grand Republican festivity machine went to warp speed yesterday. From early yesterday, all the day and into the night, le tout elephant partied on.
But first, a tutorial on that early-yesterday part, when Gov. George E. Pataki of New York and House Speaker J. Dennis Hastert found themselves in elbow-bending mode at McSorley's Old Ale House.
True, maybe there were some "Hastert to City: Drop Dead" headlines a few weeks ago - the ones that trumpeted the words of the speaker in his new book. And O.K., maybe he criticized what he saw as money-grubbing among New York officialdom after Sept. 11. You know, to pay for rebuilding Lower Manhattan?
But get some perspective. The governor has frequently worked with the speaker. More importantly, he hopes to be working closely with him again. Really, really soon: as New York tries to win permission from the Congress to convert those Liberty Bonds into real financing that will support transportation improvements.
So wouldn't it be a great idea if the speaker got to know a little bit more about historic New York? And could there be a more historic and convivial place than McSorley's in Manhattan, believed to be the city's oldest continuously run bar?
So much for backstory on the whole reason why the governor invited the speaker to a post-midnight get-together for 100 at the ale house.
And there was the exquisite convention party sight: two guys downing a few beers to the lilt of an Irish tenor, surrounded by revelers. As the room got happier, and as the conversation got warmer in the "wonderful saloon" chronicled by Joseph Mitchell in The New Yorker, the governor and the speaker migrated behind the bar. They rolled up their sleeves and began pulling pints of ale.
Well, they tried to: "Unfortunately," said an aide to the governor, who confirmed the event, "all they could get from the tap was foam."
Praise Among Family
The first twins speak. Ten hours before their, um, standup routine before the convention last night, they held forth at the "Tribute to Laura Bush" that honored their mother at the Marriott Hotel (tickets: $275 and up). Jenna, in a sleek white sheath with black stripes, brought laughter from the crowd of 1,250 by saying: "Actually, in our family I'm known as Barbara's revenge on George."
Jenna praised her grandmother as "Barbara 'the Enforcer' Bush." Her sister, Barbara, then took the podium to praise the first lady for her commitment to international women's rights. Then, she just had to recall her mother's talent for leading a conga line at a grade-school slumber party with "Fire" by the Pointer Sisters blaring from the stereo.
Laura Bush then materialized, and after hugging her daughters, offered a quip to an audience that seemed heavy with parental veterans. One of her favorite things about having the twins on the campaign trail, she said, deadpan, was "getting to hear them talk about how much they love me."
Breakfast Clubs
Shockingly, the men and women of the news media were not permitted within a mile of the Halliburton Breakfast for the Texas delegation at the Hilton Hotel yesterday. This did not deter 20 demonstrators outside from enjoying a little shindig, donning pink latex pig snouts (they were shouting, "money-grubbing pigs"). They passed out what they dubbed "Hallibacon bucks," rather accurately photocopied $100 bills bearing pictures of a snarling Dick Cheney. Actually, there were more police than protesters - and more reporters than all of them together.
And Now, the Glitter
Now here's a party: playing dress-up with the merchandise at the Cartier mansion on Fifth Avenue. A very select group was invited there by Georgette Mosbacher, the Republican rainmaker, to honor Representative David Dreier of California, the convention parliamentarian, on Monday night. Soon grand ladies were giggling like schoolgirls, trying on million-dollar bling. Some husbands looked on with palpable anxiety.
"I'm addicted to Cartier," said Dorothy Hall, who was fingering an $18,000 white gold necklace as her husband feigned disinterest. "He's here for the convention," she said. "I'm here to buy jewelry."
Gail Ford, lobbyist and wife of Representative John E. Sweeney of New York, tried on an $800,000 choker. "This is a short adrenaline rush, followed by sadness." She handed the piece back.
Elephants on a Wire
Yesterday, the famously public Black Course at Bethpage State Park on Long Island was decidedly private. Several governors, in the company of donors and delegates, tested the course where Tiger Woods won the 2002 United States Open. Really, though, could their scores be that bad? State police kept reporters from asking. Armed officers stood guard over the first tee.
Downtown, in the shadow of a memorial to the Irish potato famine, revelers washed down wee meat pies with Guinness and Kilbeggan Irish Whisky. "We are here to remember the hunger of our roots," said Ed Gillespie, chairman of the Republican National Committee. "What you see here is how much we've overcome."
Concurrently, uptown, former governor Christie Whitman starred at a Republican abortion rights mixer in the Sky Club. Outside, a man approached the party gatekeepers and was asked if he were with the press. "Uh, no," he said, "I'm John Whitman, Christie's husband."
Republican Congressional spouses have not lacked for teas, delegate breakfasts, tours and celebrations. But there's always a down side, isn't there. At a reception for spouses yesterday at the Lenox china showroom on Madison Avenue, Sandie Knollenberg, wife of Representative Joe Knollenberg of Michigan, said: "I haven't done any shopping at all."
So exactly what was inside the white goodie bags distributed yesterday by the Financial Services Roundtable, a brokerage-industry trade group, after the 300-person bagel brunch at Tavern on the Green? Sort of looked like hundreds of notes. And bills. The Treasury-issued kind? No, that would be wrong! They were just plain stationery-store thank-you cards. In an embossed box.
Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company |
