Ready for prime time: The Barack, Bill, Hillary and Bernie show
As the Democratic National Convention unfolds in Philly this week, the scene will be dominated once again by three familiar faces. Bill, Barack and Hillary are not exactly the Three Amigos, no love lost among them at various moments, but time and circumstance have entwined their stories and legacies more tightly than ever. One valedictory address from Obama, one acceptance speech from Mrs. Clinton, and who knows what from the former president and potential first guy, who, for better or worse, often commands a political performance art category all to himself — even when instructed to stay mostly out of sight.
Add Bernie to the mix and you have an odd quartet that evokes many of the hopes and frustrations, promises and contradictions of the oldest political party in the United States. A woman, an African American, a Jewish guy and a Southern white male for a party that is becoming ever more diverse. One former president with a preternatural need for people and another soon-to-be former president who might rather be by himself. One idealistic if prickly senator who disdains compromise and speaks of revolution and another utterly pragmatic former senator who longs to cut cloakroom deals with old colleagues. Proponents of civil liberties and First Amendment rights who for different reasons share a disregard for the news media.
Not exactly the youngest foursome, with Obama the babe among them about to turn double nickels, but political survivalists all, in various ways, overcoming race, geography, ethnicity, impeachment, birtherism, congressional hearings and Republican attempts to delegitimize them year after year, along with their own human failings. And despite differences in temperament, character and ideology, they seem to be cohering at least for the moment in a fashion that their Trumped GOP counterparts have been unable to realize.
It has been nearly a quarter century since Gov. Clinton strolled down Seventh Avenue from Macy’s to Madison Square Garden to accept the Democratic nomination for president. He was not yet 46, on his way to becoming the third-youngest president in American history, his vitality earning him nicknames such as Elvis and the Big Dog. Now approaching 70, he appears as a shadow of his former self, his body zippered by open heart surgery, vegan thin and at times seeming so frail he could break, a once incomprehensible notion.
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