We must make the American people hear our tale of two cities. We must convince them that we can have one city, indivisible, shining for all its people.
—MARIO CUOMO IN HIS 1984 KEYNOTE ADDRESS TO THE DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION
We’ve been told that the interests of the South and the Southwest are not the same interests as the North and the Northeast. They pit one group against the other. They’ve divided this country, and in our isolation we think government isn’t gonna help us, and we’re alone in our feelings. We feel forgotten. Well, the fact is that we are not an isolated piece of their puzzle. We are one nation. We are the United States of America.
—ANN RICHARDS IN HER 1988 KEYNOTE ADDRESS TO THE CONVENTION
The pundits like to slice-and-dice our country into Red States and Blue States; Red States for Republicans, Blue States for Democrats. But I’ve got news for them, too. We worship an awesome God in the Blue States, and we don’t like federal agents poking around in our libraries in the Red States. We coach Little League in the Blue States and yes, we’ve got some gay friends in the Red States. There are patriots who opposed the war in Iraq and there are patriots who supported the war in Iraq. We are one people, all of us pledging allegiance to the Stars and Stripes, all of us defending the United States of America.
—BARACK OBAMA IN HIS 2004 KEYNOTE ADDRESS TO THE CONVENTION
Barack Obama’s advisers might not have been successful at getting their candidate into the network television lineup at the Democratic National Convention in July 2004, but winning him the keynote address placed historical importance on Obama’s speech. Mostly, it alerted the media elites that he was someone the party wanted to showcase for the future; the speech would be broadcast nationally on various cable networks. So when Obama arrived in Boston that week, he was greeted as a celebrity-in-the-making. Political pundits and national journalists pontificated that by week’s end Obama would either be a major star or a major dud.
The convention was held in Boston’s FleetCenter arena, with fifteen thousand media personnel credentialed to cover the events of the week. Political conventions used to be where the presidential candidates waged their final battles with party bosses for the nomination. But over the past generation, those battles were shifted to the electorate in key primary states. Thus, the convention had evolved primarily into a week of pageantry in which the party sells its candidates and its ideas to the American electorate, largely through the prism of those fifteen thousand media members. Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts had won the nomination, and his convention theme expanded on the former Vietnam War veteran’s pledge to make America “stronger at home and more respected abroad.”
The specifics of Obama’s attendance at the convention were fraught with uncertainty from the beginning. Illinois legislative leaders and Governor Rod Blagojevich were locked in an intense budget battle that threatened to spill the senate session into convention week and force Obama to fly back and forth between Boston and Springfield. But after a late-night session in the legislature, the budget was finally resolved, and Obama arrived at his Boston hotel after midnight on Sunday morning. Running on sheer adrenaline, Obama and his aides found themselves bumping into each other in the hotel overnight as they walked about, too hyped to sleep and trying to work off nervous energy. Obama’s frenetic convention week was primed to start off with a bang—he was scheduled to appear on NBC’s highly influential Meet the Press on Sunday morning, just a few hours later. David Axelrod, Robert Gibbs and other advisers had spent more time prepping him for this appearance than for his keynote speech. Tim Russert, the show’s host, had become known as one of the sternest questioners in Washington. He had a dogged research staff and he was fond of pulling up unfortunate past quotations from his guests and making them squirm trying to explain the statements. Gibbs had negotiated with a Russert producer over what types of questions would be fair game in the interview. Gibbs stressed that Obama was still only a state senator and he tried to blunt any complex foreign policy questions that might trip up his boss, who at this point was more schooled on domestic and state issues than foreign affairs.
A few minutes before Meet the Press, I caught up with Obama and his team in a waiting room at the arena. Despite the huge week ahead of him, Obama emanated his typically calm, confident demeanor. Asked how he was feeling, he responded only, “Tired.” Indeed, he had a now routinely fatigued look about him—heavy eyelids, puffy bags beneath his eyes. As he disappeared to do the show, Axelrod and Gibbs settled into two chairs near a television monitor. Russert first asked Obama what he hoped to achieve in his speech. Obama told Russert, “If we can project an optimistic vision that says we can be stronger at home, more respected abroad, and that John Kerry has the message and the strength to lead us in that fashion, then I think we’ll be successful.” Gibbs and Axelrod turned to each other and smiled. This was exactly the message that party officials had scripted for their candidates and speakers. Their man had hit his marks perfectly—and on the very first question. It wasn’t long, however, before Obama found some nasty curve balls thrown his way. The upcoming issue of the Atlantic Monthly magazine, Russert said, quoted Obama as saying that sometimes Kerry lacked the necessary “oomph” as a candidate. “What does that mean?” Russert asked. At this, Axelrod got up from his chair and began pacing. The magazine had not yet hit the newsstands, and Obama and his team had no knowledge that he had been quoted disparaging the party nominee. But Obama handled the tough pitch magnificently. “Well,” Obama said. “I think that, you know, early on in the campaign, and this was an interview that took place several months ago, you hadn’t gotten a sense of John Kerry as the man, and I think this convention is going to be consolidating the impression that we’ve been getting over several months that this is somebody who’s going to be fighting for working families, somebody who has the strength to lead internationally. This is somebody who has the life experience as a soldier, as a prosecutor, as a lieutenant governor, and for two decades as a U.S. senator, who is as well prepared as any candidate has ever been to lead our country to the kinds of promise that I think all of us hope for.” Not only did Obama deftly handle the question, but again, he hit his talking points about Kerry’s résumé. Axelrod and Gibbs both exhaled, and Axelrod took his seat.
The questions did not get much easier. Later, Russert flashed a quote from a Cleveland Plain Dealer story way back in 1996, when the Democratic convention was held in Chicago. In the article, Obama complained that people with money gained undue access in politics. Obama told the newspaper that “Chicagoans have grown especially jaded watching the Democrats raise cash for this month’s national convention in Chicago. The convention’s for sale, right? You got these ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinners, Golden Circle Clubs. I think when the average voter looks at that, they rightly feel they’ve been locked out of the process. They can’t attend a ten-thousand-dollar breakfast. They know that those who can are going to get the kind of access they can’t imagine.” Gibbs and Axelrod again looked at each other. “Where did that come from?” Gibbs asked, obviously blindsided again. Axelrod lifted his shoulders and shook his head. Russert then said to Obama, “A hundred and fifty donors gave forty million dollars to this convention. It’s worse than Chicago, using your standards. Are you offended by that, and what message does that send the average voter?” Gibbs looked down. “Oh lord,” he said. But again Obama handled the difficult query with aplomb. He responded, “You know, I think that politics and money are a problem in this country for both parties. And I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. One of the things I’m proud about, though, is that when you look at John Kerry’s record, what you know is here’s a person who is consistently voting on behalf of what he thinks is best for America and the country. I don’t think a convention changes that. I do think that the more we as Democrats can encourage participation from people who at this point feel locked out of the process, the stronger we are. One of the strengths of our party has always been the fact that we are closer to the average Joe, the guy who is trying to make a living, the guy who’s trying to send his kids to college and pay his bills.” Another winning answer to a difficult question.
At the conclusion of the interview, Axelrod and Gibbs hopped up from their chairs. Gibbs donned a grand smile. Axelrod simply looked relieved. Their prize pupil was unflappable in his first major hazing by a Washington journalist. “This was his ‘Welcome to the NBA’ moment,” Axelrod said, heading out the door to find Obama. The next day, in commentary with Russert, NBC News anchor Tom Brokaw called Obama’s interview “a very strong appearance.” Obama had passed his first major test in Boston, and he had passed with flying colors.
THE NEXT DAY, HOWEVER, HE WOULD LEARN HOW FICKLE THE PRESS can be with celebrities. Despite his shining performance amid the media circus, the Chicago Sun-Times chose to focus on his Kerry comment in the Atlantic Monthly. The tabloid splashed a headline across its cover: “Oomph!” This move perplexed Obama, who was just beginning to bask in a gauzy haze of media adulation. “Is that good reporting, good journalism—to take something I said months ago and print it now?” he asked me. Obama was learning that everything he said, past and present, now blared through a megaphone.
Over the next couple of days, Obama hopscotched through a gauntlet of media interviews, fund-raisers and breakfasts, lunches and dinners with various people of influence. Celebrity at a political convention can be determined by the size of the media gaggle that naturally surrounds an individual. Walking through arena corridors or near the huge media tents outside, one would come across an occasional huge huddle of humanity, with the inhabitants thrusting cameras and voice recorders toward a famous subject in the middle. The biggest of these huddles, at least that I saw, engulfed the left-wing bomb-throwing filmmaker Michael Moore. But senators and congressmen and big-city mayors drew their own gaggles. And of these, Obama’s was among the largest. He could rarely take a few steps before being stopped by an autograph hound, well-wisher or reporter. He consistently had two or three staff members around him, guiding him from one appearance to the next and trying to manage the free-flowing entourage of reporters trailing him. Obama was now under an intense media glare unlike anything he had ever endured. On the arena floor, as Obama stepped up to the set of CBS’s Face the Nation, host Bob Schieffer offered him a hearty handshake. “You’re the rock star now!” the smiling veteran newsman said in his mild southern drawl. Obama demurred. “Talk to my wife and she’ll tell you that isn’t so,” Obama said in a self-deprecating manner, using Michelle as a foil to tamp down his ego. (This would become standard routine as his fame grew—using his wife’s taskmistress side as a way to display public humility and keep his feet on the ground.) As Obama gave interviews to a dozen reporters at a time, and appeared on one national media show after another, I could not help but think back to a chilly Chicago evening in January when it was just me making him uncomfortable as I shadowed him day by day. And I recalled a specific moment heading into a Chicago fund-raiser thrown by black professionals when Obama was notified that he had to do a radio interview before going into the event. Taking the call from the radio station, Obama asked that I step out of the SUV while he did the interview because having a second reporter eavesdropping gave him a sense of “being in a hall of mirrors.” Now, with this scene in Boston, with a handful of journalists listening to his every utterance, what a hall of mirrors this was!
Tuesday, the day of the keynote speech, was even more maddening. Throughout the day, Obama was clearly the convention’s hottest commodity, with more than a dozen reporters and photographers keeping pace with his every step. His day began at six o’clock in the morning with a green-pepper omelet that aides had fetched from an all-night diner because the hotel restaurant had not yet opened. Obama then headed to the FleetCenter, where he appeared on the morning shows of all three TV networks before sitting down with Ted Koppel of ABC’s Nightline. Next, Obama had breakfast at the Sheraton Hotel with the Illinois delegation. Here, he allowed that his toughest critic—Michelle—had given a modest thumbs-up to his speech. “We brought her into the practice room,” he told reporters. “Her assessment was that I wasn’t going to embarrass the Obama family.” Like an athlete warming up for the big game, he allowed his extraordinary self-confidence to flow freely. “I have high expectations of myself,” he said. “And I usually meet them.” As Obama’s entourage rushed out of the delegation to the next event on his list, Dick Kay, a boisterous, barrel-chested television reporter from Chicago, hounded Obama’s recently hired campaign press secretary, Julian Green. “When am I going to get my time with him, Julian? When? When?” Green, an attentive and always nattily dressed African-American man in his mid-thirties, could only mutter that they were running late and he would do the best he could. This foreshadowed a growing dilemma for Green—how to keep the hometown media happy and still satiate the hungry national press corps. After all, Obama still had an election to win in Illinois.
Shortly after noon, Obama delivered a short address at a rally sponsored by the League of Conservation Voters, which had indirectly contributed several hundred thousand dollars to his primary campaign in the form of television advertising on his behalf, run mostly in the Chicago suburbs. “I can’t give you a long stemwinder,” he told the group, apologizing. “I can’t throw out my throat for tonight or I’ve had it.” As he came off the stage, a corps of reporters mobbed him and insisted on an interview session. They interrupted each other with questions on topics ranging from reparations for black Americans to Obama’s African-American heritage to his proposals for boosting the economy. Trying to manage the chaos, Green appeared near the end of his rope—and it was still early afternoon. “I need five Baracks today,” Green said in frustration. “Everyone wants a piece of him. This is crazy, man.”
Racing back to the FleetCenter in an SUV, Obama inhaled a turkey and cheese sandwich with spicy mustard as he tried to field questions from the half-dozen reporters traveling along. When one reporter rambled on about major political figures who had given keynote speeches before him, Obama answered through a mouthful of turkey and bread, “Are you asking me how I suffer in comparison?” After interviews with Illinois television stations, Obama made the rookie celebrity mistake of slipping away from his handlers to grab a cup of green tea at a Dunkin’ Donuts counter in the arena. Immediately descending on him were reporters from BET, NBC News, ABC News and various publications. Obama gave up on the tea, which he wanted to help soothe an overworked throat. Maintaining his composure, he answered questions for about five minutes before announcing that he had to use the restroom. He confided to Green that he wanted to use the portable restrooms outside because, “You know, when I go into the regular restroom, all these people want to shake my hand, and that’s not the place I want to be shaking hands.” Yet when Obama neared the portable toilets with the media horde still at his heels, he turned plaintively to his pursuers: “Can y’all just give me one moment to use the Port-O-Let?” But the group kept moving apace, until Green threw out his arms, at last stopping the entourage. “Guys, guys, guys!” Green shouted. “Can you let him use the Porta Potti? Please! Thank you!” Soon, Gibbs appeared with Obama’s tea and whisked his boss away to practice the speech in private.
Obama had never used a teleprompter or spoken before an audience of that size before. Five thousand delegates were in attendance. So Obama practiced the speech several times during the week. Jim Cauley became convinced during these practice sessions that the speech would be a hit. The final time Obama rehearsed it, Cauley noticed a DNC staff member with tears in her eyes. “Even that last try, though, Obama was only about eighty percent there,” another observer said. “He didn’t really nail it completely until he gave it before the crowd.”
Gibbs had advised Obama that keynote addresses generally fell into two categories—thematic and programmatic. Thematic speeches generally involved broad, sweeping ideas about how to strengthen the country. Programmatic speeches homed in on specific policy details and offered solutions to major problems. Obama knew immediately that he was shooting for a thematic approach. He had been thinking in broad terms about his overall message and how he believed the country was swerving down the wrong path. He loosely based the speech on two previous well-received keynote addresses from oratorically gifted Democrats: Mario Cuomo’s 1984 address in San Francisco titled “A Tale of Two Cities” and Ann Richards’s 1988 speech in Atlanta. Cuomo described his vision of a country led by Democrats who want to spread wealth to people of all socioeconomic classes, races and ethnicities. He compared that vision with the way he perceived America evolving under Republican president Ronald Reagan—a society dividing into haves and have-nots based on wealth and education, a society being restructured by a social Darwinism in which the strong prevail over the weak. “We must make the American people hear our tale of two cities,” Cuomo said. “We must convince them that we can have one city, indivisible, shining for all its people.” Richards did much the same thing four years later, excoriating the Reagan administration and Republicans in general for a “divide and conquer” strategy, pitting different interests and different geographic regions of the country against one another for political gain.
Obama, whose career path forced him to chase his fiction-writing muse into political composition, leaned on storytelling in his speeches. In the keynote address, he took his campaign rhetoric about a common humanity and blended it with the biography of Kerry, weaving all of this into a tight seventeen-minute speech. His campaign speeches in 2004 were a stew of general political prose, the sermonizing poetry he had experienced in the African-American church and his past readings, primarily of Martin Luther King Jr. He launched the keynote in the same fashion as his stump speeches, by introducing himself and his unique family ancestry—mother from Kansas, father from Kenya. He wrapped it up by returning to that biography, saying that America’s greatness lay in its unique ability to instill hope in “a skinny kid with a funny name” like him. In between, he concentrated on this basic notion of a unifying force in America, a hope in the American Dream; “the audacity of hope,” he called it. Obama took that phrase straight from a sermon by his pastor, Jeremiah A. Wright, who himself had plucked it from King. (Said King: “I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, quality and freedom for their spirit. I believe that what self-centered men have torn down, other-centered men can build up.”) These were Obama’s best-received lines from his earlier campaigning. For example, this section is a direct pickup from his stump speeches: “If there is a child on the South Side of Chicago who can’t read, that matters to me, even if it’s not my child. If there is a senior citizen somewhere who can’t pay for their prescription drugs, and having to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it’s not my grandparent. If there’s an Arab-American family being rounded up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It is that fundamental belief—it is that fundamental belief: I am my brother’s keeper. I am my sister’s keeper. . . .” The final statement was a biblical reference that was generally a crescendo line with African-American crowds. Kerry’s people, in fact, had edited that line out; but Gibbs, knowing its surefire popularity on the trail, made sure to restore it.
Obama’s first versions of his speech included much more of his own biography, but that eventually fell to the cutting-room floor to keep the speech less than twenty minutes. He also wrote sections on his definition of the American Dream and his belief in the exceptional nature of America that were edited out. In the end, the essence of his speech consisted of the lines and themes that worked on the campaign trail.
Obama and his team exercised nearly full editorial control over the speech. Kerry’s staff did make one substantial change, however. After Obama’s riff about carving up the country into red states and blue states, he tied this color mosaic together by saying that all the country was “pledging allegiance to the red, white and blue.” But Kerry’s people said they might want to use that line in Kerry’s speech at the end of the week. Obama was “incredulous” at this request. “Of all the lines in the speech, Barack was the proudest of that one,” Axelrod said. “Barack said, ‘They are taking my line.’ Literally, throughout the week he was saying that he did not know but that he may say it anyway. But then, when he went up there he didn’t. He knew that they gave him a great opportunity, so a little thievery was a small thing.” In the end, Obama altered his line to “pledging allegiance to the Stars and Stripes.”
There was one notable difference between Obama’s speech and those he had patterned it after: Obama attacked the establishment in general rather than saving all his fury for the Republican Party. He talked of the “spin masters” and “negative ad peddlers” who want to carve up the country for their own political gain.
ARRIVING AT OBAMA’S MESSY HOTEL ROOM BEFORE THE SPEECH, Axelrod and Gibbs realized that they had not considered an important aesthetic ingredient in that night’s success. How should Obama dress? The trim Obama generally looked crisply handsome and presentable in his suits, but how would he look onstage with the predominantly blue backdrop? Obama was wearing one of his dark suits and one of his lightly patterned ties. The suit was fine, but when Axelrod took a close look at the tie, they both felt he needed an upgrade. Obama defended his choice. He especially did not consider Axelrod’s opinion of high value, since Axelrod with his penchant for sports attire was anything but a fashion plate. When Obama sought Michelle’s opinion, however, she agreed with the two men. So that was that—the search for a new tie was on. Finally Axelrod spotted Gibbs’s brand-new baby blue striped tie. This would do well. “But this is my tie,” Gibbs protested. “I bought it specifically for tonight.” It would now be Obama’s tie.
Huddled with his small team behind the stage, Obama, who had been calm throughout the week, suddenly felt a tad nervous. The crowd was certainly juiced and primed for a big performance. In fact, the Democrats yearned for a big performance. Kerry’s public uneasiness had not exactly lit a fire under the rank and file. The audience was hungering for someone with charisma, and the buzz around this young African-American lawmaker from the Midwest provided hope that perhaps someone could dazzle them this week. Despite his nerves, Obama maintained an extraordinary mental acuity, especially considering how far he had come in such a short time—from third-place Senate candidate to hyped national keynote speaker. By his side was his volunteer campaign photographer, David Katz, the fresh-from-college young man who had by now snapped thousands of photos of Obama. Knowing that Katz was a talented golfer with a scratch handicap, Obama turned to the young man and said, “I’m gonna go out there and sink this putt.” Later, Katz expressed wonderment that Obama could relate to him in such a personal way at such a psychologically intense moment. “That’s one of his amazing talents,” Katz said. “Here he was, about to deliver the keynote speech, and he had the presence of mind to connect with me at my level.”
Obama did not fail to delight the crowd. He stumbled a bit in the opening lines, clipping his words on occasion. But after mentioning that his mother was from Kansas, the Kansas delegation erupted in a cheer, and one could see a jolt of energy rush through Obama’s body. He had made that special audience connection.
By the crescendo points in the speech, Obama had fallen into just a touch of a black preacher’s cadence—and his audience was simply enraptured. “There’s not a liberal America and a conservative America—there’s the United States of America,” Obama said in a clear, resolute voice. “There’s not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America—there’s the United States of America. . . . We are one people. . . .” Democrats of all races and ages nodded their heads in agreement with his proclamations. Some were crying. Many shrieked and jumped from their seats. Axelrod and Gibbs had ventured onto the arena floor to gauge the speech from that perspective. As Obama wowed the crowd, journalist Jeff Greenfield spotted the two Obama aides a few rows behind him and mouthed to them: “This is a fantastic speech!” Backstage were Green and Katz. As a black man, Green said he felt himself swelling with immense pride. He spotted the usually poker-faced Michelle and noticed that she had tears glistening on her cheeks. A lump formed in Green’s throat and chills ran up his spine. “When I looked past the stage,” Green recalled later, “and saw how people reacted, when I saw people falling out, people crying, I thought to myself that I had never experienced anything like this, anything this powerful. You know, I’m not sure what this means, but I couldn’t help but think, Is he the one? Could he really be the one we have been looking for?”
When Obama finished, Michelle bolted onto the stage in an unrehearsed moment and patted her husband on the back. They waved to the fawning crowd as she guided him backstage. “Wow!” exclaimed a news anchor on television. MSNBC’s Chris Matthews gushed, “I was shivering, it was so good.” CNN’s Wolf Blitzer observed that Obama “electrified this crowd here.” Even former Republican vice presidential nominee Jack Kemp called it a “fabulous speech” on a Fox News program. Backstage, Obama slipped out of his fiery orator’s cloak and into the low-key, relaxed uniform he wears from his Hawaiian childhood. He flashed a self-satisfied smile at Green. “I guess it was a pretty good speech, huh?” Obama said.
The next day, as Obama and his entourage ascended on an escalator in the arena, a woman descending on the adjacent down escalator simply beamed upon encountering the Democrats’ hottest new star. As the two passed each other, she leaned over and said to Obama, “I just cannot wait until you are president.”