Missouri’s living dead elect one of their own

SUNDAY INDEPENDENT, 12 NOVEMBER 2000

I HAVE NEVER BEEN to Missouri, but it has always fascinated me. One of my heroes, Mark Twain, was born and raised there, and his finest novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, is largely set along the banks of the mighty Mississippi. In recent years, though, my interest in Missouri has become more appalled than admiring.

Missouri, like most states in the United States, has its own slogan. In the US a state is sneered at by its brothers if its essence can’t be captured in two or three words and emblazoned on a motor car licence plate. Missouri is officially called “The Show-Me State”. Why show me? It is from a speech made by one Willard Duncan Vandiver in 1899. “I come from a state that raises corn and cotton and cockleburs,” said Vandiver proudly, “I am from Missouri. You have got to show me.”

Which is to say: native Missourians are actually proud of having the regional characteristic that they will not or cannot understand something unless it is practically demonstrated. The Missourian takes as his defining feature that he is incapable of abstract thought.

It was Missouri that in the 1990s passed a law requiring that Biblical seven-day creationism be given equal teaching time with the new-fangled heresy of evolution. Schoolchildren in Missouri spend half an hour learning about fossils and the adaptation over millennia of hominids to their changing environment, and the next 30 minutes learning that men and women were made from a handful of dust and a spare rib.

Missouri once had a state law prohibiting women from driving a vehicle without displaying a sign warning other motorists. Ah yes, Missouri. As Bill Bryson once wrote: “It is worth remembering that Mark Twain got the hell out of Missouri as soon as he could, and was always disinclined to come back.”

Why this disquisition on the Show-Me State? Because I am still marvelling at the fact that on Wednesday morning the good folk of Missouri elected to the US senate a man who had been dead for several months. Of course, in 1980, the American people elected as president a man who was dead from the neck up, and in this election have had to choose between two men dead from the eyebrows down, but still.

It was just one bright spot in a marathon session of viewing that is the highlight of my television year so far. Election 2000 (CNN, all Tuesday night and Wednesday morning) was pure anarchic viewing pleasure.

Ross Perot set the tone in an interview with Larry King. “You know, Larry,” Ross creaked reflectively, like Norman Bates’s mother in a ruminative mood, “the Republicans and the Democrats are just like the Palestinians and, you know, them other group over there.”

“The Israelis?” guessed Larry.

“Sure, the Israelis,” agreed Perot. “Just like them, only, you know, not as violent.”

With such an intro, it could hardly fail. Breathlessly I watched as events unfolded like a one-day cricket match. I cheered as the Democrats won Florida. I hissed as the Republicans won it back. I gave a happy hoorah as the recount was announced.

“We’re going to be here a long time,” said Bernard Shaw in the CNN studios. I poured bourbon on my cornflakes and leaned forward happily.

What made it the more enjoyable is that Bernard and his presenters were in for the long haul with me. Everyone in the studio had their own turf: Bernie and his team were on the Big Desk, Wolf Blitzer was looking lovably bristly over at the Balance of Power Desk, and one Hal Bruno was forced to stand beside what looked like a weatherman’s synoptic chart.

“How you doing, Hal?” asked Bernie at around 10am our time.

“I’ve been standing for the last 10 hours, how do you think I feel? Back to you at the Big Desk, Bernie,” said Hal through clenched teeth.

As the broadcast entered its 13th hour, Bernie and the gang veered between hysteria and downright prickliness. One Ed Kast – some manner of Florida state election official speaking to the team from ground zero – seemed personable enough, but as far as information went, he may as well have been a Missouri voter.

The Big Desk was not amused. “How long will it take to recount the votes, Ed Kast?” asked William Schneider.

“We’ll start as soon as we can,” Ed Kast assured him.

“Yes, Ed Kast, but how long will it take?” snarled Schneider.

“Well,” said Ed Kast, “that will depend on how long it takes to recount the votes.”

In between the election coverage, CNN provided all manner of interesting news from around the world. I learnt that Truck Expo 2000 is currently being broadcast live on Romanian television. A man wearing a paste-on Eastern European moustache appeared in front of a poster of a truck to tell us that it is a great day for Romanian television.

“It is not just trucks,” he said, “but also truck parts and truck accessories.” I was just raising a spoon of cornflakes to toast the fact that I am not a Romanian TV columnist when we were back in the studio. William Schneider was thumping his forehead on the Big Desk, softly keening: “When can we go home? When can we go home?”

“Breaking news!” announced Bernie gamely. “The election is not over. Let me repeat that: the election is not over!”

William Schneider looked up hopefully. “Are you wrapping up, Bernie?” he asked.

“No, no,” said Bernie, “I just wanted to say that before I forgot it.”

By that time I was beginning to flag. Twelve hours is a long time to watch someone else’s election. Unlike Bernie, I was not being paid overtime. As I staggered to bed, I heard William Schneider’s head hit the desk again.

“Wake up, Bill,” begged Bernie, “we’ve got Ed Kast back on the line.”