Still carrying the burden of ’96
1996. I was toddling through Chicago. The person sitting next to me on the plane was a longtime friend. New York City Mayor David Dinkins. We were going to the Democratic National Convention together.
I packed just one bag; Dave, a contender for best dressed man, was carrying an assortment of heavy-duty duffel bags. Big luggage. He looked like a housekeeper in downtown Madagascar.
He was well dressed, I would say well dressed, after a horrible few days in Chicago where you get booed for wearing a nice shirt.
David changed his outfit on board the ship, high above Delaware, where no one cares except Biden’s bankers.
Upon landing, he actually had his boots polished. Polished. “Charlie Rangel polished me up,” he said.
Okay, fine. I didn’t care that he was dressed like Ben Affleck’s fake wife. I cared about myself. His box arrived safely.
My awfully thin, crumpled bag? Lost! It missed the flight. Lost. By then it was somewhere in downtown Egypt.
I have no clothes. Nothing. Not even a new pair of pants. And I’m Shirley Temple Dinkins’ date.
And the airline has no idea where my luggage is. Absolutely not. I wanted to tell them exactly where to look for it, but I had to keep quiet because I was with the mayor.
So he invited me into a conference and introduced me to the daughter of the Kennedy family, who was the lieutenant governor of a state, and even her lymph nodes were bandaged.
I’m wearing the tattered summer cotton clothes I chose for this trip, and I naturally assumed I would change into the wonderful schmatta I’d brought with me. Forget it.
I’ve already reported this, and I’m reporting it again now. She practically looked me up and down and sneered with horror, “You still have that old dress? It’s designer. Hell, I had one of these years ago and threw it away.”
I was going crazy. Even Dinkins’ bow tie was shaking. It took six days for them to find my bag. Six days. My nerves were on thin thread.
I went out shopping and some things needed alterations and accessories so I’m not even sure who got picked – I was too busy trying things on. I even had a friend at Dinkins who was about the same size as me so I was able to borrow some.
I was so angry that I wouldn’t have cared if Ulysses S. Grant had been exhumed and reinstated.
And now the old Kitty Hawk remnants might look again in their closets and pull out the actual leftover shmata (real dresses) they’ve shoved in there to wear as Republican hand-me-downs.
Criticism of the presidential primaries
1864. Long before the Chicago Valentine’s Day parties, presidential candidate George McClellan called his opponent, Abraham Lincoln, a “good-natured baboon.”
1960. Former President Harry Truman said that (future President) Richard Nixon should rot in hell.
Joseph Cummins’ 2007 paperback, “Anything for a Vote,” calls Reagan “outdated,” says “Dewey hates you,” and “Don’t trust Teddy Roosevelt.”
Getting briefly nasty was part of our fun interactions.
It’s just New York, kids, it’s just New York.
