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February 17, 2008Mr. Smithdoes not go to Washington“WHAT?! ARE YOU NUTS!”said his father. Yet despite the “constant barrage of negativity” and lack of support, both emotional and financial, of his family, “this little upstart of a guy” with a suit he might have gotten “from Garanimals,” Jeff Smith, a 29-year-old political science instructor “without the political baggage, without the political connections,” as St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Sylvester Brown put it, “had the audacity to think he could take this seat.” “This seat” was that left vacant by retiring U.S. Congressman Dick Gephardt. Frank Popper’s documentary “Can Mr. Smith Still Get to Washington Anymore?” documents Smith’s 2004 grassroots campaign which started with one staffer and an “absolute hellhole” of a campaign headquarters and ended up with an army of 500 strong. When Artie Harris, who would become his Campaign Communications Director, first met Smith, he thought, “This guy is way too young-looking, short and high-voiced to run for Congress.” Then he talked to him for ten minutes and thought, “This motherfucker might just do it!” despite the fact that he’s “short, looks like he’s 12 and sounds like he’s castrated.” “NOBODY’S WORTH A SHIT,”said a cold call prospect to Smith on the phone. There were nine other contenders for the Democratic primary, including Missouri State Rep. Russ Carnahan. Smith was running on being a “true progressive alternative,” but long story short, “The Carnahan name in Missouri is like the Kennedy name in Massachusetts,” as St. Louis University professor Kenneth Warren put it, and “the Washington pundits…would say that ‘He’s the one to beat, or that he’s obviously going to win, and why are we even paying much attention to these other candidates?’” said St. Louis Post-Dispatch Political Reporter Jo Mannies. AND YET…Carnahan…..24,507 (22.9%) Carnahan “appeared to squeak out a victory over newcomer Jeff Smith,” Mannies later wrote. He lost to Carnahan by only a 1.6% margin, by 1,724 votes, and though Carnahan won the most votes overall, he did not win a single county within the district. Like so many others before him, Carnahan had won “just another inherited congressional seat,” said discouraged SLPD columnist Bill McClellan, who spoke nostalgically of the days when a milkman’s son like Dick Gephardt could be elected. “HE WON IT BY NOT COMING IN FIRST,”said KETC radio host Martin Duggan. Where’ve we heard that before? Carnahan was thought by pundits to not be that strong a candidate, that it was his name that would get him elected. One reason documentarian Frank Popper made this film was “the issue of name brand. Candidates who are offshoots of political dynasties have access to tremendous resources and huge amounts of money regardless of their qualifications.” To one volunteer, it was unfair that “the son of a Governor” would win without nearly the pavement-pounding effort Smith and they had put into his campaign. “It just felt like people were going to continue to choose the status quo, to choose the established actor, for almost no reason,” said Campaign Finance Director Nick Adams. “Our campaign was characterized by people who appreciate…the plight of the underdog, and just overcoming, the incredibly harrowing and beautiful experience of overcoming something.” To Campaign Neighborhood Organizer Matt Henley, more disheartening than Smith’s losing the primary, was that Carnahan was now an incumbent, and likely to remain in office as long as he wants to. MR. SMITH GOES TO JEFFERSON CITY (MISSOURI)Two scant years later, Jeff Smith did win the State Senate race for Missouri’s 4th District, and is currently serving his first term. Jeff Smith…6,755 (36.4%) I’M GOING TO BE THAT GUY!He won because, according to Smith, the people…”all wanted to see representation in Jefferson City that was hardworking, passionate, energetic, accessible, responsive, and they wanted somebody that was going stand up and take the fight to [Governor] Matt Blunt, and I’m going to be that guy!” “….the system can be fixed,” said Popper, “when you’ve got a candidate who can make personal contact with the voters with an honest, compassionate and dynamic message that empowers an army of volunteers who are willing to work hard to make a difference.” Smith quoted Robert Kennedy, “There is nothing more powerful than the heart of a volunteer.” “There is nothing more important than someone’s heart, their blood and their soul, and everything that we’ve done today I owe to all of you.” MAKES ME WONDERIs Cindy Sheehan’s run for Nancy Pelosi’s seat a longshot daydream? Sheehan has a national presence, a progressive persona, but she is also much loved and much despised. If Nancy Pelosi, as many claim, does not represent “San Francisco values,” Sheehan should be a shoo-in. But her campaign is versus Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House. ‘Nuf said. But Pelosi to me, as with Cardinal Levada, is a case of nothing-succeeds-like-success. People know her name, and respect her position of power and authority. Bullshit of course. But Sheehan is going to need an army of volunteers. I hope it doesn’t end in a Matt Gonzalez-like heartbreak or a Jeff Smith surprisingly respectable-but-losing showing. This would be the victory of modern times. BACK TO MY WORLDSaturday night, having come from the SF Conservatory Orchestra performance of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, I’m thinking if I had all the money that money can buy (have to spend it to make it, etc.), like some people own a football team, I would own my own orchestra. I would be the music director. It would be a solely “what Alexandra wants to hear” program. I would give them a set schedule, so they would know what nights they are playing, but I would tell them, OK, tonight I want to hear Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony. The second movement was written expressly for me, I have felt, its tender and friendly tone appealing directly to me. Or tonight I want to hear the Dvorak Serenade for Strings. The rest of you are free to go. I remember being blown away by seeing Murph, a quintessential Philly jazz fan, always nodding along at the Hot Club, at a Philly Orchestra performance of the Dvorak Serenade. Wow, I thought, there’s more to Murph than meets the eye. Somehow all was right with the world. The fellow next to me tonight, Ira, said he preferred the initial performance of Haydyn’s “Military Symphony” to the Eroica. Are you for real? I thought. That is the greatest goddamn compliment Haydyn ever received. I hope he turned in his grave and raised an eyebrow. He said he’d grown antsy. Well, yes, it’s long—the first movement could be someone else’s entire symphony. “That is my idea of a freakin’ first movement,” I always think. I in turn told Ira, that if ever I were stuck with one piece of music for the rest of my life, it would be the Eroica. In truth, I would have a hard time choosing between the Bach Mass in Bm and the Eroica. You cannot listen to either and feel anything but uplifted, triumphant and ready to meet your maker, even if alone with the crabs on the shoreline. Right now I am listening to the Third with Kurt Masur conducting the Gewandhausorchester, Leipzig—what more could one ask for? And yet a CD is a piss-poor substitute for a live orchestra. Suddenly you’ll pick up on a single violin. A flute pierces the air like an arrow. A horn declares itself like a sea God rising with a trident. MY FAVORITE VALENTINE’S DAY GIFTApart from two mailed cards, two email greetings, and a trio of mellow chocolate pieces from a friend, was the one I gave myself, a ticket to hear the SFS perform Tchaikovsky’s 1st Piano Concerto and Pathetique Symphony. But the greater gift was when after the performance, I spotted one of the cellists, whose name I should know but don’t, the young grey-haired guy with wire glasses, walking down the street, and as I passed him, I raised my sunglasses and said to him, “Thank you.” A wash of bewilderment passed over his face, but as he realized I was simply thanking him for his performance, such a most beautiful silent smile of “you’re welcome” came over him, that I was deeply moved. Again, thank you. I am deeply indebted to those who have the power to bring me the music I love. Thank you. The program notes drew attention to the original meaning of the Latin patheticus and the Greek patheticos and pathos–suffering—or patetichevsky, in Russian (suggested by Modest, his brother)—far from the “you are pathetic!” we use in daily life. Piotr, for suffering, for your bleeding heart on your sleeve, you outdid yourself on this one. I’VE PROBABLY GRIPEDbefore about the time James DePriest (formerly of the Oregon Symphony) played at some summer family concert, the last half of the Pathetique, the third and fourth movements, and I bitched to my friend, if he’s going to butcher the damn thing playing only half the symphony, why doesn’t he reverse the 3rd and 4th movements so he can have a bombastic finish? AND HE DID!!!!! Anathema! If he wanted to showcase orchestral music, why not feature a Beethoven overture, or symphonic poem like Romeo and Juliet? And KDFC, you are cursed for playing single movements, reduced to silliness for the sake of accessibility and attention span. That is not how this music was written to be heard, any more than “Lawrence of Arabia” was meant to be seen on DVD, which didn’t even exist when it was made. The guy sitting next to me, concerned that people would inappropriately applaud after the third movement, called out “ONE MORE [movement]! One more!” I looked at him as if he were out of his mind. Could he have possibly thought this outcry would be less disruptive than a smattering of people applauding if they thought it was the end? I have a hard time believing anyone in that sophisticated audience wouldn’t know the course of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth. “Excuse me,” he said to me. Whatever, dude. Piotr, has anyone ever had more nerve than to close a symphony on a barely audible pppppp note, as you began it? It’s like Brian Boitano returning to the Olympics after his initial triumph, and starting his program by simply standing on the ice. What balls! I’m in love with you two, you incredible phenomena! Piotr died of cholera soon after the debut of the Pathetique by, according to most accounts, drinking a glass of unboiled water. You left us with your heart on your sleeve, in this “all but posthumous” work. I’ll watch it for you, Piotr. Thank you. You are my Valentine.
A Valentine the author received ------------------------------------------------------------ You an ass man
Wherever you are, Piotr, I love your pathos copyright Alexandra Jones 2008 |
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