The Day of the Eagle

In the life of a politically active person, you have good days, bad days, and a whole lot of near nothing in between. But if you can stick through the monotony, there are some days of great reward. These days become anchor points, wells of inspiration that allow the times of ennui to be tolerable. And as the years pass, the truly great days come into focus, such that even in the worst of situations, even electoral defeat, catastrophe, or war, there is a shining refuge that cannot be diminished, a shining refuge of a memory that grows more fond each time of recollection.

When volunteers get the call to work at a campaign, sometimes there is less than a week's notice. I believe they gave us four days notice for this one. At the time, Al Higgenbotham was the Bush campaign coordinator for the Tampa Bay region. I did not know him then, and I acquired tickets to distribute from Mark Proctor, the chief field representative. It is hard to give away tickets in the middle of the week on short notice for a political rally. People, even people who want to go, simply cannot re-arrange their busy schedules on short notice. We hoped this would be a BIG event, as the campaign for the Bush Presidency vitally needed to win Florida, and this would be the last chance to generate some momentum. The election was a few days away.

So there we were on Wednesday morning, at the Florida State Fairgrounds, hopeful that people would come, but anxious none the less. I had over the past few weeks begun to carry my sound system with me in my car to set up impromptu street headquarters for the different events. I had a couple of microphones, a boom box, and 100 watts. I had also taken to costume, taking advantage of my resemblance to Chuck Norris, I dressed like him and wore a Texas hat. I introduced myself as the head of "Florida Volunteers of the Texas Rangers." I was "Ranger." I set my stuff up at 10 am. People, mostly volunteers like myself, were starting to assemble. The event was scheduled to begin at 6pm.

A more beautiful Florida spring day would be hard to imagine. The temperature was perfect, the sun was warm, the azure sky was broken by just a few clouds. By noon, over a couple of hundred people had arrived, so I turned on the sound system. I directed people to the bathrooms, and to the water. I told people to line up outside the gate according to their ticket color, yellow or blue. Once inside the large auditorium, they would have color assigned seating. I had a karaoke tape of Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA so I sang for amusement. More people arrived. I continued to exhort the gathering group. A lovely elderly lady came to the microphone and sang God Bless America. Then we all sang The Star Spangled Banner together. We were truly having fun, and it was only noon.

We had a lot of time to kill, so I let campaigners from local races take the microphones to address the crowd. Such people as Mark Sharpe, Ronda Storms, Charlie Crist, Jim Norman and others would have more time than they would have commonly have at the microphone to address the crowd. It is very rare at a Presidential campaign event that local campaigners get microphone time. They got the time because we all had to collect outside the gate, the one entrance gate, waiting for permission to enter from the Secret Service. There was lots of time to spend.

That area of the Fairgrounds Parking lot is not a bad place to hang out. There are some shade trees, the asphalt road network allows vehicles access to grassy mounds on which to park. There is a lot of room and a lot of asphalt road, and as the crowd continued to swell, I directed the people to continue to form the two lines, one on each side of the road. We did the ceremony again. Star Spangled Banner, God Bless the USA. God Bless America. The dignitaries would speak. More people would arrive. As they arrived, it became necessary to snake the lines up and down the roads, much as the entrance line at a theme park ride channels hundreds of people to a single ticket window.

It was more than beautiful, together we had found fast friendships with people we had never met before, and though this may sound crazy, we did the ceremony again: The Star Spangled Banner, God Bless the USA. God Bless America. The dignitaries would speak. More people would arrive, and those who had not arrived had not yet been inducted into our street fellowship. We inducted them, neighbor to neighbor. We were all practiced now, and so each time we went through the ceremony, it just got better. The crowd began to organize itself as new arrivals were schooled in the yellow ticket, blue ticket line discipline. My estimate of the crowd size at this point was five thousand. They continued to arrive.

About four o'clock, off in the distance, about a quarter mile away, I could see a Boy Scout Color Guard Arrive: Very cool. No one had told me about them. I handed the microphone to an assistant. I ran to meet the Scoutmaster. He was a fine man. This was the whole package: twenty young scouts, in full scouting regalia, knee socks, to merit badges, khaki shorts, pressed khaki shirts, ribbons, a drummer, a Florida Flag and an American Flag. I explained to Scoutmaster that I wanted him to march his Color Guard up the winding Asphalt road. He offered no protest and willingly accepted the path.

It is hard to argue with Ranger.

Now you really have to get into the politics here. The Democrats, for some nefarious reasons, had started to target the Boy Scouts around the country for ostracism or worse. Here was a polished and shining example of our young heroes, and a crowd ramped up into an emotional level of comradeship that I have never yet experienced in my life. The Scouts marched up the road, as it snaked up to the locked entrance gate, yellow ticket people on one side, blue ticket people on the other side, the throngs cheering them, showering love upon them, the flag, mom, apple pie and the Colors. It was a Frank Capra, Walt Disney, Jimmy Stewart, Fred McMurray, Norman Rockwell slice of Americana that just went on and on as they proceeded up the winding asphalt path, marching to the drum beat of our hearts.

I shall never forget the look of sublime, prideful, glee that the Scoutmaster beamed to us when the Guard came to a marching rest at the Microphone Area near the Gate. Now we could Pledge Allegiance to the Flag! But also too, we lowered our heads, and we prayed prayers for the victims of the Cole attack. Even though this day was more than sublimely beautiful, there was a foreboding of war.

The U.S. Navy destroyer USS Cole had suffered a suicide bombing attack on October 12, 2000 while it was harbored in the Yemeni port of Aden.

We did the ceremony again: The Star Spangled Banner, God Bless the USA. God Bless America. The Pledge of Allegiance, the prayers, the dignitaries would speak. More people would arrive. It was five thirty, and everyone there counted themselves blessed for every moment of the day. And so yes, we did it again, the ceremony perfected, right down to the chaplain, who volunteered himself from the crowd to again lead us in memorial prayer.

Just after six, the Secret Service gave the word, the security quarantine was lifted, the crowd would now be allowed to file, two by two, through the narrow gate. A more joyful, more pleasing yet expectant crowd could not be imagined at this point. What were they thinking at that moment, "if this is the parking lot ceremony, what is it going to be like when we actually get inside and take a seat?" It was at that thought, when a young boy tugged at my Ranger long sleeve and pointed to the sky. "Look at the top of the telephone pole, that is a bald eagle!"

Now dear reader, I know what you are thinking, that is exactly was we thought too. "How can THIS be!?" Yet there he was, perched upon the telephone pole nearest the gate, puffed up, head surveying us all from the left to the right. "Who brought the eagle?" I shouted. "I did not bring the eagle, did you bring the eagle?" The questions flowed like a river, "Do you think this is a sign of victory? Is he still there? Has ever a such a thing as this happened before? Why was the eagle attracted to such a crowd of people? Are not wild birds normally shy of crowds?" And so each person as each passed through the narrow gate took stock of the eagle.

I took to the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, you are all witnesses. I do not know if this eagle is a victory sign or not. I pray that it is. But I do know this: the Eagle showed up today, he made the same choice you made today, to be here with us. Please show up on Election Day, or the memory of this day will not be as sweet."

I did not go into the auditorium, I am told that the Bush Brothers, Jeb and George, got one of the most over the top, ramped up crowds that they had ever seen to that point in their lives. I stayed out side to keep an eye on the half dozen protesters. Think of that, even the protesters witnessed the eagle, yet they still protested. I spoke to a reporter from the London Times. I asked if she would report the day of the eagle. No, it was just another stop on a long campaign trail.