Meeting Bill Clinton

September, 27, 2019

When Bill Clinton’s autobiography first came out in 2004, my procrastinating ass missed out on getting a First Edition. By the time I got around to looking for one it was near impossible to find. Until one day walking through a Wal-Mart I see the book section and I think to myself, hey, you never know.  How many Wal-Mart shoppers are likely to buy an 800-page presidential autobiography? That’s like looking for an Iowa Hawkeye t-shirt in a Manhattan sports store. They may not stock it often, and the clerk may look at you funny for asking for it, but if they do all the sizes are always available.  And low-and-behold there it was, a First Edition Clinton Autobiography. And as soon as I got it out of the store, I vowed that one day…somehow…Bill Clinton would autograph my First Edition!

Fast-forward to February, 2008. Obama and Hillary were neck and neck going into the Texas Primary. I knew that Texas was a key state for both, which meant possible appearances from both.   As luck would have it, I receive news late one night that Bill Clinton was making an appearance in Tyler, TX the next morning. Now for those of you not familiar, Tyler, TX is a little town in East Texas about a hundred miles from Dallas. It’s about the distance from The Bronx to Philly.  I knew that this was my big chance. I could actually get close enough for an autograph. I mean, how many hardcore Democrats are you going to find in a country bumpkin Texas town?

The next morning, I called in “sick”, jump in my Texas gas guzzler and head for Tyler. When I arrived, I found out that he was going to be speaking in the local high school gym…can you believe it? I got to the school and I saw a line of about 50 people in the parking lot. I figured I was golden right about now. I grabbed my First Edition and my camera and bolted for the line. Over the next hour about 300 people filed in a snake line zig-zagging behind me. It was flannel jackets, work boots and Dolly Parton hair as far as the eye could see. Even though I was at the back of the first curve which put me at one of the farthest spots physically from the door, I was number 40 out of 350 in the line order. I was very pleased with my positioning.

While waiting in line (in Texas we say “in line”, not “on line”), I was talking to a staff guy that was a dead ringer for George Carlin. Smelled like cigarettes.  After talking a while, we started talking about the book.

Me: How close can I get to Bill?

George: Well, you’re in a good spot in line. You should be somewhere in front.

Me: Great! I’m really hoping to get his autograph.

George: Oh, is that his book?

Me: Yeah, First Edition! If I can get him to sign it, it could be valuable one day.

George: Oh, yeah! Tell you what, just give it to me and I’ll get him to sign it!

Me (I turned into a bouncing 2nd grader): Really? Gee, thanks!

I felt like I just picked some secret lock.  But as I watched him walk away with my book, my excitement turned to, “wait a minute…how do I know this guy is legit?” My realization turned to fear, then anger, then panic. Just as that realization sank in, the doors opened for people to come in. Within 10 seconds the concept of an orderly entry went down in flames. People in the back of the line close to the door started bolting in. Immediately the whole thing broke down into a mad dash and there was no way to stop it. Only in BFE Texas can you bum rush a high school gym to see an ex-president.

I finally got through the door and made my way toward the gym floor with the rest of the herd. You could almost hear the moo’s and cowbells the whole way. I got to a stopping point about halfway back in the gym where there was no more moving toward the stage. I saw the people sitting in the small 10 rows of chairs right in front of the stage, remembering certain ones that were at least 200 people behind me. So, there I was, halfway back in the crowd, my book was gone and George Carlin was nowhere to be found.

Out of nowhere, “Ow! What the hell?”  Something slammed into my Achilles heel. I turned around and it was a little man pushing a woman in a wheelchair.

Wheelchair Lady: Are you OK?

Me: Yeah, sure. Do you need to get through?

Wheelchair Lady: If I could. I have an old program from a Clinton event in 1992 I was hoping he’d sign.

Up ahead I could see over the crowd a wheelchair section right in front. I looked again at the little old 5’4” man pushing her through the herd and knew they’d never get through. Right then I realized, even if my book was gone, I knew what I had to do. I told her to hang tight and I grabbed her wheelchair and started bulldozing through, slicing up ankles the whole way. This lady had a date with Bill Clinton! “GANG WAY! WHEELCHAIR COMIN’ THROUGH!”

I looked back and the little old man had fallen way behind, he was not going to make it. But he was smiling and waving the whole time so I figured he was OK with it. We got to the front of the horseshoe of people standing around the rows of chairs in front. The secret service guy waved me to the right side where a row of wheelchair people were lined up. We’re by the PA speaker and yelling over Clinton’s theme song “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow”.

Security: Just put her over here!

Me: No problem! (I turned to the lady) Are you okay here?!?

Wheelchair Lady: Oh yes! Thank you so much! Bless you!

Me: No problem ma’am! (I started to make my way back to the little old man.)

Security: Hey! Where you going? You have to stay with her!

Next thing I know, I’m being forced to stay on the front row! Things are starting to look up, even though I’m crushed into an Egyptian stance between a PA speaker and a wheelchair. While standing there with Christina Aguilera blaring in my ear that I am beautiful in every single way, I looked across the gym and there was George Carlin snaking through the crowd. I tried to yell to him over Christina, but her words kept bringing me down.

Eavesdropping on the secret service strong arms with the ear pieces, I overheard them say that Bill was 30 minutes away. 2 ½ hours later, while hearing that Nothing’s Gonna Break My Stride for the third time, we were still waiting. All of a sudden, Hail to the Chief broke out and we all applauded Clinton’s very late arrival. Bill hopped up on the little high school two-foot riser stage and paced back and forth waving at the crowd of roughly 500 people plus media in the back in the stands. I looked at the lady in the wheelchair and she had tears in her eyes.

Bill went through his speech like a champ.  He was in rare form and working the crowd all the way down to his snake skin boots. And the crowd was eating it up. For a brief moment I had forgotten about my previous misfortunes, until I saw him again. There against the wall on the opposite side of the stage was George Carlin doing his best James Dean. I tried to wave him down but the only attention I drew was from the secret service. I quickly decided to stop that shit, chill out and just take pictures of Bill.

An hour later as Bill’s speech ended and he was strolling and waving, it quickly became evident that he was going to come down and shake hands with people on the front row. Immediately the crush was on from the people behind me. Bill started on the opposite side, so it would be a while before he got to us. I quickly worked out a deal with a guy next to me to take my picture shaking Bill’s hand than I’d quickly take the camera do the same for him and email him the shot.

When Bill got to our side he first saw the lady in the wheelchair and went for the photo op with her. I quickly adjusted the camera settings and gave the guy my camera. As soon as I turned back around Bill is looking right at me with his hand out. I take his warm, soft hand and to my surprise he flipped it into a “brother” handshake.

Bill: Thanks for coming out!

Me: Thank you, Bill! You are the man! You were the first person I ever voted for!

Bill: Hope we can count on you at the polls!

Me: Meh, I dunno.

Did I say that out loud? I looked and Bill gave me this confused look like, “Do you know who the hell I am?” I smiled as he moved on to the next person.  I quickly grabbed my camera and snapped the shot of Bill with the other guy. As Bill finished and left the gym, the electricity was still in the air.  This gate charge crowd came to party, and it took a while for them to realize it was really all over.

I started to walk toward the door as the crowd thinned out, looking at my pictures. Not bad. Good shot of me and Bill, good shot of the other guy and Bill.  I saw the wheelchair lady and the little old man reunite as she shared her signed program with him. They were so grateful.

As I get through the door I saw the Cleavers walking in front of me with a signed autobiography on CD.

Me: Where’d you get that?

Mr. Cleaver: I brought it with me. Just got it signed by the president!

Me: Damn! I gave my book to a George Carlin looking dude to have mine signed.

Mrs. Cleaver: Us too. So did a lot of people. He just gave us ours back.

I raced back inside and there was George Carlin, about to go back behind the curtain. He saw me coming and he already had it in his hand. He told me he was about to toss it, he was obviously tired of being there. I took the book, quickly open it up and there it was. “To Gerard, Thanks. Bill Clinton”. A nice cool calm came over me.

On my way home I stopped at a little Bar-B-Que spot for some lunch and some lemonade, showing my pictures to everyone in the place. All in all, it was a great day. I got some great pictures, I helped a wheelchair lady, I got a day off from work, and most of all, I got my autographed First Edition. Sometimes life is good.

-TGY-