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1993-03-23
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A Free American's Eyewitness View of the Clinton Inauguration
The Art of Politics, Position and Flow-Mechanics
by Jeff Epstein
Presidential inaugurations these days are media events.
They retain traditions from the days when presidents had to scream
their speeches to make themselves heard, but in 1993 most of us who
were there in person wound up being dependent on television anyway.
Getting a ticket for the Mall Standing Area itself was a bit of
a coup, which I scored only because I had the foresight to write my
Congressman the day after the election (and mention that I had voted
for * him *, too). The gates were supposed to open at 9:00 a.m., but when
I arrived at 8:30, the crowds were already going in. Still, I had a few
seconds to scout the terrain.
It quickly became distressingly apparent that there was no clear
line-of-sight to the podium. Anywhere. Sure, you could see the stand, the
seats, the Marine Band. But directly in front of the podium was a TV
scaffold, used for that head-on shot as the new president gives his speech.
And that was the only view unobstructed by trees or statues.
So I wound up dead center, about six feet behind the fence. The
position was not bad, with mostly shorter people in front of me, and a
huge six-footer just on the right. As long as he didn't wave his arm in
front of my binoculars, I was all right.
Over a period of three leg-numbing, body-crunching hours, of
course, these things tend not to stay static. Tiny alarms of apprehension
shivered through the crowd as husbands and wives barreled through the
throng, looking for each other. And a woman directly in front of me, who
appeared to be in her seventies, was several rows ahead of her adult son,
causing some consternation for them. But it seemed our positions were, for
the most part, settled. And then, around 10:30 a.m., a truly portentous
development occurred.
People started going over the fence. They weren't supposed to, of
course. The strip of concrete between the low chain-link fence and the
Capitol's reflecting pool was used for wheelchair access. But some decided
to try it, and went over. This resulted in a reshifting of the rest of us,
like marbles in a shaken pan.
I never took flow-mechanics in college. All I knew about this stuff
was trying to get on the damn Metro at rush hour. For one awful moment, the
six-foot gorilla got in front of me, until I managed a sidestep to the left.
However, my concern rapidly changed to hope (yes, hope) as it became clear
* we were moving forward! * Once people had the idea, it became the people
at the front who were obviously in the best position to go over the fence.
Soon, I was within two feet of it. The son had earlier joked to his elderly
mother about her going over. She had responded with a sardonic look that
suggested a mother never stops being a mother. But suddenly, it became a
serious possibility, and then they decided to do it.
The son went over first. Then, up went Mother. He pulled, I pushed,
and over the top she went, looking bemused. Satisfied, they sat down for
their new view six feet in front of their old position.
Now I was at the fence, front and center to history. But something had
occurred to me that apparently hadn't to the others.
Would the security forces expel the interlopers? It seemed a distinct
possibility, and it didn't seem worth the risk. I wasn't the only one who
was thinking along those lines, and the exodus soon fizzled out. Sure
enough, here came the park police, starting to send people out the exit.
But faced with over 50 people who had come over the fence by now, they gave
up, apparently not wanting to make a scene.
The view from my new vantage point was now clear but no better, still
obstructed by that lousy TV tower in the critical spot. Then I noticed, way
off to the right, one of those Diamondvision-type screens that had enabled
thousands at the Lincoln Memorial Monday night to enjoy the show. And with
my binoculars I could see it clearly.
So when the time arrived, it was on that screen, ironically enough,
that I saw my new president sworn into office. I watched with pride his
grainy image as he asked us all to contribute to the renewal of America.
It was a beautiful, touching moment, one that made you happy to just be
there. And it was, after all, over in 14 minutes flat.
All told, I stood there for a little under four hours. I suffered sore
muscles, sore feet, borderline claustrophobia, anxiousness and frustration.
I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
=X=X=X=
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Copyright 1993