Hey There:
It was another tough week in what is becoming a very dangerous summer. Another terrorist attack in France, an attempted coup in Turkey, and the usual shenanigans from Mr. Trump and Mrs. Clinton. I think this week I'm going to try to keep it light and take a stroll down memory lane.
NEWS ITEM: The (F)Art of the Deal.
US NEWS and World Report, as well as my beloved New York Post, reported this week that a group of disgruntled Bernie Sanders supporters are planning to ply delegates with franks and beans the night that presumptive Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton gives her acceptance speech in the hopes that they will all simultaneously cut the cheese during her speech and the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia.
According to the report, boxes and boxes of all variety of beans have arrived in Philly, and are coming in from all over the country. The idea is to stink up the convention center, to match the stink that will no doubt be the pile of bull$h-t Hillary will be serving up in her speech that night.
I jokingly asked a buddy of mine who was a huge Bernie supporter if he wanted in. I can't speak for him, but I can tell you that I'd be perfect for the job because 1) I detest Hillary and 2) Few people can toss heat quite like I can. And I wouldn't need franks and beans either. I could chow down on a couple of Philly Cheese-steaks and probably get the job done as well. It's not something I'm necessarily proud of, but talent is talent.
Now unfortunately, neither one of us are delegates, so we wouldn't get within a mile of the Wells Fargo Center. That's a shame. But thinking about crashing the DNC with a belly full of gas got me to thinking about the one time I did get to go to the Democratic Convention,. It was one of the greatest weeks of my life (at least professionally)
In 2004, I was chosen to help the Post set up their headquarters outside of the Fleet Center in Boston. I was also given a couple of assignments that didn't amount to anything (and one that did that had nothing to do with politics). So if you don't mind indulging me, here is a review of my week in Boston.
July 24,2004
So, I'm on my way to Boston, in a nice fancy rent a car, with thousands of dollars of office equipment in the trunk and back seat. I had left Woodside early, after having worked all night. I'm just getting into Boston when my phone rang. It was the Post. The editor, the great Bill Gorta, told me to "ditch the car wherever you are and get to Fenway Park. There was just a huge brawl between the Yanks and the Sox.
I turned the radio on and caught the tail end of what was going on. Something had gone down between Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez and Boston catcher Jason Varitek.
Now the only other time I've been to Boston was 12 years before, with Karl, Ray and Kevin (Buck) Ludwig. I have no idea how to get anywhere, and I certainly wasn't going to be responsible for losing all this office equipment. So I told Billy I was still a bit away. Luckily I found the hotel, checked in and hopped on the subway and headed to Fenway.
I went to the Cask 'n Flagon (big mistake) where I interviewed Yankee fans who had been tossed out of Fenway. Then I went outside one of the gates and interviewed more fans as they were being thrown out. To me, that was the big story. Everyone I asked about the fight had the same answers, "I was f-ckin PUMPED MAN!" I mean how many times can you quote that?
But droves of fans were coming out, bitching that they had been ejected from the stadium. For seemingly innocuous reasons. Now I realize that some of these folks probably deserved to get thrown out, but some I really believe were booted out for nothing more than wearing Yankee paraphernalia. The Boston people freaked out because I was with the NY Post, but I was able to convince some of them that I was a Met fan and my team was 10 games out with no shot at the playoffs, so theoretically I had no dog in this fight. One group of Sawx fans invited me to their house for a BBQ, which was awfully nice of them, and in hindsight might have been a good move.
And then there was the a$$hole hot dog vendor who kept telling me to stay away from his cart. I finally said to him, "I'm nowhere near your cart. What the f-ck is your problem besides the fact that I'm from New York?"
"I don't give a $h-t if your from New York, I just hate the press. They've burned me before!"
"You're a hot dog vendor! Why would the press care about you, much less burn you?"
He was threatening to get the cops, and judging by what went down between Varitek and A-Rod, I had no desire to mess with them, so I moved a bit further down.
The game itself was a classic Yankees-Sox affair. The Yanks struck first in the top of the second and added one in the third before Bronson Arroyo drilled A-Rod with a fastball in the elbow. A-Rod started mouthing off to Arroyo. Varitek said something to A-Rod, A-Rod got in Varitek's face, and Varitek shoved his glove in A-Rod's face and both benches emptied.
When the smoke cleared A-Rod and Varitek was ejected. The Sox tied it up, then took the lead. In the 6th, the Yanks scored 6 times, the Sox 4 times and the score was 9-8 Yanks. At the time I had no idea what the score was because I was interviewing ejected fans and fighting with a hot dog man with delusions of grandeur.
In the bottom of the 9th, with the Yanks up 10-8 and Mariano in to close it out, Bill Mueller hit a walk off home run, sending Fenway into a frenzy. I spoke to about 20 people and probably could have gotten a whole bunch more. I dumped my notes to the editors and headed out to get some dinner and maybe a beer or two.
I overheard some gal on the train say she was headed to Daisy Buchanan's so that's where I went. Wouldn't you know who would walk in about 10 o'clock but Jason Varitek himself? Every few minutes the bartender would open a beer in front of him and someone would yell "Yo, Tek, that's on me man!" Yo Tek, way to kick A-Rod's ass!" I thought about going over to talk to him, but I figured in this crowd, I best be keeping my credentials on the down-low. After all I was here for the convention.
| Author: | BILL GALLAGHER Post Correspondent |
| Date: | Jul 25, 2004 |
| Start Page: | 003 |
BOSTON - Now it's personal.
An A-Rod bean ball once again turned the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry bloody yesterday, setting up a series finale tonight sure to be filled with fireworks.
The third-inning melee, which seemed a distant memory after Boston's 11-9 win on a walk-off home run, lasted only five minutes, but led to two ejections and a pitcher beaten until blood poured from his face.
The stands also began buzzing, with dozens of fights and a slew of ejections. Yankee fans were showered with beer as they dejectedly made their way toward the doors after the loss.
"This was a classic Red Sox-Yankees game," said Tom Magnifico, 19, a Yankee fan who drove up from East Rutherford, N.J.
"After the fight, the mood changed. It was a little more hostile and more passionate."
The brawl began when Boston hurler Bronson Arroyo tattooed Alex Rodriguez in the elbow with the Bombers leading, 3-0. A-Rod chucked his bat and began shouting at the pitcher.
The home plate umpire and Sox catcher Jason Varitek jumped in the middle, and after harsh words were exchanged, the catcher gave a two- handed shove to A-Rod's face. He responded by grabbing Varitek.
In an instant, the benches had erupted, with players and coaches joining the fray. A-Rod and Varitek were booted. The teams square off tonight at 8
July 25, 2004
I wasn't due to meet my boss, Annie Aquilina till 12 noon, but I made sure I was up early anyway. (by early I mean around 10 AM). Dad called me to tell me my Post story was on Page One (in later editions it was moved to page 3)
I met up with Annie and her husband Judge Charles LaTorella and had breakfast with them. Then Annie and I got the car and attempted to drive to our office which was about 3 blocks away from the Fleet Center. I discovered what a pain in the a$$ driving in Boston is. Under normal circumstances it was a nightmare, but with the secret service and the Boston PD blocking everything, it was damn near impossible. I drove back and forth from our office to the hotel a few times and got lost every single time. One time Annie sent me to get snacks for the office, and by the time I got back, she told me just to got back to the hotel and bring the snacks tomorrow.
I was really frustrated with getting lost (This was before every cell phone had a GPS). So I went back to my room, had a burger at the hotel lounge, then headed back to the Cask 'n Flagon to watch the Yanks-Sox game. It was ESPN's Sunday night game of the week.
I watched most of the game with a guy who was a cross between Bob Ryan of ESPN's Sports Reporters (and a columist for the Boston Globe) and Pete McGuiness from Donovan's. At first he had no use for me because I was from NY, but we both loved sports and we both like to drink. So I picked his brain about Boston sports and he really was a treat. One thing I asked him.. Of all the Boston sports stars, who did he consider the most beloved. The week before, I had heard Mike Francessa talk about Boston sports stars, and he said one in particular, if you said anything bad about this guy in Boston, you were going to get beat up. Francessa's never right about anything, but in this case both he and my new buddy said the same name. The one athlete in Boston who everyone reveres to this day.
Bobby Orr.
Meanwhile, there was some chick who every time Kevin Millar was at bat, would get up and yell "Kevin.... MAAALAHHHH, Kevin...MALLLAAAAAHH" At first, everyone was doing it along with her, especially since the Sawx was smacking Jose Contreras around pretty good. But the Yanks started climbing back into the game, and her act stared to grow old. At first everyone was telling her to shut up, then one dude threw something at her. I didn't really understand the hostility. She wasn't bad looking either.
The bad looking gal was the one I ended up splitting a cab with, mainly so I could figure out where my hotel was and she seemed to know her way around town. She was a BU Student originally from the Upper West side. I only mention her because the next girl I met at a bar and took a cab home with, was a girl named Tara Connors, less than a month later. My days of being a chaser (such as they were) were coming to an end.
July 26, 2004
My main job was to assist the writers and the editors, to be a go-fer. But most of the time, the squad wanted to get their own lunches and the office was running smoothly. So the Post political editor gave me his floor credential and told me "Just walk around and get a feel for the place. I may need to send you there in an emergency."
Holy $h-t!
My first lap around the floor of the Fleet Center, I won't lie, I just pretended to be Larry Bird. My second trip, I went over near the boards and pretended I was Bobby Orr*. My third trip around, I called Ruth at the Post and told her to make sure CNN was on, as I was going to walk by and wave to her as I did. Yes, I was representing my news outlet proudly.
But then I did get down to just looking at where everybody was set up. I came face to face with Peter Jennings and said nothing. I was trying to fit it, not act like a star struck kid. I saw where Fox News was set up, which was way the hell up in the stands (For the same reason our office was blocks away while others were right across the street-Murdoch's empire wasn't exactly considered the home team here). I just generally made sure there was nothing doing.
I got back to the hotel early that night. I was wiped out from the night before and from working all day. Don't get me wrong, the work was fun, but it was a long day. I watched Bill Clinton address the convention on TV and passed out.
July 27,2004
Annie told me when I met up with her that morning that there were two college kids who were interns with the Weekly Standard would be joining me. "You're in charge of them" she told me, "anything you need to do, you can have them do." Well, since I wasn't doing much of anything besides checking out an occasional lead, at least I had someone to do nothing with.
The interns were Brian and Laura. I don't know what happened to Brian, but Laura and I ended up heading to a place called the free speech zone. They had cordoned off a place outside the Fleet Center parking lot where protesters could voice their opinion. One of the columnists in the Boston Herald (I believe it was Howie Carr, but I'm not 100% sure) compared the area to the pen where they held Tony Montana and the rest of the Cuban refugees in the beginning of Scarface, which is EXACTLY what it looked like.
Anyway Laura was freaked out because the group that had the floor while we were there were those scumoftheearth a-holes from the Westboro Baptist Church, protesting against their usual list of undesirables, gays, interracial couples etc. Laura was from Virginia so she had a southern accent, and she was like "These folks are gonna kell us. we're all gonna dahe!" I assured her that these inbreds were all talk, and then she started shouting back at them. "Jesus loves everybody!" At that point it was time for Laura and I to exit stage left.
We then went to the Fleet Center so I could show her around. On the way in, we spotted John Cusack. He was dressed like Johnny Cash, head to toe all in black. "well just don't just stand there, go interview him!" Laura implored me. So I headed in his direction and as soon as he spotted me, he turned around and took off. I just wanted to tell him I loved him in Grosse Point Blank. Jeez.
That night Laura and I headed out to a bar with some interns from other News Corp entities. She mentioned that she wanted to watch the keynote address that night. "He amazing." she told me. I had never heard of the guy before. He had a really weird name. But I swear to you, that when Illinois State Senator Barrack Obama spoke that night, the bar we were at fell silent. I had no idea that 4 years later, he'd be accepting the nomination himself (or even crazier, that I'd be watching him accept it with my wife, who was hours away from giving birth to my son)
July 28,2004
I was nursing a hangover, having spent the previous night boozing with the interns. Interestingly enough, the Weekly Standard interns didn't come back. Maybe I gave Laura the creeps, more likely, there wasn't much for us to do so, she was gone. At least from the Post she was.
I got an assignment that day. I was asked to search the Fleet Center for one Michael Moore. The flabby filmmaker who brought us Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11. Apparently the day before, former mayor Rudy Giuliani, had said something to the effect of "Michel Moore doesn't know a thing about 9/11, he wasn't there, I was." The editor wanted me to track Moore down and ask him about what Rudy had said. I knew he had been in town, because he had been on the O'Reilly Factor earlier in the week. I figured he'd be hard to miss.
I walked all over the convention site and then camped out at Radio Row for a while, specifically in front of Air America. The Left Wing (sorry Progressive) radio network, with hosts such as Al Franken, Randi Rhodes and Chuck D. from Public Enemy. Franken was on the air while I was there and I was only a few feet away from him as he spoke. When he got up during a commercial break, I couldn't believe how short he was. Holy crap! I will say this for Franken. 1) He was a riot on SNL, and 2) He put his $$ where his mouth was and ran for Senator from Minnesota. He could have just stayed ranting on the radio, but he put himself to the fire. I have to tip my cap to him on that.
But I digress.
There wasn't any 300 pound filmmakers wearing Michigan Spartan hats wandering about the DNC, so I struck out there. Other than that, my other big thrill that day was watching the secret service/Boston PD manually detonate a suspicious package near the train station outside the Fleet Center. It ended up being nothing.
July 29,2004
The last night of the convention was the longest. I started at 10 AM and was at the office till close to midnight. There wasn't much going on during the day. But one thing I remember clearly was that excerpts of John Kerry's acceptance speech were made available, and the columnist that was writing the story about the speech for Friday's paper started to write that it was the worst speech they had ever heard. I thought maybe they should at least wait till he gave the speech before they started tearing it apart. But what do I know?
I spent much of my down time during the convention with our IT guy, Russ. Russ was a lot of fun. One day we spent watching Escape from New York with Kurt Russell as Snake Pilsen. If I hadn't been out watching those morons from Westboro with Laura, I could have gone with Russ and seen Bill O'Reilly spar with Michael Moore on the Factor, (Russ was also helping the FOX guys with their IT). Russ' room was right next to mine. The night I met up with Laura and the interns, my other option for dinner was at the hotel with Russ and Andrea Peyser.
Russ and I were watching Kerry's speech from the office. All the other reporters were in the Fleet Center, Russ and I stayed at the office to monitor phones and stuff. After Kerry's speech was over, the producer of the convention was ordering the stagehands to release the balloons. At one point, he yelled What the fuck are you guys doing up there? I thought I was hearing things, but Russ caught it too. Then I thought maybe we were getting a direct feed that nobody else was getting, but apparently CNN caught it too. That was about the highlight of that day for me. Don't get me wrong, it was the most fun I have ever had at any job, But I was kind of looking forward to getting out of Boston.
The staff had a post Convention party at a bar near the Fleet Center, so I went and hung out for a bit. I knew I had to be up early to break down the office and pack up to head back to NY. I remember driving home from Karl and Trish's wedding in Maine with a hangover and it was awful. So I didn't got too nuts that night. The one thing I remember was that the Mets traded Scott Kazmir do Tampa for Victor Zambrano that night. Talk about "What the f-ck is going on up there?"
July 30, 2004
The night before, I don't know why I did it, but when the crew was saying they were going out for drinks I instinctively asked Annie, Is it OK if I go?
"Who am I your mother? Just be ready by 9 to pack up."
Russ and I actually beat Annie and the judge to breakfast on the 30th. And Annie had decided to ship most of the office back to Manhattan, so I didn't have nearly as much stuff in the car. Of course it took me forever to get out of Boston, but once I got on the interstate, I jetted out of there. I'm damn lucky I didn't get a speeding ticket, because I must have been doing 80-90 MPH once I figured out how to get home. It was unbelivably exciting. But I needed to get out of there. Boston was the most confusing city I have ever driven in. And I'm from Queens!
That convention was relatively tame. The one coming up in Cleveland this week is sure to be a circus act. Part of me wishes I could be there, and another part of me is thankful that I'll be nowhere near it.
I'm fairly convinced that this Pokemon Go is an ISIS plot. At the very least, it's prime evidence to all those who are convinced that we will do more damage to ourselves than any terrorist would.
That's all from my soapbox. Have a Great Week!!!
*Neither Bird or Orr played in the Fleet Center, both played at the Boston Garden.
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