Bill Clinton came into Madison Square Garden with a second chance to explain who he is and what he cares about. He did it by grabbing control of the convention in a way only Republicans have known how to do until now: with an unapologetic appeal to sentiment and a relentless approach to organizing. For the first time, party chairman Ron Brown and the candidate were in total synch. Together they took charge of who would be on the podium and for how long; what would be said to the press (blue cue cards were given to delegates for that purpose); and what would be seen on many local stations, which were provided with taped video clips created in the Democrats' own satellite TV studio.
All the energy Democrats usually expend fighting with one another went into a big-budget Hollywood production, complete with filmed biographies by Harry Thomason and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason, the creators of TV's Designing Women and Evening Shade. One of the highlights was a 1963 film clip showing John Kennedy shaking hands in the Rose Garden with the 16-year-old Clinton, a priceless piece of celluloid that Clinton aide Frank Greer dug out of the Kennedy Library.
The convention was a hundred Fourth of July parades rolled into one, a pageant of family values and up-by-the-bootstraps success stories and patriotism, with silver confetti falling from the sky like diamonds and 60,000 balloons blown up by volunteers. Delegates heard The Star-Spangled Banner sung so often by stars like Aretha Franklin and Marilyn Horne that they may actually know all the words by now. The whole thing was as Republican as a capital-gains-tax cut, threatening to become at times as maudlin as Nixon's Checkers speech and as corny as Reagan's Morning in America campaign.
Clinton dispensed with losers' night, a Democratic tradition whereby those vanquished in the primaries get to take one last prime-time swipe at the winner. Jesse Jackson's ranting took place off-camera at a Don't Mess with Jesse rally at Harlem's Apollo Theater. By the time he took to the convention stage on Tuesday, half-glasses perched professorially on his nose, the anger seemed to have gone out of him. He still had the lyrics, but the music was missing. The Democrats' other problem child, former California Governor Jerry Brown, got only 20 minutes to put his name into nomination and have his antiestablishment say.
New York Governor Mario Cuomo has also had his past differences with Clinton, causing some to worry that his nominating speech might lack his customary fervor. But the Delphic orator brought all his skills from Albany to Manhattan. His voice full of fury one minute and forgiveness the next, he called out Clinton's name no fewer than 30 times. He evoked the image of a national parade celebrating a victory over problems at home more joyous than the one that followed the gulf war. "So step aside, Mr. Bush!" Cuomo shouted. "You've had your parade."