by Andrea Barnett If his press aides are to be believed, President Bill Clinton stayed up until
3:30am preparing for his speech Monday at the Erwin Center. Then, as hundreds
of people lined Red River before 7am, Clinton put the finishing touches on an
address aides say he largely wrote himself.
Instead of speaking on his planned topic, “From the Campus to the White House:
Perspectives on Leadership and Public Service,” Clinton talked about race.
Evoking the memories of lynching victim Emmett Till, Martin Luther King, Jr.,
and Abraham Lincoln, Clinton laid blame for the country’s racial strife on
blacks and whites equally, calling for everyone to “clean house.”
“Here, in 1995, we dare not tolerate the existence of two Americas. Under my
watch, I will do everything I can to see that soon there is only one,” he said.
“One America under the rule of law; one social contract, committed not to
winner-take-all, but to giving all Americans a chance to win. One America.”
The change in scheduled topic left many speculating on the convenience of the
President’s locale for speaking on race issues. While the Million Man March was
beginning that morning on the Washington, D.C., mall, Clinton was just
finishing up here in Austin, Texas. What could have been an awkward morning in
D.C. for a big white guy from Arkansas, turned out to be rather pleasant day in
the sanctity of the Erwin Center.
And it was a star-studded event for political junkies. Joining the usual “town
and gown” dignitaries were columnist Molly Ivins, LBJ’s daughter Lucy Johnson,
former Congresswoman Barbara Jordan, and former press secretary to Ladybird
Johnson, Liz Carpenter. It was heady stuff. Wired Secret Service agents ran
around in groups of twos and threes. National publication reporters barked on
cell phones, selling the stock story in L.A. and D.C. Perhaps the most
memorable moment was witnessed by very few people, before Clinton even took the
stage. The White House press corps, a nonchalant group of well-coiffed men and
women, stared in unabashed amazement as the thousands of people surrounding
them suddenly rose to their feet, thrust their fists in the air – pinkies and
forefingers extended – and sang along as the Longhorn band played what sure
sounded like “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”
The race speech that followed offended no one. The President spoke in vague
terms about what the average person can do to stop racism: “First, I want every
governor, every mayor… every civic leader, every union steward… to take
responsibility for reaching out to people of different races, for taking time
to sit down and talk through this issue, to have the courage to speak honestly
and frankly – and then to have the discipline to listen quietly with an open
mind and an open heart,” he said. Regarding specific issues for blacks,
Hispanics, and Native Americans who are concerned that opportunities for things
like education and employment are being legislated away, Clinton simply
encouraged “personal responsibility” on everyone’s part. While supporting the
goals of participants in Monday’s Million Man March, Clinton issued a thinly
veiled attack on Nation of Islam Minister Louis Farrakhan, who spearheaded the
march. “One million men are right to be standing up for personal
responsibility,” he said. “But one million men do not make right one man’s
message of malice and division.”
That was about as political as it got. The president’s nine-page speech was
short on policy – the closest mention was a brief moment spent on the Family
and Medical Leave Act, which would allow people who leave work for family or
medical emergencies to collect unemployment. For those wondering about
Clinton’s response to Republican attacks on school lunches and Head Start,
Affirmative Action, student loan programs, or clean air and water, well…
they’re likely still wondering. Clinton did, however, take a stand on such
issues as national unity and good families (he’s for them); racist cops,
deadbeat dads, and domestic violence (he’s against them).
It was a performance that moved at least one witness not to cheer, but to fly
off the handle. “You all feel real good now, with President Clinton coming and
making a racial justice speech here,” Alisha Cloud yelled at audience members
as they filed out. “He should be in Washington, addressing the black men who
came from all over the country. But no, he came to Texas to talk to college
students and businessmen – and we’re all white!”
“I just had to do that,” she added later. “It made me so mad.” Cloud wasn’t
the only attendant protestor, but she may have been the only one with a
response to Clinton’s actual speech. Just outside the Center, a man carried a
sign accusing Bill Clinton both of abandoning liberals and of trying to “take
over the 1/7 of the economy.” Another drove continuously around the
block in a brightly-painted truck, blasting Travis County Attorney Ken Oden and
tipping his hat to groups of women. Greenpeace members stood in the balcony
with their backs to the stage during the speech, the letters on their T-shirts
spelling out “Demand End to French Tests,” referring to the nuclear tests being
performed by France near New Zealand. A group of young Republicans with Bob
Dole for President stickers filed politely past the press section, making
occasional nervous eye contact. And outside, Food Not Bombs set up a table
serving free bread, beans, and a damned good stir fry.
This article appears in October 20 • 1995 and October 20 • 1995 (Cover).