Living History by Unknown (the lemonade war series txt) 📗

on behalf of candidates for Governor, Congress and President, I had never been out on the stump campaigning for myself. I would have to learn to address crowds in the first person-I was accustomed to referring to “he,” “she” or “we,” not “I” And there was a real possibility I would have to speak out against Clinton Administration policies if they weren’t beneficial to New York. But for the moment, I focused on getting to know my prospective constituents. I planned a “listening tour” that would take me around New York in July and August and allow me to hear from citizens and local leaders about their concerns and aspirations for their families and communities. The tour began in the most appropriate place to launch a campaign for the seat held by Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan―his beautiful 900-acre farm in Pindars Corners. When I arrived there on July 7, I found the Senator, his wife, Liz, and more than zoo reporters waiting to hear my announcement.

My veteran advance man, Rick Jasculca, was astonished. “There’s even a reporter here from Japan!” he said.

With the Senator by my side, I announced that I was forming an official campaign committee in anticipation of running for the U.S. Senate. “I suppose the questions on everyone’s mind are: Why the Senate?

Why New York? And why me?” I said to the assembled press. Then I spoke briefly about issues that mattered to me and to New York and acknowledged the legitimacy of questions about my running from a state where I had never lived.

“I think that’s a very fair question, and I fully understand people raising it. And I think I have some real work to do to get out and listen and learn from the people of New York and demonstrate that what I’m for is maybe as important, if not more important, than where I’m from.”

A few minutes later, Senator Moynihan and I walked back to his farm house for a brunch of ham and biscuits. Soon I was on my way.

NEW YORK

I had expected hurdles as a rookie candidate, and I certainly encountered some, but I never imagined how much I would enjoy the campaign. From the moment I left Senator Moynihan’s farm to begin my listening tour in July 1999, I was captivated by the places I visited and the people I met throughout New York.

New Yorkers, with their resilience, diversity and passion for the future, represented everything I treasure about America. I came to know the small towns and farms set in the rolling countryside “Upstate” and the cities like Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, Binghamton and Albany that were once centers of the American Industrial Revolution and were now retooling themselves for the Information Age. I explored the Adirondacks and the Catskills and vacationed on the shores of Skaneateles Lake and Lake Placid. I visited the campuses of New York’s great public and private colleges and universities. I met with groups of business owners and farmers from Long Island to the Canadian border who explained to me all the challenges they faced. And I settled into my new home, part of the downstate suburbs whose fine public schools and parks reminded me of the neighborhood where I grew up.

I loved New York City’s raw energy, its mix of ethnic neighborhoods and its bighearted, straight-talking people. I made new friends in every corner of the city, visiting diners, union halls, schools, churches, synagogues, shelters and penthouses. New York’s diverse communities are living reminders that the city symbolizes America’s unique promise to the rest of the world, a fact that would be tragically underscored on September 11, 2001, when Manhattan was attacked by terrorists who hated and feared the freedom, diversity and choices that America represents.

My campaign was a total immersion in the state’s history: The Native Americans of the Iroquois Confederacy, whose commitment to democratic principles influenced the thinking of our Founders, lived throughout New York before it was a state; the Revolutionary War was fought and won in the Champlain, Mohawk and Hudson Valleys; barge traffic along the Erie Canal opened up the rest of the nation to economic growth; the world’s arts, letters and culture were shaped in New York City; the movements for the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, labor unions, civil rights, progressive politics and gay rights all sprang from New York soil. I came to love the rhythm of events across the huge, sprawling state. I did the salsa down Fifth Avenue in the Puerto Rican Day Parade, ate a sausage sandwich at the State Fair and attempted the polka at the Polish festival in Cheektowaga.

Balancing the requirements of the campaign with my obligations as First Lady presented a unique challenge. Doing two jobs at once tested both the White House staff, who had stuck with me through thick and thin for nearly eight years, and the dedicated team of campaign aides working on the Senate race in New York. Occasionally the White House requested that I take a trip or do an event based on the President’s priorities or my interests as First Lady, causing my campaign advisers to blanch at the thought of my involvement in anything that wasn’t related to New York or its issues. Despite these inevitable tensions, everyone performed superbly.

Not that the campaign was idyllic. Especially at the start, I made my share of mistakes.

And mistakes in New York politics aren’t easily brushed aside. When the Yankees came to the White House to celebrate their World Series win in 1999, manager Joe Torre gave me a cap, which I promptly donned. Bad move. Nobody believed what The Washington Post and San Francisco Examiner had reported years earlier, that I was a diehard Mickey Mantle fan. They just thought I was pretending to be what I obviously was not: a lifelong New Yorker. Over the next few days, my prospective constituents saw a lot of pictures of me in that Yankees cap, with less-than-flattering