Lies & the Lying Liars Who Tell Them_ A Fair & Balanced Look at the Right - Al Franken [74]
Gingrich’s attack on Mondale wasn’t classless merely because it came so soon after Wellstone’s death. It had the added classlessness of being a lie. Gingrich said:
Walter Mondale chaired a commission that was for the privatization of Social Security worldwide. He chaired a commission that was for raising the retirement age dramatically. . . . If you want to raise your retirement age dramatically and privatize Social Security, Walter Mondale is a terrifically courageous guy to say that.
Mondale hadn’t actually chaired the commission. He co-chaired it. More importantly, he disagreed with the commission’s conclusions. While the majority did support raising retirement ages and privatizing government retirement programs, Mondale co-wrote (or wrote, as Newt might say) the dissenting opinion.
Had Gingrich searched on Google for “Mondale” and “Social Security,” the first hit would have been an August 20, 2001, article entitled “Mondale Condemns Social Security Privatization.”
The lie had its intended effect. About the same time the Washington Post was exposing Newt’s lie on its website, Judy Woodruff was credulously repeating it for her national audience on CNN. “The Republicans say, Senator Reid, that . . . they’re simply pointing out Walter Mondale’s policy positions. That he chaired this commission last year that came out with a report recommending the privatization of Social Security.”
The Wellstone memorial was scheduled for Tuesday evening, October 29, at Williams Arena. I flew to Minnesota and met up with my brother to visit our mom. We left for the event three and a half hours early, but the arena parking lot was already full. When we finally got inside, the place was overflowing. Twenty thousand were packed into an arena meant for sixteen thousand.
The crowd at the event, which had been billed as a celebration of the lives of the deceased, had a raucous energy. From where I was sitting, it all seemed just incredibly natural and human, the way grieving people often jump between crying and laughing. A group of American Indians did some tribal drumming. A soul band called Sounds of Blackness played “Love Train” as dignitaries filed in. When the crowd saw Clinton on the Jumbotron, they went nuts. Same for Hillary, for Gore, and for Mondale, who was replacing Wellstone on the ballot. When Trent Lott’s face appeared on the screen, a few people booed. It seemed like good-natured ribbing to me. Lott broke out in a grin and waved.
The event lasted three and a half hours. It opened with an ecumenical prayer led by the rabbi from the synagogue I went to as a child. Standing with the rabbi were dozens of clergy representing every religious tradition in the state. The first eulogy was delivered by a brother of Wellstone’s driver, Will McLaughlin, and was one of the most beautiful I’ve ever heard. There were no celebrity speakers, even though many had offered. It was family, friends, and colleagues, who each gave moving testimony to the lives of those who died.
One of the eight eulogies that night, given by Wellstone’s best friend Rick Kahn, ended with a political call to arms that went over the top. The first part of the speech, though, was dead-on. Kahn described how Wellstone had always said that it’s not enough to believe in something if you don’t act on it. Kahn exhorted the crowd to act on Wellstone’s memory by “standing up for those who lack the strength to stand up on their own.” Everyone stood up, which I thought was a very Minnesotan way to react. (We’re very literal.) We cheered, too. With tremendous emotion. There was cheering and crying and stomping and applause all throughout the speech, even after Kahn’s train left the rails.
The trouble began when Kahn put maybe too fine a point on what the crowd had to do to keep Paul’s legacy alive. “We can redeem the promise of his life if you help us win this election for Paul Wellstone!” Huge cheers.