As part of our continuing efforts to bring you up to the minute coverage of breaking political news, I was dispatched today to Saratoga Springs, New York to report on the first debate between Republican Assembly Minority Leader Jim Tedisco and Democrat Scott Murphy. Had a mystery novelist been writing about our journey, somber bassoon music would have been playing during that first sentence and a narrator would intone a haunting voiceover including phrases such as, “little did they know.”
While it’s true that I live in New York, the Empire State is a fairly large one and a drive of well over three hours was required to reach the event. Still, I dressed up as professionally as possible and set out with my partner in crime to get the goods for you. My first clue as to how the events of the day would eventually play out should have come from viewing the town itself upon our arrival. Some might describe Saratoga Springs as “quaint” or possibly even “bucolic.” I was hit with more of a Rod Blago moment and thought, “Holy &*#*! If you didn’t hit the brakes fast enough, you’d blow through this joint before you #@*^ing knew you’d got there!” I refrain from describing it as a “one horse town” only to avoid offending any of the fine livestock we noticed lounging sullenly near the town hall, municipal grain silo or whatever it was.
We pressed on to the “Public Library” where the debate was to be held. This should have sent up another red flag, as the building looked impossibly small to hold a debate on such a closely watched Congressional race. The fact that there was no parking closer than the aforementioned grain silo should have been another clue.
But, optimist that I am, we pressed on. Outside the building and across a small street, alley or goat path, I saw a group of supporters holding up Murphy signs and chanting. (Click on the thumbnails for full size pictures.) I began shooting some B-roll footage when I realized that the nattily dressed gentleman shaking hands with the crowd was none other than candidate Murphy and now he was heading my way!
My original plan had been to try to wrangle some one on one questions with both of the principals after the debate ended, but in these types of situations you have to grab opportunity when it presents itself, so I quickly moved in to introduce myself and score an interview.
This lasted all of one minute, where I got in an introduction and handshake before finding out that debate time had drawn nigh and everyone had to hustle into the Public Library for the grand event. (This picture is yours truly from behind shaking hands with the candidate.) As a side note, if I may be so bold, I would like to mention to Scott Murphy – in the most respectful terms possible… holy cow! Your wife is a phenomenally attractive woman. In fact, should you be elected to Congress, I will immediately move you into stiff competition (sorry… I couldn’t help myself) with Dennis Kucinich in the “Congressman with the Most Disproportionately Alluring Spouse Awards.”
Moving inside, more bad news awaited. I encountered a line of angry people who were being addressed by a rather frantic looking woman in the employ of the library. She was telling the frothing mob that the available space in the hall to view the debate was already filled, but they were “looking for an extra room for them to use.” Still refusing to believe my plans could be derailed, I pulled her aside for a moment. Flashing a card, I spoke the usual, magic four words. “I’m with the press.”
Rather than the usual response, she looked even more flustered and said, “Oh dear.” This didn’t sound good at all. She escorted me to the head of the line to “see what could be done,” and the magnitude of the problem quickly became apparent. As the picture to the left will show you, the main portion of the “hall” was suited to hold, possibly, forty to fifty anorexic swimsuit models sans purses. The “press box” was roughly the size of a modest, rest stop lavatory. Four camera crews with full battle ready equipment were taking up the entire front line and a group of other reporters, bloggers and journalists were packed in like sardines behind them. The temperature in the small room had already soared to roughly that required to melt aluminum and I quickly realized that over the course of a two hour debate, some of us weren’t going to make it out of there alive. The view from my space against the back wall consisted of a rear view of a bunch of other sweating writers, so I followed the event organizer back out into the main library.
She assured me that they were working on “some more space” for us and suggested I relax while she checked into it. Unsure exactly how she was going to warp the boundaries of space and time to make more “space” appear, I wandered into a small java and snack shop on the other side of the building. I ordered a cup of joe, which arrived in a charming cardboard cup decorated with a pastoral scene and the encouraging message, “A revelation in every cup.” Today’s Revelation: Don’t order coffee in a small town library java bar.
The formerly frantic woman returned with the satisfied look of someone who has just solved all the world’s ills. She informed me that another room had been opened up downstairs and that the overflow press and public would be able to watch it down there because they had hooked up a live video feed to a screen. There was also, she continued, internet access available if we had brought our laptops and the debate was being fed live to the web.
Owing to some superhuman reserve of manners which I didn’t know I possessed, I completely failed to shout, “You incredible, tepid bint! Do you really think we lugged recording equipment all the way to the middle of nowhere to watch the debate on a TV screen in a basement? Do you think we would travel this distance to watch it on our laptops?” The active tic in my left eye and the throbbing vein on my forehead were probably also unable to accurately convey my other thoughts, which ran along the lines of, “You’re hosting a debate in one of the only two Congressional races going on in the country. Did you really think that so few of us would show up that you could hold it in a space the size of a magician’s trunk?”
Instead, I politely thanked her, took my coffee which tasted of tractor tires, and departed. But was the day a complete failure? I think not. During my brief meeting outside, I did manage to get in one exclusive question and answer with Scott Murphy. Rather than forcing you to download and watch the video footage of it, I’ll just transcribe the audio.
Jazz: Scott Murphy! Hi there. Jazz Shaw. How ya doing today?
Murphy: I’m doing great, thanks. Nice to meet you.
I put in a lot of effort to get that answer, so I’d better not see any of the rest of you using it without proper attribution. And now I’m off to take a couple of aspirin and lie down in a cool, dark room.