Some photos of me covering President Bush's visit to Yuma. The first one shows how close I was to the POTUS, but also how difficult it is to maintain a good hairstyle near Air Force One. The other two are of me interviewing Arizona Governor Janet Napolitano, the only commander in chief I was able to get for an interview since the President chose not to grant me the time.
Although C-SPAN had discussed a collabo with me but later backed out, I did do a radio interview for a show that is broadcast to America's military around the world.
And not only all that, but also I'm including - at no extra cost and prior to print - a column I've written for The Sun about the experience. Don't you (if you exist) feel important?
Go to the van!
My day in the presidential press pool
“Am I wasting my life?”
That was my thought as I was sitting in a van west of San Luis, Ariz., while President George W. Bush conducted interviews with the national television networks.
While I sat in that trusty blue van, known as Press 2, with an air conditioner that was doing the best it could but was no match for the Yuma heat, I pondered that question. This was an odd thing to be doing, considering I was covering one of the bigger stories in my short career in journalism. The most powerful man in the world decided to come to the city where I work and I would get to be amongst the reporters who traveled wherever he did during his stay.
At least that was the theory. In practice, it was more like this: watch as he descends from the plane, run to the van, ride in nearly the last SUV in a 20-vehicle caravan, run out of the van up to a dirt berm along the border west of San Luis and watch as the president talks to people although you can’t hear what is being said.
Then, after about five minutes, the White House media handler, whose job consists largely of telling journalists to go back to the van, tells you to go back to the van. Sit in the van. Sit in the van. Sit in the van. Bush conducts national media interviews, we sit in the van.
Then, as if like a bolt of lightning from an empty Yuma sky, the media handler appears slapping the doors of the van telling us “Let’s go now!”
Again, more running. Mind you, these are all adults running at top speed over dusty terrain all for the opportunity to see another adult ride around in a sand rail. Ah yes, journalism, a noble profession.
After this, the handler orders us back to the van for a ride to Border Patrol headquarters. We enter a room already bulging with press that feels somehow hotter than being outside. Bush speaks, we listen – and sweat. The handler says go back to the van.
We ride back to the air base to the waiting Air Force One. The traveling press members clamber onto the plane, Bush shakes hands with Marines, I try to grab quotes wherever I can since my extensive time with the President has yielded zilch thus far.
As if by Pavlovian impulse, I start running for the van, only this time it’s driving off without me to get out of the way for the plane. I realize the handler is nowhere to be found although “Go to the van” is running through my head like a Black Eyed Peas song.
With the engines revving up, White House officials high-tail it out of Yuma like they stole something. They’re heading back to Washington by the time Bush is actually supposed to start delivering his address.
As the plane arcs into the sky, I realize I don’t have to go anywhere. This event I had been looking forward to since I even considered getting into journalism is over. I can walk back to my car, drive to the office and try to write a story with what I gleaned from my three hours, not really with, but near the President.
On that drive home, I decided that I’m not wasting my life. One of the main reasons the job is fun is because it can be so different each day. Most days I walk and actually have a chance to interview people, that day I ran and didn’t get much to report. It is that unpredictability – not to mention constant possibilities for humorous moments – that makes it worthwhile.
But I did learn one piece of advice that I will pass on to anyone hoping to become the next Woodward or Bernstein: Go to the van.
A sampling of what was seen and heard while in the local press pool:
"Just have that prominently displayed, so you don't get jacked up."
— The White House media handler to a photographer about his press credential. The photographer apparently did not have the correct credential to be in the pool and there was concern.
"Do you know where he's going? You have to know where he's going. You can't have press two feet from him."
— One White House handler to another as Bush moves down the line of Border Patrol agents and the press moves down with him.
"Nice pits."
— Member of the press as Bush hops into the sand rail, showing that the Yuma heat has caused quite a bit of sweat in areas well known for doing so.
"That was his Dukakis in the tank moment."
— Many members of the press commenting on Bush's short trip on the sand rail.
"Did you see me on the dune buggy?"
— Bush to Border Patrol communications center agents who watch surveillance cameras.
"Good to see you all."
— Bush's response to questions from the media after his ride in the sand rail.
"It's good to be here in Yuma. I've never been to Yuma before. I'd like to come back."
— Bush opening his remarks.
"This should be for pool press only."
— A note written by a member of the press and handed to a White House handler while packed into the briefing room during Bush's address.
