Hangin' in Philly with the President of the U.S.

Hi from Philadelphia. The last time I was in the City of Brotherly Love in October it was with the President of the United States. We hung out in someone’s backyard.

I guess you want an explanation, huh?

Fall 1980. My partner David and I sold a pilot to ABC. It was about the White House Press Corps. We sort of pictured the young David Letterman as a hotshot reporter who slept around. Even though he wasn’t strictly an actor we felt he could play that. Judging by recent headlines I’d say we were right.

For research purposes we managed to obtain credentials to temporarily join the press corps. We spent two days at the White House. All that great banter you heard on WEST WING as staffers moved through the halls – we heard none of that. For the most part journalists are confined to the press room where crackling dialogue is replaced by constant bitching.

On the third day we got to make a campaign swing. President Jimmy Carter was vying for a second term. He had as much chance as Al Sharpton but we didn’t know that at the time.

This was the President’s itinerary: Fly to Dayton, Ohio. Speak at a town hall meeting. Fly to Philadelphia. Motor to Upper Darby and speak at an informal backyard town meeting. Then fly back to D.C…. in time for dinner.

We awoke and watched the TODAY SHOW where Jane Pauley rattled off the itinerary and showed the house. How bizarre to think I was actually going to be there.

We zipped out to Andrews Air Force Base and boarded the press plane. When the President travels there is always a press plane that accompanies Air Force One. He takes off first so we can cover that and then we land first so we are in place to cover his arrival. Air Force One has to basically kill time in the air for a few minutes while we land and get settled. I always thought they should do some loop-de-loops, have a little fun up there in the air.

We completed the Dayton portion of the campaign swing and headed for Philly, Pa. There was no such thing as seat belts and tray tables up . These reporters were forever walking down the aisles, leaning over backrests, having conversations while powering down candy bars and beer. Even through heavy turbulence. David and I meanwhile, strapped ourselves in and had death grips on the armrests.

Landing in Philadelphia we were ushered to a waiting bus. Once President Carter arrived and shook hands with Jack Bauer or whoever was in the greeting party we joined Carter’s motorcade and headed for Upper Darby. If you ever get a chance to be in a presidential motorcade do it. Rush hour in Philly and we barreled right through the city. All the streets were blocked off and there were stopped cars for miles. It must’ve really sucked for those million-plus commuters but it was sure cool for David and me, speeding through red lights. Yeah, baby!!

We pulled up at this suburban house (it looked better on the TODAY SHOW) and scrambled off the bus. We were led to the backyard. These were the days before cellphones (if you can even imagine that) so a bank of phones had been nailed to what seemed like a 2X4 nailed to a backyard tree.

Chairs were set up for about fifty hand-picked blue-haired supporters. We were in a roped off area – unfortunately within arm’s reach of a large platter of homemade cookies. Within seconds they were gone.

President Carter came out of the house and addressed the group. I thought to myself, “this is just surreal. Here I am, standing in a stranger’s yard in a town I’ve never been, elbow to elbow with Sam Donaldson, Robert Novack, Helen Thomas, and Leslie Stahl, mere feet away from the leader of the free world, who is perched on a high stool, the family barbeque shoved into the corner. On the other side of the wooden fence are armed gunmen in the alley. Overhead is a Marine helicopter. I was sure one of the shooters in the chopper was going to take out one of the reporters for hoarding a bunch of cookies.

Two hours later David and I were eating lobster in a Georgetown seafood grotto. We stopped at one point to say, “What the fuck just happened?”

The pilot never got picked up. And of course, neither did Carter. But it was one of the great days of my life. And now I’m back, hanging with another icon who will be forever remembered in the pages of United States history – the Phillie Phanatic.