It seems as if the bulk of our time at Immaculate Conception School was spent rehearsing. In anticipation of a visit from the Mother Superior, or of high church officials from the archdiocese, we went through the paces. Sister Renata Tabaldi would prime us on questions she told us the Mother Superior was sure to ask. And if we faltered during the actual show time, well, let’s not get into that.
Strange, but the fear of castigation, in full view of one’s classmates, makes one absolutely sure of his facts, for example in geography. That’s how I learned that New Hampshire is west of Vermont (unless it’s the other way around). Yet, we wondered about the wisdom of memorizing pat answers; why should the bishop be impressed over our ability to recite answers by rote? And if all parties knew of the coaching, who was impressing whom?
We rehearsed for plays, proms and pageants, chorus, concerts and coronations. Rehearsals were a key part of schooling, and when I got through our senior play without botching too many lines, I felt liberated. No more rehearsals, no more scripts.
Nevertheless, rehearsals came to mind just recently following a pattern of carefully choreographed appearances by President Bush, usually to friendly groups, carefully screened members of the public, or military personnel in uniform.
That’s why it seemed out of character this week to observe the country’s chief executive appearing au natural, that is, without a script. Aware of sagging polls figures showing that fully 7 out of 10 Americans disagree with the way Bush is conducting the war in Iraq, Bush seemingly set out to “be more in touch with the public,” “to be one of us.”
And it’s about time. Rather than relying solely on the advice of a close-knit group of followers and advisers, Bush allowed members of the public to ask unscripted questions. It was refreshing to see the president field some of the tougher questions, most of which concerned secret spying on Americans and the war.
Contrast his impromptu responses with other presidential appearances in which pre-selected members of the audience asked rehearsed questions.
In October, a videoconference between Bush and soldiers from the Army’s 42nd Infantry Division came across as oh-so-smooth. One wonders whether Sister Tabaldi had been there to prod them.
An Associated Press release describes how Pentagon officials coached the troops, telling them the president would ask, specifically, “In the last 10 months, what kind of progress have we seen?”
The soldier who first fielded that question responded, “Over the past 10 months, the capabilities of the Iraqi security forces are improving. They continue to develop and grow into a sustainable force.”
And another entirely scripted exchange went like this:
Bush: Yes, Sergeant, thanks for joining us. I appreciate your service. You got something to say?
Sergeant: Good morning, Mr. President, thank you for everything. Thank you very much for everything.
Bush: You’re welcome.
Sergeant: I like you.
Aside from the videoconference taking on the appearance of a presidential petting zoo, we wonder who’s being fooled, who’s being persuaded in this exchange of memorized lines? Clearly such a rehearsal is purely for eye-wash, or in this case eye- and ear-wash. Or hogwash.
And if public opinion was still turned against the administration, two other techniques have remained effective: have the Pentagon pay news media in Iraq to publish only favorable accounts of the war, and if that fails, blame the American press.
Our own performances were much more plausible when, as members of the National Guard in Gallup in the ‘60s, we prepped for the triumphal entry of our adjutant general.
For weeks our battery commander primed us on questions likely to be asked. Our rehearsal required us to learn arcane military terminology.
The commander would ask Cpl. Val Hagen the same question each week: “Corporal, what is a map?”
“Sir, a map is a representation of a part of the earth.”
“Very good.”
Then he asked Sgt. M. Maes, “And what is this?” as he hoisted an elongated gun.
“Sir, what you’re holding is an M-1 rifle.”
“And Sgt. A. Trujillo, what did I just attach to the M-1 rifle?”
“Sir, you attached a long knife.”
“No, Cpl. A. Trujillo, It’s called a bayonet. And what are some capabilities of the bayonet?”
“Sir, it can core a apple,” I said, cribbing from a Jackie Gleason-Art Carney line of years earlier.”
“Don’t be flip, Pvt. Trujillo,” the commander said.
All right, so the rehearsal wasn’t perfect, nor was our eventual audience with the general. But at least we tried to keep the visit light and — apparently — unrehearsed, without peppering our presentations with Bush-like terms.
Notice how even in the series of unrehearsed appearances, Bush uses lubricious terminology coaches in locker rooms would envy: “When they stand up, we’ll stand down,” “We’re never going to back down, we’re never going to give in, we’ll never accept anything less than total victory,” and “There can be no nobler sacrifice than giving your life for this cause.”
Bush’s spontaneous answers to difficult questions show a refreshing bit of candor. Finally, he’s providing more than a light snack for people seeking the nourishment of truth.