Almost obscured by the climbing pink orchids and dense
sub-tropical foliage in Boca Raton, Florida, a one-story, somber
post-modern building of concrete and glass rises from the
landscape. Though locals just refer to it affectionately as “that
ugly damn place,” the newly completed Al Gore Presidential Library
and Museum is an important cultural site that should be part of
everyone’s Florida vacation — even during the off-season. Just off
I-95 in Palm Beach County, and convenient to the Pompano Beach
Motel 6, this new historical and educational landmark is simply as
magical as Disneyworld. Much more than a civic building, the Al
Gore Library is a testament to one Tennessee man’s heroic stand
against adversity, who dared challenge the status quo with courage,
resolve, and above all, a team of ferocious lawyers.
As my wife and I entered the soaring 20-foot-high sun-filled
atrium and lobby, one nagging thought did keep coming to mind: Al
Gore was never President. That much, of course, is true. However,
the Al Gore Library’s founding charter (signed by 162 nations)
clearly states that it should be the popular vote, not the
Electoral College, which elects presidents. Since this conflicts
with certain language in The United States Constitution, the
Library is not recognized as an official landmark by the Federal
government and no public money was used in its construction.
Instead, the Library was funded in large part by a generous grant
from a mysterious “Warren,” and has also received millions of
dollars in contributions from donors who either believe that Al
Gore really is president, or really was elected president, or was
president for a month until the Supreme Court threw him out of
office — and from a much larger group of people who realize that
Gore was not elected president but should have been, although he
probably was elected after all, if all the votes were actually
counted.
Soon, we were greeted by our docent, a retired high school shop
teacher originally from Kew Gardens, Queens. “We got over ten
thousand books here,” he said, as he started the tour. Yet it
wasn’t books that first piqued our interest, but the question of
whether it was appropriate to charge $15 for adults (and $7.50 for
children under 12) for admission to a presidential library that had
no president. But our docent wasn’t bothered by that. “Al Gore won
the popular vote,” he said. “And he did seem to be president there
for a while, at least on a couple of networks.”
That philosophical matter solved, we turned our attention to the
main feature of the airy lobby: a mural that stretched across the
entire back wall. Here, enlarged to about 1,000 times actual size,
was a print of a Mapquest map of Massachusetts Avenue in Washington
D.C. — the street where Al Gore spent much of his life. First, we
saw the blue “X” marking his boyhood home at the posh Fairfax Hotel
in the 2000 block, back when Al’s Dad was a United States Senator.
Then, we noticed another blue “X” marking the young Albert’s prep
school, the swank St. Alban’s School, near the 3700 block. Nearby,
there was another blue “X” at 3450 Massachusetts Avenue — the
former Naval Observatory that serves as the Vice President’s
official residence. Towards the eastern end of the Avenue, there
was another blue “X” signifying Al Gore’s 16 years’ employment as a
Congressman and Senator at the United States Capitol, conveniently
located just two blocks from Massachusetts Avenue. (The huge
Mapquest map was generated on a NASA Supercomputer and
superprinter, by clicking repeatedly on maximum Zoom In.)
There was no blue “X” at the White House, of course, since there
was no Gore presidency. Nevertheless, the Al Gore Library and
Museum’s curators have carefully considered what a Gore presidency
would have been like, if he had actually won. As a result, the
place proudly displays several fascinating exhibits portraying the
projected great moments and achievements of a Gore Administration,
as if they had already happened.
To combat global warming, there was Gore’s ambitious National
Central Air Conditioning, mandating that cool air be pumped into
every building with four walls and a roof in America retrofitted
with the proper ducts — at no charge. This Act is commemorated at
the Library and Museum with an original Jimmy Carter oil painting
depicting the sun, with a red circle around it and a red slash
through it. For consumer safety, there was the Mandatory Airbags
for Bicycles Act, and in education, the No School Lunch Left Behind
program, designed to help public school children learn the basic
skills and fundamentals necessary for finishing Lunch. Yet the Gore
Administration’s finest achievement would have been The Beverly
Hills Peace Accords — a unilateral “statement of purpose” drafted
by major film stars, directors, and producers calling on all the
Nations of the World, large or small, or rich or poor, to stop
fighting. As the Accords’ Article I eloquently puts it: “Dude,
can’t we all just get along?” Yes, these are words to live by. The
Accords exhibit was aptly dignified and austere, too: an original
Jimmy Carter oil painting of George W. Bush, with a red circle
around it and a red slash through it.
After we spent fifteen minutes marveling at these exhibits, and
a half-hour enjoying Kosher hamburgers at the adjacent Joe
Lieberman Delicatessen & Lounge, our docent led us down the
hall and asked us to give our serious and undivided attention to
the Library and Museum’s principal attraction.
“Come here,” he said, beckoning with a finger. “You gotta see
this.”
Inside a special, large acoustically-dampened room, seven
cheerful uniformed Library employees were sitting at a long, low
folding table, piled high with papers and cards. Behind them, a
blackboard was covered with numbers and check marks and unfamiliar
names like “Volusia” and “Osceola,” and now and then somebody would
yell out a number — like “62” or “73.” For a moment, we were drawn
in by everyone’s visible enthusiasm, and we almost called out,
“Bingo!” But then we realized what this room was for. This was The
Vote Counting Room. They were counting the Florida ballots from the
2000 Presidential Election again. Nearby, supervising the tally,
was an Ernst & Young senior accountant and two heavily armed
Florida State Troopers, who gathered the ballots each day at
closing time and deposited them overnight in the largest, most
secure vault in Palm Beach County — the one at the Limbaugh
estate.
“Who’s winning?” I finally asked.
Our docent grinned and said, “It’s still too close to call.”
The Al Gore Presidential Library and Museum, located near
N. Federal Highway in Boca Raton, Florida, is open daily (except
holidays) from 5 to 4, in observance of the Supreme Court decision
that gave George W. Bush the presidency.
Leonard Albin is a writer in San
Francisco.
