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When we get to the arena, it turns out that there is food for the press after all. Hundreds of reporters swarm over it. The television in the press room meanwhile is turned to Entertainment Tonight. But it's okay, as Barack Obama is on that too.
During the debate the reporters in the room act like the audience at a daytime talk show, "ohh..." and "aww..." at various times. That starts early after Clinton launches into a mini-tirade early on about getting the first question in the debate.
After the debate, I head to the so-called spin room. That's where the campaigns send out surrogates, usually lesser elected officials, to convince reporters that their (wo)man won. Volunteers hover around these eminences, carrying signs with their name, the candidate they support, and the person's regular job. If you are burning to ask the Ohio comptroller what he thought of the debate, now's your chance.
When a reporter asks if Clinton is hurt though "guilt-by-association" because her husband signed NAFTA, Ohio Gov. Ted Strickland becomes a one-man tornado of spin. "Here again, she may be being held to a [higher] standard simply because she is a spouse," he complains. Strickland goes on to say that Clinton was always opposed to the trade deal, no matter what she said or wrote before. How does he know this? David Gergen told him so.
"I heard him [Gergen] say that he was at the White House when NAFTA was being debated and discussed and that Hillary Clinton was not a supporter of NAFTA. At least behind the scenes, she expressed her concern," Strickland says. The hardhats will no doubt be reassured.
Jesse Jackson shows up in the room. Unlike the others, he has no sign-carrier. It turns out, everybody knows who Jesse Jackson is, and that he always speaks for Jesse Jackson.
Cleveland, Wednesday, Feb. 27 (morning): I wake up, pack, check out of the hotel, and leave. I don't even say goodbye.