Kurt's Historic Sites
Meeting President Clinton
April 29, 2005
My most interesting presidential encounter did not occur at a graveyard,
but inside a bookstore in Rhode Island. While skimming through the newspaper
one day, my father came upon an article that stated that former President Bill
Clinton would be autographing his biography at the Brown University Bookstore
the following morning. Afterwards, my parents proposed the idea of taking me
to meet the 42nd president in person. With little time to prepare for such an
event I was reluctant at first, though I later agreed that it would be a good
experience. We all felt that it would be best to bring a camera along just in
case a photo opportunity came along. However, upon conducting some
research, my father found out that photography would not be permitted at the
signing. Not giving up hope, my father decided to take another approach. He
had previously been featured in an article in The Providence Journal, and had
his photo taken in the process. My father still had the photographer's contact
number, but he could not help us out, claiming that he could not take a photo
of President Clinton and me unless we were to be featured in an article. Putting
that affair aside temporarily, we turned our attention to other important
matters.
The article stated that the former president would be signing his
autograph for only two hours, which meant he would get to see approximately
500 visitors. My father knew that in order to get a secure spot in line, he would
have to camp out at the bookstore overnight. We fixed it so that my
grandmother would drop me off at the store in the morning after my sister was
safely on the school bus, so that was no longer an issue. What was still an
issue was my attire. I was planning on meeting a very important person in
world history, and I did not own a decent button-down shirt to wear. My
mother settled that by taking me out that night to purchase some clothing that
properly fit the occasion. Having done so, the only matter still at hand was the
photography. We could not sneak in our regular digital camera, as we knew
that we would pass through metal detectors and be caught. Purchasing a
disposable camera, my father devised that we would be able to get it past
security by hiding the plastic contraption in my pocket. When my father reached
Thayer Street at 11:00 PM, there were already several others in line, all of
them students at the university. Despite the generation difference, they all
seemed to get along fine as they sat there through the cold, blistery evening.
Once my sister was on the school bus the following morning, my
grandmother hopped on the highway and drove toward Providence. We hit
some heavy traffic along the way, which made it impossible to make it to the
bookstore by its 9:30 AM opening. When we finally arrived, the doors had
already opened. People were slowly trickling in, and my father had lost his
place in line. Since it was necessary for my father to stay outside and wait for
me, it had gotten to the point where he had slipped to around 85th in line. As I
ran up to greet my father, he lifted me over the metal barrier between us and
onto the sidewalk. He quickly handed me the disposable camera, which I
stashed in my pocket. Within a matter of moments, we were inside the store
purchasing the former president's book, titled My Life. Immediately afterward,
we found ourselves being wanded with a metal detector by a Secret Service
agent. The man asked me if I had anything in my pockets, and I foolishly
looked at my father, who anticipated my reaction and looked away. My actions
still make me cringe.
Despite my screw up, the agent did not catch on and we were granted
access to the second floor. Almost immediately after we ascended the stairs, a
female employee came up to the two of us. She noticed that I had brought
along a book other than President Clinton's autobiography, and she stated that
he would not sign it. We explained to her that we realized this, and that I just
brought it along to entertain myself during the wait. In a huff, she left and
returned to her station. Shrugging off the encounter, the two of us ventured
forward. Throughout the course of the long wait, we were interviewed by
several journalists to whom we explained that I had been to 18 presidential
burial sites and was thrilled to be meeting a living American leader (some of
our comments were published in several magazines and websites). After
what seemed to be an eternity, my father and I made it to the home stretch.
As our portion of the line strode past a bookshelf, we were able to spot the
former president. Excited, I handed the camera over to my father, who
jammed it in his pocket the instant another employee approached us. This one
also commented on the book I had brought with me, and once again we
explained that we knew former President Clinton would not sign it. Almost
concurrently, another stormed over to us and announced the same exact thing.
You would almost think that it were illegal to read inside a bookstore!
Within a matter of moments, we were several dozen yards away from
the former president. My father commented on the fact that he was standing
as he signed his book, while most politicians and celebrities sit during such
lengthy events. Eventually, the time came when there was no one else ahead
of us. We were next. As we slowly strolled over to the table the president was
at, my heart began to race. The 6'2" politician's stature certainly seemed
menacing at first, but he was very friendly as he greeted us with a kind "Hello."
As I handed him a copy of his autobiography, my father addressed the
president. "Mr. President, this is my son Kurt. He is a presidential history buff,
and has been to 18 presidential burial sites." In my mind I was cringing, in
complete disbelief that my father indirectly told him that we would be going to
his grave one day. But to my surprise, President Clinton responded with "That's
amazing, Kurt." Suddenly, my father instructed me to move closer to the
president, right as he slowly pulled the camera from his pocket. I was sure that
he was going to be gunned down by the Secret Service agents standing by, but
he was at such an angle that they could not see that he was doing anything.
Asking if he would pose for a picture with me, we were thrilled when the
president granted our request and put his arm on my shoulder. Once my father
snapped the picture and we thanked the president for his time, I reached for
my book and prepared to depart.
Just then, a voice from in back of us asked if I wanted him to sign my
other book too. We whirled around to see President Clinton with his pen at the
ready. Quickly, we returned to the table and the president signed the second
book. At that moment, my father announced that he would take another photo
in case the first did not turn out well. President Clinton, obviously a
professional, raised his head so he would not be facing down in the photo.
After collecting our belongings, we once again thanked the president and left
the signing area. As we did so, one of the reporters that had interviewed us
gave me two thumbs up. We had triumphed! Not only had we taken two
photographs with the president, but he offered to autograph the book that
three others rudely stated that he would not sign. It just goes to show that
both persistence and discretion are needed to succeed in life.
About an hour or so later I was back in school, most likely the happiest
child in there.
