For One More Night, It's Hillary Clinton's Party

By Dana Milbank
Wednesday, August 27, 2008

DENVER, Aug. 26 At noon on Tuesday, two young men walked onto the podium at the Democratic National Convention carrying four women's suit jackets -- red, orange, light blue and teal -- and holding each one up to the lights to see which would look best in the hall.

It was Hillary Clinton's night, and nothing was being left to chance.

Would she go with the orange or red, colors that attract attention? Or the blue or green, which have calming properties?

Nine hours later, Clinton emerged on the podium -- in vibrant orange.

The thousands of delegates and spectators in the hall -- even the Obama supporters -- raised white Hillary signs. The loudspeakers played her old campaign theme, "Yes, she can change the world." And Clinton earned adoring cheers, cries of "we love you" and more than a few tears as she recalled her campaign and her "sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits." A video preceding her speech identified Bill Clinton only as "Hillary's Husband."

The nomination may belong to Barack Obama, but Hillary Clinton owned the convention hall Tuesday night.

She used the spotlight to play the loyal Democratic soldier. She got right to the point: "Whether you voted for me, or voted for Barack, the time is now to unite as a single party with a single purpose." And she stuck with that theme through her speech. "Barack Obama is my candidate, and he must be our president," she said. With glee, she turned to a full-throated attack on Republican John McCain, tying him to the unpopular president. "It makes sense that George Bush and John McCain will be together next week in the Twin Cities, because these days they're awfully hard to tell apart."

The delegates raised signs announcing "Unity."

That may be a wee bit premature. While the woman in orange spoke in soothing hues of blue and green Tuesday night, many of her supporters continue to see red.

Clinton loyalist James Carville exploded on CNN Monday night at the Obama-run convention: "If this party has a message, it's done a hell of a job hiding it tonight."

Terry McAuliffe, Clinton's former campaign chairman, let it be known that he will be skipping town before Obama delivers his acceptance speech on Thursday.

Clinton herself, though voicing the right words about her support for the ticket, struck a note of regret in the afternoon as she spoke to Emily's List, a group that seeks to elect women who support abortion rights. "For those who supported the women who have run, the women who are holding office, please remember, it's not just about politics," she cautioned. "It's really personal. Because when you start running, you have no idea where the path will lead."

For Clinton and her husband, it has become intensely personal. Already smarting from her primary loss, they were stung further by real or perceived slights, most notably Obama's refusal to give her serious consideration as his running mate and his resistance to a full roll-call vote on the convention floor.

On Tuesday night, however, the Clintons achieved a modicum of revenge.

Mark Warner, the keynote speaker, had that honor in name only. The crowd -- those who weren't at the refreshment stands -- murmured through his speech as if listening to a lounge act. The Democratic crowd was hungry for red meat, but Warner, the Democrats' Senate candidate from Virginia, served only lean protein ("One hundred miles per gallon plug-in hybrid vehicles!").

Before he wrapped up, the keynoter allowed that it was "daunting" to be "speaking before Hillary Clinton."

Things didn't go much better for Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick, who preceded Clinton at the podium. Just before he reached the finale of his speech -- "let's join hands as Americans and go to work to elect Barack Obama" -- a cheer went up near the Arkansas delegation, and television cameras in the hall turned to a skybox, where a spotlight showed Bill Clinton taking his seat.

To see Hillary Clinton arrive for her walk-through rehearsal at lunchtime Tuesday, one could have been forgiven for thinking she is the nominee. A couple of hundred reporters and cameramen awaited her arrival; a Japanese film crew broadcast the moment live. She emerged waving left, right and center, and pointing at the skyboxes. She studied the teleprompters and bopped her head from side to side, as if dancing.

"Are you excited about tonight?" someone shouted out.

"You bet," the pseudo-nominee replied.

Next, it was off to the Sheraton Hotel for a gathering of Emily's List, some of her most dedicated supporters. It took the former candidate a full five minutes of her nine-minute speech before she mentioned Obama. Even then, the line was delivered without a smile.

She delivered the requisite support, urging her followers "to work as hard for Barack Obama as you did for me." But there seemed to be some lingering doubt about Obama as she praised his wife, Michelle. "I know a little about the way the White House works," she said, "and, you know, if the president is not exactly on our side, call the first lady."

Clinton left the stage quickly, and the crowd thinned quickly. People didn't have as much interest in the "special guest" on the program: Michelle Obama.

But by nightfall, Clinton was able to shed her misgivings, at least for the 30 minutes she occupied the stage. She delivered a challenge to her supporters: "I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me?" Or, she asked, "Were you in it for all the people in this country who feel invisible?"

That question is yet to be answered. But whatever else she was Tuesday night, the orange-clad Clinton could not possibly have felt invisible.