Behind the Scenes With Kerry's Press Corps

By: Joe Strupp Growing up, my Uncle Bernie had a phrase he'd use to describe something he didn't much care about, but would attend if it were easy. "I'd walk across the street to see it," he'd say.

That situation arose for me Tuesday when Sen. John Kerry, and his accompanying press gang, appeared at Cooper Union in New York's East Village, literally across the street from E&P headquarters.

With swift boat speed, I crossed Astor Place at mid-morning and arrived at the entrance to the landmark rust-colored building, which Kerry had chosen for an address because Abraham Lincoln had made a famous speech there in 1860. Lacking a press card of any kind, I managed to work my way in with an E&P business card and a New Jersey driver's license.

One of our interns got in by flashing an E&P photo ID -- with someone else's face on it -- and with no request for more information. So much for security in post-9/11 New York.

Once in, and wearing my nifty multi-colored and laminated PRESS credential, I was ushered downstairs to what might be the hottest basement auditorium in creation. The 500-seat venue was nearly filled at 10:35 a.m., about 25 minutes before Kerry's scheduled arrival.

The usual multi-leveled risers for television cameras were at the back, rows of seats set aside for radio reporters, print writers and others, while a pen for the pool photographers already was being filled. None of the pool reporters, however, were in place as they were traveling with Kerry and would arrive from LaGuardia Airport as he did.

But about two dozen local reporters were getting into position, none of whom were willing to speak, or even give their names, to E&P.

Meanwhile, in the nearby press filing area, also with a noticeable lack of air conditioning, Kerry staffers were making sure only those with "Traveling PRESS" credentials were allowed in. Later, a sound technician got into a shouting match with two Kerry staffers in that area, yelling at them, "don't touch the equipment."

By 11:15 a.m., Kerry had not appeared, prompting someone to begin playing gentle piano music over the public address system in the main auditorium, as reporters roamed around seeking news. We knew he had to get there some time -- after all, he had a Comedy Central "Daily Show" taping to get to later in the day.

At 11:42 a.m., with the candidate still not in sight, copies of his 25-minute speech were then handed out, which many began to type into laptops. Little did they know that much of it had appeared on the Web nearly two hours earlier and already quoted on Drudge.

By noon, several pool reporters had their leads and most of their story already written up.

When the Pledge of Allegiance was recited, about half the reporters in the room placed hand over heart, and the rest either ignored it or focused on their laptops, tape recorders, or notebooks. For a few moments following the pledge, it appeared no one on stage knew what to do as Kerry was not yet there, so a quiet murmur began for several minutes.

Finally, almost exactly one hour late, the candidate walked on stage, prompting a roar of applause and cheers and the clicking of cameras, scribbling of pens and, in at least two cases, TV reporter stand-ups right there in front of the stage.

Back in the press room, about five reporters had chosen to listen to the speech via speakers, risking the inevitable missed story if some visual gaffe happened to befall Kerry.

Within minutes, a photographer ran in and proceeded to feed digital images shot just a moment earlier. About 10 minutes into the address, Kerry staffers spread out again, offering a press release of the still-unveiling speech, with the intended spin of the day: "Kerry Outlines Choice Facing Voters in This Election."

When the speech ended, pool reporters fled to the filing room, with some helping themselves to the breast of chicken, mixed vegetables, pasta, and salad that had been provided. A few offered thoughts on the lack of A.C.

"This is below average, but it is the nature of the building," Glen Johnson of The Boston Globe said about the 145-year-old location as he filed his story and noshed on pasta. "You learn to adapt to stuff on the road." He said reporters that morning had to be ready by 7 a.m. in Boston, a bit early for a noon event just down the coast in New York.

The Kerry plane reporters, including the legendary (yet approachable) David Broder, occupied about 10 tables set up for their use, with backpacks, computer bags, and laptops strewn about. A "Keep Quiet In this Area" sign hung prominently as the group made little noise but the clattering of keyboards and humming of hard drives.

Most of the traveling press gave positive marks to the Kerry staffers and overall logistics of traveling with the candidate. "We have pretty good help from them to do our job," said Frank James, a Chicago Tribune reporter.

One ABC cameraman, however, was not as understanding, saying access to Kerry is almost non-existent, a view shared by many on the tour. "Kerry sits in the front," he said about life on the campaign plane. "We are like pond scum," he declared.

After filing, the press rabble had a few hours to kill before following Kerry to the 3:30 taping of "The Daily Show," then a flight to Philadelphia Tuesday night for a fundraiser. "These days," said Johnson, "really are the dog days."