At the age of 81, even in a wheelchair, presumably unbound by it, hence the red cane he would occasionally twirl but never aim, America's grandest living old man of letters, Gore Vidal, still commanded complete silence every time he began to speak. Only the random aggravation of our age, a ringing cellphone, dared to interrupt the hour long "chat" with Maureen Dowd and host, Evan Smith, at Austin's Paramount Theatre during this weekend's Texas Book Festival.
The hour proved only lightly entertaining but sadly educational, as both guests, host, and audience prattled uselessly whenever given the chance to speak. A waste of breath but not of time, for the lesson revealed by the interplay between authors and audience made a most damning indictment of the current state of argument in America's so-called "marketplace of ideas". No ideas on display there, no bombshells, only fingerfood for thought and verbal badminton.
Question time was even more barren and one-sided. A half-dozen for Gore but none for Maureen. Damn shame. But Gore, ever the gentlemen dutifully shared his. So when confronted with the slightest contention of a question, a tellably practiced nervous caution bade each of them to search for the cutest cut line. There was no tip-toeing around the delicate issues of immigration, israel, and understandably in Texas, OIL. No they both bolted away as quietly and quickly as decorum would allow.
At the hour's end the applause was long and loud, continous enough to provide soundtrack to Miss Dowd's gracious goodbye kiss to Mr. Vidal, providing me with my only good opportunity to look down her blouse from my perch high up in the balcony. Then they literally went their separate ways, she to stage right as he was wheeled stage left, both adding a last moment wave before disappearing behind the curtains.
A victim of high expectations you may say, but I would disagree. Though such functions may be more of a momentary sharing of the "cocktail-party chat" we all read about in the magazines, but so few of us ever experience. If so, fine. And perhaps like W.F. Buckley at Harding in 1990, a college auditorium solo, would provide more and better grist for the mill.
But with all that said, I got to see Gore Vidal, my "bookend" to the 1968 Convention's "Clash of Titans", and that is all that to me, really mattered.
And one can always hope. As Smith remarked in the middle of the hour, perhaps it is time for a rematch? Only history and America would benefit.
stephenhsmith
30oct2006
