Tuxedo Man: An Evening Among Washington's Conservative Elite (1997)
One of the purposes of the tuxedo is to create some elegant uniformity among a function's attendees. In this it fails miserably given an endless variety of fat guts, pimply faces and hair that extends upward and outward like Kramer's or Larry Fine's. Thus, a room full of tuxedoes combined with contemporary evening gowns looks like a Ringling Brothers production.
I could have gotten away without the vest, chosen over a cummerbund. It was tight, heavy and oppressive of the bowels, but I got nods of brotherhood from the few other vest-wearers and I inspired a feeling in the sporters of red cummerbunds that they had blundered into the realm of tacky.
Black gowns and white powder all over the skin were favored by many females. I told my reason-for-being at The Washington Hilton gala that she was the only who didn't look like Elvira, Mistress of the RIGHT! "Alice" looked really lovely for a "big" girl. She invited me as one who could blend in with this bunch.
About half the luminaries I had encountered before, even photographing some. Linda Chavez (Nice lady.). Mrs. William J. Bennett. Used to see Sandra D. O'Connor racing through the Chevy Chase Club in a down vest on the way to racquetball. Nino Scalia stomped by me trying to remember where he'd seen me before [See Scalia: He's Funny That Way]
On the way to the men's room, I passed Judge Bork and Bob Michel chatting. I always thought Bork looked like Cotton Mather, but up close, he looks like W.C. Fields with a goat beard. I find his calls for censorship as alarming as I find this crowd's firm belief that hard work will get anyone anywhere and that all these new jobs are enough to live decently on.
"Alice" had the choice job of escorting bigshots to their tables. Whoever thought this up thought badly. People whose sole reason for being there is to schmooze with other bigshots don't like being told it's time to stop jawing and go to their tables. "Do we need an escort?" Sen. Moynihan asked "Alice" when she approached him. Scalia, of course, bit off another escort's head and so Alice steered clear of him. I had warned her beforehand that he was one of the rudest assholes I'd ever met.
We weren't seated in the center of the room, but we weren't in the Uranus-orbit of the wide-eyed interns, doomed to be political all their lives, either. Ben Wattenberg made one loop around our table.
Nobody listened to the Institute President as he introduced guest speaker, James Q. Wilson. The latter's Government textbook was used in CU's Politics 101 and I believe we read Thinking About Crime in a criminal justice class. His speech was "de" the decay of the family and religion and getting people off welfare, a sermon to the choir. He proposed setting up a United Way strictly for religious organizations. I can just see the Mason-mongers calling such cooperative efforts the next big step toward one syncretistic religion. It is one of the sad duties of the powerful in Washington to forego the Caps or Wizards and come out to listen to such stuff.
Media presence. CNN covered it. The Washington Post was, surprisingly, a sponsor. Tony Snow was the only recognizable journalista I espied.
To sum up: I'm glad I went for only the cost of tuxedo rental. I would not have paid just to be in the same room with people who have no interest in anybody save other bigshots. It was a good and interesting time, made better by a live and virtuosimo (?) jazz band. Alice and I took a whirl to Way Down Yonder In New Orleans before heading out the historic exit where Reagan was shot.
Copyright 1997,2003 by Neal J. Conway
All rights reserved.