On giant screens around a ballroom in midtown Manhattan on Tuesday night, video images of Bill Bradley’s most rousing speeches, his confetti-filled rallies and his cheering fans rolled on, in contrast to the somber people milling around the room.
A 15-month campaign–more mission than campaign to many of Bradley’s young, passionate aides and supporters–had come down to this night. As they had been all over the country, the signs of a devastating defeat could be seen on all sides of this hotel ballroom.
Campaign aides gave out coveted Bill Bradley baseball caps for free. A few staffers talked about the vacations they were contemplating. At least two people were in tears. Bradley himself couldn’t find a gentler way to say it: “I lost.”
Stopping short of withdrawing from the race, Bradley said he would talk with his closest advisers on Wednesday, seeking their “thoughts and advice,” and would announce a decision soon about the future. Still, Bradley repeatedly spoke of his campaign in the past tense and referred to its impact on the broader political landscape.
“I believe history will write that we tried to change politics, to restore trust and to defeat the politics of expediency,” he observed.
Bradley said the campaign had pushed his agenda–health care for the uninsured, an end to child poverty, campaign-finance reform, registration and licensing of all handguns–into the Democratic lexicon.
Bradley’s wife, Ernestine, former New York Mayor Ed Koch,and Sen. Paul Wellstone (D-Minn.) were among those cheering on stage beside Bradley. Bradley smiled, kissed his family members and offered high fives to anyone he could reach.
But little could rally this crowd. The Real Deal Soul Band from Harlem tried to, telling the audience to “put their hands together” as the band played gospel, jazz, and rhythm and blues. Few people clapped. No one danced.
Jason Rapp, a 24-year-old investment banker, stood motionless, watching the video memories of Bradley’s campaign. “It’s sad,” he said. “It’s sad that we’re in a situation where people vote for slogans. Al Gore was a dirty campaigner, and Bradley simply was more complex, more deep and more subtle.”
The crushing blow to Bradley’s quest for the presidency, though, didn’t dampen Rapp’s view of Bradley’s status as a true American success story–a smalltown boy who rose to basketball star, Rhodes scholar and political leader. “In this campaign, he carried that theme on–he campaigned as a man driven by American ideals,” he said.
Reflecting on more than a year on the campaign trail, Bradley returned to a phrase his supporters had heard many times. “It is truly a joyous journey,” he said.
“The fact that we have not succeeded in winning tonight’s primaries makes the cause no less just, the fight no less honorable, the goal no less reachable,” he said, pledging to carry on the mission, regardless of the campaign’s future. “Some have called our goals unrealistic. I call them common sense. I call them Democratic. I call them American. And I’m going to work for them until we win–and we will win.”
Bradley’s party, if it could be called that, ended abruptly. Almost all of the hundreds of people in attendance at the Sheraton New York Hotel & Towers were gone before 10:15 p.m. The bar promptly closed. The food was carried off. Even the tablecloths were taken away.
