Sweeping Up - George W. Bush Jr., presidential candidate - Brief Article

George W. Bush's brush with anti-Catholicism at Bob Jones University must still be giving his advisers the willies, for the governor of Texas has left no stone unturned in his search since for a Catholic photo opportunity--the prospect of which brought him to the University of Portland, Oregon's biggest Catholic university, on August 11. Here are the notes from an interested observer of political theater:

* An oompah band outside the gym, where the Bush rally was to be held, was made up of elderly volunteers who gather from all over the state to play at Republican events. "We're just rabid Republicans," said the tuba player. "We wish Ronnie were running again, but we'll take this kid as president if we have to." The song they played over and over: "Moving Willie's Tombstone to Build an Outhouse."

* The line of people waiting to get into the rally stretched past the soccer field. "We're here just to get a glimpse of the fellow," said one woman who had driven up from Klamath Falls, five hours south. "He's just the handsomest man!"

* Arizona Senator John McCain, looking uncomfortable, spoke briefly and then stood stolidly at the side of the stage, perhaps replaying the primary campaign in his mind.

* A gaggle of schoolchildren from a nearby elementary school, with their vivacious Hispanic principal, were arranged behind Bush. The girls sat demurely and the boys stood in organized ranks for the briefest of seconds before beginning to tickle each other and hold up fingers behind each others' heads, pick their noses, etc. The principal looked pained. Senator McCain looked amused, though.

* "I'm for education," shouted Bush, "and for moral values!"

* A protester was carried bodily from the gym by a burly policeman with shoulders bigger than the stage. The protester's spectacles fell off during the initial struggle and a teenage girl picked them up gingerly and handed them to another policeman, who folded them carefully and put them in his breast pocket. The burly policeman said later that the protester's pockets were filled with marbles, "hundreds of them, all colors."

* The university's president, a Holy Cross priest seasoned by many years of academic and religious-order politics, noted with a smile that the university was delighted to have political rallies of all sorts and stripes (gentle emphasis on that phrase) on its campus, inasmuch as universities were villages where ideas and reason were the proper companions of passion. The crowd applauded uncertainly. "And while you are here, don't forget to visit the admissions office and tour our lovely grounds," said the president, no fool when it came to seizing the moment.

* Candidate Bush wrapped up his energetic speech, shook hands all around, and plunged into the crowd to shake more hands and pose for photographs. A willowy girl handed him a stuffed purple snake. He handed it to an aide, who handed it to a nearby policeman (not burly), who placed it gently on the stage, where it lay quietly for a moment before one of the schoolchildren made off with it.

* A janitor sweeping up placards after all the suits left stopped to ponder the morning's events. "Your Republicans, now, they're a neat people," he said. "I remember when we had Reagan here, in 1984, and I remember Bobby Kennedy's visit, very brief but wild, and John Kennedy. His was also a brief visit. I wasn't here when Adlai Stevenson came; that was before my time. The messiest rally? Bobby Kennedy's rally. That was pretty wild. People were throwing things all over. Not at Bobby, of course; they were throwing things up in the air, in excitement, I guess. We had a lot to sweep up after Bobby came, yes we did."

Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, and the author of Credo, a collection of essays.

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