There are two ways to look at unglorious moments. One is to appreciate that they are but fleeting glimpses of one’s failures and another is to regard them as moments of magnificence, which only improve with time and the telling. So, which category would you put the following tale?
An interview with Larry King–1994, East Texas.
Dixon’s head was buried in the Tyler Times while the rest of us listlessly shook off the sleepless night of layout and editing. Suddenly, he looked up at us, like a rabbit caught stealing fruit from the compost heap and threw the paper down on the table for all to see. Larry King was coming to town and Dixon wanted the event covered by the college newspaper.
“I bet we could interview him,” I said excitedly.
“Fat chance of that,” said Lori. “There’ll be hundreds of people there and there’s no way we’ll be able to get a one on one with Larry King at an event like that.”
“Well, we might get a question in,” I said optimistically.
It was settled quickly. Lori would come with me to take photos and we would go as part of the audience in the hopes that we would be picked to ask a question.
All week I stewed about what question I was going to ask Larry if given the chance.
“I think you should ask a question about NAFTA” said Dixon.
“What’s NAFTA?” I asked.
“The North American Free Trade Agreement between the US, Canada and Mexico.”
I’d heard about NAFTA but hadn’t the faintest idea what its significance was. Afterall, I was holed up on a college campus day and night, my nose in one literature book or another and American politics just didn’t seem so relevant to me at the time.
Dixon briefed me on the issues and I thought I was prepared. My aim was to be able to ask one intelligent question. If I could accomplish that, I would know what it felt like to be a real journalist. Unfortunately though, the feeling didn’t last long.
The room was packed by gum chewing cowboys but we managed to get a seat towards the front and positioned ourselves smack bang in the middle so we couldn’t be missed. My strategy to get attention: I wore big hair, bright clothes and bright makeup but failed to consider that in East Texas, that was the norm for many women; so really, we just blended in with the crowd.
Larry’s speech was an account of his life’s story and how he got to be famous, which I’m sure was just riveting for the East Texas audience. He had some choice clichés. “The world is my campus and experience my degree,” he declared to the cowboys and big haired women.
At last it was time for questions. I raised my hand high in the air and looked him straight in the eyes and to my shock and surprise, Larry pointed his finger right at me. My heart raced. I heard myself say, “Thank you Mr King, for coming to Tyler.” He nodded in practiced appreciation. Niceties over, I proceeded to ask my zinger. “My question is about NAFTA.” Larry’s face changed ever so slightly. “Do you agree that US working class families would be disadvantaged by NAFTA?” It sounded simple enough. There was a lot of unrest about NAFTA. At the time many people thought that NAFTA would open ‘pandora’s box’ to allow business to export their manufacturing to cheaper Mexico.
The audience before Larry King was a conservative, blue collar, Texan community of hard drinkers with hard luck and Larry knew it. So his response shouldn’t have surprised me when he said: “Well do you agree?” I froze. “Well, do you?” There was irritation in his voice as he glared at me. Silence as the audience awaited my response. All eyes were on me. I had no idea what to say. In that moment I wished for a cowboy hat to crawl into.
Still staring into the car lights I felt my heart in my throat as I heard myself say “I don’t know.” Then laughter as Larry swiftly put me in my place and went on to denounce the US decision to sign the agreement. I sank back into my chair feeling silly and bare. At the same time I felt exhilarated. No, not a real journalist, not even a shadow of one but at least I could say I interviewed Larry King.
