Browsing through my photos from Rick Perry’s visit to
Concord, NH this past Friday, I struggled to find a shot of him where it looked
like he was speaking to those assembled around him. Even when he talks, Perry’s
face hardly moves. In my reporter’s notebook I penned a single word to describe
his demeanor that afternoon: “Languid.”
Considering Romney’s ebullience and eagerness to shake hands
with everyone around him at events, the contrast with Perry is striking.
(All photos: Luke N. Vargas. 2011. All Rights Reserved)
So you can understand my surprise on Saturday morning as I hit
the web to search for footage of Rick Perry’s keynote speech at the
“Cornerstone” function in Manchester and found the now-viral video of him showcasing his sudden and absurd foray into comedic punchiness.
At the Barley House restaurant in Concord only hours before
his evening speech, Perry settled down to talk with a small circle of
supporters away from the mass of photographers. A man extended his hand and introduced
himself as one of New Hampshire’s “best farmers.” Perry not so directly
responded by musing whether or not Stonyfield Farm (whose organic yogurt Perry
said he enjoyed) was a Vermont or New Hampshire company.
“New Hampshire,” the farmer retorted dryly, before pointing
out that Stonyfield’s owner is an Obama-supporter.
I can’t tell you exactly what Governor Perry went on to talk
about for the next two or three minutes, but it had something to do the dairy
industry and the ethical complications when politics and charity intersect.
Everyone nodded along, but Perry had taken the brief meet and greet moment in a
direction that nobody could have expected, wandering onto whatever topic seemed
to spring to mind.
When a girl approached Perry to shake his hand moments later,
he asked what her name was.
“Isabel,” she said.
After noting that a relative of his shared the name (albeit
with a different spelling), Perry trailed off by mumbling “Queen Isabella…” And
with that he moved on to greet others. The girl looked at their mother with a
confused smile. That was it.
Earlier that day on the steps of the State Capitol, one of
the Governor’s aides handed him a copy of his book to sign for a supporter.
“What’s the name?” he inquired, unsheathing his Sharpie marker.
“Al,” the aide replied.
“A-L?” There was a pause before the aide confirmed the
spelling. “Well, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a set-up,” Perry said before
penning the name. Huh?
I can’t formulate a clear narrative on Perry, and I’m not
alone among the media in this regard. Regarding his inconsistent behavior I’ve
heard theories from reporters concerning everything from lack of sleep,
uncharacteristic anxiousness, to prescription medication. More often, however,
it’s been: “that’s just the way he is!” Perry indeed has a strange way of
thinking, an utter lack of embarrassment, a willingness to tell people he won’t
sign their photographs at one minute, and remarkable openness seconds later.
It is worth noting that Perry travels with a remarkably
large (and beefy) cadre of security personnel, and his staff is visibly
concerned with clearing a path for him to walk wherever he goes. The only
Republican candidate monitored this closely is the elderly Ron Paul, whose
aides busy themselves identifying stairs or icy spots that could send him
toppling over. Before Perry entered the basement of the Barley House restaurant
where supporters and the media waited for him, two of his staff discussed where
they would “push” photographers when the Governor entered. They agreed that a lonely
corner by the door would be an appropriate spot.
The venue chosen for the campaign reception was so crowded,
and the media given so little space to get their shots, that a protracted
argument broke out between a young woman wielding an amateurish video camera
and a videographer from the local NBC News affiliate in Boston. Admittedly,
there was a lack of professionalism on the part of the two quarreling, but it
was the Perry team’s lack of preparation for the rush of media that created the
situation in the first place. By comparison, the Romney team (whose security is
also much less visible) has been praised for being so in tune with the media’s
needs.
Luckily, I broke from the riser where I was told to remain
(and where I would have had almost no opportunity to take a single photo) and
moved to the other side of the room and waited for the candidate amidst his
supporters.
As the Governor raced into the room, a television personality
tasked with preparing a story about the event tried to get the Governor’s
attention by asking about Mitt Romney’s weaknesses in the state. There was no
way Perry would answer him, and I doubt he even heard the question over the
noise of the room, but a campaign staffer accosted the reporter anyway and
warned him not to ask such questions.
I can’t help but think: what was the point of that? Perry’s
hardly visited the first in the nation primary state, and now is no time to
burn bridges with the media before their candidate (presumably) starts to visit
with greater regularity in the months ahead.
“You really ought to have him talk to each of these cameras.
It’s not smart to pick and chose here,” the exasperated reporter quipped back
to the young and suited staffer. I couldn’t agree with him more.
My picture of Perry is an incomplete one. His character is an affable one, and that video of him
cracking wise and displaying a perplexing punchiness in Manchester is evidence
enough that this side of his personality may be one he intends to emphasize in
contrast with Romney’s straight-laced seriousness, but Mr. Perry’s campaign
staff (at least in New Hampshire) does not seem in tune with how best to create
the kinds of environments where their candidate can show off.
In the quiet company of supporters, Perry rambled on about a
range of issues, which, had a national reporter been nearby, surely would have
made a headline—such as Perry’s equating himself with Galileo because both were
“doubters” of the scientific status quo (referring, in his case, to climate
change)—but as the frustration of the media assigned to cover him mounts, the
likelihood increases that the portrait painted of him to the masses unable to
meet him in person could be an embarrassing one. Then again, if Perry continues
to generate the type of questionable video highlights as he displayed at the
Cornerstone Dinner, they won’t have much digging to do.
A photographer friend of mine was waiting outside the
restaurant when I emerged after an hour of scrounging around for a good photo.
“Were you inside?” I asked, referring sarcastically to the
madhouse of the basement.
“What’s the point?” he said. “Those guys don’t know what
they’re doing.” And with that I headed South on I-93 to prep for a Mitt
Romney event that, thankfully, felt like it was taking place in the Granite
State.
(All photos: Luke N. Vargas. 2011. All Rights Reserved)
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