This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Jan. 20, 2009 - Most of the hundred SIUC stidents returning from the inauguation of Barack Obama were dead tired Wednesday on the long bus trip home. But Lei Xie, a star grad student in communications, was exhilarated.
Xie, who grew up in Shanghai, was impressed with the open, participatory way that the president had been chosen and sworn in. In China, the results would have been decided behind closed doors and announced on television, he said.
When China recently opened up a designated place for protesters at the Olympics, nobody took advantage, either because they didn't know how to do it or because they felt intimidated.
Xie was surprised by both the boos directed at Vice President Richard Cheney and President George Bush, and by the protest signs of some anti-Obama, anti-abortion protesters calling Obama supporters baby-killers. No president in China would face such insults.
Xie recently got a tenure-track job from a college in Connecticut. He plans to teach in the United States until he gets tenure and then possibly return to teach in China.
Filed 9 p.m. Tues., Jan. 20
It's hard to understand why the Obama inauguration hasn't provided enough of a stimulus to save the nation's economy.
There were dozens of designs of buttons. There were dueling portraits -- some including John F. Kennedy, others Malcolm X, others showing Obama in a famous Muhammed Ali pose of triumph over a fallen fighter.
One item that wasn't selling fast was commorative special editions of newspapers. It may just have been too cold to hold them.
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Kathie Sutin | Filed 4:33 p.m. Jan. 20
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Lots of flag units. Francisco didn't get his sign signed, but he got a phone call that he was on TV and heard something about they wanted to talk to him. Some people didn't want him to hold the sign up because they couldn't see, but others told him to get it up there for Obama to see. He was looking our way. We put Jose up in front.
Talked to Sylvester and Debra Amy, a black couple - not young - who spent 17 hours on a bus from Houston. They've been here since Thursday. Got to the parade at 4:30 a.m. They must be frozen. Said it was all worth it to be part of history.
Many told me this morning: People should pray for Obama because he has a tough job ahead.
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Kathie Sutin | Filed 4:05 p.m. Jan. 20
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Mass exodus after Obama passes. Some people not happy that he didn't walk past us, especially those who stayed and saw Biden walk. Also disappointed windows were up on the car - so dark it was hard to see. Many spectators left right away. We started to because we were freezing, then felt bad for the rest of the dignitaries and went back.
Kathie Sutin | Filed 2:30 p.m. Jan. 20
Did I say Francisco is from El Salvador? He proudly tells me he is from San Miguel, third largest city in the country and the only El Salvadoran city that does Carnival. We're freezing. Can it get any colder? People are complaining their feet have no feeling.
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Kathie Sutin | Filed 1:40 p.m. Jan. 20
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People here on Pennsylvania Avenue, just two blocks from the White House, are anxiously awaiting the start of the parade. There are pigeons roosting above and behind us, dropping on us. It's getting cold with the sun going behind the Department of Commerce building across the street and the wind picking up.
Kathie Sutin | Filed 12:19 p.m. Jan. 20
A man in front of me holds up a sign he made saying "Barack Obama, born to be president." He is Francisco Lopez, here with his 11-year-old, grandson, Jose Morales. They live in Hyattsville, Md., but Lopez is from El Salvador. We have trouble understanding each other but Jose translates for us.
I ask why the sign? He looks at me like I just don't get it. "He was born to be president," Lopez says. "I was born to be a carpenter."
He points to the boy and says, "Maybe he's born to be a doctor."
Lopez is 59. He pulls out a fat Sharpie marker. He is hoping to get Obama to sign the sign.
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Kathie Sutin | Filed 11:20 a.m. from the parade route
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Antonio is taller than I am and saw Obama pass (on the way to the Capitol.) He said he was smiling.
No screens here. NPR on the loudspeaker. A moment ago she announced Bush is no longer the president. Big cheer went up. Another when he finished the oath.
There were a lot of unhappy folks about a half hour before the motorcade passed. We were on a sunny rise in Freedom Plaza when the police decided to close it.
Kathie Sutin | Filed 9:33 a.m.
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We're in!
An hour and a half in line and through the metal detectors. I met the man who had to have come the farthest. More soon.
Wendy Weinhold | Filed 9:40 a.m.
My feet are freezing, the line for my ticket group has moved forward less than 10 feet in the two hours I've been in it, but I'm still optimistic.
This is my chance, not just to watch history but to be a part of it, and there's no reason to lose faith now. There's still another hour for me to get inside.
"It brings all new meaning to the phrase the audacity of hope," said a man in the purple ticket line behind me.
The crowd's mood dances between giddiness and despair. Spontaneous chants erupt from the crowd. We chimed in on cue when prompted, "Give me an O … B…A…M…A….OBAMA!" We've danced in place and we've done the wave.
But not everyone around me is having fun. Some people question the organizers, others complain about the cold. They are trying to be patient, but it's hard work. "Keep it moving, y'all. Keep it moving," a woman said as she walked past my line. "Obama, no drama."
When I look up from my reporter's pad, where I'm jotting notes, the line has moved another six feet.
"Yes, we can!" I thought.
There are at least 200 yards to go.
Kathie Sutin | Filed 8:12 a.m.
First thing we saw outside of the train station after arriving from Baltimore was a row of portapotties. Each one had a long line.
We're moving! It wasn't far, but it's giving us hope.
The crowd is very diverse and generally friendly. I see whites and blacks beginning with small talk and moving on to other things like the sad state of the economy. Not quite the dialogue we talked about in the '60s, but still a dialogue and a connection.
William Freivogel | Filed 5:14 a.m.
Driving into Washington was eerie because it seemed abandoned. Of course it was before 5 a.m. Still, we had expected to at least run into a jam of buses.
We got a prime parking space at 21st and K, about eight blocks from the White House.
Now it's about 6 and the streets are filling up. We're having an All-American breakfast before heading for the Mall.
William Freivogel | Filed 3:24 a.m.
A waning, crescent moon hangs in the predawn sky over the nation's capital as our two buses from SIUC approached from western Maryland.
Most of the students are sleeping. I'm reminded of the dozens times I drove this same route on the way back from family vacations, our four children sleeping in the back of our VW bus. It feels like a homecoming. The route our school buses are to take to our designated parking spots is the highway along the Potomac that I commuted along for a dozen years from our Bethesda home to the Post-Dispatch Washington Bureau near the White House. Service to our country is incredibly important to me -- and to our incoming president, whose staff has kept my cell phone buzzing with texts.
Wendy Weinhold | Filed 9 p.m. Mon. Jan. 19
"Want to volunteer?" a recent message asked before offering directions on volunteering around the capital and at home. During his campaign, President-elect Barack Obama faced biting criticism for his work as a community organizer. While wandering around the capital city today and speaking with artists, performers, political activists, traffic cops and elected officials, I realized that these uncouth jabs reflect a serious problem with the ways we gauge service to our communities and nation.
After walking around the city today, blisters growing on my heels, I discovered a newfound admiration for traffic control officers. Earlier in the week, a uniformed Washington officer told me that thousands of officers would be on duty on inauguration day -- and that they'd volunteered to leave communities across the nation for the job.
"I asked for the day off, but they wouldn't let me," he said. "I don't know why you'd want to work in this mess."
No mass of people I've even been a part of has been as large or as disorganized as today's Capitol Hill mob. People stopped mid-sidewalk to look at maps, flagged down the men and women in uniform to ask for directions, and clogged the escalators that fed an otherwise smooth-moving public transit system.
Clearly, the traffic cops and soldiers who guide traffic and guard the steps of the U.S. Capitol are serving our country. So, too, are the politicians and staffers working inside those marbled halls. But it seems shortsighted to me to define service simply by uniforms and ballot majorities.
All day today, a small group of Washington, D.C., performers gathered outside the U Street Metro Station to pay tribute on Martin Luther King Jr. Day to the nation's most famous community organizer and the African-American soldiers who fought in the Civil War. A woman dressed in a Civil War-era costume -- complete with a bonnet and wide hoop skirt -- explained to me that U Street was the site of a memorial to these soldiers, and it only made sense to celebrate their sacrifices on this national holiday.
"Of course, we did it a little bigger this year because of this inauguration," she said.
A little farther down U Street, the line outside Ben's Chili Bowl wrapped around the corner with tourists eager to taste the food. The restaurant gained national attention for a simple sign inside the restaurant that notifies customers that the Obama family and Bill Cosby are special guests: They eat for free.
As far as I'm concerned, the owner of the restaurant is serving his country and community. Many American legends hail from the U Street area — Duke Ellington, Marvin Gaye, Pearl Bailey, to name a few. They gave much to our cultural heritage.
There's a reason banners along the street declare the area History U: We are a better country because of these Americans.
William Freivogel | Filed 2:05 p.m. Jan. 19
Dennis Van de Laar is my seatmate on the SIUC trip to the inauguration. He just filed a blog for a Dutch paper back in his native Netherlands.
Dennis, 26, is a very smart graduate student in aviation administration. Even though he's not a professional journalist, his blog was written like a real pro. He writes a regular blog called Double Dutch.
In his inaugural blog, he did a good job of describing the historical context of the inauguration occurring one day after Martin Luther King's birthday and two centuries after Abraham Lincoln's birth. Obama's election is rooted in both their legacies, he wrote.
Like me, Dennis has some qualms about whether this trip is worth it. "24 hours on a bus for one man," he says as he translates the first sentence of his blog from Dutch into English. Also like me, Dennis wonders if Obama can meet the sky-high expectations. He says Obamamania is even stronger at home in Europe than here.
Wendy Weinhold | Filed 1 p.m. Jan. 19
One of the challenges of attending the presidential inauguration is that everything takes at least two hours more than it should.
Despite the people filling the sidewalks and flooding the closed streets around the national mall, the city is not hard to move through. The constant sound of whistles blowing from the mouths of traffic control officers adds to an almost circuslike atmosphere to an otherwise neighborly crowd.
As of this post, I'm standing in a line that wraps about 300 people long around the corner of the Cannon building. Inauguration tickets are inside our congressional representatives' offices, and the line is moving swiftly.
In a span of seven hours, about one-quarter of a million people will shuffle through the congressional office buildings to secure the coveted pieces of paper that permit them access to the ceremonies' official grounds.
Unlike most crowds I've been in, this crowd is eerily quiet. It's as if everyone recognizes the importance of tomorrow's events and wants to be on their best behavior. It's probably too much to label it reverent, but it sure feels that way.
The sound of complaints from those around you is a routine part of standing in long lines -- but not this one. People laugh and cheer when TV crews move past, but otherwise the crowd is calm.
"I've been waiting in line for two hours, but I got my tickets," a man said as he exited Cannon.
He laughed, he smiled and I returned the grin. I didn't mind the line; my tickets were waiting for me, too.
William Freivogel | Filed 11:55 a.m. Jan. 19
The 97 Southern Illinois University students and friends left Carbondale on time, just after 2 a.m. Monday. The efficiency of this forced march is the work of Martin Dubbs, who rose to sergeant during his eight years in the Army, which included a year working intelligence in Iraq.
In fact, this great inaugural adventure was his idea. Martin is a student worker in the Journalism school, and just before the election suggested to me with great enthusiam that we take students to the inauguration. He has spent much of the time since then organizing the trip like a military operation.
Last week, at a moment of low enthusiasm approaching dread on my part, I asked Martin why we were doing this.
"Because this is what journalists do," he said.
Martin went on to explain that the election had been particularly exciting for him because he thought "this was a significant diversion in the ideas and where (both candidates) would take the country. I thought Obama had a better position on Iraq and Afghanistan because he was more flexible and could adjust."
Martin is a grad student in public administration and hopes to make a career in federal service. After our departure from Carbondale, we promptly ran into a snow storm that slowed our march. We've just finished inundating a Kentucky McDonald's. Tonight we're at motels in western Maryland before the final push to the capital begins, again around 2 a.m. under Sgt. Dubbs' direction.
Wendy Weinhold | filed 11:30 p.m. Jan. 18
Jack Black didn't do it. Jon Bon Jovi didn't come close. But the crowd was silent when Tom Hanks took the stage on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial at the official launch to the Presidential Inaugural Committee's three-day celebration. We used this opportunity to maneuver through the crowd for a better view.
Hundreds of thousands of people flooded the National Mall for the event, which was attended by President-elect Barack Obama, Vice President-elect Joe Biden, and many A-list celebrities. James Taylor's voice still rings in my ears. "Shower the People," he's singing, and I believe him.
The crowd filled the area between the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument, and people stood elbow-to-elbow and watched speakers and musicians pay tribute to the historic events unfolding. Those who didn't make it into the gated area around the reflecting pool and near the steps of the Lincoln Memorial watched the action on giant screens located across the Mall.
"This is amazing. I'm already crying. I'm not kidding," said a blonde, white woman, who appeared to be in her early-20s, before disappearing into the crowd. "This just makes me so proud to be an American."
She certainly wasn't alone in expressing that kind of sentiment. Every other person who crossed my path wore at least one pro-Obama button, T-shirt, sticker or hat. And that's not counting the hundreds of people peddling wares on the street, and they were more than plentiful.
After the concert, my friend and I escaped the crowds and took a long and meandering walking tour of my old Washington, D.C., haunts: Capitol Hill, DuPont Circle, Woodley Park and Georgetown. We must have walked at least three miles, and the weather cooperated beautifully.
Our very long day ended with a cab ride to the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station, where we picked up the yellow line to the place we're staying with friends in Alexandria. I asked our cab driver, who told us he came to D.C. from Ethopia, why he moved here.
"Freedom," he said.
Exactly. More to come tomorrow.
Wendy Weinhold | filed 9:30 a.m. Jan. 18
Recapping a moment from my 900-plus mile drive through Southern Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia and into Washington, D.C., seems like the perfect place to start this post, or inaug blog as I’ve joking termed it.
The road trip began Saturday with Jessie Stewart, a friend from Southern Illinois University Carbondale’s Graduate School, in the driver’s seat. Shortly after lunch, we stopped to fill up at a gas station in Kentucky.
The station clerk caught me by surprise when he asked, “Going to the inauguration?” It hit me then that Jessie and I were far from alone on this journey. Millions of other people would join us in doing the only thing that made sense this weekend: traveling to the capital city to welcome our new president home.
We’re less than 30 miles out of D.C. as of this writing, and the roads are clear and uncongested. Lighted signs on the Virginia roadside warn drivers to expect delays on Jan. 20, but it’s quite possible that there’s less traffic on the Interstate we’re traveling today than on most of the roads I drive in Southern Illinois and southeastern Missouri.
Our decision to leave Saturday and drive as far as Lexington, Va., seems to be working in our favor. Tuesday’s crowds don’t appear to be en route quite yet.
Sure, the view is probably going to be better for those who elected to stay home, wallow in warm blankets, avoid the bathroom lines, and watch the ceremonies on television. But it’s not the view that matters to me. I’m going to the inauguration because it’s history — yours, mine and the world’s — and I don’t just want to watch it happen. I want to be part of it.
First on our agenda once we arrive to the city is the Presidential Inaugural Committee (hereafter referred to as PIC) Official Welcome Event, a free afternoon concert featuring the likes of Beyonce, Bono and the Boss on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
The Library of Congress reading room is my favorite place on Capitol Hill, but the Lincoln Memorial is my favorite monument. There’s no better spot to start this Sunday adventure, my first return to D.C. in a dozen years.
During the five months of 1997 that Washington, D.C., served as my home, my Sunday afternoon ritual was simple: I packed a sandwich, walked from my apartment in Woodley Park to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, sat and enjoyed “supper with Abe.” As the sun set, I walked through the Korean War Memorial and past the Wall and Three Servicemen Statue. And I’d cry.
When the crowds clear after the concert, that walk is on my list.
(Weinhold, a graduate student in journalism at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, said her decision to travel to the inauguration was motivated by her interest in national politics and the inaugural ceremony tickets she was fortunate to secure from a childhood friend, Rep. Adrian Smith, R-Neb.)
Kathie Sutin | Filed 5 p.m. Sat., Jan. 17
The weather kept the crowds down, at the event today (Obama's appearance in Baltimore), I'm sure. We didn't get there as early as we had planned--worried about handling the frigid temps for so long. I wore more layers than I did in Norway in February and it paid off. I wasn't really cold until we were walking back to the car and the biting wind picked up. I think being packed in with all those people helped, too.
Gina's friend dropped us off a few blocks from the staging area and then caught up with us. They snaked the route around a bit to accommodate the crowds but walking in, I sometimes felt there were more hawkers than spectators. It didn't look like anybody was buying on the way in but people seemed more interested on the way out.
I was amazed by all the things they were selling. In addition to the usual. T-shirts, caps, keychains, etc., there were framed front pages (reduced in size) of the Washington Post, USA Today and other publications, little portable seats (the smallest I've ever seen, so presumably you could get by security with them) and so on. A couple of people, trying to cash in on the weather, were selling hand and foot warmers.
Although we got there only about 35 minutes before he spoke, we weren't too far back and could actually see the speakers.
From the people I talked with, it seemed pretty much a hometown crowd although I later found out that woman I know from California (one who took the great shots of Obama when he was in St. Louis) was there. She got there at 12:45 and managed to elbow herself right up to the front row and got some more close shots of him.
There were a lot of "We love you, Obama" shouts from the audience resulting in his "I love you back" comment that I'm sure you've read about. We haven't decided yet if we're going to attempt to go to the concert on the mall tomorrow.
Kathie Sutin | Filed 9:30 a.m. Sat., Jan. 17
I could already see the excitement building as I made my connection in Pittsburgh yesterday. While waiting for my flight I overheard two women from Illinois talking to a woman from Pittsburgh. One of the Illinoisans was wondering if her cane (one of those kind that's got a crook in it) would be allowed on the mall. The African-American woman from Pittsburgh, who as it turned out has tickets to a lunch at the Willard and seemed to know how things are going to work, said canes were OK. It's sticks that are prohibited, she said.
As I was trying to get to my seat on the plane, I overheard an interesting conversation between two seatmates.
An African-American woman asked a Caucasian woman sitting next to her which events she was planning to attend. The woman told her she wasn't going to any.
The African-American woman said, "Come on, girl! You're going to be in DC at this historic time. You've got to go to something."
The Caucasian woman said she was going to DC because her daughter had a "problem" and she was going to be with her. "I said I would come as long as I knew I could stay in her apartment and sleep in a bed."
"Well, OK," the African-American woman. "You're doing what a mother does."
(Kathie Sutin is a freelance journalist in St. Louis. Her daughter, Gina, lives in Baltimore.)
