CLINTON VISITS MICHIGAN CITY

Not all press are privileged

Notes from train ride with president

By Rhonda E. Sobecki

For The News-Dispatch

I wasn't going to let them get to me.

That was my first thought after boarding the 21st CenturyExpress presidential train on Wednesday in Lansing.

I was so excited to have received this once-in-a-lifetimeassignment, but I also was determined to act as if I was an old pro at thisgame.

I was about to embark on an adventure with the president,as well as big-name media from Newsweek, Time, the L.A. Times, ABC's Washingtonbureau and the New York Times, to name a few.

My biggest worry was making absolutely sure I had a hotelroom reserved in Lansing. After two phone calls in as many days the nicepeople at the Sheraton Hotel assured me I was in their computer.

They were right.

The room service was prompt and the food was good. Theaccommodations were comfortable and clean. What more could one ask?

I awoke with plenty of time to get ready, have some coffeeand a muffin. Charter buses were scheduled to leave for the train at staggeredtimes between 9 and 9:30 a.m.

I had plenty of time.

Just out of curiosity, I decided to take a look in thepress filing room. I stepped inside Ballroom E and saw ABC's Ann Comptonwalk swiftly by. I recognized Mark Suppelsa from Chicago as well as severalother familiar faces.

I was somebody.

I also noticed that everyone, without question, was wearinga bold 21st Century Express press tag around their neck.

Where did they get those? And why didn't I have one?

I found someone who looked like they could help and shesaid she could, but also asked that I give her "a minute."

After 10 minutes of waiting, I could hear bus drivers revvingtheir engines, a good indication they were ready to leave. I tracked thenondescript blonde woman down in Ballroom C and she promptly pulled theproper press badge from her bag and handed it to me without an attachment.

"I guess you'll have to find one yourself, or finda safety pin," she said unsympathetically.

I ran to the parking lot just in time to catch a bus. Ibreathlessly hopped aboard lugging my heavy laptop computer, camera andcamera case and my fully laden briefcase.

I looked up after untangling my camera case strap fromthe bus handrail, and suddenly and embarrassingly discovered that all eyeswere on me. It took only a split second to realize that all those eyes belongedto men.

I was the only female on the bus.

I questioned myself. I hadn't see any sign that said, "MenOnly."

A friendly photographer from CNN offered me a seat. I thinkhe felt my embarrassment. His name was Mark. And throughout the rest ofthe trip, he smiled and said "Hi" whenever our paths crossed.

Once we arrived at the boarding site, not a train station,but a site in the middle of nowhere, we were not allowed to cross the streetuntil a previous group had been "swept."

My group was ordered to cross the street, put everythingon the ground and walk away. A single-file line was formed and each oneof us had to pass through a portable metal detector.

Secret Service agents and state troopers thoroughly checkedeach bag, camera and film case, purse and any other carry-on baggage onehad. Then a stately German shepherd sniffed each one to make sure policehadn't missed anything.

I boarded the train and searched for my seat. Five coachesof press seats and none were labeled "The News-Dispatch." Howcould that be? They had been given all the pertinent information. I hadreceived clearance.

Maybe I had missed it. I walked five coaches three times,staggering down narrow aisles, my luggage becoming increasingly heavierand cumbersome.

Clinton waves to the crowd aftergetting off the 21st Century Express in Kalamazoo, Mich.

Photo/Rhonda Sobecki

I asked someone from Amtrak what I should do and they toldme to just take a seat and if someone claimed it then move to another seat.In the meantime they would try to find someone from the White House TravelOffice to help me.

I looked around and saw two empty seats under CNN. I satdown. A woman came along and said, "You're sitting in my seat. That'smy seat. You can't sit there."

I grabbed by stuff and zeroed in on a CBS seat.

A man walked up and asked if I was from CBS. I replied,"No."

He said, "Well that's my seat you're sitting in."

I mumbled, "Sorry," and got up and went to anABC seat.

Moments later, my spirit beginning to wane, I was askedto leave that seat.

A man stood up and said, "C'mon, I'll help you finda permanent seat."

As he briskly walked the aisle, he turned and said, "Don'tworry, I've been traveling with the White House for four years and thisis not unusual. They are immature and unorganized. This stuff happens allthe time."

Who was this familiar-looking knight in shining armor?

Risking help, I asked, "And you are?"

"Brit Hume," he said unoffended.

"And you are," he asked, peering over his eyeglasses.

"Rhonda Sobecki with the Michigan City News-Dispatch,"I said proudly.

He cornered a woman from the White House and said, "Dorie,my colleague here from The News-Dispatch needs a seat. I've watched herget booted out of seat after seat. She needs to work, so find her a seat."

I got two seats.

Thank you, Brit.

President Clinton was a dynamic force in Michigan. Thecrowds throughout central and southwest Michigan loved him and supportedtheir feelings for him with signs, cheers and chanting.

Although the train didn't stop at every crossing or evenslow to a crawl at many, residents of each community stood at crossingsand along tracks, waving and smiling as the official Clinton/Gore trainpassed through their town.

Whether there was one person or a whole crowd, the engineerblew his whistle in response to residents' dedication and loyalty to PresidentClinton as he passed through their town.

Poignant pictures of factory workers, their faces smudgedwith grime, their shirts dirty with sweat, will forever remain in my mindas workers leaned against fences, crawled atop heavy equipment or just stoodin an open field to get a glimpse of the 21st Century Express.

Mothers and fathers with children, an elderly woman holdingher husband's wheelchair, a lone man cradling his dog, whole groups of schoolchildrenand offices full of employees were seen in every community, at every turnand at every crossing.

They were and are the guts of America.

While the memories of the unpleasantness and unfriendlinessof a select few soon will fade, the mental pictures of America waving fromroadsides will never be forgotten.