The suggestion that Hillary Clinton could have been anything less than wildly enthusiastic in her support for Barack Obama last night was always, on its face, ridiculous. Her place in history as the first woman to come within grasp of the presidency will now forever be shadowed by her ability to convince the nation that she fully endorses the quest of the first African American with a chance at achieving the ambition she held so long for herself.
It isn't an enviable task, and as Hillary came to the Democratic National Convention podium last night, there were dire portents. The video that introduced her, narrated by Chelsea Clinton, looked suspiciously like an old campaign ad. A montage of photographs from Hillary's life flashed by as her mom and supporters talked reverently of her commitment to the issues. White placards were passed throughout the stadium, with "Hillary" written on them in the New York senator's own handwriting. When Clinton finally appeared on stage and waved at the crowd, she was greeted by a thunderous, seemingly never-ending standing ovation, accompanied by a chorus of cheers, chants, and screams.
It was as if she were the nominee. She might even have been able to imagine, for a brief second, that things had turned out differently, and that she was here in Denver to accept the Democratic nomination after all. In that moment, it was easy to understand why Obama has chosen to accept the nomination outdoors at Invesco Field, instead of inside the Pepsi Center. Speaking in an open-air, festival atmosphere will undoubtedly feed into John McCain's meme of Obama being a substanceless, speechifying celebrity. But after a presentation that managed to live up to all its hype, that Pepsi Center stage became Hillary's. By choosing a different venue, Obama ensured that the sheer size of his audience would dwarf the enthusiasm generated by Clinton. He also gifted Clinton -- and the 40 percent of the Democratic delegates who voted for her -- with space, both physical and metaphorical.
That is space Hillary is happy to inhabit and that her supporters still seem to crave, though the vast majority of them now wholeheartedly embrace Obama. Clinton has been snaking her way through this convention, using the daytime hours to hammer home a message of party unity, all the while solidifying a new role for herself. In defeat, Hillary has become a sort of patron saint of the Democratic Party, a revered figure who, for her most passionate supporters in the feminist, Latino, and gay communities, has come to represent the party's underlying, yet often unstated, commitment to their issues.
At a Hispanic Caucus meeting at the Denver Convention Center on Monday, Hillary was not so much greeted as welcomed home. "Aw, I'm gonna cry!" exclaimed a middle-aged Texas woman, a longtime Democratic activist bedecked in a fire-engine red cowboy hat adorned with both Hillary and Obama buttons.
"Yesterday I was in Fresno with the United Farm Workers. I have worked on behalf of farm workers for a very long time, and some years we make progress and some we don't," Hillary told the caucus. As usual, she sounded like she still had something to prove; like she still needed to convince these people just how much she cared, and just how long her record was. "My first job in politics was registering Hispanic voters in South Texas!" she reminded the crowd, referring to her work on George McGovern's 1972 campaign.
That's when the woman in the red cowboy hat did, in fact, cry. "She's such a classy lady, always has been," she mused. After an EMILY's List gala downtown Tuesday, at which Clinton spoke, women in line for the bathroom used the same language: Classy. Gracious. Eloquent.
Those aren't the terms the national media has ever used to describe Hillary, a gap in perception that Clinton's convention speech may have helped to bridge. Not only did she go on the attack, linking McCain to George W. Bush with forceful, witty language, but she also lauded Obama's biography as a community organizer on behalf of laid-off factory workers. She paid tribute to Michelle Obama, Joe Biden and his wife, and to Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones of Ohio, who passed away last week. She spoke of her feminist foremothers at Seneca Falls, and even mentioned gay rights, becoming the first speaker of the convention -- and likely also the last -- to acknowledge LGBT people, a loyal Democratic constituency.
The emotional high point of the speech, though, was undoubtedly when Clinton invoked the words of Harriet Tubman: "If you hear the dogs, keep going," Hillary cried. "If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If they're shouting after you, keep going. Don't ever stop. Keep going."
It was a full-throated cry for social-justice activism, a nod toward the struggle of African Americans, and, more pragmatically, advice for standing up to right-wing attacks on Obama. But underneath all that, Hillary Clinton was, of course, alluding to her own life, her own goals, her own humiliating and heartbreaking setbacks. Can there be any doubt that she intends to keep going herself, perhaps toward another night like last night and another convention stage -- but next time one devoted solely to her?
That those questions receded during her speech, even for a few minutes, is a testament to Clinton's hard-learned and earned political skills. That they will inevitably rush back to the surface in the coming days and weeks is a testament to just how cutthroat Clinton's primary campaign was -- and just how powerful a politician that campaign has left her.
