The Commander-in-Chief Inaugural Ball

When I answered my phone, Suzanne Coston asked, “Are you available,” which is Tvspeak for you’ve got a job offer. I said “Who is it for?” She answered, “The Commander in Chief.”  “The Commander in Chief of what?” She sort of laughed and said, “The United States.” 

After about two seconds considering a big money job I was setting aside, I said, “When do we go?”  The reply: “Tomorrow—a week out.”

Blissfully excited, we had no idea what the next week would bring us.  We soon decided we’d lost our minds, but in the name of being part of history and in the name of Barack Obama, here we were, trying to translate what WHCA, PIC, AFIDS and all the other designations meant as we set course to produce the Commander-in-Chief’s Inaugural Ball, one of the ten official balls that was exclusively dedicated to the Armed Services, for live broadcast over The Pentagon Channel to all ships, barracks, hospitals and military installations around the world.

We had no production office, no production staff and only two acts set when we walked in the door. We knew other people in town and were able to borrow Ted Sroka from the MTV Ball for a quick run at script supervising. We got offers of other people, but being credentialed for one event doesn’t get you access to others without that mysterious something called the Underlay, which we learned was akin to the Holy Grail.

In hotel lobbies and banquet rooms, on dinner tables and couches with cell phones sometimes at both ears, we patchworked the event.  We called everybody in town who might be available to perform.  After we pulled them, we had to hope to get them through the Secret Service portal to be able to be allowed in the room. Meanwhile, since we had only one stage we had to figure out how to run them off and on and, by the way, do it live with no break-aways to the Pentagon Channel for commercials, since there is no such thing.

My head was spinning with the Presidential Inaugural Committee, all five divisions of the Military, the Secret Service, the Senior Enlisted guys who were co-hosting the event, big dogs from the Pentagon Channel (our favorite Lt. Colonel Melinda Morgan), and the various ranking people from Public Affairs–Major Andra Higgs, LtCommander Charles Summers and Tom Menegrin, who directed the show from a truck a football field away. Lt. Commander Brenda Steele and Lt. Karen Love hung in there with us. Hoorahs, Aye Ayes and Who-ah to Colonel Hiram Bell and all the other brass.

We squeezed somewhere to watch Sunday’s HBO event on the Lincoln steps. Tears came when 89-year-old Pete Seeger, sang  “This Land Is Your Land.” Half-a-million people there got to hear this old song we all sang in the ‘60s when protest was part of the air we breathed. “In the squares of the city,” Woody Guthrie wrote, “by the shadow of the steeple, by the relief office–I saw my people.”  Every day of the week, we did see our people–all social and economic strata, with their faces full of happiness, glowing with triumph.

On Inaugural Day, I walked out of our hotel, The Liaison, just about a block away from the Capitol and looked West. It was 4 am yet there was already an incomprehensible mass of peaceful citizens, gently trying to move forward, just wanting to be there when he Actually, Swear to God, Unthinkably, Gloriously became the 44^th President of the United States. Two-million people standing for eight hours and not one arrest, just tears, hugs and cheers.

Executive producer Suzanne de Passe, who committed us to the project under her newly formed iDream Productions banner, used her considerable personal clout and got George Lopez to host, Smokey Robinson to perform and Chris Tucker to do some stand-up during the ball. Coston had to wrangle Josh Groban, Jordin Sparks and Jon Bon Jovi. I had to figure out how to make their introductions relate to the crowd. Did you know that Bon Jovi is the son of two Marines? See what I mean?  We were given “the world’s greatest ‘70s tribute band named Right On. It was hysterical to see these guys in four-inch platforms and lots of gold glitter up there jammin’ away, but the crowd loved them.

At the ball of some 2,000 were more than 300 wounded warriors from Walter Reed Hospital. One young man sat in his dress uniform, medals pinned to his chest with no legs, one arm and a smile that couldn’t be extinguished. I could barely breathe standing next to him and walked to the teleprompter unable to read the screen for the tears, but  we were here to put on the best show for these young fighters and the families of the fallen heroes who had died in service.

 The President spent more than 15 minutes at this ball. W-a-a-ay more than any others. He joked with soldiers live from Afghanistan. He thanked all the troops  in the room. They were young and enthusiastic and cheered like crazy at their very first opportunity to salute their new Commander In Chief.

Luckily the beautiful old building we were in had a fountain right in front of our stage and we were able to cover it with the Presidential seal—a glorious backdrop for when Obama danced with his First Lady and then as they each danced with a member of the active military. Watching him up close, listening oh-so-carefully, it’s clear to me he is the President of Dr. King’s Dream and will make us all proud to be Americans again.