There had been a flurry of reporting back after 9-11, but to most of the nation, they didn't have a real sense of me. I had only hit the national stage four months prior to the election, and aside from the fact that I liked dogs and killed prisoners, they didn't know me. A regular candidate would have been running for at least two years by now, and doing interviews morning, noon, and night in order to keep their name out there. The same could be said of the rest of my family. One of Ari Fleischer's jobs was to let the world know who I was.
The CBS interview would take place in the Map Room, which was on the ground floor of the Residence just off the main reception area. From what I understood, it was named that because FDR used it to track the progress of World War II on maps. It hadn't been used for maps since then and was now just one more of the innumerable cul-de-sacs around the joint. I wandered by on Sunday afternoon and found a few CBS technicians and White House technical types hanging some lights and mirrors on scaffolding. I just hoped they wouldn't fall on us, which actually happened to Bill and Hillary Clinton once. They had already moved out the Chippendale furniture normally in there and brought in a few armchairs and a matching love seat.
We were to be 'on the set' promptly at nine the next morning, and would be there most of the day. There would be times with just me, times with me and Marilyn, and other times with all four of us. Every thirty minutes or so we would break, so I could go back to my regular day job of solving the planet's crises. If it was a big crisis, they would just do Marilyn and the girls. Needless to say, Ari was going to be hovering around nervously in the background the entire time.
I was wearing a light charcoal suit, and Marylyn had on a nice pair of designer jeans with a belted tunic over it. I gave her a little whistle before we got on camera, and she smiled at that. Holly and Molly were in jeans also, along with tank tops. They looked tight to me, but I was told that was the style. Thankfully none of their bra straps were showing. How that became stylish was completely beyond me.
When we showed up the twins decided that Stormy was part of the family and could watch. I wasn't sure how that would work out; she was well behaved and used to being around strange people, but she never met a camera she didn't like. She promptly lay down in a corner and curled up for a nap. We made it through makeup just fine, and we met and talked to Bob Schieffer (I had known him for years and Marilyn had met him at various dinners and parties, but it was the first time for the girls) and they wired us up with our microphones. Then we sat down in the chairs, with Marilyn and me on the love seat, and the twins in the armchairs on my left. Then the lights went on, and Bob began by thanking us for the interview. As soon as that happened, Stormy's ears popped up and she looked around for the cameras. It was show time! She liked this game! It made the opening segment of the show.
Bob: "Mister President, I'd like to thank you and your family for allowing us this glimpse inside the Buckman White House."
Me: "You're quite welcome. It seemed a good time to..." (Stormy trotted over to us and jumped up on the love seat between Marilyn and me.) "Wait ... WHAT! Stormy, what are you ... Oh, Good Lord! Will you get out of here!?"
Holly and Molly started laughing, while Marilyn and I tried to push the gigantic beast off our laps. We were noticeably unsuccessful, and Stormy ended up sitting between us facing the camera.
Me: "Idiotic mutt! Will somebody go get us a soup bone?!" (I looked back to Bob.) "This thing really is a publicity hound, in every meaning of the phrase!"
We had to wait a couple of minutes while somebody scurried off to the kitchens and returned with a big bone, which the kitchen staff made sure we had plenty of. Stormy had made a lot of friends around the place, and they kept a stockpile for her. He handed the bone to Holly, and suddenly Stormy perked up and turned to look at her.
Holly: "Come on Stormy, go get the bone."
Molly: "Go get your bone, girl!"
Me: "It's a nice fresh bone, Stormy, from a nice juicy Democrat!" (Marilyn snorted at that, and Stormy hopped down and took the bone into the corner of the room, off camera.)
Bob: "You feed your dog nice juicy Democrats?" (He was laughing at that.)
Me: "Only when we run out of nice juicy reporters." (Marilyn and the girls giggled at that.)
Bob: "I walked into that one, didn't I?"
Me: "With your eyes wide open!" (More laughter.)
One of the cameras panned out a touch to show Stormy now gnawing her bone quietly in the corner. Then it was back to the interview.
Bob: "Just what kind of dog is Stormy?"
Me: "She's just an American dog, a big hairy mutt. You know how we got her, right, down in that basement in Springboro? She's as mixed a mixed-breed as you can ask for. She's an All-American dog."
Bob: "How do you mean?"
Me: "Well, it seems like every country has its own breed of dog. You have the English bulldog, the French poodle, the German shepherd, so what's the American dog? I would argue that the American dog is a mutt, a mixed breed, because that is what Americans really are."
Bob: "The melting pot as applied to puppies?"
Me: "Exactly! I mean, all I have to do is look at my own family. We're as mixed as you can ask for. My father's side of the family was English and Lutheran. My mother's mother was of German descent and Lutheran, but her father was English, and half Anglican and half Jewish. Marilyn's family is French Canadian and Roman Catholic, but somehow a Scotsman snuck in on her father's side. At our generation it gets worse. My sister married a fellow with a Norwegian and Swedish background, and half of Marilyn's brothers and sisters married Polish-Americans and Italian-Americans."
Molly: "Don't forget Aunt Kelly. She's Irish-American!"
Me: (Nodding towards my daughter and smiling.) "See? Heaven only knows what our kids will end up dragging home someday! Let's face it, all across the country there are families just like ours, with all sorts of heritages. We make it work, we really do, but you sure can't call us pure blooded. We are a mixed breed sort of nation."
Marilyn: "Carl, nobody wants to be called a mutt!"
Me: (I waved her off with a smile.) "I've had mutts my whole life. Good dogs, hardy, healthy, live a long life, loyal ... Lots of positive attributes. I like the melting pot. It's a good thing."
Holly and Molly looked at each other and barked out a couple of 'Woofs!' and we all laughed.
I wasn't quite sure how this was going to end up being edited. Was it all going to be puff pieces, and then get serious, or was it going to be mixed together somehow? We'd have to wait around until Sunday night to find out. I was told by somebody that they would be running ad spots on the special starting this evening.
While Marilyn and the girls were still there, Schieffer decided to ask them a few questions.
Bob: "So, how have you two been adapting to life in the White House?"
Holly: "Okay, so far. I mean, Dad's been in Washington since we were like in the first grade or something, so we've been going back and forth between home and Washington for years."
Molly: "It's a pretty cool place. There are all sorts of different rooms and places. It's like living in a museum. It's kind of weird that way, too, I mean, who lives in a museum?"
Bob: "How much time do you spend here? You actually live in Maryland, correct?"
Molly: "Yes. During the school year we live in Upperco, that's near Hereford, which is where we go to school. We really only come down here every other weekend or so. When Dad was in Congress, he came home most nights. Now it's like every couple of weeks he comes home."