Searching for Kurt Loder

It's Saturday, September 21. The e-mail I receive from the IOP about HYPE '96 teases, "MTV will be there, will you?" so I arrive at the MAC Quad early, determined to pigeonhole one of the station's bigwigs. Ready to pretend I'm a journalist, I have a few questions written on a note card about MTV's role in the political process: "Are 'Choose or Lose' specials and the 'Week in Rock' programs objective news accounts? Doesn't MTV's hosting of a ball at the Clinton inaugural imply a partisan leaning? But if CBS held an inaugural ball, wouldn't that taint its journalistic credibility?" If I keep this routine up long enough, I am hoping, someone will become uncomfortable enough to tell me something interesting.

But amazingly, as I circle the giant "Choose or Lose" bus, I can't find a single person connected with MTV. Standing confused and perturbed in front of the bus, I'm attacked by a horde of "Rock the Vote" volunteers, and I shoo them off rather impolitely. I harbor unnatural hostility for the Rock the Vote campaign, and for the idea of activist voter registration in general. They bother me in much the same way it bother me when playoff ticket land in the laps of casual fans. I have no real grounds to be annoyed, but still, there's an undeniable elitist suspicion that if people don't have to work hard for precious things, they won't appreciate what they're getting.

One of the most prominently featured quotes painted on the bus, attributed to Ice Cube, illustrates my worst fears: "You might as well pull the lever, what 'Chu afraid of?" He makes voting sound like a painless way to fill up a free afternoon.

A young woman volunteer remains undeterred, even after I've explained that I'm registered. "You haven't filled out a pledge yet, have you?" she asks, and I haven't. We get to talking and she tells me MTV's only involvement in the event is in providing the bus and sponsoring the voting drive. The pledge, she explains, will be sent back to me before election day, so I don't forget to vote. After I fill in my name, address and intention of vote, I get to line that reads, "You will vote because..." Curiousto hear what she has to say on the subject, I ask, "I dunno, why should I vote?" "Oh," she responds, as if I'm not the first to ask this question, "you can just put down, 'because I want to ."

Disappointed by my failure to find, let alone rankle the MTV brass, I resolve to head for the Boston Common where the day's other political event is being held: the seventh annual Freedom Fest, a rally for marijuana legalization. But on the way to fetch some change for the T, I nearly trip over Labor Secretary Robert Reich. Literally.

The interesting thing about running into Reich is the first you behold an incredibly short, mature adult and then you notice that the incredibly short adult is Robert Reich, one of the most powerful people in the executive branch. Searching desperately for a provocative, newsworthy question to ask him, my mind goes blank. Before I can pull myself together, two HRTV people whisk him away to do an interview. Their camera looks remarkably like the palmcorder my parents received as a gift for their 20th anniversary.

The common is teeming with people when I arrive. Tens of thousands of alternateens fill the park--most of them too young to vote--with pockets of older folks mixed in. There are a smattering of signs calling for "decriminalization," but the atmosphere is that of a huge party of very calm people. Letters to Cleo, an announcer tells us, is about to take the stage; I almost tripped over Robert Reich, but I can't even get close enough to Letters to Cleo to see them.

I make my way slowly through the crowd, past the High Times booth, past the marijuana paraphernalia stand. Eventually, I find myself in front of a T-shirt concession stand which, curiously, seems to be selling shirts with the logo of the Republican presidential tickets. As I wade in closer, though, it becomes clear that the shirt in fact reads "DOPE/HEMP '96". I'm relieved, and with my world view intact, I ride the crowd out toward the bandstand.

Dan S. Aibel's Column appears on alternate Wednesdays.