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T A B L E__T A L K

Should you boycott Blockbuster Video for their censorship practices? Find out why or why not in Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

Whitewater, mon amour
By Patricia Marx
Confession of an illicit romance with Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr
(02/09/98)

Let them make porn!
By Michelle Goldberg
Newly flush ex-scud stud Arthur Kent scolds Tom Brokaw and GE for running NBC News like a brothel
(02/06/98)

Red Planet
By James Surowiecki
Celebrity owners can't save Planet Hollywood from an invasion of red ink
(02/05/98)

Dunne deal
By James Poniewozik
Absolut's new ad is a splash of commerce, a jigger of art
(02/04/98)

The mystery of O.J.Simpson
By Lori Leibovich
A journalist who interviewed the 20th century's most infamous acquitted man says that she still doesn't know if he did it -- and he may not either
(02/03/98)

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BROWSE THE
MEDIA CIRCUS
ARCHIVES

Come back, O.J., all is forgiven

FINALLY, L.A., GETS

A PIECE OF THE

LEWINSKY ACTION,

BUT NOT VERY MUCH.

BY VIVIENNE WALT

LOS ANGELES -- It seems hard to believe that anyone would want to run for president these days, given the spotlight that's been turned on Oval Office antechambers lately. Then again, Tim Kalemkarian may be in the right place at the right time.

The gangling, wan-faced candidate launched his presidential campaign for 2000 last week, scrawling his ambitions across a sandwich board and then pacing the sidewalk facing 12224 Darlington Ave., Brentwood, the home of Bernard and Barbara Lewinsky.

For days, two dozen or so television producers, reporters and photographers had been cemented to the sleepy suburban corner, waiting for Monica's black hair to bob up on the sun deck. Mostly, they got to watch the neighbors drive by. The press was so starved for stimulation that they snatched up all six versions of Kalemkarian's leaflets. T-shirt vendors offered $10 "Zippergate '98" mementos; they claimed to have sold thousands since the scandal broke. And this being L.A., there was the aspiring screenwriter, who spent most of last Thursday telling reporters on the sidewalk how dreadful it was that Monica was being demonized. "Look at her, she still has baby fat on her!" she said, to no one in particular.

For a week now, those charged with trailing after Monica since she returned to her hometown have shuffled aimlessly from sound bite to sound bite. Finding no real news, they carefully record every statement by attorney William Ginsburg. But they have been very useful in what might be called the Monica Makeover.

When the scandal first broke nearly three weeks ago, we first met Monica the Victim, a garrulous if somewhat flighty "girl" (as Ginsburg is fond of calling his client) who'd been overcome by the narcotic sexuality of the Oval Office.

It didn't take long for Monica the Temptress to emerge. For me, that happened three days into the story, while I was standing in a driving rainstorm on a stranger's doorstep in Portland, Ore. I'd gone to ask Monica's college friends about their long-forgotten classmate. "Monica!" the woman chuckled, before telling me that she'd heard the following second-hand: "There was always some story about her affair with this married guy. One week it was on, one week it was off. And she was baby-sitting for him!"

Last week, we might have gotten closer to the real Monica: the suburban princess, safely coddled behind the renovated French doors of her parents' home on the right side of L.A.

Like all good productions, this one appears to have been carefully scripted, down to the lingering reunion embrace with Dad on the doorstep last Tuesday. While it was easy for the Lewinskys to come and go through their side garage, untouched by camera lenses, to be cast alongside the Homecoming Queen was too good an opportunity to pass up. As one television producer told U.S. News & World Report, long before Monica fled Washington, cameramen in L.A. had been told that there would be a "hug" when Monica arrived from LAX.

As it turns out, the hug has been the high point. After that, the press seemed to lose its way -- literally. When Monica finally surfaced last Thursday night, to go out to dinner barely a mile away, a veritable Keystone Kops scene ensued with a caravan of press cars speeding furiously up and down Wilshire Boulevard in a frantic hunt for Monica's destination. In one car, two reporters and a photographer worked three cell phones, calling every other press car, until the quarry was run to ground.

Hell hath no fury like a press corps in hot pursuit, and when Monica, with her father and stepmother, emerged from L.A. Farm restaurant two hours later, 10 television crews and at least that many photographers crushed her against the family car, causing her some visible terror when she almost lost her footing in the madness.

Since then, Monica has been spending more time indoors, where she will likely stay after reports broke Monday of her imminent appearance before Kenneth Starr's grand jury. That leaves the assembled media to resume their aimless shuffling, punctuated by moments of faux drama and fresh drafts of Tim Kalemkarian's campaign platform.

Still, all was not lost. A car cruised down Darlington Avenue on Monday afternoon, the driver saying hello to some familiar cameramen. It was O.J. Simpson.
SALON | Feb. 10, 1998

Vivienne Walt is a contributing editor for U.S. News & World Report and a regular contributor to Salon.