Abe Lincoln’s legacy is safe, and not just because Donald Trump talked too long Saturday. It’s that he said too little that was new or uplifting.
Running out of time to change the campaign’s dynamics, Trump’s team picked Gettysburg for a speech it touted as a possible turning point in the presidential race, just as the 1863 battle there had turned the Civil War.
But the candidate seemed to have other ideas about the proposition at hand. The result was a mash-up of conflicting themes instead of a clarion call to arms.
Part complaint, part appeal to better angels, part a contract with voters and part a list of things to do, the speech never gelled into a coherent vision. By trying to do too many things, it didn’t do any well.
After starting with a perfunctory reference to Lincoln’s address, and to his own status as a political outsider, Trump dedicated 10 precious minutes to a sour restatement of grievances against a “rigged system.”
The usual suspects — a dishonest media, voter fraud, Hillary Clinton’s corruption, a crooked FBI and the “liars” who accused him of groping — were soundly thrashed. The women who lied will be sued, he promised, and giant media mergers would be broken up, too.
It was a stale, dark opening that clouded the 20 minutes of solid policy promises that followed. As such, the reset needs a reset.
The problem is not just dwindling time, but also a shrinking pool of persuadable voters. National polls consistently show he is stuck at about 40 percent, and that many white, suburban women who usually vote Republican are not with him.
If Trump was talking directly to them, I missed it. As is often the case, he focused on feeding red meat to his core supporters instead of adding to them with a broader appeal.
That, presumably, was the goal of the substantive portion, but he was in no hurry to get there.
After his grievances, he switched gears by saying, “Here is why this is relevant to you,” meaning voters, citing jobs, health care and home ownership.
“Look at what they’ve done to you,” he said, repeating his attack on the “rigging of the system.”
At that point, he seemed to be going in a circle. But after vowing to “drain the swamp of Washington,” he finally hit on the theme his team had touted as the purpose.
He started with a new tone, asking voters to “rise above the noise and clutter,” embrace the “faith and optimism that have always been the central ingredient” of America and “dream big again.”
Part complaint, part appeal to better angels, part a contract with voters and part a list of things to do, the speech never gelled into a coherent vision.
The words were right, and he read them properly off the teleprompter, but there wasn’t much passion. It had echoes of a presidential address, but not the heart, and he too quickly moved to the programmatic “contract” he was committing to.
It was a series of big things, some he would do on the first day, others in the first 100 days.
They included a hiring freeze, regulation curbs, tax cuts, a wall, congressional term limits, new trade deals, labeling China a currency manipulator, nominating a conservative judge to the Supreme Court and too many others to count or remember.
None was new, but the point was the packaging to replicate the “Contract with America” that Newt Gingrich used to win the House in 1994.
That was a long time ago, when America was hungry for change from President Bill Clinton’s first two years and his decision to let Hillary Clinton remake health care.
Now Trump, advised by Gingrich in another election about change, is trying to follow a similar path to keep Hillary from getting back to the White House.
The choice of Gettysburg underscores the lessons of history, but one of them is that Lincoln’s magnificent address initially was panned as inadequate. Trump doesn’t have the luxury of time, so he must hope that what he said there was not in vain.
Team de Blasio’s latest sorry performance
Mayor de Blasio doesn’t do contrition well, and his inexperience was on display when an aide tried to apologize to the City Council for blowing $500 million on Hurricane Sandy rebuilding. It’s taxpayers who deserve an apology — and an investigation of this mammoth screw-up.
“We failed you, we failed ourselves,” budget aide John Grathwol told the council. “We’ll do better.”
It would be hard to do worse. The program was supposed to spend $1.7 billion to help 22,000 homeowners and other applicants, but now projects spending $2.2 billion to help about 8,500 applicants.
The mayor says he’s shifting the $500 million from other programs, claiming they won’t suffer. That can’t be true, unless the $500 million was just a slush fund waiting for a purpose.
As Democrat Mark Treyger of Brooklyn put it, “Something doesn’t add up.” He’s right, yet most in the council are inclined to huff and puff, then do nothing.
That’s not good enough. Even under spendthrift de Blasio, $500 million is real money. Where did it go? Who’s responsible? Why would more money fix the problem if nobody can say what the problem is?
Given the numerous investigations the mayor faces, this boondoggle doesn’t pass the smell test. If the council won’t get the truth, somebody else must.
Paging Preet Bharara, this is another job for you.
35 years of required reading
For the average American life, 35 years counts as middle age. For an American magazine, getting to 35 is huge.
The New Criterion has joined the club in its own splendid fashion. A review of the arts and intellectual life, the iconic monthly is as smart as it is bold. Each issue is chock-full of wise observations about culture and politics, pinpoint attacks on political correctness and long-form examinations of things that matter.
A current example is a series of essays on the surge of populism in Western societies. Part one is must-reading in the Age of Trump, with historian George H. Nash chronicling the roots of populism in America. His recounting of the clash between traditional conservatives and libertarians is alone worth the candle.
Founded by Hilton Kramer and Samuel Lipman, the magazine is edited and published by Roger Kimball, a joyful scourge of dumbed-down culture. He makes no apologies for high standards, and his book, “Tenured Radicals,” published in 1990, remains required reading for understanding the assault on free speech on college campuses.
Naturally, the book got its start in The New Criterion, where great ideas, new and old, are nurtured. Here’s to 35 more years — at least.
No-show and tell: This one’s huge!
The understatement of the year comes from Brooklyn US attorney Robert Capers. His pay-to-play indictment of Nassau County Executive Ed Mangano charged that Mangano’s wife, Linda, had a no-show job that paid her $450,000.
Said Capers: “That is a substantial amount of money to be paid to do nothing.”