| I
have come to San Diego to speak at an event organized for my book
("Stupid White Men"). The event is being held at a middle school
in an auditorium that seats about 800 people. I have spent the week
in California, pretty much at my own expense. Weeks ago, the publisher
informed me that they would not be sending me to this state if they
had to pay to get me there.
So
I called up my friends at "Politically Incorrect" and asked if they
could book me on the show and bring me out there. They were more
than happy to help out. I can't believe the crap this show has had
to endure because its host one night, early on in "America's NEW
War" had the guts to state the truth as he saw it. Now advertisers
have dropped like flies, affiliates in DC, Columbus, and other cities
have canceled the program, and ABC seems eager to deep-six the whole
hour it shares with "Nightline." But, for now, they have come to
my aid, and I am grateful.
In
the past six days, I have spoken to 15 separate mobs of people.
I don't know what other word to use because, quite simply, wherever
I go, there is this unbelievable pandemonium. Every day, every night,
hundreds - or thousands - jam themselves into halls, arenas, churches,
auditoriums to listen to me talk about my book and whatever else
is struggling to make its way through my brain. Forget about standing
room only - these venues look more like breathing room only. A clever
fire marshal could have made a small fortune tailing me across this
state. As I look out at the crowds of humans doing their best to
impersonate sardines, I worry not that some deranged person may
shout "Fire!" but rather that someone may belt out, "There's an
extra six inches over here by the radiator!"
I
have visited the most out-of-the-way places in California and, no
matter where I go or how right-wing the congressman is that represents
their district, all sorts of people are desperate to get inside
to be with the thousands of others who want to be part of "United
We Stand Against the Thief-in-Chief." Grass Valley, Hayward, San
Francisco, Santa Rosa, Ukiah, Arcata, Berkeley, Westwood, East L.A.,
Koreatown (L.A.) -- I wish all of you could see what I have seen.
In every town, at every stop, huge throngs of Americans who are
sick and tired of the silence that has been demanded of them, lest
they be thought of as "unpatriotic" should they dare to question
the actions of George W. Bush and company. That's what this tour
is all about. It's time to come out and start acting like Americans
again.
And
then there was San Diego.
Over
a thousand people are packed inside the 800-seat auditorium. Outside,
another thousand people are on the lawn trying to get in. The traffic
on the street is tied up and the stream of San Diegoans keeps filing
up the sidewalk. I tell the organizers that I am going to spend
a half-hour outside here speaking to the people who cannot get in.
They are, after all, like me - slackers who are habitually late.
The crowd outdoors is wired and jazzed that they are being honored
for being tardy.
Then
I go inside, give my usual talk, and begin to sign books. There's
a 90-year-old lady whose granddaughter has driven her down from
Orange County. There's a union organizer from the antiunion San
Diego Union-Tribune newspaper who announces that his grandfather
was a sit-down striker with my uncle back in 1937 in Flint. Some
punk-poet kid tries to finish me off for good by offering me two
Krispy Kreme donuts. Hundreds line up to have their books, their
"Awful Truth" DVDs and, in one case, an Iron Maiden jean jacket,
signed. I am told that we are getting close to the time when we
will have to leave the school, as it has only been rented until
11pm. That is not good. Hundreds are still in line. I don't think
any of these signings this week have been over before midnight.
Somewhere
around 11:30pm, I hear a commotion at the back of the auditorium.
I see people start to scatter. The San Diego police are coming down
the aisle, their large flashlights out (the auditorium lights are
still on, so we all understand the implied "other" use of these
instruments). The police are telling everyone to "VACATE THESE PREMISES
IMMEDIATELY OR YOU WILL ALL BE ARRESTED!" I cannot believe what
I am hearing. "YOU WILL NOT RECEIVE ANOTHER WARNING. LEAVE NOW -
OR FACE ARREST!"
The
cops approach the stage where I am signing the books. People are
visibly frightened÷and about half the book-line bolts toward the
doors.
I
stand up and speak to the officers. "I am the author of this book,"
I tell them politely. "These people are only here to get a book
and all I am doing is signing them. We will be done shortly."
"I
don't care who you are," they reply. "We have received a call from
the school district and we have been told to remove you. You were
supposed to be out of here at 11:00pm." We had apparently violated
our curfew.
"C'mon
guys, you can't be serious," I said. "Are you saying that you are
going to arrest me for signing people's books, and arrest the people
who are here because they want to read this book?"
"I
don't care what you are doing - this is your last warning. I am
ready to arrest you and everyone else."
"Who
is your superior?" I ask. "I'm it. Only the Chief is above me at
night, and I am not going to wake him up. This has already gone
through many channels. We are here because this has already gone
through many people in the last half-hour, people in authority,
and the decision has been made to clear you out of here or arrest
you."
I
have never been arrested, strange as that may seem. I could not
believe that, of all I have done, all I have stood for over the
years, that it has come down to this - and I was about to be hauled
away for autographing books!
"OK,"
I said. "We'll leave." I then mumbled something about the last time
I checked, this was still the United States of America - even if
we were just five miles away from where it ends. They escorted me
and the few remaining souls out of the building. The brave lady
who was the owner of the independent bookstore and who was there
selling my book, leaned over and whispered to me, "I am willing
to go to jail for this if you want me to." Ya gotta hand it to the
independent bookstores - they've been through hell lately, so much
so that they are now ready to be led away in handcuffs!
I
walked outside and about 40 people ask me if I would still sign
their books in the dark of the parking lot. A girl gets out her
pocket flashlight. A guy runs over and turns on his headlights.
I remark that it feels like weâre in some sort of banana republic
or East Berlin, secretly meeting so we can have our little book
gathering. "Sign quick, Mike, here come the police!"
I
finish the last book and hop in my sisterâs car. She remembers to
give me a plaque that had been presented to me in absentia (while
I was outside talking to the people who couldnât get in). It was
from the city councilwoman from the area of San Diego we were in.
It read "Official Proclamation: City of San Diego Declares
"March 9, 2002, Michael Moore Day.â"
"Maybe
we should have shown this to the cops, " she says. We drive to her
house where I catch four hours sleep before I get up and head for
Denver.
Yours,
Michael Moore
Author Filmmaker NonEvildoer
mmflint@aol.com
StupidWhiteMen@aol.com
www.michaelmoore.com
PS.
I have heard from so many of you about how hard it is to find my
book in the bookstores. It's
true - the book does not exist in most stores.
Yet
it is #1 in most cities across the country on the bestseller lists.
I don't get it. HarperCollins has been very slow to print books
and get them out there. Why this is, I do not know. No doubt they
have been caught by surprise with the overwhelming response to the
book. You canât really blame them÷they thought the "president" had
an 80% approval rating. Bookstore owners have been desperately pleading
with me to help them get books shipped to their stores. I called
HarperCollins, and their official line is that "There are plenty
of books out there and the book has never been out of stock." Everything
that I and others have personally seen says the exact opposite.
So, I need your help. If you go to a bookstore and they don't have
the book, please send an email to HarperCollins at: http://www.harpercollins.com/hc/aboutus/contactus.asp
and
be sure to c.c. me at ...StupidWhiteMen@aol.com
You can also call the Customer Service Hotline at ...800.242.7737
(Punch in 1,1,0 to get to message center.) PPS. This week, you can
catch my Stupid Tour in Ann Arbor and Detroit on Tuesday, Flint
on Wednesday, Chicago on Thursday, and Minneapolis/St. Paul on Friday.
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