[Marxism] another reason to vote for Nader

["andypollack@xxxxxxxx" <andypollack@xxxxxxxx>]

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/30/opinion/30price.html?oref=login&pagewanted=print&position=
 The New York Times
October 30, 2004
OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
Nader's Remainders
By S. L. PRICE

As a rule, my friends hate Ralph Nader. The conservative ones consider him a 
publicity hound who has it in for corporate America, and the liberals blame him 
for putting George W. Bush in the White House. Whenever his name comes up, I'm 
the only one who argues Mr. Nader's case, telling one side how I don't want my 
kid to die in a flaming Corvair and the other that it's not Ralph's fault that 
Al Gore couldn't win his own state. Besides, the more choices in an election 
the better. Battleground of ideas, and all that. But when it gets right down to 
it, I'd back Mr. Nader even if he drove naked in a flaming Corvair onto Al 
Gore's front porch.

I owe the man. He did buy my book, after all.

With Mr. Nader about to lay waste to another presidential election - and my 
paperback sales at a standstill - it's time for full disclosure. In 2000, I 
wrote "Pitching Around Fidel,'' which was, the last time I checked (44 seconds 
ago, third time today), ranked 502,830 on Amazon. It sold pretty well, 
according to my editor, and not at all, according to the royalty statement 
that, when it arrives every six months, features many zeros and nothing that 
could be confused with a check.

But then, I never expected big sales for a book about sports in Cuba;. for that 
you'd need a review in The New York Times and a serious marketing budget and an 
ad bigger than a postage stamp and - but that's not important now.

In the spring of 2002, with the hardcover remaindered (i.e., pulped or parceled 
out to the sidewalk book guys on the Upper West Side), I began getting odd 
messages demanding that I phone Ralph Nader. I'd call back, hear nothing for 
weeks, then get another frantic dispatch. I'd just about given up when, 
finally, a woman murmured on my voice mail: "Mr. Price, please call Mr. Nader. 
He really wants to talk to you about your book.''

My book? There could only be two possibilities, love it or hate it, and of 
course it didn't matter which. An author wants to be read, most of all; an 
author wants to feel that his book hasn't dropped down a well so deep that even 
its splash is soundless. Obviously, I had touched Mr. Nader. I had tickled Mr. 
Nader. Maybe I'd even enraged him. I began gaming out our conversation, 
wondered if I should meet him in person, envisioned the two of us smoking pipes 
in baggy sweaters and chuckling about airbags and those nutty Florida voters.

"Oh! Mr. Price!'' the woman said when I called, sounding relieved beyond 
measure. "Mr. Nader really needs to talk to you.'' A click, an exhale, and then 
that voice, stern and husky and not, in the famous Gatsby formulation, sounding 
anything like money. I had seen Mr. Nader countless times on television 
denouncing something. I had seen him serve as host of "Saturday Night Live.'' 
It could only be him. "Scott? I bought your book (Great!). I bought 2,500 
copies of your book (Good Lord, my ship has come ...). By mistake (What?). Do 
you want to buy some? (What planet am I on?)''

We spoke for about half an hour. Mr. Nader told me that he bought remaindered 
books from publishers to give away at rallies, part of an initiative to improve 
reading. He wouldn't explain how he wound up with my book and with so many 
copies of it, but tossed out a price of a dollar per. I sort of giggled and, 
ignoring his offer for dignity's sake, started asking questions. I figured he 
would shut me down quickly, seeing as he had an entire third party to run, but 
Mr. Nader didn't seem to have anything better to do. After a while, his 
Nader-ness wore off and the slouching beast of the American left turned out to 
be funny and endlessly curious; but every few minutes I found myself staring at 
the receiver and thinking, Don't you have some true-believer lackey to handle 
this kind of call?

So on we went, Ralph and me, babbling away about our home state of Connecticut, 
and sports, and how former President Jimmy Carter was, at that moment, in Cuba 
for an unprecedented visit. "Jimmy's down there?'' Mr. Nader said, and now he 
was off and saying maybe he should go to Cuba, too.

"The books are coming,'' he said. "I don't have the space for that. What am I 
going to do?'' So I told Mr. Nader I would try to solve his storage problem - 
maybe I'd buy some, maybe I had some people who might be interested. It turns 
out I didn't know many, but I was able to get in a few more calls with him. On 
the first, we were cruising along in the jokey, good-acquaintances way that Mr. 
Nader and I had come to share and - I swear - I was even thinking about 
inviting him over for a barbecue when he told me that he had just published a 
book. I laughed and verbally nudged him in the ribs and said, "Hey, when it 
gets remaindered, maybe I'll buy a few copies.''

The line went silent for a moment. Then he declared in a tone suggesting he 
might indeed have something better to do: "There will be no remainders.''

The next time we spoke, all seemed forgiven. Mr. Nader said that he was 
enjoying my book, and would hand it out at rallies. Emboldened, I asked if he 
was going to run for president again in 2004. "Too early,'' he said. Whether 
that meant too early in the campaign cycle or too early in the morning was 
never made clear. I told him I would buy 250 copies. Why not? Compared to Mr. 
Nader, my publisher was ripping me off.

In July 2002, I read that Mr. Nader had met with Fidel Castro in Havana. I 
waited a few weeks and then called him again; Mr. Nader still had his 
man-I-was-in-Cuba buzz going. "I brought a bunch of your books down with me,'' 
he said. "I brought a copy for Fidel, but by the time I met with him I had 
given it away.''

So, you see, Ralph Nader and I, we help each other out. With just three days 
left, the race is tighter than ever, and Mr. Nader's supporters could mean the 
difference, especially in battleground states like Wisconsin and Florida. I 
know: The future of the Republic is at stake, but what can I do? You have your 
reasons for wanting George W. Bush or John Kerry in the White House, but all I 
know is that, when least expected, the man who altered the course of American 
history once and may well do it again tried to sell me my own book at a 
discount. If that isn't presidential, I don't know what is.

S. L. Price is a senior writer at Sports Illustrated.

Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company | Home | Privacy Policy | Search | 
Corrections | RSS | Help | Back to Top


________________________________________________________________
Speed up your surfing with Juno SpeedBand.
Now includes pop-up blocker!
Only $14.95/ month - visit http://www.juno.com/surf to sign up today!

_______________________________________________
Marxism mailing list
Marxism@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
http://lists.econ.utah.edu/mailman/listinfo/marxism