Unglad Tidings

In his autobiography, Pat Robertson described his brief 1959 ministry in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn in a chapter titled "Rats, Roaches and Bedbugs." With the televangelist harboring such fond memories of the local insect population, it seemed strange that Robertson would select this slowly gentrifying black neighborhood to formally declare his G.O.P. presidential candidacy.

The tree-lined street where Robertson had lived was gussied up for the occasion, complete with an all-black combo wafting cool jazz notes into the crisp autumn air. But only 60 or so supporters were seated on folding chairs. An additional 400 were expected but didn't show, and the candidate's tranquil TV tableau was quickly transformed into bedlam in Bed-Stuy. Several dozen demonstrators, many of them gay activists, waved derisive placards that proclaimed such unglad tidings as HITLER IN 1939. ROBERTSON IN 1988. As Robertson volunteers distributed bumper stickers, a grandmotherly black woman snapped, "Does he really think he can come back here after 20 years and get our vote?"

The jeering reached a climax as the candidate stepped to the podium to the theme from Rocky. Robertson briefly tried to fight the crowd by shouting, "People should have the right to be heard when they speak!" Shaken by his reception, he jettisoned his 18-page text and instead delivered 15 minutes of rushed rhetoric on family values.

If Brooklyn illustrated the campaign's divisive potential, a New Hampshire rally that evening showed Robertson's ability to generate revival-meeting rapture. His announcement speech, finally given in its entirety, was interrupted by ten standing ovations. The crowd of 1,200 roared with delight as he talked of returning prayer to the schools. This passion petrifies traditional Republican politicians, but Robertson has yet to craft a message that secures widespread secular support.