A New Yorker surprise in Paris

I keep trying to have great French experiences, but more often I find myself learning weird things about my own culture.

Thursday night, I was browsing with a friend at Shakespeare and Company—an English-language bookstore—and on our way out the door, I noticed a box that said, “FREE.” Upon inspection, I screamed. It was a box full of old New Yorkers.

I spent the next hour poring over the Oct. 10, 1994, issue. The film review was about “Pulp Fiction.” The cartoon contest didn’t exist, and Shouts & Murmurs was on the back page. “Snoop Doggy Dog” was discussed. Also, there was a “Letter from California,” about a little known Republican senatorial candidate from Santa Barbara, just north of my hometown.

Michael Huffington—it sounded familiar to me, but didn’t ring any immediate bells. I skipped it for my friend’s sake. Reading about 15-year-old California politics is not exciting if you are neither a political science major nor a California native.

I went back to the article when, on my way home, I found myself alone on the Métro. It was on the grungy 11-line, filled with drunk 20-somethings sitting on the weird purple upholstery, when I came across the second part of the article, which focused on Huffington’s wife, Arianna. Seriously? This magazine had Snoop before he dropped “Doggy,” Tarantino before “Kill Bill,” and Arianna Huffington before liberalism.

The article detailed how hubby Michael established residence in California, unseated an incumbent Republican for a congressional seat, served one term, and was now running as the Republican senatorial candidate against Dianne Feinstein, a veteran Democratic senator. All of this was apparently being orchestrated by his social-climbing, Greek heiress, former cult minister wife, Arianna. Did I mention they are, or were, Republicans?

I am a child of National Public Radio who first heard of Arianna as the progressive host of Left, Right & Center. Then I saw her launch a campaign against Arnold Schwarzenegger for governor of California, and now cannot imagine getting my Jon Stewart and Rachel Maddow recaps here in France from anywhere other than the Huffington Post. I cannot remember a time where Arianna Huffington did not come from some strange place in left field.

But she was a Republican in 1994—four years before she and her husband divorced, he outed himself as a bisexual, and then became a LGBT activist. After that she became a talking head and moved about 180 degrees to the left. The revelation of this news, from a strange box sitting on a table across from Notre Dame in Paris, warranted screams from rooftops. Or at least texting the friend I had just left.

I quickly got the reply, “Who is Arianna Huffington?” This was probably the most detrimental shock of the night.

I did not know that it was possible to live in 2009 without having heard of HuffPo. As the French say, “tout le monde” has a column on the site. My boss from last summer, who works in advertising, has a column. So does Bob Saget.

I had to share this news with someone. I went back to my mentor of California liberalism, the reason I associate getting in a car with listening to NPR—my mother. I called. She answered.

“I remember that,” she said. “That was a big deal.” And then she pulled something out of left field, “And do you know what your personal connection to that is?” Personal connection? I found a 15-year-old magazine in a box 15,000 km from home, and I have a personal connection to it?

It turns out that Robert Lagomarsino, who Michael defeated for the congressional seat in Santa Barbara two years before running for the Senate, was my grandfather’s law partner before going into politics.

I am not quite sure which is more bizarre—the world or my family.

Shane Ferro is a Columbia College junior majoring in political science. La Vie Culturelle runs alternate Tuesdays.
arts@columbiaspectator.com