To put events in context, the following is a list (with interpretation where required) of some of the things that did not happen at the 52nd inauguration of a president of the United States:
1. President Clinton was not late to his own swearing-in.Although known as one of the tardiest public figures in the land, Clinton arranged and lived up to an inaugural program in which he took the oath of office at 11:59 a.m., one minute before George Bush's term would end automatically.
In the 10 previous inaugurations that this reporter has covered, beginning with Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1953, the average time of the oath-taking was 12:07 p.m. That meant there was an average period of seven minutes when the United States had no president. It was getting embarrassing, frankly, to rediscover this technicality every four years.
But in 1993 the magnificent Marilyn Horne of the Metropolitan Opera finished her vocal medley in plenty of time for Clinton to take the oath before noon. Thus it could be said if one lacked taste, the fat lady had sung for Bush and for a bad habit.
2. Clinton's speech was not too long.
He actually finished his text in 14 minutes - astonishing brevity from a man who has talked longer than that just in thanking an introducer and doing some random analysis of world problems before getting down to his real message.
Not only was he brief but he was enthusiastic and demonstrative about what he was saying. The speech also had a very sober side.
This was a thematic passage of the inaugural address: "Today a generation raised in the shadows of the Cold War assumes new responsibilities . . . raised in unrivaled prosperity, we inherit an economy . . . weakened by business failures, stagnant wages, increasing inequality, and deep divisions among our people."
Maya Angelou, the poet, went beyond what Clinton had said so earnestly. In her poem an ancient rock representing history spoke to contemporary people and their politicians: "Come, you may stand upon my/ Back and face your distant destiny,/ But seek no haven in my shadow./ I will give you no hiding place down here."
3. Even when he got out of his limousine to walk the last stretch of the parade, Clinton did not get so good-ol'-boy-like that he wandered far from the car and his radio connection with the State and Defense Departments.
The president's walking stretched out the parade a good deal beyond the two hours it was supposed to take. When it began is hard to say because the first units that left the Capitol around 2:30 p.m. paused a lot along the way to wait for Clinton and assorted dignitaries. The last units passed the White House after dark, a few minutes past 6.
Even so, the Clinton parade was shorter than John F. Kennedy's in 1961 (four hours) and Dwight D. Eisenhower's in 1953 (five hours). Although Eisenhower did not walk in his parade, he did lean out of the reviewing stand to shake hands with marchers. And he stood still without flinching while a Texas cowboy lassoed him from horseback.
4. Bush, on his last half-day, did not take one last whack at Iraq.
Indeed, he and Clinton were in such close and apparently harmonious communication during the last two or three days that I encountered both Democrats and Republicans who resented it.
5. Clinton's parade was designed "to demonstrate inclusiveness and diversity," and it was not the disappointment that tends to be the case with such themes.
There was a relentless kind of enthusiasm in the huge throng of visitors; nothing seemed to dismay or even irritate them, certainly not my observation that they were the youngest inauguration crowd I ever saw. A national poll making the rounds here found 70 percent of Americans expressing "optimism" about the Clinton presidency - a rating comparable to Ronald Reagan's in 1981.
As for the unified diversity theme, some of the Clinton team's bragging about it was self-conscious. Anyway, there was diversity that had to be taken seriously and diversity that was just fun.
For instance, the joyful reception for two Elvises on a float was generationally defining.
Then there was diversity we all could appreciate: among the politicians in their limos and the military units and familiar high-school musicians and baton twirlers and the horsemen who knew not to lasso the president - among all those were, delightfully, the Precision Lawn Chair Demonstration Team from Colorado folding and unfolding and slamming down its chairs with awesome solemnity, and huge unexplained pelicans paying court to the Elvises, and, right there as if they were somehow the key to diversity, Big Bird and Cookie Monster from "Sesame Street" and Barney, the purple dinosaur.