Telling Ollie North Off

My interest in Ollie North went back a few years, at least my recent interest. For some reason, about 2 or 3 years ago, I really got into the subject of Iran-Contra. I lived through it as a focal part of my teen years, but still didn’t know too much about it. The inner workings, the secret deals, etc. Whatever it was that sparked my intrigue about that (strangely) long-forgotten scandal, I don’t know. But for a while I was obsessed. Totally obsessed. I read just about every book I could find on the topic. Poured over the congressional reports, various books, and read bios on all the players, including one on Mr North himself.
You might already know this, but he’s a pretty despicable person. In fact, he sucks.
This is why, when I learned that he was doing a book signing in Pensacola, I knew I had to be there. But before I get to that, let me go back a few years.
Before I learned to loathe Ollie North, I was still sort of interested in him as a piece of weird history. When I was living in DC, I once heard that he was doing a book signing at a mall on the other side of town. I was interested enough to take the metro into DC to the mall to see him. Not to get a book signed or wait in line, but just to see him. Not as a fan, but as a curiosity. That was 10 years earlier, and I was pretty dumb back then to the world. I didn't know much about him or Iran-Contra outside of what I remembered from the news, but so much of that stuff is hard to grasp when you’re a kid. The whole thing is actually still pretty hard to grasp, 15 years later.
When I was a teenager during my 10th grade summer, I watched as much of the Congressional Hearings as I could stand. It was big news then, interrupting regular TV all day. Some of it was interesting, like all the Ollie North grandstanding and fighting between him, his lawyers and the congress. But the majority of it was terrible TV for a kid. It kind of forced me to go outside for a change. Still, I kept up with most of it. Read my grandma's Time Magazines, glanced over the papers, and watched the evening news. I even remember the T-shirts for sale with "Ollie For President" on display at the local drug store. It seems crazy, but he was really popular at the time: a populist hero. A Vietnam vet when that tag was just begining to NOT be synomous with crazed, drug addicted bank robbers. Reagan and Rambo worked hard to rebuild the image of the Vietnam vets and Ollie came around at the right time. Even though he broke so many laws, sold arms to people the White House called terrorists, funded right wing militias in Nicaragua, and lied to congress…"It was all for America." People loved him or they hated him, but for the most part, at least from my vantage point, it seemed they loved him.
Not my family, though. My aunt, who has been a peace activist with Catholic Worker since the 1950's, and who worked with CISPES, pro-Sandanista groups in Texas, and others peace organizations had nothing but bad words for Col North.
"I can't believe that little Colonel is getting all this praise for all those lies!" she'd say.
"He's absolutely the worst thing that has ever happened to this country."
At the time, I didn’t really understand what was going on. But the more I read, the more disgusted I became. Especially in my recent, new found study of the Reagan years. So when I heard that Ollie was coming to Pensacola, I really wanted to confront him. How often do you get the chance to tell off a despot? Or at least an accomplice to despotism.
I had practiced all day what I was going to say to him, set up the scenarios in my head, rehearsed everything from the handshake to the getaway (if needed). I thought I was ready. Paula and Styles said they’d take me, and my friend Sam said he wanted to see Ollie North, too. Once we got to the mall, Paula and Styles went to the food court and Sam and I went to the bookstore. But when we got to B. Daltons, I nearly turned around. The line was wrapped around the building and filled with military guys, patriots, and all sorts of wackos. Not wackos like me, but the ones that usually scream at me during the war protests.
me from what I was thinking and calmed my nerves a bit. So we stuck around.
The line went all the way around the store but moved fast. We definateley looked out of place. Everyone there was either in a military uniform or dressed in suits like they just came back from a Republican fundraiser or an NRA meeting, except us. We just looked like punks.
I looked around and saw that every-single person in line had Ollie’s new book in their hands. Everyone except for us, of course. The book looked dumb. Techno-thriller, Tom Clancy kind of stuff with the Marine Corps symbol on the front. I'm sure it was some boring “action-packed” book about a marine single handedly saving the world from crazed terrorists, armed only with his knowledge of hand to hand combat, his superior intellect, and his wit. Not to mention, the love a brave woman at home to keep his mind at rest while off on foreign shores. Bo-ring. Of course, I didn't have THAT book with me. Instead, I brought my copy of the transcripts of the congressional hearings for the Iran-Contra Scandal (and who doesn't have a copy of that by their bedside?).
As the line grew shorter, I grew more nervous. My mind started to race and I just about forgot what I was going to say. I almost jumped out of line, but by this time it was too late. One of his aides asked for my book so he could hand it Ollie for his "John Hancock." Now I was stuck. I still didn’t know if this was a good idea, but I didn’t want to leave without my book, either. As I waited for the person in front of me to stop telling Ollie how glad he was to finally meet that jackass, I tried to remember exactly what I was going to say to Mr. North. I remember being about ready to puke I was so nervous. Stomach in knots, dry mouth and stuttering when I was talking with Sam, trying to pretend I wasn't about ready to faint. Finally, the guy in front of me stopped with the ass kissing and it was my turn. The aide told me to step up, handed my book to Ollie for him to sign and there I was, standing eye-to-eye with great criminal.
As Ollie began to put his pen to the front page of my book, he realized it wasn’t the one he wrote. He closed the cover for a second to examine the Congressional Report his aide handed him to sign. He looked at me, then looked at the book again, shrugged his shoulder and signed it on the title page. After he finished scrawling his tainted name on my book he looked at me again, this time in the eyes. Handing the autographed book back with one hand, he then held out his other hand for me to shake. I took the book, shook his hand, swallowed the butterflies in my throat and said what I had been practicing all day.

"Mr. North, I just wanted to tell you that you're one of the worst things that's ever happened to this country."

There, I said it!
Now I wanted to run. Sweat was pouring from my brow, knees knocking. Ollie looked pissed, too. But as I was about to walk away, Ollie held onto my hand and pulled me closer to him. Then, to my surprise, he whispered in my ear what is probably his stock response after having heard the same thing every day for the past 15 years.

"But doesn't it feel good to live in a country where you can say that?"

What? For some reason, it never dawned on me that he would respond. Somehow, I had neglected that part of the scenario and I wasn’t prepared to respond. When I get nervous, my wit stops working. Staring at Ollie North, his hand in mine, I couldn't think of anything to say and I drew a blank. I was so nervous, my wit was on the back burner and stumbling around my stomach with all the butterflies.
There were so many things I could have said, so many things I thought about afterwards and still to this day run over in my head as things that I should have said or will say if it happens again. Instead, I just looked at his gap toothed grin, rolled my eyes, shrugged my shoulders and said
"Whatever."
With that, he let go of my hand and went back to signing books.
Fuck. Of all the things I could have said, I couldn’t believe "whatever" was the only thing that came out of my mouth. Lesson to the wise: if you ever go to confront one of the scourges of your generation, think of a better retort to their trivial defenses than "whatever."
We left the mall bookstore after that and met up with Paula and Styles at the falafel stand in the mall. I told my friends what happened over a soda. It still eats away at me that I let such a stupid retort get by me. But after an hour of beating myself up over what I could have said, I started to look at the book he signed and got a small grin.
I certainly could have been wittier and better prepared, but at least he knows that people didn’t forget what a piece of shit he was, even here in Pensacola. And I don’t know why, but it still felt cool to have his signature in the very book that would damn him for all of history.
We soon left the mall and went home. When I got back to my house, I told my neighbor what happened.

"You said what to him?"
"I said that he was one of the worst things that's ever happened to this country."
"Dude, that's awesome. What did he say? He must have been shocked!"
"A little. He looked a bit surprised, but as I was leaving, he pulled me closer and said something stupid like 'doesn't it feel great to live in country where you could say that.' He never lost that gap-toothed smile."
"Yeah, but he must be used to hearing that by now. Well, what did you say?"
"Nothing much, I just shrugged my shoulders and said ‘whatever’…Very sarcastically, though."
"Ah, don’t beat yourself up. You shouldn’t feel that bad. It's still pretty cool. You probably won't get too many chances to tell Ollie North off."

Then I started to think about it, and I guess he was right. I didn't get to shoot off the wit that would have decapitated him and sent all the book buyers back to the counter for their refunds, but I did finally get to tell Ollie North off, really one of the worst people to come around in my lifetime. And that’s something.
My aunt was so proud when she heard.

*****************
*Top Four Things I should have said to Ollie North in response to "Doesn’t it feel great to live in a country where you can say that."

1) No, it'd feel better to live in a country where you were in jail.
2) Shut up, Colonel. I'm doing the history lesson here.
3) You should have died with Reagan.
4) Fuck You.

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