From
KVUE in Austin:
Clinton Texas Campaign Response Time Tracker
Since the arrival of the competing presidential campaigns, I have had a difficult time getting a hold of the Clinton campaign's Texas press contact, Adrienne. It's rather difficult to include the Clinton campaign in stories when we cannot connect. For example...
-- A February 8th email to establish first contact went unreturned.
-- A call and voicemail message on February 13th regarding office openings went unreturned.
This morning, I called for a response on the House Democratic Caucus leaders taking issue with Clinton's comments about Texas not being in her "electoral calculation" in November. Adrienne responded with, "Oh, Lord," and said she would call back once she found out more about the dust-up, and I never heard from her again.
...snip...
I hear anecdotally from my press corps brethren that I'm not the only one having problems with this. So I'm starting the unofficial "Clinton Texas Campaign Response Time Tracker", to track future attempts at making contact and the time it takes to hear back. Time is obviously pretty important to journalists, since our deadlines are often "right now".
From
The Huffington Post:
Clinton's Texas Ground Game Plunges Into Chaos
Although the Clinton Campaign has been telling the press that they have the ground operations to pull off a win in Texas, those ground operations have not been in evidence when I've traveled to small towns to see how Bill Clinton is doing on the Texas stump. Wednesday evening in Victoria, down in the southeastern part of the state, incipient chaos threatened to overwhelm the "Early Vote" Rally precisely because there was no ground operation. The well-oiled, beautifully constructed state-level HRC campaign machine, focused and determined in Iowa, Nevada and California, is beginning to break down.
"It's a clusterfuck! Just a clusterfuck!" the Corpus Christi producer for a local news affiliate shouts into his cell phone. He's telling his boss that there will be no coverage of Bill Clinton's visit to Victoria for the 6 o'clock news. "Who's running this campaign anyway?" the producer asks, of no one in particular. "And now five hundred people have stomped away mad." He shakes his head. At that moment, twenty well-dressed elderly and middle-aged dignitaries and politicians exit the back of the local arts center and walk slowly for the intersection of Goodwin and Main. Presumably, they are Hillary Clinton supporters; however, given their dazed faces, they look more like commissars who have been turned out by the NKVD and cannot believe how suddenly their fortunes have changed.
With his Secret Service agents at his side, Bill Clinton walks the short block without acknowledging the little group of eminent supporters. (They are never introduced or explained.) A rumpled Dolores Huerta (she's been wearing the same clothes for several days) trails behind. An aide helps Clinton and Huerta up onto the tailgate of a pick-up truck. Although Huerta has been feisty on the campaign trail for Hillary, she's perfunctory tonight. Few, if any, of the crowd ringing the intersection know who she is. Bill Clinton takes the microphone, which barks in the damp air. It's twilight and more rain is on the way. Bill Clinton has already spoken today at Galveston and Beaumont. He's going to be very late for his last appearance of the night at the University of Houston. Here in Victoria the former president, standing on the tailgate, at first seems to love the unplanned venue. But he never hits his stride and in disjointed fashion rushes through his speech, a shorter version (without any of the swipes at Obama) of the one I heard last week in Nacogdoches. Huerta and Clinton are on autopilot, and the crowd knows it. Only from one curb where the local organizer churns enthusiasm is there much response to Clinton's words. Most of the folks, and there must be a thousand people in all, including those hanging over the balconies of a parking garage, are merely curious.
The debacle in Victoria illustrates why a ground operation is important. The details of planning have been left to a local volunteer, and she has been overwhelmed. How was she to know the needs of the live press? Or that live press often arrive before the print media? (This confusion led to some journalists being locked out.) Or the possibility of having to entertain a restive audience, because this former president typically runs very late? Actually, the citizens of Victoria were patient, sitting quietly in the Welder Center auditorium for three hours waiting for Bill Clinton. Many people had brought their children, and they were patient, too. But when a young Clinton aide appeared on the podium and announced that the rally was being moved to the street, so that Bill Clinton could address a larger crowd from the back of a truck, displeasure was expressed all 'round. Many families left in disgust. They had arrived early to get seats--and now they were being told they had to stand on the street? But the anger of the locals was nothing compared to that of the Texas press. The press had been waiting for hours, too; it had taken time to lay cables and run through all the fussing and tweaking cameramen typically do. And when the press trudged out the auditorium doors, they discovered that their umbrellas, which had been confiscated as some kind of security measure (the only one), had been appropriated, undoubtedly by the disgruntled locals.
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