Jackson Free Press

On Oct. 1 in Oxford, 4,000 people filled the Tad Smith Coliseum for what was billed as a fund-raising concert to benefit Hurricane Katrina's Mississippi victims. My wife and I were there. America was generous that night: 11,000 people called in to offer help. Between individual donors and corporate gifts and pledges, the Mississippi Hurricane Recovery fund has raised $15 million.

Though locally billed as former William Morris executive Sam Haskell's baby, news reports of Lanny Griffith's equal involvement set off warning bells from the start. Given his participation, the event would also serve some political purpose, likely in the service of the governor.

While yes, a Mississippian and no doubt personally affected—as were we all—by the devastation of Katrina, Griffith was also Gov. Barbour's longtime partner at the powerful Washington lobbying firm which, along with Ed Rogers, still bears their names: Barbour Griffith & Rogers.

The benefit concert itself was underwritten by a donation from one of Barbour Griffith & Rogers' largest clients, in fact. Represented by BGR since the late '90s, UnitedHealth Group has been paying the firm nearly half a million dollars annually to be its voice in Washington. Power and influence do not come cheap.

That investment, and some weighty donations to the GOP, the Bush/Cheney campaign, and of course the Republican Governors Association, have paid off well. According to the Congressional Budget Office, the bloated Medicare prescription-drug gift package stands to earn UnitedHealth and companies like it $14.8 billion. They've paid well for effective representation in Washington, you see.

Which brings us back to the coliseum. Celebrities stood at the microphone, pouring accolades like anointing oil over the heads of the politicians in attendance. All but one of the Republicans representing the state in Washington sat front row beside and behind Griffith's old buddy and business partner.

Democratic Reps. Bennie Thompson and Gene Taylor (both somewhat critical of the federal response to Katrina, it should be noted) were nowhere to be found. Odd, that. Amidst standing ovations, a gigantic Mississippi outline filled with a waving American flag, photo montages, star-power, and tales of Barbour's strength and surety, a sickening feeling set in. Something distinctly manufactured was occurring, something to which I'd unwittingly become party.

It was even more acutely clear watching the rebroadcast than it had been in person. At a certain point in the evening, the mammoth screens that had been in synch with the broadcast for the first part of the show stopped showing the "TV view." We would no longer see what America saw.

Frequent camera cutaway close-ups of Barbour, Trent Lott, Roger Wicker and Chip Pickering inter-cut with audience members' glowing adoration cemented the effect. This was a massive GOP photo-op, something only slightly short of a rally. There was a reason it was held in Oxford; Republicans were all but guaranteed a friendly, receptive audience there. An enthusiastic crowd was crucial for success. We were coaxed thusly before airtime.

Rogers has been regularly seeding reporters with speculation of a Barbour presidential run for the last year or so. In recent weeks, Griffith crowed over Haley's power and influence in Washington equaling Mississippi's good fortune in Katrina's wake. Peggy Noonan showers him with praise. All around, the familiar grind of the myth-making machine.

It dawned on me quite suddenly, watching Barbour address the crowd that night. To a large degree, the entire production was as much about continuing that line of subtle inference as it was about raising money. Perhaps even more so.

Barbour and others stood onstage that night and spoke of the self-reliance of Mississippians, of how those hit hardest by the storm didn't wait for outside help but instead got down to the business of saving each other. This is true. They're still saving each other. They have to.

Mississippians hear every day of folks still dependent on churches and strangers for basic sustenance. We know people—nearly two months after Katrina—who have yet to have their first contact with any sort of official federal representation.

You'd never know it, seeing the governor play the media. As part of a larger positioning strategy, he's been cast as the unruffled strongman; the voice of calm in the chaos; a leader of the highest caliber leveraging his Washington pull to "get things done" on the ground in Mississippi. A "Southern Giuliani," they say.

Though he speaks highly of the "good partner" the federal government has been to our state, facts on the ground continue to belie this apologist's stance. Barbour himself is the consummate "good partner" to the most powerful of GOP power-players. Their support and assistance will be crucial when he decides to officially throw his hat in the presidential ring.

There's a circus coming to town; the smoke and mirrors are on the horizon.

Mitch Cohen is a freelance writer and strategic communications consultant in Mississippi.