Clay Aiken Diary No. 2

Monday, May 19: Eight hours of uncomfortable traveling, and an inhospitable reaction from the Fox publicity folks who had been so helpful when I was
among three newspaper reporters who had traveled out a few
weeks before to do profiles of hometown "American Idol" finalists. This
time, I’m acutely aware that this event is being orchestrated for the
benefit of TV coverage and national entertainment outlets; regional
newspapers are simply pests along for the ride. Upon arrival I'm told no
interviews, no photo ops until the red carpet Wednesday. We’ll
see about that.

4:30 p.m. (Pacific): I reach Faye Parker, Clay Aiken’s mother. She
invites me and photographer Todd Sumlin to eat dinner and watch the one-hour "Idol" special with her at the Pasadena home of her cousin. (I accept the dinner invitation just as I’m wolfing the last bite of a sandwich from the wonderful diner in
our hotel – I’m eating on East Coast time). Unfortunately, the Raleigh
News & Observer reporter is also invited, and their stringer photographer is intrusive, pummeling Parker with camera flashes every time Aiken is shown onscreen and undercutting Todd's far more subtle and sensitive work.

Faye's review at the end of the clip-show special: "Well, they just wasted an hour on junk."

Later, an "Idol" hairstylist tells me the special was a last-ditch
attempt to resurrect the ratings for the finale of "Mr. Personality," a
much-hyped show that nobody was watching. The "Personality" finale was
supposed to be two hours, but was shaved to one in hopes the "Idol"
lead-in would bring more viewers.

Tuesday: 9:30 a.m. After much confusion – and spilling water on my
mobile phone, temporarily disabling it – Todd and I find out that the media are
camped out in what’s normally a parking area/loading dock behind the Universal Amphitheatre on the grounds of Universal Studios (the tacky, shop-and-restaurant-filled Citywalk will be the only part of this attraction I’ll have time to check out). Only people from TV affiliates are supposed to be hanging out there, but we finesse our way in, which gives us the privilege of standing under broiling-hot sun for hours, waiting for glimpses of famous people.

We happen to get there just before Aiken and Studdard show up for their rehearsals, and Todd gets exclusive photos of the arrival.

11 a.m. Judges Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson arrive in the tent
for a series of five-minute interviews with Fox affiliates from all over the country. Each overdressed, over-made-up reporter gets a turn to ask repetitive, idiotic questions – "Randy, teach me how to say ‘dawg’ like you!" "Simon, who’s your favorite?"

(Ruben, of course).

They finish with Randy before Simon, so I get to ask the Dawg my own questions for his remaining time. Then, I get to walk with Simon for the 10 minutes or so it takes him to go to where a gauntlet of radio stations are waiting to interview him. Simon is surprisingly respectful of my questions – during my earlier trip, he’d refused my attempt to interview him in a way that led me to believe he had a snobby attitude about talking to regional newspapers.

Memorable comment: He’d grown to respect Clay because he’d taken criticism "like a man" – and specifically, better than U.S. Marine Josh Gracin. (Simon is extremely good-looking in person, but I found his chain-smoking of Kools and the accompanying reek a turnoff).

4 p.m.: Time to go inside the amphitheatre for the live show.
Aaah, air conditioning. I didn’t bring sunscreen, and nowhere at the
Citywalk sells it, so my arms, the top of my head and my sandaled feet
are turning red.

In person, Clay seems to sing better on his first song than Ruben;
on the second song, "Imagine" gives Ruben an edge. Ruben’s third song
with choir backup is so stirring that Todd and I think he’s just sealed
it, but then Clay’s "Bridge Over Troubled Water" blows away everyone in
the crowd. (They audibly switch from cheering louder for Ruben to
cheering louder for Clay).

I’m told it didn’t sound quite as impressive on TV, but it was astounding in person. We agree with Simon’s final comment and think the song might just have won Clay the competition.

In the post-show interviews, the buzz is heavily Clay-oriented. As
Simon walks by, he turns and tells me he thinks Clay took it.

8:30 p.m.: I’ve been invited back to Faye’s cousin’s home, where
Clay is headed to watch the tape-delayed broadcast of the show.

Immediately after it ends, the room quiets as everyone starts trying to dial votes on cell phones. Clay urges anyone with a spare hand to pick up the land line and dial. It’s the most nervous I’ll see him look the whole week.

I interview a family who paid $1,200 to meet Aiken for a few minutes, part of a school fundraiser. The three little girls, ages 8-11, who partook of the prize are touchingly thrilled.

10:30: Yeah, OK, I vote for an hour back at the hotel. The last few votes are from my cell phone in bed as I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

Wednesday: I awake feeling confident of Clay’s chances. My theory:
Ruben appeals to cool people, which is why so many celebrities say they favor him. But Clay appeals to geeks, and geeks are more prone to get fanatical and hit redial for three solid hours with a land line in one hand and cell phone in the other. Plus, the geeks always outnumber the cool people.

11:30 a.m.: We arrive hoping for more opportunities like the
Randy/Simon encounter, but it’s dead behind the amphitheatre. It’s even
hotter than yesterday, so I resist going up to interview the fans waiting in line for
tickets to the finale. Finally, I grudgingly go up to the line and get
one quote.

2:30 p.m.: We have to wait in broiling sun – still no sunscreen –
for our official credentials for the red carpet. It’s chaos down at the
red carpet scene (which is also under the sun – did I mention it was
broiling?).

Celebrities start walking through around 3:30, and many of them choose to ignore us poor print media folks wedged behind barricades like sardines, heading straight for the photographers instead.

My weirdest interview: Verdine White of Earth, Wind and Fire, who had been a guest judge. You know the "Seinfeld" episode with the "close talker?" That’s White. He’s bizarre-looking anyway, and I find myself trying in vain to back up – I’m pinned in with reporters behind me – as I’m jotting his quote, something about Clay being suited to sing on Broadway (what an original thought!).

4:30: Even though I can’t stay for the entire finale because I’ll
have to file my red carpet material before it ends, the lure of an hour
in air conditioning is irresistible. The filler-packed intro means I
only get to spend about 20 minutes watching performances in the studio
before I have to leave. Kelly Clarkson’s "Miss Independent" sounds lousy
in person.

6 p.m.: Halfway through the finale, I notice Ryan Seacrest
introduced Ruben by saying "He could be your next American Idol," and
didn’t say the same thing when he introduced Clay. I remember that all
the spectators around me, even the Clay fans, had been murmuring they
thought Ruben won. The folks in the media room think Ruben won too. It’s
the first time I realize they’re probably right. I fire off an e-mail to
Howie Hartnett in Charlotte, suggesting he go ahead and polish up the "Clay lost" story lead.

6:50 p.m.: At the outcome, I feel like a balloon with all the air
leaking out, but hopefully I show little outward sign of letdown. My investment in this story for the last few months is catching up with me. The reporters from both Raleigh and Birmingham seem unaffected by the result – not necessarily due to "objectivity," but more like a snobby attitude toward the show and celebrity stories in general.

7:15 p.m. A blur of press conferences begins in the media room. My
opinion is that secretly Clay is crushed by the outcome, that he really
wanted to win more than anything, but he’s covering for it well. I think
his relief that his 12-week grind on the show is ending is genuine.

8:30: After filing is finished, Todd and I pack up and head to the "Fox VIP Party" over in the Universal park. It’s surprisingly fun – great free food, open bar (I choose the drink named after Simon, which contains vodka, Sprite and something - not surprisingly - bitter; Todd chooses the sickly sweet
Paula drink, and soon becomes buzzed like a guy with a two-year-old at home who hasn't had a drink in a while). They’re giving away free souvenirs everywhere. I score a coupon for a free pair of shorts from Old Navy.

The "VIPs" are in short supply – Clay, Ruben and the judges make lightning-quick appearances and leave, and a few finalists like Vanessa and Carmen are hanging out.

My most memorable moment: Striking up a conversation with Brian Heidik, the winner of the season-before-last of "Survivor" and a former porn movie star. I tell him I’d bet on him in the office "Survivor" pool and won (true story), and he seems genuinely appreciative that I’d picked him.

Thursday, 7:30 a.m.: I’m back at that stupid media tent, waiting
for Clay to finish his interviews with vapid TV reporters so I can wedge
in a few minutes talking to him. He seems at peace with the results.

12:30 p.m.: I’ve filed my stories and have time to spend the rest of the afternoon wandering Hollywood, seeing a few sights (such as stars of cool movie folks, including fave Alfred Hitchcock, on the Walk of Fame). I even have time to go see a movie. My return is super-early Friday, so it’s nice to end the trip with some down time. Hooray for Hollywood!