As the 42nd president of the United States prepared to walk down Arizona State Gammage Auditorium’s eloquent maroon-painted bridge -- which looks like something out of a western Wizard of Oz with its repetitive arches and lollipop-like light fixtures lining the walkway -- the 20,000-or-so Arizonians gathered to hear him speak became visible.
Bill Clinton strolled to the structure’s apex, and the shuffled white noise turned to hysteria. Students and onlookers hollered and waved. Children maxed out the flexibility of their arms as they vaulted their posters high into the sky so the president could see. On first gaze over the throng, Clinton’s smile could have been seen on Mill Avenue. The president pumped his fist and let out a big Arkansas’ “Whoop.”
With the song “Work to Do” by Average White Band blasting through speakers, Clinton strutted down the inclined bridge to a small stage overrun with orange signage perfect for the 1996 Halloween event.
There were nearly 20 minutes of introductions after Clinton took his seat. Governor Rose Mofford, Steve Owens, a 1996 congressional candidate for Arizona’s sixth district, congressman Ed Pastor, Mike Petchel, the head of the Phoenix Law Enforcement organization, and former New York Police Commissioner Bill Bratton all welcomed the president to Arizona and, as if it needed saying, gave him their endorsement.
Then, Clinton welcomed the crowd, thanked the ASU band, and asked a question that crossed all party lines.
“Are you going to the Rose Bowl!?” he said firmly.
****
Five days before the 1996 presidential election, Clinton emerged from a suite at the Arizona Biltmore Resort, which sits at the foot of the Phoenix Mountains Preserve, a sightline that makes Piestewa Peak look like Everest.
He began his fourth Halloween as leader of the free world with a half-round of golf, donning slacks, and a Biltmore sweater vest as he zipped around one of Arizona’s most renowned courses. Golf director Peter Robbeloth, acting as the president’s chauffeur and caddy that morning, drove Clinton around the front nine of the Biltmore’s Adobe course. There was no score kept, but Robbeloth estimated the president carded a six-over 42.
“He was a very knowledgeable golfer,” Robbeloth said over the phone this week. “Had he topped a shot or something like that, he might have of thrown down another ball. However, in his round, he was playing A-OK. He didn’t need to do that.”
Later, he slipped into a gray suit and cowboy boots and met Pastor and Owens at the hotel. At 9:30 a.m., they headed out to the late-addition rally on the front lawn of Gammage for what would become the first speech by a sitting president given at ASU.
Owens sat next to Clinton during the presidential motorcade’s police-escorted 13-mile ride. He knew the president was giddy. Clinton thought he should have won Arizona in ‘92. The fact that George H. W. Bush edged him out by less than 30,000 tallies for the Grand Canyon State’s then-eight electoral votes didn’t sit well with the democrat.
And on the ride over, Clinton, a noted sports fan -- most known to cheer for his hometown Arkansas Razorback -- inquired about the Sun Devil football team.
“He did ask, ‘They have a pretty good team, don’t they?’” Owens said of Clinton, softening his voice to mimic Clinton’s Arkansas drawl. “I was like, ‘Well, yeah.’ He likes sports. He likes athletes … He clearly knew what was happening, the fact that we were going to be on the ASU campus.”
At that point, the Sun Devil nation was in a fervor. Bruce Snyder’s team was 8-0 and ranked no. 4 in the nation. A month prior, they had shutout No. 1 Nebraska at home. In the weeks to come, they would win their final three games, book their program’s second-ever trip to Pasadena and come within minutes of winning a Rose Bowl that likely would have given them a national championship as well.
The excitement offered Clinton an opportunity. As Owens remembers, Clinton was always curious about his speech locations, always looking to engage his audiences and make them feel special. ASU was no exception.
Once again, Clinton played to the crowd. He complimented their overachieving football team and conjured images of the one bowl game dancing in each of their minds. Then, minutes into his speech, he cocked his head to the right and looked at the biggest, most unmistakable Sun Devil on stage.
“Juan Roque,” the president said, directing every eye from the crowd toward 6-foot-8, 330-pound, fan-favorite left tackle, “You’re having a great season. I wish you were playing offensive line for me for the next five days.”
****
A self-proclaimed independent who cast his first presidential ballot for Bush, Roque had his reservations about even being on stage that day. News of the president’s Halloween speech had only trickled out earlier that week and two days before he would shake Clinton’s hand, Roque thought of turning down an opportunity to speak.
Frank Hidalgo, the founder of ASU Cesar Chavez Leadership Institute and ASU Los Diablos Alumni Chapter phoned the big offensive lineman. After hearing Roque deliver the keynote speech at the Hispanic convocation that May, Hidalgo thought the senior All-American would connect to the masses.
And it wouldn’t be a Clinton lovefest, Hidalgo assured Roque, but a non-partisan discussion on the importance of voting.
“I talked about my dad and how he was struggling to get his citizenship and how he wanted nothing more than to be able to vote in an election,” Roque said of his speech before pondering why he was chosen to speak. “I think a lot of it had to do with who was in charge of the rally -- Ed Pastor, Frank Hidalgo. The fact that we were undefeated. I had already gotten my degree.”
“I just think they thought a big, Latino football player sent a good message about voting.”
Sean Rankine, then a senior at ASU, agreed. He was on the Gammage lawn that day to hear Clinton and while two decades clouds his memory a tad, the contents of Roque’s message remain vivid.
“I just remember feeling that it was really good to have a person of color up there speaking and representing the Hispanic community in Arizona at that time,” Rankine said. “I thought it was just nice to see.”
Once Clinton came out, Roque thought his work was done.
But then, the commander in chief called him out on stage. “I was like, ‘Holy crap, The president of the United States just said my name. He knows me,’” Roque said, recalling that day over the phone last week. “I don’t know if someone wrote that for him or if he did that on his own or if he ad-libbed it. It was an awesome feeling, though.”
Wide-eyed, Roque simply smiled and waved. All season, he had stood in the face of pressure, keeping quarterback Jake Plummer upright and whisking away defensive lineman like crumbs on a countertop. He would be named a finalist for the Outland Trophy, given to the nation’s top offensive lineman, and go on to start the Rose Bowl and play in the NFL.
But thinking about that day still gives him goosebumps, still leaves him teary-eyed.
“I don’t know if someone wrote that for him or if he did that on his own or if he ad-libbed it,” Roque said. “It was an awesome feeling, though … How many people can say that the president said their name?”
***
In the context of his reelection campaign, Clinton’s ASU stop was hardly out of the ordinary. He must have given a different version of the same campaign speech in a hundred different cities in 1996 alone. He saluted various bands, seemingly thanked congressional members from every state, and said a bunch of names he probably soon forgot.
Heck, on the same day he was in Tempe, Clinton spoke at rallies in Las Vegas and Oakland.
It’s impossible to know how influential Clinton’s day on campus was on the election. But, 24 years later, it’s easy to see how important it was to the Sun Devils in attendance.
“I think I was a time for us to be proud of the school. We had a winning team. We had major things going on,” Rankine said. “It gave us a chance to really showcase the grandeur of ASU. For so long, we had this reputation of being a party school, yet, at this point, we’re politically notable. We’re athletically notable. It was nice to see those things work hand-in-hand.
“Those elements don’t coincide very often and, I think we were just part of a very special, unique time period at the university.”
For Clinton, his late campaign stop in Arizona, which had long been considered a deep red state, paid off. Five days after his Tempe stop, Clinton beat out republican Bob Dole by more than 30,000 votes that November and remains the only Democrat since Harry Truman in 1948 to win Arizona’s electoral votes.
“It really put Arizona back on the map in terms of being important in the national conversation in presidential elections,” said Owens, who narrowly lost his 1996 run for congress. “It was important for people in Arizona to know the president cared enough about the campaign there and that he was paying attention to the state.”
Maybe it was just a good political show. Clinton had a knack for making every city and every school he visited feel the same way.
Just two days prior, Clinton was at Ohio State University, the school that would go on to defeat ASU in Pasadena, and proclaimed: “And I needed no reminding that your football team is having another wonderful season. Congratulations.” In Minnesota the day before that, Clinton thanked Timberwolves forward Kevin Garnett and future MLB Hall of Famer Paul Molitor for attending the rally, even congratulating Molitor on recently picking up his 3,000th hit with the Twins.
Run through Clinton’s campaign speeches just that month, and you’ll find similar instances. Clinton was giving nearly three speeches a day in a trio of different cities every day for months. Did he have time to see Molitor’s 3,000th hit? Did he watch Roque pancake USC’s defensive linemen? Did he have any clue ASU was on a path to the Rose Bowl?
Who cares?
The fricken president of the United States was in Tempe on Halloween 1996 and asked if the Sun Devils were headed to the Rose Bowl. That was good enough.
“We took the Valley by storm that season,” Roque said. “We were sports in Arizona that season. We were the team they were talking about, the ones doing all the things we were dreaming about.
“It just added to the mystique that even the president mentioned one of our players during a speech.”’