Long post a’ comin’.
Leon Panetta is to be the new CIA chief, according to president-elect Obama’s transition office. Before I’d had a chance to read it on the wires or see it on CNN, my mother called me from Carmel with the news, describing herself as “overjoyed.” We’re big Panetta fans in our family; Leon Panetta represented my home district on the Monterey Peninsula from 1976 until 1993. Though my first political memory was of working for William Roth in the 1974 California Democratic gubernatorial primary, one of my earliest memories of political victory came when I “precincted” with my mother for Leon Panetta in 1976, when he upset incumbent Republican Burt Talcott to take over California’s 16th congressional district seat. I’ve only met him at fundraisers, but I went to high school with two of his sons, and the family — and the Congressman — were much liked and admired on the Peninsula.
Panetta is a fiscal moderate, a strong environmentalist, and a terrific policy wonk. Though he doesn’t have a background as a spy, he’s the ideal person to come in and restore restraint and responsibility to an agency that many believe has run amok under the Bush Administration. Panetta is the wise sort who will balance issues of national security with responsibility to the Constitution. I’ve already called Senator Dianne Feinstein, chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee, to express my strong support for Leon Panetta, and encourage my like-minded readers to do the same, or to email her here.
I’m also thinking this morning about Clint Eastwood, having just seen his new film Gran Torino. The connection between Eastwood and Panetta is a geographic one: both are men with whom I share a home town, Carmel by-the-Sea. (Eastwood was raised, however, in Piedmont in the Bay Area — the same town in which my mother grew up. Eastwood’s father was one year ahead of my grandfather at Piedmont High.) For two years in the 1980s, both held elected office, as Clint was a surprisingly decent mayor of Carmel for two years. And while Panetta was our most prominent politician throughout most of my youth, Clint has always been, for as long as I can remember, Carmel’s most renowned celebrity.
The first time I saw Eastwood on the street was in early 1983. I was not quite sixteen, and I had a learner’s permit but not yet a driver’s license. My mother and I were out for one of our afternoon driving lessons in the family car, a 1980 Datsun 210 wagon. Driving down San Carlos Avenue, I saw a familiar looking man step out of a Mercedes sedan, glance towards the oncoming traffic (led by me) and begin to jaywalk across the street. It was Clint, and I gasped in recognition. I also didn’t slow down, and forced Eastwood to do a double take and quicken his pace. My mother said “For God’s sakes, Hugo, don’t hit him”, and I carefully applied the brakes. I don’t think Clint was more than a little unnerved, but I do remember our fleeting eye contact. How ghastly it would have been had I struck him — and how different cinematic history might have been as well. After all, Eastwood’s greatest triumphs as an actor and director have come in the last two decades, well after our very brief encounter on the roadway a quarter-century ago!
In any event, I enjoyed “Gran Torino” very much, and in particular, I was struck by the wry way in which Eastwood used the film (which he both stars in and directs) to reflect on his long career and upon American masculinity. Because there are plot spoilers ahead, the rest of the post is below the cut. Continue reading





