Someone should be embarrassed:
Eleven days after the presidential election, 100 people were invited to the home of Vernon and Ann Jordan. The guest of honor was former Time Warner chief Richard Parsons, but the belle of the ball was Valerie Jarrett, one of Barack Obama’s best friends and a newly named White House senior adviser.
All night the Jordans’ guests — many VIPs in their own right — surrounded Jarrett, eager to introduce themselves and welcome her to D.C. Business as usual. Every four or eight years, Washington’s primarily white, influential, moneyed set rushes to cozy up to the new power brokers in town: Texans when George W. Bush arrived, Arkansas buddies when Bill Clinton came to town. The city’s high-level social scene — dinners, black-tie fundraisers, receptions, ubiquitous book parties — is the place where money and experience are subtly traded for access and influence.
Except for the first time, the face of ultimate power is African American. With a black first family in the White House and a diverse group of appointees and Cabinet nominees, the all-white dinner party feels all wrong. Certain hosts are suddenly grappling with a new reality: They need some black friends. Overnight, black politicians, lawyers and journalists are hot properties, receiving engraved invitations from people they never got invitations from before.
Blacks have gone from barely being on the list to being in charge of the list.
I feel the Villager’s pain. Maybe they can learn to adapt by watching a lesson from Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor.
I hope Sally Quinn took notes. Any questions?
