Joe Biden’s Bob Weir Moment

Biden’s SOTU got a little help from his friends

Joe Biden enters the chambers for his State of the Union speech

In 2013, we went to see Furthur, the best offshoot of the Grateful Dead since their demise in 1995 (for my money, a far better version than Dead & Co.). We went with high expectations. We’d seen Furthur several times before, but this performance was going to be at a legendary venue — the Capital Theater in Port Chester, NY, where the Dead had played a historic run in February 1971. The Cap is an old baroque-styled theater that’s been beautifully refurbished and appointed by concert promoter par exellence Peter Shapiro. We were being hosted by Peter’s brother Andrew and after a libation or two, we took our seats in an upper box and prepared for a little uptown toodeloo.

Furthur was in fine form and came out strong with a mellifluous version of “Feel Like a Stranger.” You could almost feel the vibes of 1971 coming up from the floorboards. But halfway through the first set something happened. Bob Weir was wailing away on his rhythm guitar when he suddenly stopped and staggered. Then he slumped. Then he fell. He was quickly tended to and helped offstage. The band persevered until set break.

A little bit into the second set, Bob returned to the stage, still a little shaky. He leaned against a stool and struck up the guitar again, but when he tried to sing he either couldn’t remember the words, or couldn’t perform them — or maybe both. After a few beats, though, the audience began to fill in the gap until it formed a chorus that sang every lyric, lifting Bobby up and carrying him through the rest of the tune. It was a spontaneous act of love and devotion that will never be forgotten.

I thought of that moment last night watching Joe Biden’s State of the Union address, which was shaping up to be the political equivalent of the Thrilla in Manila, a do-or-die moment for the aging Democratic lion.

When Biden entered the chamber, the crowd came alive. Cell phones came out for selfies, backs were slapped, hands were shook and cheeks were pecked. The energy kept rising as he made his way down the aisle. Biden was feeding on it and by the time he took his last few steps to the altar of democracy he was practically crowd-surfing.

The Democrats wanted him to kick ass and I’m sure there were at least a few Republicans hoping he’d make it through unscathed, if only for the sake of the republic and what might happen if he doesn’t do well.

It was just what Joe needed. He was in his element, of course, having worked those halls during decades of legislative service. But he’s a tactile politician (too much so, sometimes) and he seemed energized by the connection in the moment and the genuine displays of affection. By the time he started his speech, he was so charged he didn’t even wait for the traditional high-honor-and-privilege introduction by the Speaker of the House. That may have been a little bitch-slap for Mike Johnson, but I like to think it was purely Biden’s enthusiasm for getting the party started.

This was Joe Biden’s Bob Weir moment. He was vulnerable. Losing in almost every poll. Chastened by Special Counsel Robert Hur. Ridiculed by Fox News for the slightest gaffe. Spurned in a wave of “non-committed” votes in Democratic primaries. Chastised by the press for ignoring them.

The Democrats knew they needed to lift him up and that’s what they did. The battle has been joined and the talk of alternate candidates or a brokered convention has ended, at least for now. Joe had been stumbling but his audience let him know they have his back.

That surge of energy undoubtedly fueled at least part of Biden’s performance last night. It was strong, even stronger than last year’s given what was at stake. There was no whispering, no vacant stares and only a little strangled syntax. He looked fit. He probably read through the speech aloud at least 50 times and had a couple of Red Bulls right before he went on, but whatever he had to do achieved his objective. He looked and sounded presidential, in command.

The speech itself was good enough. He evoked Reagan when addressing Ukraine (a nice touch) and demanded that Congress pass a bipartisan border bill. He announced that the U.S. would build a pier to expedite flow of aid into Gaza. He tried a little humor when complaining about the size of Snickers bars (“You get charged the same amount and you get about 10 percent fewer Snickers”).

But he also resorted to the usual tropes about corporations and billionaires paying their “fair share” (in Washington, the worth of a corporation is only measured in taxes, not the long tail of other benefits they provide, and billionaires are demonized for following the existing tax code). At one point he almost seemed to threaten the Supreme Court justices seated before him (“My god, what freedoms will you take away next?”).

And a line that he relished delivering (“You can’t love your country only when you win”), while having its intended effect, also brought to mind Michelle Obama’s remark about being proud of her country for the first time only after her husband won the White House.

The audience in the chamber was, as we’ve come to expect, raucous. Marjorie Taylor Greene looked ridiculous in her MAGA hat. A Gold Star parent grieving the loss of his son in the Afghanistan withdrawal was arrested for heckling Biden during the speech. Biden’s speech was confrontational, as was the reception, but this is just a sad fact of life today in the media-political complex. Decorum has been put on the shelf with lace doilies and china teapots.

The takeaway for me was contextual. The Democrats have now come to terms with Biden’s candidacy. Is he the perfect candidate? Not by a long shot. But he’s the candidate the party ended up with. And now, with nine months to go, his audience gazes at him leaning on his stool at times and forgetting the lyrics once in a while. They accept his flaws and his diminishment and have decided, this time at least, to hold him up, to sing when he can’t sing, to have confidence in someone who tests that confidence on a weekly basis, and to help him finish the song.