Up on the Roof with David Hogg and Cameron Kasky

By Jon Friedman

I experienced one of those quintessential Manhattan evenings on May 21, a fancy book party on a West 72nd Street rooftop. Important and self-important New Yorkers alike turned out. The Chamber of Commerce could have marketed the spectacular weather to tourists. Those who were there will not soon forget it.

We gathered to honor Rick Allen’s impressive book “RFK: His Words for Our Times.” I stood among dozens of noted journalists, authors, Manhattan publishing icons and even one of Robert Kennedy’s daughters.

I had butterflies as I approached the two biggest stars at the party: David Hogg and Cameron Kasky, two of the survivors of the Feb. 14 mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla. Like many of their impressive classmates, Kasky and Hogg have become committed activists against gun violence.

I patiently — then rather impatiently — waited my turn to say hello and shake their hands. I had no illusions that my gesture of solidarity would mean a lot more to me than to them. After all, they have been greeting awestruck strangers, like me, practically every day since 17 of their classmates and teachers died in yet another senseless mass shooting at a U.S. school.

David and Cameron chatted earnestly and epitomized cool. Strangers in the strange land of the Upper West Side, these Floridians kept their distance and remained in command. Clearly the moment was not too big for them.

Who can forget the forcefulness of the Parkland survivors when they addressed hundreds of thousands of people on March 24 in Washington, at The March for Our Lives? While somehow maintaining their integrity and dignity, David, Cameron and many of their charismatic classmates — particularly Emma “We Call BS.” Gonzalez — have gone on TV show after TV show to press their case.

At the book party, David, who dressed formally, and Cameron, who wore a black t-shirt saying Institute of Politics, stood together. They reminded me of the way The Beatles clung to one another in “A Hard Day’s Night,” when they dealt with the crush of overnight fame and constant demands for their time by poseurs. David and Cameron looked quite bemused when one notable publishing executive buttonholed them and beseeched them to go to dinner afterward.

I got the sense that the Parkland survivors must genuinely be a tight unit. Fame can work tricks on people, particularly in our disposable, celebrity-driven culture. No doubt, the Parkland students recognize that they have become famous because so many of their classmates were killed. If that tragedy hadn’t taken place, they’d be ordinary, anonymous high school kids living unspectacular lives. It must be a terrible burden to bear every day.

David and Cameron were too media savvy than to give me any major scoops. David noted that he would be taking a gap year between high school and college to continue working against gun violence. They had spent the day over at Bloomberg headquarters talking about the cause. They were optimistic about their progress so far in getting numbers of young people registered to vote in this year’s U.S. elections. They apologized for not yet having business cards to hand out — “they’re coming in next week” (I have a feeling these teenagers are already sharp enough by now to recite that very effective line to strangers at every one of their stops).

My only gripe was that Cameron, albeit respectfully and earnestly, reminded me that I’m on the wrong side of the generation gap by addressing me as “sir.” (Couldn’t he have called me “dude” or something hipper? You know, I wore a black homemade armband to protest the Vietnam War on Moratorium Day in 1969!)

David and Cameron are impressive young men. They know what they’re doing. They intend to use their fame for good causes to help our society. It was a privilege to meet them. If we ever happen to talk again, I’ll rightfully address each of them as “sir.”