B Y J O H N R O B E R T S C N N “ A M E R I C A N M O R N I N G ” C O - A N C H O R

Three years ago, I campaigned to be president of the White House Correspondents’ Association. I ran on a platform of bringing the association’s annual fete célèbre back in line with what it used to be—an intimate evening where journalists and Administration officials could, like warring parties occasionally did in centuries past, sit together in a civil fashion over dinner and a few drinks. It must have been a bad idea, because I lost that election; but I have faithfully attended each dinner since. I still can’t fi gure out how it became the star-studded affair it has, but it was awfully good to see Sanjaya this year. It’s not all about celebutantes, though. George Clooney came last year, and we all know about the good work he’s doing for Darfur. This year’s highlight was meeting Sheryl Crow, the Marcia Brady for middle-age men. Sheryl’s also a rebel with a cause. In this case, global warming. Who doesn’t like Sheryl Crow? Karl Rove, it seems. Not two tables over, the two were consumed in conversation that could have fi nished melting the Kilamanjaro snows. When the fracas was over, I not-so-casually hot-footed it to the CNN table where Sheryl was commiserating with her fellow earthmother Laurie David. I strategically bumped my colleague Wolf Blitzer aside and found myself next to the rock goddess, of whom I am truly a fan. (Don’t worry, my wife knows all about this.) Three words into the conversation, the Post’s Roxanne Roberts nosed in between us to fact-check Sheryl’s encounter with Karl. Ten minutes later, Roxanne had her story, Sheryl was out of time and I was out of luck. The dinner is still a great place to make connections, and while the event is still too large and packed with celebrities who have nothing to do with covering the White House, it’s good to meet the odd rebel with a cause. If only for three words.