Breaking Away

They may be the First Parents, but on Friday they were just like any other couple leaving their only child behind on her very first day at college.

Well, almost. First, you’d have to disregard the photo op, the motorcade, the front-row seats at freshman convocation, the Secret Service agents herding campus crowds, the scores of journalists waiting nearly two hours in the sunshine for a comment from Dad on his daughter’s new home.

His words: “Maybe we should all stay. This is great.”

Stanford University freshman Chelsea Clinton, with the president and first lady in tow, rode up to her sand-colored dorm--referred to by circumspect college officials as simply “the residence”--at 9 a.m. in a jampacked sport utility vehicle.

Like hundreds of other parents, Mom and Dad spent the morning hauling boxes and suitcases, met Chelsea’s mystery roommate and her mother, and helped their daughter settle into the square, spare room where she will sleep, dream and study for the next nine months.

Losing a child to age and academia is an equalizing experience unlike most others. Or, as Si Barghelame of Woodinville, Wash., put it Friday morning, while his teary wife stood silently by and his own freshman lugged kitchenware to his new home: “This is the only day I do exactly what the president of the United States does.”

At Wilbur Hall, the compound where Bill Clinton’s baby is spending her freshman year at the university nicknamed “the Farm,” Al Ganier of Nashville unpacked his daughter’s boxes and struggled with his mixed emotions.

“No matter who you are . . . it’s a ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’ sort of issue,” said Ganier, who was born within a couple days of the commander in chief. “There’s a lot of choking up if you stop and think about it. The president is probably having the same emotions that I’m having.”

The First Family has made no secret of its distress over Chelsea’s departure from the White House. In addition to the emotional loss, the president is losing his best window on what real life is like.

Clinton’s job is a very isolating one, and during Chelsea’s nearly five years in the White House, she has helped to keep her father in touch with the texture of modern life--everything from chunky-heeled shoes and the World Wide Web to Alanis Morissette.

In fact, the president has watched the Grammy Awards with his daughter--at her urging. “I was trying to become somewhat less irrelevant to my own daughter and the teenagers of the world,” Clinton said at the time. “Now I know all about who Seal is.”

On Friday, the other freshmen and their parents seemed unusually eager to allow the Clintons at least a moment or two of normalcy. Instead of flocking around and asking for autographs or photos, the other families in Chelsea’s dorm concentrated on their own momentous occasions, said Marsha Berry, the spokeswoman for the first lady.

Sure, a polite crowd of students shouted a loud “Welcome to Stanford!” as the First Family strolled along a shade-dappled walkway from a parents forum on campus life, past a gaggle of cameras, en route to a computer open house at Meyer Library.

Sure, they were thrilled when the famous freshman, casually clad in khakis, athletic shoes and a blue T-shirt, bowed and shouted back a simple “Thank you.” But they also promised this bright day not to treat Chelsea as a celebrity once classes begin Wednesday.

“I think it’s neat that she will be here. You have something to learn from everyone at Stanford, and she definitely has experiences to share,” said Alice Ganier, 18, who was moving into a dorm next to Chelsea’s. “But she wants to not be singled out, and I won’t be running after her.”

Of course, as the daughter of the president, Chelsea’s life cannot be completely normal. For one thing, unlike the other 13,800 students at Stanford, Chelsea moved in with her own Secret Service detail.

But her dressed-to-blend-in agents are expected to give her a wide berth, as they have learned to do over the years in Washington. Reportedly, they will have a room in her hall, but they are unlikely to prevent her from engaging in activities common for people her age.

In her syndicated column this week about Chelsea’s departure, Hillary Rodham Clinton remembered her own college years--”the dates that didn’t work out . . . [the] tender moment with a handsome new boyfriend.” And she hoped, as any mother would, that those “private experiences, all part of finding myself,” would be private for her daughter as well.

At least one White House official, who has watched Chelsea’s adolescence, said that from the way her agents functioned in Washington, it was clear they would not impinge on the joys--and most of the perils--of college life.

“I would think that what they would probably do is have an agent like down the hall or somewhere else in the dorm,” said a White House official who asked not to be identified. “What she does on her hall, she does on her hall. They probably won’t even know.”

A year’s tuition, room and board at the highly competitive 8,000-acre private school 30 miles south of San Francisco will cost the Clintons nearly $30,000. The family does not qualify for any of the nifty college cost-cutting measures Clinton pushed through Congress this year.

“I don’t think she’s getting financial aid,” said White House spokesman Joe Lockhart. Despite the Clintons’ financial pressures-- because of legal bills--Lockhart said he thought they would manage. “I hope so. They’ve been thinking about this one for a long time.”

After helping set up Chelsea’s dorm room, the First Couple separated from their daughter to attend a lunch with other parents and university officials and a panel discussion on college life. Chelsea dined with her new coed dorm mates and got her first tastes of a solo campus life. The trio hooked up again for a stroll by reporters on the way to the afternoon open house.

About 200 reporters, photographers and members of television crews flocked to the campus for an Electronic Age first--the first offspring of a sitting president to grow up in the White House and leave for college in the television era.

But the media were largely kept far from the First Family. In a rare moment of public teenhood during the hush-hush and tightly choreographed day, Chelsea at one point spotted two friends, let out a squeal and shouted: “How are you?”

The famous parents paused, the Secret Service agents parted and James Wolf and Alix Berger bounced up to the First Family for handshakes (the president) and hugs (the First Daughter).

The two freshmen had met Chelsea this summer, when the Clintons vacationed on Martha’s Vineyard. Berger had plotted just where to stand this day to gain her newfound friend’s attention.

Without such precise planning, “I couldn’t get to see her because of all this,” said Berger, gesturing to the media and the crowd.

After a short meeting with Stanford’s president and the official convocation ceremony for freshmen--with the Clintons in reserved front-row seats--it was back to the dorm for a reception.

And then the big goodbye.

It was private. Of course.