Columnist Melissa Schorr: Chelsea and the age of maturity

Melissa Schorr

Monday, Feb. 15, 1999 | 9:41 a.m.

Let's set aside all the spurious arguments of why People magazine shouldn't have featured "almost 19-year-old" Chelsea Clinton on last week's cover and in its glowing feature story, "Grace Under Fire."

Set aside the idea that this piece broke the alleged "moratorium" on reporting on the First Kid.

(If that were true, how come I already know so much about Chelsea: that her ears aren't pierced; how she arrived at college with a stuffed green frog; and about last semester's breakup with her Stanford swimmer -- a story, by the way, with 10 times the embarrassment factor of People's puff piece. So why weren't her parents issuing statements about how they were "profoundly saddened" back then?)

Let's also set aside the question of whether poor Chelsea did anything to "merit" journalistic scrutiny.

(Haven't countless Americans had fame unwillingly "thrust" upon them? Before you feel Chelsea's pain too deeply, please remember that along with the probing come the perks: de rigueur acceptance at a premier university, future headhunting services courtesy of Vernon Jordan.)

Finally, let's set aside how disgustingly disingenuous the Clintons' reaction has been.

(Didn't they use the very same media outlet to their benefit during the 1992 campaign, inviting the magazine to photograph and write about their then-12-year-old daughter?)

Instead, let's address a less-discussed issue surrounding the whole brouhaha: our vague, indeterminate notions on when the true "age of maturity" begins.

One of the Clintons' main arguments for Chelsea's privacy all along has been that she is "just a child." Back in 1997, Hillary Clinton pleaded in her syndicated column that Chelsea "should be allowed to be a regular teenager ... should be left alone to mature."

Fair enough. It was easy to sympathize back when Chelsea was all braces and frizz.

But when does the maturing process end? At what age does true adulthood kick in? At 18? 21? 30? Somewhere within this murky sea lies Chelsea, almost 19.

And that's part of the problem here: Our society as a whole is fuzzy about when the age of innocence ends.

Nowadays, it is common -- condoned, even -- for many of us to postpone the trappings of true "adulthood" well into our 20s, even our 30s.

Who can blame us? We're granted maturity only in stages: we can have sex or marry at age 16; drive at 17; vote at 18 -- but can't drink until we're 21, and can't get service at the Hertz rental counter until we turn 25.

About all that's left undefined is the age when you can handle media inquiries.

So it's understandable that reasonable people can disagree -- that People Managing Editor Carol Wallace can look at Chelsea and see a "poised young adult," while my "almost" 70-year-old dad can look at Chelsea and see just "a kid." (Not surprising, from the man who still thinks I'm just "a kid," and undoubtedly will think so when I'm collecting Social Security.)

The truth probably lies somewhere in between.

And so one has to wonder: Will Chelsea's "teen" years really end next year, when she turns 20? Or will Hillary still be pleading for privacy until Chelsea graduates -- from med school?