I came to Washington and was hired as the first intern for newly elected Senator Birch Bayh. Little did I know, for the next 10 years I would work for a man who spent 18 years literally “bending” history. One historian characterized Senator Bayh as one of the “most consequential law makers of the 20th century.”
In the 60’s and 70’s, Senators and Congressmen were revered and respected. There were no “tweets” or “twitters”. Politics in those days was a much more personal and civil vocation. You always respected your opponent. You never questioned your opponent’s motives. Bipartisanship was practiced daily. Friendships were formed across Party lines.
As one involved in the political part of the process rather than the governing aspect of staff work, I personally witnessed several particularly poignant moments. Here are a few that made a lasting impression on me.
Birch Bayh Ear Tug
Each year, public officials find themselves in large crowds with constituents elbowing their way to shake hands, urge a position on an issue, ask for help, or believe it or not, voice a complaint!! While some elected officials have better memories than others, no one has a good enough memory to perfectly handle such a situation. Senator Bayh and his staff devised a system for use in his Presidential campaign of 1978.
Presidential campaigns are particularly difficult because you are constantly in very large crowds where there are many you do not know. Our system involved having at least four staff within the Senator’s eyesight. If the Senator touched his ear while talking with a guest, that was our signal to reach out to that individual when he left the Senator. It was our job to find out why the Senator felt this person would be a potential help to the Senator’s campaign and hopefully obtain a business card. Later, we would record our findings on handy index cards.
On the plane home, we combined our index cards and the first draft of our state file was completed.
One Night at the Batesville Casket Company
The affair was held at the summer resort of the Batesville Casket Company owned by John Hillenbrand, a large contributor to the Democratic Party and owner of one of the largest casket companies in the country. He held a gathering for the entire Democratic Party in southern Indiana. About twenty counties were involved. I saw her heading straight for the Senator, tears streaming down her face. This was going to be a challenge. She was going to share her problem, whatever it might be, with Senator Bayh.
I approached her and learned that her husband, a small-town mayor, had recently died. She was here to see Birch one last time. This was a part of her life that she would no longer have. I learned her name and was about to give it to the Senator when the crowd shifted, and she reached him before I could. After a few minutes with the Senator, she then hit him with the line that every political staffer dreads most. She blurted out, “And I bet you don’t even know my name!” Senator Bayh didn’t even flinch. He embraced her and said, “What do you mean? How’s my favorite gal from Green County!” She hugged him tighter and nearly screamed, “You DO remember me!”
I couldn’t wait to get to the car and ask the Senator how he remembered her name. He replied, “I didn’t. I just remembered where I saw her last.”
I mentioned the incident to my immediate superior, Bob Boxell, and he said, “He’s not the best with names that I’ve ever seen, but he’s the best with putting people in a place where he saw them last.”
A Night in Columbus, Indiana
Congressman Lee Hamilton was one of the finest public servants and greatest politicians I’ve ever known. He was elected in 1965 and served Indiana’s 9th District for 34 years. Upon his retirement he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Obama.
I became friends with Congressman Hamilton’s Administrative Assistant, Dave McFall, and we hatched a plan that Dave would persuade the Congressman to ask Senator Bayh if I could take a leave of absence to serve as office manager and volunteer coordinator for the first Hamilton re-election campaign. The deal was struck. The campaign was the first of six in which I participated.
As the campaign was approaching Election Day, the campaign staff suggested to the Congressman that we stage a large outdoor rally in downtown Columbus. We suggested that we seek Senator Robert Kennedy as the main speaker. The Congressman issued the invitation and Senator Kennedy accepted.
On a dusky evening in October, 1969, a light plane carrying the Senator taxied to a stop at the outskirts of Columbus, Indiana. Senator Kennedy, Congressman Hamilton, Dave McFall, and I proceeded through the Indiana countryside heading toward an overflow crowd in central Columbus. Outside of town, we noticed a clump of people standing along the road. As we drew near them, we saw three small boys, each holding a plastic bronze bust of President John F. Kennedy.
Senator Kennedy asked that the car stop. He rolled down the window, greeted the kids and their excited parents and said, “Kids, I don’t have time now. I’m on my way to give a speech for Congressman Hamilton. But if you’re here when I ‘m on my way back to the airport, I’ll stop and if you have a camera, we’ll have a picture together.”
The speech and the crowd reaction were a rousing success. Congressman Hamilton was re-elected not only for his second term but also for 30 more years.
As we were returning to the airport, we spotted the mom and dad, each holding a flashlight, along with three sleepy kids waiting by the side of the road.
The promised picture was taken, thank you’s and goodbyes were exchanged, and Senator Kennedy headed to the airport.
Somewhere in the outskirts of Columbus today, I’ll bet there’s still a picture in the den of the homes of three men who are now in their 60’s of the three of them, their mom and dad, and Senator Robert Kennedy, and Congressman Lee Hamilton—this picture captured the heart and spirit of Senator Kennedy.
And I’ll bet three kids in Columbus, Indiana, had a show-and-tell experience that’s never been equaled.