Oh I know, I haven’t written in a while. All I can say is that it’s been a long year. But here I am back, just like the proverbial bad penny.

See the kid in the photo? Yes, that’s Anon back in the fall of 1952. I look smug, don’t I? ‘All the way with Adlai.’ There have been times in my life when I’ve felt as if I were the herald of lost causes.

Not long ago, I asked a friend who he was going to vote for president. He said that he wasn’t going to vote for Hillary Clinton, “I just don’t like her.” I replied that you don’t have to ‘like’ the candidate you’re voting for – you just have to know that he or she can do the job and do it well.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about why I’m so sanguine about politics and politicians. I suppose it goes back to the evening of the 14th of July 1960. Well, let me set this up for you.

It’s the afternoon of the 10th of July and we’re headed down to the Los Angeles airport. Governor Stevenson is due to arrive any minute. He is going to fight the upstart Senator from Massachusetts. The ‘we’ is my aunt, my mother and I. We join a group of people waiting on the tarmac of the far runway off of Imperial Boulevard. We park and join a small group of people. Teresa Wright is cheerleading the group and we try to decide to sing “Happy Days are Here Again,” or “The Gang’s All Here,” when the Governor arrives. Someone complains about the “what the hell do we care,” in the latter so it’s decided that we’ll go with “Happy Days are Here Again.”

Finally, the private plane lands not far away (propeller, not jet) and we all rush over and break out in many choruses of the FDR theme song. The skies, indeed, seemed blue again.

We would go on to picket the L.A. Sports Arena for the next 3 days. The ‘we’ was the Stevenson supporters within the California Democratic Delegation. We made our signs and marched and marched. At lulls in the floor fight over delegates, various members of the California delegation would come out and try to boost our morale. Various reporters would visit our little group. More often we’d find them at a local bar when we took a break. I quickly found out which reporters were the heavy drinkers (most of them).

Wednesday, the night of the 14th, finally arrived and late in the evening one of our delegates came out and said, “it’s over. Kennedy’s wrapped it up. The governor has conceded to Kennedy. You might as well come in.” It was over. There was a rumor that the deal struck between Stevenson and Kennedy would be that the governor would be the Secretary of State. We put our signs down and walked dejectedly in the hall.

We couldn’t sit downstairs, as that was reserved for delegates, so we climbed the stairs to an upper level. When we got up there, we sat down next to some Johnson supporters. If anyone were any lower than we were, it was the Johnson supporters. I remember them sitting there with all of their LBJ regalia. ‘Lower than a snake’s belly,’ would probably be how they would have put it.
They felt that JFK was ‘slicker than deer guts on a gate post.’ Of course, LBJ hadn’t yet been selected as V.P., so they might have cheered up the next day.

We turned our attention to the main floor. The roll call was reaching its climax. Finally, as I remember, Wisconsin put JFK over the top. All of a sudden the balloons and the confetti fell from the ceiling. Then, everything turned red and white and blue. There was music and noise. I had never seen anything like it. As miserable as I was, I couldn’t help but be excited by the spectacle in front of me. I hung over the balcony and just soaked it in. Was there anything as amazing as what I was seeing? I was gobsmacked.

Finally, the color drained away. The music died down. Even the noise dampened as the delegates shuffled out of the arena, all their energy spent. We trudged out to our car. As my mother started the engine, she said, “Let’s go see the Governor! He’s staying at the Townhouse, it’s not that far.” So, off we went.

When we arrived at the Townhouse on Wilshire Boulevard, there was no one around. We sat down on a ledge by the front door and waited for the governor. A woman arrived and as she was about to go into the hotel turned around and looking at our Stevenson buttons said, “Are you waiting for the governor?” We nodded. “Well then, come on upstairs.” She assured us it would be more comfortable in the governor’s suite. She was Mrs. Monroney, the wife of Mike Monroney, the Democratic senator for Oklahoma.

We thanked her and followed her up to the suite. There were many movers and shakers of the Democratic Party there. And there we were a couple of nobodies who didn’t really belong. There were hors d’oeuvres and drinks. The atmosphere wasn’t quite funereal, but it was like a wake. No one seemed to know what mood to assume. They were all waiting to take their cue from Stevenson.

Then, the door opened and Governor Stevenson walked in. I can only describe the smile on his face as beatific. Here was a man who had everything he wanted in the world. It was at that moment that the penny dropped for me. He had cut a deal with Kennedy and was promised Secretary of State. He had used us to put pressure on JFK. Stevenson knew that he could never get the nomination again. LBJ had more of a chance than Stevenson had and Johnson had lost out fairly early.

So, here was my hero. He had been my hero for the past 8 years and he had sold us out. He never had any intention of standing for the nomination. All he wanted was to be Secretary of State. Of course, as we all know now, Dean Rusk ended up as Kennedy’s Secretary of State. Stevenson was shunted off to the U.N. where he was to have his last big moment during the Cuban missile crisis. When he dropped dead in London a few years later, I didn’t shed a tear for him. I never had a political hero again.

Lessons learned: 1. don’t ever make a politician or any living person your hero. They’re merely human. It’s not fair to them to assume that they’re somehow more. 2. Don’t try to meet those whom you admire. It’ll only break your heart. Finally, 3. You don’t have to like them to vote for them. You only have to feel that they will be able to enact the policies that will be good for the nation. I still have that poster and the button. Here’s a trivia question: Who was Stevenson’s running mate in ‘52? (answer: John Sparkman).

By the way

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