One of the really cool things about working on Capitol Hill – and I recommend it heartily for young people who can put up with living on slave wages and working in cramped, communal quarters, with noise levels roughly equivalent to an airport runway – is that you get to hang out with famous, and often historic, personages all the time.
Like the time I was talking to Senator Grassley’s personal secretary and heard a booming sound, like many running waters, directly behind me. I said, “I’ve heard that voice before… it’s Moses!” And turned to find myself (all 5’9” of me) staring at Charlton Heston at what seemed like navel level.
Or when you get to crane your heads around the door to see a Supreme Court nominee heading in. Or sit behind the boss at a televised hearing where he’s grilling headline-makers. It’s reflected glory, all right, but it’s always fun to have a front row seat on history. (PS – on the business side, the same fun can be had in public relations, where you get to hang out with the truly rich as well as famous. Not to mention ride in limos with them and get all kinds of freebies. But I digress.)
The reason I bring this up, of course, is to throw into the pot a couple of reminiscences of the late, great Senator Ted Kennedy. I saw Senator Kennedy all the time during my two stints on the Senate Labor and Human Resources staff, but only got up-close and personal a few times.
One time was when I was boarding an elevator in the Hart Senate Office Building, and the Senator rushed up to join me. It was during the ill-fated (for Beantown fans) 1986 playoffs, so the obvious excuse to start a conversation was to mention his hometown nine.
I don’t recall the exact exchange, but I do remember that Senator’s lament – punctuated with a pungent expletive – that he had tickets to the game but would miss it because the World’s Greatest Legislative Body would be working late that night. I never had much use for the Senator’s politics, but I figured that anyone that passionate about baseball – even the hated Red Sox – couldn’t be all bad.
But the far more compelling encounter demonstrated conclusively the truth of JFK’s contention that Ted was the best politician in the family. Senator Orrin Hatch – who, BTW, was a beloved friend of the Massachusetts legend – and I were climbing out of a car onto the sidewalk outside the Senator’s entrance to the Russell Building when Senator Kennedy stepped out of the car in front of us … and directly into the path of two young female tourists.
The girls, suddenly face-to-face with one of the most famous leaders in American history, froze in awe. So the Senator, with a broad grin, grabbed a camera from one of the young ladies, handed it to his driver, stood between the two with an arm around each, and struck the classic pose as the aide snapped away. He handed the camera back to the girls – who had barely moved a muscle – and with a wave, disappeared into the building.
At which point the damsels shrieked and jumped up and down.
That, my friends, is talent. And it is born, not made. What a pol!