The seduction of power

But, there was I, sitting at the reception desk of the Adlai Stevenson suite in the Stevens Hotel (now the Conrad Hilton) on Michigan Boulevard, during the 1956 Democratic Party National Convention in good ol’ Chicago, my home town.

I had been walking down LaSalle Street when I ran into Newton Minow, a classmate at Northwestern University, now chief of staff for Stevenson, who later became famous for his "Vast Wasteland” speech about commercial TV while he was chair of the Federal Communications Commission under Jack Kennedy.

How could I turn down his offer to man that front desk for the convention’s five days? Boy! What a lesson in national politics! Good enough to turn me off for the rest of my life.

What power for a 31 year old! John Dean, later a counsel for Richard Nixon during the Watergate fiasco, wrote a memoir about "blind ambition.” Was he ever right.

Just being around power seduces one. Everyone who was anyone associated with the Democratic Party, needed to get by me to confab with the Great Party Guru. I got to chat with Lyndon Johnson, Hubert Humphrey and many others not even remembered today, as well as get pretty friendly with Bobby Kennedy.

And, also, those who felt they should be important. I’ll never forget the guy from Louisville, Ky., who stood looking down at this peon at the front desk, repeating five times, "You haven’t heard of me! I publish four newspapers around Louisville!” as he demanded tickets to Stevenson’s personal box at the convention. Didn’t he know who I was?

One finds that one does things, one would never think of doing before. I was asked to follow and report on Avril Harriman, who was Stevenson’s chief opponent for the nomination.

Then, realization hit! I’m trailing and spying upon a man who was a political and economic giant of the 20th century. One who, among many other important jobs, had been Franklin Roosevelt’s special envoy to Europe during WW II, ambassador to the Soviet Union and Britain, secretary of commerce and governor of New York State. Moi? I’m trailing him? I hit myself on the side of my head and went back to my desk.

Then, I was designated to sort the mass of mail addressed to Stevenson, to fish out the relevant ones. Oh! What one learns about so many of the minds of our fellow Americans

Since, Jack Kennedy was pushing for the nomination for vice president, many were agonizing about that prospect. Did you know if Jack Kennedy got into a spot in the White House, that the pope would have an office right next door to him? I didn’t know that.

Did you?

The scariest incident was when I joined a Secret Service man and Chicago policeman to guard Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt at a reception at the Standard Oil building, hosted by Stevenson.

A thousand were invited, perhaps four thousand showed up. In the reception line, Jack Kennedy and Jackie slipped up behind us, and as Jack, still bucking for the nomination, tugged child-like and humbly on Stevenson’s sleeve, Jackie looked on vapidly.

The crush became too dangerous and the Secret Serviceman insisted we get to the elevators and up to the 26th floor suite reserved for Mrs. Roosevelt.

What a trip! We needed to carve our way through rockstar-like, grinning, adult groupies who were desperately reaching to touch the celebrity.

On the elevator seeing me soaking wet and panting, Mrs. Roosevelt attempted to comfort me. "You know, my old friend, Mahatma Ghandi — they have many people there in India, you know — told me, ‘Just smile and wave and they will part like a sea.’”

"Maybe, they will for you, Mrs. Roosevelt, but not for me. I would drown smiling and waving.”

But, there was a disappointment there in the suite. While I watched Stevenson part from the powerful to warmly greet his three sons, she was acknowledging those of her children there, Franklin, Jr., John and Ann and their spouses, so diffidently they could have been just acquaintances. Do the powerful not know how to show love and embrace their children?

The final disillusionment came on the day after the acceptance speech. Alone in the suite, I set about tidying up.

Then, I made a discovery, something that had been lied about to the press. While his aides were repeatedly denying that Stevenson was meeting with special interests, such as the autoworkers union president Walther Reuther, I found in the rear of the suite was a staircase leading down to the rooms below, up and down which these special interest traipsed to bargain in their quest for favors.

But, the final stroke, the coup de gras was when I entered the inner sanctum — entrance forbidden to all except the most privy of the would-be king’s councilors — a room to which they retired most frequently during the height of the political warfare.

There on the table were two piles of papers. The concern was that President Harry S. Truman, supporting the nomination of Avril Harriman, would stage a last ditch skirmish on his behalf.

So, on one side were raves about the greatness of the retiring president, rival to George Washington and Abraham Lincoln in his importance to the nation. On the other side was a pile of the most scurrilous of comments about a president who was just this side of Ghengis Khan in his barbaric rule of the nation.

It’s called "spin,” raised to a high art by today’s propaganda ministers for the incumbents and their challengers.

But, it was enough to provoke a major crisis in my own life. It was called, "The Death of Illusion.”

So, "Farewell sweet Prince. Parting national politics is such sweet sorrow but I ain’t gonna be around here no more tomorrow.”

And, so, beloved nation, you’re just going to have to deal with them national politicians without me.

Keith Kreitman has been a Foster City resident for 21 years. He is a retired musician, playwright and interior designer with degrees in political science and journalism. He is host of "Focus on the Arts” on Peninsula TV. His columns run in the weekend edition.