Last month marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of a gubernatorial election that “shocked the world,” a phrase used by the winner of that particular contest. Although this was obviously hyperbole, it’s accurate to note, it certainly shocked me. That said, I was overcome with a vague premonition about four o’clock the afternoon of Election Day, 1998.
The story I’m about to tell – one of my rare stories featuring Republicans – also coincides with the release of Liz Cheney’s recently published book, “Oath and Honor: A Memoir and a Warning.” I admit, it’s unlikely I’ll read it, although I have watched several interviews with former Congresswoman Cheney talking about her book and certainly admire her truth-searching and truth-telling about January 6, 2001. (Had SHE been a player in this tale, I might have gone in search of the book, but the story here is really about her parents.)
This episode took place the summer of 2000 at a corporate board social event, “social” meaning spouses were invited… and I was a spouse. At that time, our family lived in the Twin Cities and Paula’s corporate duties included serving as staff liaison to the board for her division of a financial services organization. The board she worked with included several politicians, including a former Republican governor, a former Republican senator, and a former Chair of the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) appointed by President Reagan.
Through these annual gatherings, I got acquainted with Arne Carlson, former Minnesota Governor; Alan Simpson, former Wyoming Senator; and Lynne Cheney, former NEH Chair, whose husband, Dick, then CEO of Halliburton, was leading the search for George W. Bush’s vice-presidential nominee. As fate would have it, Paula and I were seated with the Cheneys at the formal dinner that evening.
I’ll admit I wasn’t tracking on the Cheney family at that point in my life. I knew Dick had been in Congress and had served as Secretary of Defense. Lynne was much more congenial in that setting and knew most of the 30+ people in the room. For much of the evening, Dick bore the serious, somber demeanor he became famous for. Evidently his thoughts were elsewhere, as he excused himself several times during the meal to take, or perhaps make, phone calls.
Perhaps he was instructing their dog sitter…. or maybe an urgent Halliburton issue required his attention. Of course, he might have been chatting with the man who ultimately chose him as his running mate. At any rate, Dick returned to the table just as the conversation veered toward a discussion of Minnesota’s unconventional one-term Governor, Jesse Ventura, elected in 1998, a source of considerable bewilderment both in Minnesota and nationally.
Rather than launch into an analysis of the vagaries of a three-candidate race (Ventura had been the Reform Party candidate), I simply told the table my Election Day, 1998 story.
Our daughters’ school was a mile-plus from our home and I drove them whenever available. On Election Day that year, I preached a bit enroute. “Today we vote, and you’ll undoubtedly have a ‘mock election’ in school. I want you to know that Skip Humphrey, candidate for Governor, has been our state’s Attorney General. He’s Hubert Humphrey’s son, and Hubert was my political hero for decades. Furthermore, your great-great aunt, Clara, who I realize you never knew, was the Humphrey family babysitter many decades ago and, as the family story goes, ‘diapered little Skip’s bottom’. So, in your election today, may I strongly suggest you cast your vote for Skip Humphrey!” Blah, blah, blah.
After school, the kids returned home. “So, how was your day? …Did you have a mock election?” “Oh yes, Daddy,” says Ellie, our sixth grader. “The election was, well, awful. There was only one vote in the whole room for Humphrey.” “Oh, honey, don’t worry; it’s just a pretend election. You stood up for what you believed in, which takes courage. I’m so proud of you!”
“Oh, Daddy, it wasn’t ME. I voted for Jesse!”
Suffice to say, our future Vice President reacted to this story with considerable gusto. Known for his weak heart (he’s since had a transplant), at that instant, Dick Cheney was unrestrained, full-throated, red-faced in merriment. Sharing this moment of mirth revealed humanity in a person not much known for humor. We connected, however briefly.
Despite significant political differences, I respect Dick and Lynne Cheney, a reaction now extended to their daughter Liz. I recall our interaction that evening, and also several pleasant dinners with Senator and Mrs. Simpson, with a certain warmth. Respect and our shared humanity are small – but essential – steps toward bridging serious national divisions.
Postscript: In October 2004, former Governor Arne Carlson, a Republican, and I were drinking beer and talking politics in a New London, Connecticut bar – Parent’s Weekend at our daughters’ college. Their daughter was a sophomore, ours a freshman. We shared how we intended to vote in six races on that fall’s ballot and found ourselves aligned on all six. Governor Carlson reminded me he had served on Hubert Humphrey’s staff in the late 1950s while admitting that my party occasionally ran better candidates. Again, shared humanity; considerable respect. (Governor Carlson has since changed his party registration to Independent.)
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I’m pleased to be part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. My talented colleagues:
Ventura was likely an early harbinger of Trump, without the misanthropism; clearly a populist. That he struck a vein of support is undeniable, and the Ellie story is worth every Substack I will read today--thank you!