May 15, 2008 09:26 pm
—
Particularly at this time of the year, politicians frequently visited upstairs in the newsroom for interviews with editors who were writing pre-election stories and asking about positions on issues.
I had the opportunity to meet a lot of these people because my work area was on the first floor at the foot of the stairs, and late in the evening, I usually was the only one left in the front office.
At the end of the interview, the candidate would be accompanied downstairs by one of the editors — in those days either Don Mayne or Jay Brushart — with a key for unlocking the front door.
In the late 1950s, The Ironton Tribune was still printing in the old building on Railroad Street, and as a 16-year-old mail room clerk, I was way down the list in seniority and influence.
So, I always considered it a gesture of kindness when Mayne or Brushart, as they did on a number of occasions, took the time to introduce me to the candidate before he left the office.
Most of the office-seekers were competing in local races, but there were also some who either held or were hoping to capture state-level positions and beyond.
As I recall, one of these was former Gov. Frank Lausche, who, after serving for so many years in Ohio’s highest elective office, was then mid-way into his first term as a U.S. Senator.
The chance to meet a former governor and the many others who stopped at the bottom of those stairs were good experiences for a kid my age, but even so, failed to spark anything more than a passing interest in politics.
There was no greater spark until two or three years later.
We were fast approaching a big election and Mayne was marshaling his forces to ensure that all the bases were covered. He and Jack Dennin would be taking the courthouse assignment, and he wanted me there, too.
I’d never worked an election. For that matter, at that early date in my time with The Tribune’s news department, my assignments probably hadn’t yet reached double digits.
I was excited about the prospect. Looking back, however, it wasn’t what I’d expected.
In those days, there were no voting machines. The old paper ballots were all we had, and at the end of the process were locked in boxes which were hand-delivered to the courthouse by the poll workers themselves.
The evening dragged on and on and on. Lawrence County, Ohio, geographically, is a big, big county, and it was well into the night before workers in distant townships like Decatur and Washington finally got to the courthouse.
I watched into the late hours as polling place after polling place reported, and it struck me that many of those who were lugging these boxes into the courthouse had something in common.
They were worn out. They’d been up since before dawn, had spent the entire day at a polling place endeavoring to ensure an orderly process in their township, and now, once again in the darkness, they were dragging.
From that day forward, I’ve had a perspective about politics. On days when I think some people we’ve elected to public office don’t seem to care, I remind myself of the Uncle Bill and Aunt Sally types who believe in the system and work very hard to keep it functioning.
Tuesday is Election Day. Don’t forget to vote.
STAN CHAMPER can be reached at schamper@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2640.
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.