August 9, 2007 Issue

My entire life I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s not what you know, but who you know.” Generally these words are uttered by someone bitter over a real or imagined slight. You know, a job given to someone unqualified because they knew someone in power within the establishment. This has never been an accusation levied at me because I’ve never known anyone wielding any power that could be exercised on my behalf. Until now…

Monday night a lot of people with a whole lot more money than I will ever have, were eager to give up a nice chunk of it to be in the same area with former president Bill Clinton, but I’ll was there too. I’ll go representing the ever-shrinking and ever-poorer middle class. This has come to pass because over the past few years, I’ve come to know and admire Charles Morgan.

When he was younger, so his wife Carla tells me, Charles aspired to be a journalist. Somehow he never took that path and instead became an incredibly successful restaurateur. However, the niggling desire to put his thoughts down on paper stayed with him and ultimately he began writing a column for this newspaper.

To be honest, when publisher Jim Patricelli first told me Charles wanted to write a column, I did an inward groan. Lots of people think they can write, but few really can. Luckily for me, Charles was the happy exception. He was rusty when he first started, but as the years have gone by, his skills have dramatically increased and his natural talent at writing coherent sentences is seen every fortnight. All I have to do is smooth the feathers of those who take umbrage at his political stances, pointing out to them that in America, everyone gets an opinion, and some of them are printed.

During this time, Charles and I have become friendly. We share a love of reading, writing essays and dogs. He is conscientious about getting his column written for deadline and respects my opinion — more than that, one cannot ask of a colleague.

Since I took the journalism route for my life’s calling and sadly I have not become rich and famous, I couldn’t write the big check that allows one through the door tonight, so Charles arranged it for me. All day long I was half afraid something would happen to prevent my going…I would fall and hurt myself, someone would hit me in my car, etc.

I managed not to self-destruct and was actually there when former president Clinton arrived. In typical Clinton fashion, he worked the non-paying crowd outside first. The inside crowd was gracious about it — after all, being one of the people is his stock-in-trade and we were going to get a lot more of him than those outside, plus we were being plied with food and drink. ‘’

I strategically placed myself along the path he would take and he shook my hand upon entry. I told him he looked wonderful, and he did, although a bit tired. He was smaller than he seems on television, but his grin is huge and his handshake firm and warm.

He is a trooper, having his photo taken with everyone who wanted one. These advance guys don’t miss a trick. You provide them with your email — for future donation requests no doubt — and they provide you with a web site to go visit to download your photo. I was there so I had my picture taken with the former president (there have only been 43 and he is one of them) and told him how nice it was of him to do this for people.

His speech was succinct, probably because it was so hot. Somehow neither Clinton nor the secret service agents looked like they were hot, while the rest of us, supposedly accustomed to this weather, were limp with sweat. Clinton outlined the reasons he thought his wife was the best qualified to be president. He did not bash George W. Bush, nor mention him by name. It was short, eloquent, and he did not have a single visible note or cue card. His eyes remained fixed on the crowd the entire time.

When he left, he somehow again found my hand and thanked ME for being so kind. He visited the crowd outside again too. I can’t say I’ve been in the Hillary camp all along, but his speech will force me into further investigation, because the ideas he outlined seemed sensible and good for America and I hope they were said because they are feasible and not just the words of a very polished politician.

Whatever happens with the election, I shook the hand of a former president three times. When I got home, that hand helped push my garbage can to the street — just to keep my feet planted firmly on solid ground.

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