Remembering John McCain

As America honors and celebrates the life of Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) this week, most will remember him as an American war hero. A graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, he became a pilot and after his plane was shot down in Vietnam, he was captured and endured unspeakable torture in a North Vietnamese prisoner of war camp for six years. When he returned home, he pursued a lifelong career of public service.

He was one who spoke his mind and wasn’t afraid to stand up against his own party from time to time as a “Maverick.” He was an especially fierce advocate for military and veterans issues. Although he fell short in both of his presidential runs, he earned the admiration and respect of many on both sides of the aisle.

He was also known for his witty sense of humor. One of my favorite lines occurred frequently on the presidential campaign trail when Senator McCain was describing the dismally low single-digit approval ratings of the U.S. Congress. He often joked that the only supporters left were “paid staffers and blood relatives.”

If you have worked in Washington, DC political circles for any significant period of time over the last several decades, chances are that you have a story about an interaction with Sen. John McCain. I have a few but here are my top two.

Don Imus Roast
In October 1999, there was a dinner in Washington, DC to benefit the Spina Bifida Association. Several U.S. Senators (including Sen. McCain) and media personalities were on hand to roast Don Imus and the fundraiser was covered live on C-SPAN2. I was working at C-SPAN at the time and went to the dinner to meet up with my friend Jeff Green who was a producer for the MSNBC simulcast of the Imus in the Morning radio show.

After the dinner, people were moving around the room and chatting with several of the event’s participants. At one point, I found myself standing next to Sen. McCain. I was a little starstruck but mustered up enough courage to turn toward him to introduce myself. He smiled and said hello as I shook his hand. I thanked him for his service and for being a strong role model for young people like me interested in politics. I told him that I worked at C-SPAN and that I had a few friends who had proudly worked for him over the years. As he began to ask me a question, someone tugged on his elbow and abruptly pulled him away to speak with someone else.

I didn’t really think much of it at the time. After all, he was a household name. He was an American war hero and a powerful sitting U.S. Senator in the middle of a presidential campaign. Of course his attentions would be needed elsewhere. I moved on and continued chatting with others in the room.

About a half hour later, as the evening was winding down, I felt a tap on my shoulder and I was shocked when I turned around to see that it was Sen. McCain. Before I could say anything, he jumped in right away to apologize profusely for how he was rudely pulled away earlier and that he wanted to finish our conversation. He thanked me for the role that C-SPAN played in the media landscape to advance the political discourse in the country. We talked about my friends Grant and Heidi Seiffert. Grant was a McCain staffer and Heidi was a C-SPAN colleague and, of course, his face lit up when I mentioned them. It truly is a small world. Then, we wrapped up by talking a little about the campaign before saying goodbye.

All in all, it was about a five minute conversation but I felt on top of the world as I headed home. The fact that he took the time to seek me out a second time was beyond impressive. I was a lowly junior staff person at a cable network but something notable had just happened. In a town filled with some self important, egocentric and power hungry people, Sen. McCain demonstrated the true power of genuine kindness and respect. It was a terrific lesson that one should always strive to be kind to everyone and take the time to learn about others, no matter who they are. He certainly didn’t have to do that, but he did. And I will never forget it.

2004 GOP Convention
A few years later, I was working at the U.S. Department of Education. I took time off in August 2004 to volunteer for the Republican National Convention in New York City in support of President George W. Bush’s campaign to serve a second term.

On the night that President Bush was slated to accept the party’s nomination, I was working on the floor of the convention hall and was in charge of the VIP seating for all the states that begin with A. As is tradition, the president’s home state is in the middle front and center. So, in this case, seating for the Arkansas, Arizona and Alaska delegations was just behind the Texas section.

As the start time for speeches grew closer, the seats began to fill up. I had to double check credentials of many to make sure reserved seats were properly filled but I did recognize some of the VIP delegates because they were either current Members of Congress or Governors. During that time, I had a nice chat with Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee and his wife. I worked with their daughter Sarah, now White House Press Secretary, at the U.S. Department of Education. As we were talking, I noticed a large media scrum had started to form at the back of the convention hall. I would estimate that there were about thirty reporters gathered around someone and they were all steadily moving our way accompanied by more than a dozen video cameras with scores of lights and microphones dangling above.

The crowd quickly doubled in size, picking up fans as it moved down the aisle. At one point, I could clearly see that it was Sen. McCain and his wife Cindy who were the center of attention. Then, as I looked at the Arizona sign that was next to me at the end of the row, it suddenly dawned on me that they were heading my way — and fast!

I tried to position myself so that I could easily help them to their seats but the crowd was quickly upon us and people jostled to get into various advantageous positions. Somehow, I’m still not quite sure how, I found myself in the middle right next to Mrs. McCain and the senator was completely outside the circle. I mean we were literally face-to-face, our noses just inches apart. She saw my volunteer credentials, smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Cindy.” I introduced myself and helped her inside the row close to her seat but we were still awkwardly crunched together by the mixed crowd of media and well-wishers.

We both looked up to see where Sen. McCain was. He was a few people away in the aisle, laughing at the situation while trying to squeeze by. He shouted, “Having fun? Mind if I join you?” I replied, “Of course, sir!” Then, I reached out, grabbed his hand and successfully pulled him through the traffic. He thanked me then the three of us stood there and chatted for a few minutes, smiling at the craziness surrounding us. We had a moment and although it was surreal, I will always treasure it.

Little did I know at the time that all of this was being broadcasted on national television. The live convention pool feed had captured the entire thing for the world to see on all the networks. This was before the era of smartphones and social media but several of my friends who were watching at home or on closed circuit TV emailed me after witnessing it. My BlackBerry was buzzing almost nonstop. I have since looked for a clip of it online but can’t seem to find it anywhere. However, I have the memory and it’s one of my favorites.

Thank you, Senator McCain
Washington, DC can be a rough and tumble town. As they say, “Politics ain’t bean bag.“ However, every once in a while, along comes a person who is special — one who sacrifices and steps up to serve others, who is tough but fair, fights for what’s right, stands on principle, works to create a better future for one’s country and the world, values friends and partnerships, earns the respect and admiration of colleagues and inspires generations to come.

John McCain was such a person and we are all better off for his service.

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