You take it correctly.
You knew that I would one day need to know all about the political arena if I was to carry
Your message to the nation—and, indeed, to the world—in every effective way.
It was you who knew that. You’ve always known that you wanted to bring new hope to the
world, and you understood very well at a deep level that politics, as well as religion, were two
areas where changes would have to be made if new hope was to be born, much less endure.
I’ve always been interested in politics, from the time I was a kid. I just happened (ahem) to
have been given a father who was steeped in local politics much of his life. He worked for
candidates, he made sure that he knew the people holding office, and our house was always
filled with judges and aldermen and ward healers and precinct captains, many of whom
regularly played cards with my dad.
When I arrived in Annapolis at nineteen, the first thing I did was get to know Joe Griscom, the
mayor, and Joe Alton, the county sheriff. Inasmuch as I worked for the local radio station, I
was, nominally, a member of the “working press.” So I had a little easier time getting to see
these men. I also had something to offer—a little airtime never hurt any politician—and I gave
both Joe’s plenty.
Not long after I met him, Joe Alton ran for the State Senate from our district and won. I liked
Joe immensely; most folks did. He won his elections by wide margins, and when some
citizens of Anne Arundel County began pushing for a charter form of government, Joe was
corralled into heading up the movement. I became involved in the campaign for home rule,
and when it was victorious, Joe Alton went on to be elected Anne Arundel’s first county
executive.
Several years later, when I found myself back in Annapolis at The Anne Arundel Times, Joe
Alton called one day.
He liked the way I’d been covering county government, and now he was running for another
term as county executive and needed a press aid. But his call didn’t come to me. It went to
Jay.
I guess he didn’t want to offend the owners of the local weekly and figured he’d better ask
before he offered me a job. Jay walked into my office one afternoon about three or four
months before he died—and said, “Your friend Joe wants you to come to work on his
campaign.”
My heart jumped. I was always being given these incredible opportunities. They were always
dropping in my lap. Jay saw my excitement. “I guess you’re going, eh?”
I didn’t want to disappoint him. “I won’t leave if you really need me,” I said. “You’ve been
great to me, and I owe you.
“No, you don’t,” Jay corrected me. “You owe yourself. Always remember that. If you can have
something you want without hurting somebody, you owe it to yourself to go after it. Clean up
your desk and scram.
“Right now?”