0In my college days I was required to intern someplace related to my major, which was political science. I ended up spending a year interning at one of then Senator Rick Santorum's congressional offices in Pennsylvania. Most of my hours were spent fielding calls, answering mail, and sometimes doing something slightly more interesting, like making copies for the guy who did expense reports for the woman who drafted the speeches that the Senator's speech writer used when he gave speeches.
But one time, it must have been in 1995 or 1996, I was tasked with driving some staffers to a meeting with Senator Bob Dole, who at that time was either running for or already had the GOP nomination. I was promised a photo op with Dole, which seemed pretty cool since he was a good dude-- war hero and all that.
The entire drive down there I had three or four people reminding me, over and over, to "not shake the Senator's bad hand." They reminded me that Dole's combat disability prevented him from using his right arm, so he always fixed a pen in that hand to prevent people from shaking it. Since I'd be getting my photo snapped just after Dole gave a speech and there would be press present, it was forced upon me not to shake his bad hand. Over and over.
It being my last year of college and the internship being unpaid, I was never the star intern. You would think conservative Santorum's staff would have appreciated that you get what you paid for, but there was always an undercurrent of discontent with my labor there, and suggestions that I needed to be watched. Perhaps it was my stalwart defense of Santorum. For some reason most of the interns and staff didn't like the Senator, which I saw not so much as treasonous as just plain silly. Why work for a politician if you don't agree with them? Or maybe it was my tendency to hang up on conspiracy theorists, who were forever calling the office and going on about the jews, blacks, handicapped, or jewish, black, handicapped people, consorting to ruin America (this was right around the time of welfare reform-- a measure I agreed with then and now-- but an idea which seemed to inspire the worst in a large number of the Senator's constituents). I had a rule. I would let someone swear or offend me once, but not twice. Twice in one phone call and I would just hang up. They would then call back and likely get some other intern, who would explain that the hang up was in error. But since the nutcases were the regular callers, they eventually found out I was the guy you needed to speak to like a human being. In my own way then, I think I brought some civility to political discourse in western Pennsylvania.
But this and other actions (I tended to be late a lot, I took long lunches playing "Cruisin' the World" at the video arcade near the office, I attended the Christmas party and ate the last chocolate chip cookie) caused me to be one of the least trusted interns.
So with this in mind I watched the two Republican senators give their speech-- I seem to think it was about healthcare-- and then lined up for my handshake. I had a "Dole for President" sign, which Santorum dutifully signed (he likely knew I was one of his posse, since we were all in a group together, but it's not like we had time to talk-- and what would I have mentioned, that a lot of people calling the office thought welfare benefits were the route to hell?). Dole popped up, and I shoved my sign in his face, being young and excited and discourteous. He signed it and then passed it back to me. reporters were barking questions and cameras were snapping all around. Dole was fielding autograph requests and answering questions with one of those immutable smiles professional politicians paint on. He turned in my direction again and, wanting to press my luck, I reached to shake his hand.
I got nothing but pen.
It was hugely embarrassing, because all of my co-unpaid workers saw this go down. Dole was quite kind about it though, and just shifted hands. But the damage was done. It was a miserable ride back.
But I saved that sign. I saw it when I visited my parents last summer. It was sitting in their basement next to a "Back to the Future" poster and an old telescope. This was right in the heat of last year's race, and I glanced at the thing sort of briefly thinking "too bad he doesn't have a shot-- that might be worth something one day." A few months later, after Santorum conquered Iowa and rode a wave of evangelical statists to the top of the GOP heap, I thought more seriously about that sign. If he could somehow secure the GOP nod, I realized, that sign might be worth more than just a few ounces of silver.
So I wouldn't say I've been cheering for Santorum, these past few months. I'm a Ron Paul guy, of course. But I did watch his ascent with a slightly hopeful interest and now that his dream has ended, I feel like a stake of my own has been lost.
Santorum was a nice guy, incidentally, when he did come by the office that year. I found him to be exceptionally honest and sincere and I never had any impression he was anything but deeply interested in working hard for his constituents and country. Good luck to him and his staffers, and I apologize for eating the last chocolate chip cookie that Christmas 17 or so years ago.