They’re all just guys with their hands out

GUESTWORK | Phil Bradley

I have met Barack Obama twice. And I must say, I expected greater things.

I have shaken hands with every president from Harry Truman to Obama. Some were memorable, some inspiring, some just guys hustling for votes. And I met them at different stages in their lives.

Truman was a feisty old man, here to raise funds for his friend Paul Powell in his Secretary of State race. Truman held a press conference and would only answer reporters who stood politely to ask a question of a former President of the United States. He lived up to the tagline “Give ’em Hell Harry.”

I was a volunteer driver when Nixon motorcaded to the fairgrounds Grandstand. He acknowledged us each personally, and later sent lovely thank you letters.

Gerald Ford wandered through the cars on his campaign train...but the poet/songwriter riding with him was more exciting.

The Clintons, then the first family of Arkansas, were boarding a cruise boat at Navy Pier during a legislative conference. Even then they carried with them an air of excitement and glamor. I never believed him when he said “I never had sex with that woman.” I had seen him pressing into that Chicago crowd filled with good-looking young things. And with his wife at his side.

Ronald Reagan was just a guy lecturing to little conservative groups when I ran into him in the hallway of a Holiday Inn near O’Hare. He was alone, his brown coat was dusted with snow and he was carrying a suitcase. He looked tired, ready for bed after a long flight. But we talked....then parted. I walked away from the man I had intruded on, feeling upbeat, chipper and smiling. He had warmed that lonely place just as he would go on to warm the spirit of America.

Eisenhower smiled and waved.

Jimmy Carter was just a politician working a rope line. Kennedy was a brilliant comet which blew in to Capital Airport late at night in a flash of star-struck cheering. Waiting so long for him, I had walked way to the far end of the tarmac where there was no security, then doubled back and stood at the foot of the airplane stairs, one of the first to greet JFK when the plane came in.

Johnson, a big tough-talking Texan, came to Illinois College as the speaker at a family member’s graduation, then back into the limo, snapping orders as to who should sit where. In those days the crowd seemed to like it. Vietnam was later.

I met the elder George Bush the day after he lost the Iowa primary. He dutifully showed up at Republican State Headquarters as announced. I learned if you are the only guy there to greet the newly defeated you get a great photo op, no charge. Bush was gracious and determined.

But Obama. Obama was different.

We first talked at a meeting of a small health policy group in Chicago, the kind of wild-eyed dreamers that the Medical Society can’t stand. The room was crowded, grubby, kind of like a faculty lounge. The subject was singlepayer health care. Obama was for it.

Knew the issues. Spoke engagingly, eloquently. Wanted us to have what Canada has. I thought he was the real goods.

The next time I was with Obama, he was a candidate in the primary for U.S. senator from Illinois. We brunched, in the conference room of an expensive law firm with stunning views of the river and the lake. Big bucks were being raised (not from me, but one of our firm’s lobbyists let me tag along).

Obama was smooth, polished, thoughtful. He paused for effect. Wasn’t sure about his stand on a lot of stuff. The crusader was hidden. He was the man who would later sell out single payer so the insurance companies could become allies. They weren’t going to do to him what they did to Hillary.

He was a fellow who could put his arm around you, smile and promise, “If you like your doctor, you can keep your doctor. If you like your health plan, you can keep your health plan.”

It was a great talk. He made great speeches. Who knew he was lying?

Phil Bradley of Springfi eld is a retired civil servant and health care executive. He has been a political junkie all his life. Politicians keep sticking out their hands and he keeps shaking them.