The Mission District of San Francisco could sure put on a stunning early evening in late summer. This was certainly one of those. It turned out to be more lovely than the one I expected it would be. But, I did go to this sunny neighborhood especially to see the man who was appearing there, whatever the weather.
He was an old political hero of mine, and I had been told that to hear him speak in person was truly a treat. So, I went along with a couple friends to listen.
It was late August and the Democratic Convention extravaganza in Atlanta was way over. California was still in contention as a Reagan Republican state at the time. The big campaign guns of the Democratic Party were touring even the choir towns. It was time to get out the vote and narrow the margin with Vice President George Bush, the Republican candidate for the presidency. This particular gathering came amidst that interminably long stretch of back and forth between the party convention nominations and the general election.
Who else to endorse here on the stump the unlikely Democratic nominee for president, Michael Dukakis, the Governor of Massachussetts? It could be none other than the 'Lion of the Senate' also from Massachussetts, Edward Kennedy.
For me, it was really just another campaign rally, kicked up a notch. I had been to so many of these by this time, listening to national Democratic Party icons from Al Gore to Jesse Jackson. This one was held in the Mission High School auditorium. The building stood in fine company right next to old Mission Dolores (or San Francisco de Asis). Then, it shared a decrepit wall with the relatively diminutive Mission's sublime rose garden, one of the most luxuriante of its type anywhere on earth. An oddity of such a small outdoor space, it continues as the initial charm to this unique city on the bay.
The beloved monstrosity of an edifice in which we sat that day intersected the Latin Mission, South of Market, Downtown, Gay Castro and other neighborhoods on point. San Francisco finds its center here. It was a public high school building that thankfully and unmistakably picked up the style of its born again day. Originally from the late 19th c., it was rebuilt after burning down in the 1920s, having remarkably survived the 1906 earthquake. The place was reminiscent of the beautifully extroverted art deco movie palaces of that era found everywhere in this town, to this day. Along the broad drive of Valencia Street adjacent, it still hints of the relative historical youth of San Francisco and only adds to the city's eclectic architectural cohesiveness.
After Kennedy's introduction by a lovely, dark soft spoken young woman upon whose spiel or visage I had not completely focused, the Senator sauntered on stage with his usual willful wiggle. He proceeded to give one of his rousing thirty minute 'get out the vote' speeches, famous by this time in the campaign. He always geared his remarks to the particular crowd of the day, wherever he was. The Senator had been exposed alot, but was entrancing, certainly to me.
The crowd was ecstatic, especially when the Mariachi band in full regalia rose to play on the all of a sudden blaringly lit full stage behind him. The adorable ham stuck around to sing a couple of quick rousing songs with them. His dance steps were pensive, but sincere. Thankfully, his unsuccessful attempt at norteno Spanish was overlooked because of his incredible enthusiasm. That he was enjoying himself was obvious, as it was for everyone one else there, too. You could even see the heartfelt laughter of secret service agents in the wings, their greasy hair reflecting in the klieg lights.
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For this and other reasons that followed, the event would be for me unforgettable, or I would not be writing this short vignette. This 'Mariachi moment' is central to what has held this time in my mind all of these years, hence. But, you see a more curious 'moment' was to come.
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Actually, I hated to miss Kennedy complete his hat dancing around the stage. But, after many minutes, even I knew he couldn't last much longer. Thus, I rationalized that I wouldn't miss too much if I gave in to my insistent bladder and high tailed it for the closest restroom. As I said, the building was huge. The auditorum also contained a basketball arena I believe, with gyms and showers attached, of course. Surrounding it indoors as well was a wide hall, lined with lockers, restrooms, with albeit a few classrooms, janitors' closets and such. One had no choice but to run in such an emergency as mine, just to cover the immense ground involved.
Bounding out the nearest exit, I moved furiously down the linoleum floored corridor into the nearest designated 'Boys' room I came across. The heavy swinging entrance door led way to a long row of urinals. I was enclosed by colorless, yet pristine chest high subway tiles. They stood in stark contrast with the graffiteed walls above, which gave the space a certain variously colored innercity clout. These gliphs were in a style unreadable to anglos generally, but intriguing nonetheless in their complex style. The smell was of bleach. I figured that was a good thing.
Relieved. I pushed my way out the massive exit door in as manly a way as the one I had flung in, I supposed. Then, I sat at the bench right outside, joining a couple of other gentlemen already apparently settled there. I didn't really recall noticing them upon entry, but their look at me on my exit made it obvious that I was the interloper.
Quickly, I recognized them as the political junky that I was becoming, having only recently moved to this town. Sitting next to me was steely haired John Burton, running for the Calfornia State Senate seat in San Francisco that year. He would later become president of that body. He is at this writing the Chairman of the Democratic Party in California. His brother Phil and sister in law Sala held the U.S. Congressional seat for the Democratic Party from San Francisco for many years. It would soon be passed to another Burton machine candidate, after Sala's death.
Another guy there was the then ever tottering and obviously non tea totalling California State Assemblyman from San Francisco, Milton Marks. He was only kept standing by an assistant with a perturbed look on his face. There was an overly close proximity of the two. The sickened look of the old State Assemblyman made it clear that the young beauty holding him up was no doubt an intern, relegated to dealing with the politicians notorious penchants.
We all sat in silence together after our brief acknowledgement of each other. I pulled out a full pack of cigarettes and proceeded to light one. One could still do that in such a place in those days.
Smoking away, a nearby door from the stage opened and who but Senator Kennedy bound out resolutely, headed for the same said restroom I had just vacated. He was followed by three secret service agents in dark suits and sunglasses, holding his flank, not a small undertaking. One of them went into the restroom first and soon came out signaling for the Senator to continue. They all then stood in obvious guard, eying the aisle and us loiterers. I can still feel their disapproving peer at our unlikely gathering.
A few minutes later, the Senator sauntered out of the restroom, remaining standing in his finely tailored though somewhat ruppled light gray suit, as he joined us. All but me seemed nonplussed. It was like these men all knew each other, since they did.
Kennedy broke the silence and enjoined, "You all look like you're at a wake or something here." The stylishly polished Boston Irish brogue of his broke through. He continued, "I'd sit down, but my hemmoroids would revolt." He laughed in a mischievious grimace.
He then shook the hands of my companions, thanking them for their attendance, turning his eyes to me. "And who are you young man?" His blue eyed query entreated me.
I haltingly introduced myself. Along with giving him my name, I told him that I was a local precinct captain for the Dukakis campaign and had just come to listen and hand out campaign materials. He smiled while nodding and held out his hand to me saying, "I'm Ted Kennedy." He continued, " You are what it is all about. Thanks so much for your service, really." I said nothing this time, but acknowleged his compliment with a nervous nod. We shook hands.
He than asked, "May I get a cigarette?" I swear the security men gave me a mean glare behind their glasses. I offered my pack. He took two of them. Again there was the glare from the secret service men, though more intense. As if he felt my unnerving, Kennedy cupped his hand, bent and whispered in my ear, "Don't mind them."
I smiled and was glad to be of such dubious use. "Thanks Mr. Kennedy." I quickly shot this back louder than I intended. Right after, Burton bummed two more from me while patting me on the back. Slick.
The Senator started to leave, but quickly swiveled back, saying to me, "You can call me Teddy." He pointed a finger right at me. He then gave a studied wave to all of us and moved on down the aisle. He was soon wisked out by his intimidating entourage at the nearest exit outside.
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I thought to myself at that moment that no one of my circle still inside the auditorium would believe this brief encounter. When I later told my friends what had occurred, they just laughed somewhat skeptically at first. I expected that. Yet, soon they wanted me to tell them of every detail.
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Initially, I did not rightly recognize the woman who introduced Edward Kennedy that late afternoon. We all did come late and didn't hear her full introduction. We were thus relegated to the few remaining seats in the rear. We talked about the rally later that evening.
I learned from these all that the lovely lady who introduced Senator Kennedy, was none other than Nancy Pelosi. She in the previous year had won the special election to the House of Representatives for San Francisco, after Sala Burton's death. . . She holds that elected post to this day.
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