Filed Under:  OpEd, Opinion

Humor under fire: How the late Sen. Bob Dole saved my life

13th December 2021   ·   0 Comments

By Christopher Tidmore
Contributing Writer

It was the Friday before the 1996 election, and the Louisiana U.S. Senate race was razor-thin-close. It was my job to get GOP candidate Woody Jenkins on stage just in time to get the earned media assembled at Woldenberg Park at the Mississippi River, officially gathered to hear from the Republican Candidate for president on his final nationwide campaign sweep.

In trying to get Jenkins to the stage that day, I was almost shot by the Secret Service. Bob Dole saved my life.

Well, sort of. But in this near-death experience, I learned the value of political grace and charm under proverbial fire. I learned of the true gentleman that lived within the longtime Republican senator from Kansas. I learned what a funny person Dole was, even in the face of incredible adversity.

Most importantly, ever since, I have never forgotten how much our politics could use a little bit more Bob Dole.

The former Majority Leader of the U.S. Senate and World War II hero died last week at the age of 98. He never achieved the lifelong goal of becoming president of the United States, yet he left a legacy of civility in our politics – twinged with the occasional funny joke – which both parties sorely need today.

He led the GOP at a time when politics seemingly could not get more poisoned. (How little we knew.) Nevertheless, even amidst a presidential impeachment, he was able to work with Bill Clinton, and actually become friends with him – and many others lurking across the aisle. Perhaps the greatest tribute to Bob Dole came from President Joe Biden. Calling the GOP senator “an American giant.”

“Like many of us today we disagreed on a number [of] things,” Biden continued, “but not on any of the fundamental things. We still found a way to work together. We genuinely respected one another as colleagues and fellow Americans.” And the 46th president added, when things were more bleak, Bob Dole always had the ability to lift everyone up with just a bit of humor.

On that Friday before the Tuesday general election in 1996, Dole’s tendency to grow too stiff in front of television reporters was my last concern. I needed Dole’s media coverage to bolster my candidate’s chances. However, Woody Jenkins was so late, he was about to miss his chance.

When I saw Jenkins’ car finally pulled down Decatur Street, my sole thought was to run down the hill from the river, grab him, and drag him in front of the cameras – while there was still time to get free media coverage from the Washington press corps gathered.

Everyone knew 4 and ½ days before the polls closed, Bob Dole had no chance of winning either Louisiana or the White House. Yet, as I ran down from the heights of the river bank, single-mindedly trying to stop the police from turning away Jenkins and his driver, unbeknownst to me a dozen Secret Service sharpshooters were labeling me a threat – and targeting me in their scopes.

I remained oblivious to the fact that my life was seriously in danger, as I waved my arms and sprinted to stop the traffic cops from turning away Woody’s car. I must have looked like a lunatic. Guns were leveled. Trigger fingers were primed to fire – that is until a voice rang out from the Dole campaign saying, “He’s OK… Don’t shoot him.”

Gasping for breath, and finally realizing that I almost got killed, I turned and saw Bob and Elizabeth Dole standing not two feet in front of me. The Senate Majority Leader was trying to contain his laughter. The “hold your fire” order had come from his direction.

Suddenly, he became serious. In his gruff, rural Midwestern voice, he asked me and my fellow staffer Bill Vogel, “How is it looking here in Louisiana? How are we doing?”

When a presidential candidate asks whether he’s going to win your state, after just calling off the Secret Service from killing you, you lie.

“Senator, we’re gonna win it for you! Definitely!”

With the strangest gleam in his eye, he replied, “Yeah sure. Yeah, we’re going to win. Of course. Definitely.”

Then proceeded to joke, implying without saying it outright, that he knew his chances to win the vote in Louisiana were not all that great. He began to make fun of himself. Everyone was in stitches. The brief bit of humor lasted only a couple of minutes. Dole was subsequently called on stage, and he went into full candidate mode.

Regardless of his self-deprecating jokes on the riverbank that Friday evening, for the next three days, he campaigned 24 hours a day without sleep, quite a feat for a man in his 70s. Dole never tired in his dedication, intense until the end. Yet, I have never forgotten how the senator was willing to use humor to relax the staffers around him in a tense moment – even as he came to realize that his heart’s desire, the Oval Office, would never host him as its latest occupant.

It takes a special soul to laugh at such times, and that lesson of Bob Dole’s proved just as important to the remainder of my life as calling off the guns of the Secret Service.

This article originally published in the December 13, 2021 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper.

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