The Adult in the Room
Sometimes it's because other adults simply don't want to be in the same room with you.
Remember back during the 2016 U.S. presidential campaign when Republican candidate John Kasich, the Governor of Ohio, was touted as the “adult in the room” (actually, he was referred to as the “adult on the debate stage.” but I prefer to recast it as a pithier soundbite, much as Leo Durocher’s famous, ‘Nice guys finish last’ evolved from something a bit less catchy)? In fairness, the bar was set pretty low that night, as the fellow combatants on that debate stage included: Donald Trump, Marco Rubio, and Ted Cruz. That gang of misfits engaged in onstage histrionics which would be the envy of any high-school sophomore.
My own impressions of former Governor Kasich were formed during a couple of personal interactions (or, rather, near-interactions) I had with him a few years ago. The first connection was actually related to me by a colleague who had a front-row seat to his “green-room” behavior prior to speaking at a local Rotary Club event (so, it’s difficult to characterize that one as a personal interaction, although I consider this colleague to be a reliable source).
As my friend related the story, the governor was camped in a room adjacent to the ballroom of a hotel where our Rotary Club typically held its weekly meetings, with a few of his handlers, and several senior members of the local Rotary Club. This chapter of Rotary Club was of a significant size, and awaiting the governor’s address were a couple hundred members seated at round tables, enjoying lunch. And, apparently, the governor was railing on and on about a piece of pending legislation, berating the city’s mayor, who was in the room, and who, in his opinion was not effectively supporting the governor’s legislative efforts. And, according to my friend, his attack was liberally-seasoned with four-letter words, and epithets.
After a period of time, someone stepped in and reminded the governor that he was about to address the members of a service organization, which has long been associated with good works, including working tirelessly to eradicate polio, and perhaps he should redirect his mindset to a more grateful posture. I don’t remember what he had to say that day - I’m sure it was one of many cookie-cutter speeches that politicians are required to deliver during their administrations, and, I’m sure that it played just fine with my fellow Rotarians. But, I enjoyed much more the green-room backstory, which was likely more revealing of the governor’s character.
My second up-close glimpse of the governor in action came when he was invited to speak to attendees of the annual convention in Columbus of the Ohio News Media Association (ONMA), an organization upon whose board I served at the time. The president of the organization’s board at the time was an overwhelmingly nice guy named David, who was chairman of a newspaper publishing company based in Kent, and who was a relatively young executive at the newspaper in 1970, when the Kent State shootings occurred. He had shared with me some interesting stories about that time, while on the golf course one afternoon - he was a terrible golfer, by the way, worse even than me, and I am pretty bad.
David was reciting a rather lengthy introduction of the governor from notecards while Kasich was standing on stage next to him (Kasich has had a long career, both as a state and U.S. legislator, and governor, as well as a Fox News commentator, and a stint as an investment banker with Lehman Brothers - no, he claims he had nothing to do with their infamous bankruptcy filing). While David was midstream in this introduction, Kasich stepped toward David, and literally shoved him (a man in his mid-70’s, mind you) away from the microphone, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .,” and proceeded to begin his remarks to the assembled crowd. Again, I have no recollection of his speech that day.
A website which the Rule of Three research team visited in its tireless efforts to ensure the accuracy of its reporting featured the below photo of eighteen-year-old John Kasich visiting President Nixon in 1970 at the White House (that might even be the Oval Office) - ironically, the same year that my friend David was covering the events on campus at Kent State. I wonder if that’s a gift for Nixon in Kasich’s hand, or a gift given to him by Nixon - aren’t you curious either way what was in that package? Not me, but I’m not really the curious type.
My third encounter with the governor occurred a few years later at that same newspaper industry conference, at which I was presiding as the outgoing president of ONMA’s board. One of my tasks was to introduce the governor to the crowd gathered in yet another ballroom of yet another hotel. Recalling David’s introduction experience a few years previous, I resolved to keep it short and sweet. I also wanted to pay heed to Rule No. 3 (you know, the one about amusing yourself); it being mid-day, my adherence to Rule No. 1 (“Secure a beverage”) consisted of drinking coffee and diet cola, and, in deference to Rule No. 2 (re: avoiding douchebaggery), the importance of which I believe is strongly reinforced by the entirety of this column, I didn’t want to stoke negative impressions of my own character with this crowd.
My firm belief in Rule No. 3 at that time was further evidenced by the theme of that convention, which was, “Newspapers in Ohio - we need more cowbell!” and which was used to promote the convention, and appeared in signage and in programs at the convention. Once we settled on that theme, the convention planning committee chairman indicated that he would purchase a cowbell which I could use at the convention. I told him, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll bring my own.” It’s always good to have the home-cowbell advantage. That cowbell continues to occupy a place of honor in my office (because, you know, my wife doesn’t allow me to bring that crap home).
I and the rest of the convention planning team were “vamping” (if you don’t know that word, look it up - I’ll wait - hint: it originated in music) on stage as we awaited the alert from the governor’s advance team that the governor’s arrival in the ballroom was imminent. Once we got the “go” message, I climbed the few stairs to the stage, and strode to the microphone. As I began speaking, I saw the governor and his entourage enter from the rear of the ballroom.
I said, “I know that the governor is not a fan of long-winded introductions, so, ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming to the stage the governor of Ohio, John Kasich.” Short and sweet, right?
As the governor and his team marched towards the stage from the back of the ballroom, I debated whether I should remain on stage, or descend to the bottom of the few stairs, and personally welcome him there, before he climbed the stairs. I opted for the latter, thus leaving the entire stage to him.
As he approached the stairs, I extended my right hand with the intention of welcoming him to the convention. He ascended the stairs without so much as a sideways-glance at me. The GIF pictured atop this column is a reasonably accurate depiction of my reaction in the wake of the handshake snub, except that I was the only potential party to the handshake actively participating, before withdrawing (you know, the “. . .without so much as a sideways-glance at me” thing).
As an aside, I believe that I am the first North American columnist to utilize a GIF (which we established a few columns back is properly pronounced, “JIF,” like the peanut butter) as headline art - truly a credit to the dedicated team of professionals who produce Rule of Three, and to the creativity and innovation their award-winning work delivers each and every week to you, our dedicated readers.
Now, I wasn’t offended by the handshake snub, because, as I believe I have effectively outlined above, this action on the governor’s part closely aligned with his pattern of behavior, and, therefore, should not be taken as a personal affront. Perhaps he simply dislikes members of the media, and this was a passive-aggressive demonstration of that dislike. I think we can discount the theory that Kasich is a committed germaphobe, or harbors some philosophical objection to the practice of shaking hands, because, you know, there is photographic evidence housed in this very piece of him enthusiastically shaking hands with Nixon.
One additional encounter with the governor occurred in the bar of a private club in Pittsburgh, in which he was sitting at a table with some acquaintances. Our company’s chairman was introduced to him by my boss, who had met him before. I remained sitting with other colleagues, and was not privy to the private conversation. But, as related to me, Kasich’s response was the same, dismissive, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .,” which I had witnessed several years earlier, and he and his party abruptly left the bar shortly after that exchange.
Now, I have no idea whether or not John Kasich intends to run again for president in 2024. And, different voters consider different criteria when making their choice in presidential elections. As for me, the issues I consider most critical when making my selection are not the candidate’s stance on abortion, nor immigration policy, nor economic policy perspective. No, the most important element to me is, “Would other adults desire to be in the same room with him?”
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