There is a lot to enjoy about living in New Hampshire but one of the special treats is our “First in the Nation” presidential primary. Which is how I ran into Vermin.
Much has changed in half a century. The media are everywhere, the satellite trucks, the reporters, the cameras and video, the instant analysis, the recording of every word, gesture, facial expression. Cell phones, internet, laptops, Wi-Fi and more.
Which makes me think back to 1964. I was in college in Boston and saw a notice in the student employment office seeking people to report precinct vote totals. It paid all of $5. I signed up.
I received my “credentials” in the mail. A plain looking business card of inexpensive paper with red and blue stars and “NBC NEWS” printed on it. It identified me as a “Key Precinct Correspondent.” It was even signed by those two giants of network news, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. Well, not really signed by them but with their faux signatures printed on the card. The instructions directed me to type my name in the space provided which I immediately did since I was now working the national election for NBC News.
Well, sort of.
My assignment was to go to a certain Boston precinct on election night, get the vote results as soon as available and call them in to New York. NBC would use the results I reported from my “key precinct” along with similar reports from elsewhere to project the winner of the presidential election.
So on election day after a quick dinner I took what was then called the MTA (the same MTA from which Charlie did not return according to the Kingston Trio) to my precinct, a long trip of more than an hour. I arrived just as the vote ended and waited for results. And waited. Didn’t these people know Chet and David were expecting to promptly hear from me?
Finally, results. I located a pay phone, called the phone number I was given…collect, as instructed…and reported the totals. Having completed my assignment I headed back to my dorm. Between the cost of transportation and food and drink much of my five dollars had been spent.
I still have that identification card around somewhere.
Nowadays in New Hampshire the candidates are everywhere. One can see, meet, shake hands with, question, and otherwise observe as many potential presidents as one wishes.
The media presence along with very modest requirements to be on the ballot – really just a $1000 filing fee – attracts a number of “fringe” candidates.
In 2008 as I walked to a rally for one of the “major” candidates I saw a strange looking man walking about with a galosh, the old kind of heavy black rubber with heavy metal buckles, upside down on his head. He told me his name was Vermin Supreme and he was a candidate for president.
This was too good. I could not help but speak with him. I asked what his issues were and he responded by promising to fully fund time travel research and to institute mandatory tooth brushing. I encouraged him to continue and he offered his support for waterboarding in the public schools.
I liked Vermin. I admit that after an adult lifetime of never missing an election and of closely following politics I had become jaded and cynical. Vermin, in his own bizarre way, was pointing out the silliness and posturing of so many candidates and of the media that cover them.
I did not, however, vote for Vermin Supreme (his actual legal name). Cynical or not, I still take elections seriously. After all, I used to cover elections for NBC News.