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Less than two weeks before the 2002 election, Minnesota Senator Paul Wellstone died in a plane crash, and at the nationally televised memorial service, the popular, 7-term, former Mayor of St. Paul, a political pro if ever there was one, blew it. We are still living with the consequences.
What George Latimer did, or rather what he didn’t do, was to stop politics first from creeping, and then from stampeding, into what should have been a solemn, respectful commemoration. Twenty thousand people filled Williams Arena on the University of Minnesota campus, most of them mournful and dejected liberals at the loss of this most Humphreyesque of liberals, a man of committed progressive ideas who nevertheless made friends with anyone and everyone. He counted among them the uber-conservative Jesse Helms. It was reported that more than half of the Senate attended, including Republicans Trent Lott, Jeff Sessions and Orin Hatch.
Al Hunt wrote in the Wall Street Journal:
Much of American politics these days is antiseptic and superficial, full of blow-dried candidates who incessantly lift their fingers to test the political winds and respond to the political exigencies of the moment. Paul Wellstone was an antidote to those politics. He was an unapologetic liberal Democrat. Principles, to this former college professor and political activist, were a way of life.
Senator John McCain said simply, we lost "a good and decent American."
That evening, things started to go haywire when some of the Republicans entered the arena and took their seats. Some in the crowd booed and jeered them, not a majority but enough to be heard on television. Latimer, as Master of Ceremonies, might have intervened, should have intervened, but he let it go. That was his first mistake. He might have said something like, “OK, Minnesotans, stop. These friends of Paul have taken the time to come here to pay respects. So we are now going to stand and say, ‘Thank you for coming.’” Had he done so most people, everyone in fact, would have stood and applauded. But he didn’t.
Things got worse when Wellstone’s son Mark took the stage, and in an emotional outburst he shared his grandmother’s words, “We will win!” The crowd began to chant it, and it became the evening’s theme. The next speaker, Wellstone’s close college friend, advisor and campaign treasurer, Rick Kahn, picked it up. The chanting got louder, yet. Worse, even Walter Mondale, a man who certainly should have known better, got into the “We will win!” act. The atmosphere had degenerated from mournful respect to convention rally.
Latimer, in an attempt he later confessed was “feeble,” tried to diffuse the atmosphere, noting that he detected a tone of politics, a gross understatement. He also said he considered intervening as Kahn spoke, literally walking on stage and stopping him. He didn’t do that, either.
Jesse Ventura, Minnesota’s independent governor, left the scene in disgust. Well, that was no great loss. But the loss of Minnesota’s reputation was dramatic and costly. The conservative media played it up and succeeded in nationalizing what might have been contained to local media. Fox News, Limbaugh and the rest noted the abject absence of “Minnesota Nice,” and portrayed the moment as Democrats’ crass and tasteless exploitation of a politician’s death.
Mondale, who had been quickly tapped to replace Wellstone on the ticket, was six points up in the polls when the evening began. A week later he would lose the election to Republican Norm Coleman, giving the GOP a 51-49 majority in the Senate. Instead of sharing power, Democrats were in the minority, and the Bush Administration could proceed unimpeded with its agenda.
Looking back, you just shake your head. Latimer (Mondale, too) could not only have stopped a flood of bad press, but actually turn it around. Minnesotans actually are nice and respectful, by and large, and the headlines would have told a story of high-mindedness, a politic capable of fairness and gratitude. Really, you want to cry.
I voted for George Latimer seven times, and would do so, again, were he still with us. He was a man of abundant good humor and integrity, and a love for my hometown that only an immigrant can bring (he was a New Yorker). God bless you, Mayor, and may you rest in peace. But really, that night, you kind of blew it.
