1968 was a big year for politics. The Presidential election pitted former Vice President Richard Nixon against incumbent VP Hubert Humphrey. Former Alabama Governor George Wallace ran as an independent. My school – Augustana College – hosted a mock political convention in April 1968. A couple political heavyweights were invited – including South Carolina Senator Strom Thurmond (who had run for President as an independent in 1948).

The school borrowed a limo and I was tasked to be Strom’s chauffer since I had a driver’s license. On Friday – at the appointed hour for pickup – I drove to the Rock Island Airport and waited – by the back of the car. Holding the door open. Strom burst out of the gate – said “Hi Son” – and promptly hopped in the front seat. Next to me. “Heck I’m not sittin’ back there.” And he never did during his entire visit. As I started up the car, he immediately began asking me. About me. . . . .

That evening, the faculty hosted a dinner at the President’s home. I drove up to the curb – he opened the door and stepped out. The President and a few others walked down to the car. Strom pointed at me and said something like “good kid. I’d like him to join us for dinner.” And I was invited in – sitting at a large setting – having dinner with Strom. And a bunch of faculty. My mouth sealed shut. . . . .

After dinner, I went to his lodging to drop him off but he asked me to take a walk. It was dark – but we walked. Strom talking and asking about my classes and plans. Suddenly Strom fell face forward onto the ground. I gasped. And immediately he began doing pushups. Scout’s Honor. And he suggested I pump out a few. So I did. Strom – former 82d Airborne major general – wanted to “stay in shape.”

Early on Sunday morning, Strom asked me to drive him to the Confederate Cemetery on the Rock Island Arsenal Island where 1,964 soldiers – former prisoners of war from the Civil War – are buried. The air was cool and the ground wet with dew. Strom – wearing a suit – knelt on the ground. Hands clasped. He prayed for a good five minutes. Alone. No press. No one saw him. But me. When he got up, the knees of his pants were soaked. And we drove off to the airport. A couple weeks later, a letter from Strom arrived. Thanking me for being a “very able chauffeur” and inviting me to visit him in Washington.

Wherever one might be on Strom’s politics, in my opinion the man was the real deal in terms of his character. I wish more of America’s politicians had character . . . . .