IN 1953 THE BOARD OF GOVERNORS of the National Press Club became conscience-stricken over the welfare of its past presidents. True, these forgotten men form the General Advisory Committee, but this has been with the tacit understanding that the Committee would never meet and certainly would never offer any advice.
Accordingly the Board voted to give all past presidents, and every retiring president thereafter an onyx ring bearing the Club seal in gold. The past presidents, full of gratitude, gathered as the honor guests at a cocktail party at which the awards were to be presented. Unfortunately, the rings had not arrived from the factory, but the manufacturer's Washington office hastily contributed some empty boxes as a token of good intentions.
In making the presentations, the only thing President Ted Koop could say to his predecessors was: "Here is your empty honor."
Shaken as they were by this deception, the past presidents nevertheless could agree that the honor was far from an empty one. Only modesty could keep them from acknowledging that the presidency of the National Press Club is a personal tribute and a journalistic accolade.
The president, in fact should be a dozen men.
Naturally he must be a politician if he is to ascend the escalator at the voters insistence.
He must be a psychologist to listen patiently and sympathetically to a multitude or complaints and advice.
Then he must be a man of decision, to disregard all the conflicting advice and act as he deems best.
Even though he is an important reporter, he must be a hard-headed business man, to help the professional management operate a $750,000-a-year establishment.
He must be an urbane presiding officer and a witty speaker to introduce properly the world's great men at Club luncheons.
He must be a bon vivant with a non-ulcerous stomach to give and receive many a libation in the taproom.
He must be a chef and a dietitian, an interior decorator, an entrepreneur, and a policeman if the Club is to have good food, attractive quarters, interesting programs, and proper decorum.
Above all he must have the time to be all these men and do all these things.
Then, when his term ends, his name is engraved on a brass plaque and added to the roll of honor over the fireplace in the Club lounge. As the wife of a new member, viewing the roster of ex-presidents for the first time, inquired: "Are they all buried in that little space"?
The Club has been discerning - or lucky - in its selection of 50 presidents in as many years. The members of this golden circle would be the first to admit that they are not paragons. On the other hand, they find quiet satisfaction in the fact that no move has ever been made to impeach a president.
If the Club's leaders have possessed a single common attribute, it is simply this: a love of the Club and a willingness to serve its members. The presidency is not a cloak of honor to be donned in light spirit. Today it is almost a full time job; hence an understanding boss is a prerequisite.
The members expect to see their president regularly. If he does not appear for a few days, they evidence a restlessness, a feeling of insecurity. For that reason, there is much taproom talk that only bachelors should be eligible for the office. A married president needs in addition to an under- standing boss a sympathetic wife. She must realize that when her husband is at the Club it is not of his own volition. He is merely attending to the needs of his constituents. Her reward for his long absences comes in a stream of social invitations: all of which naturally require new gowns.
Who are these 50 men who gladly jeopardized their family life and their careers to serve their fellow members? They have covered a wide range in the field of journalism. Most have been Washington correspondents of out-of-town daily newspapers. That is appropriate not only because these correspondents form the most numerous category in the Washington news corps, but also because they give a truly national favor to the Club. There have been six representatives of Washington papers; these include the first and the fiftieth presidents. Five worked on press associations, two were magazine editors, and one served a radio network.
What has become of the ex-presidents? Louis Ludlow went from the press gallery to the House of Representatives as a member of Congress from Indiana. Joseph H. Short, Jr. became press secretary to President Truman. Most however were content to remain in the field of news which had brought them signal honor from their colleagues.
The only president to be elected twice was the beloved Frank B. Lord (1914-15). The Club constitution is silent on the question of presidential re-election and one of the more popular torments which members inflict on their leader is the suggestion that he seek a second term. In recent years retiring presidents have staunchly refused to heed these siren calls.
It has not even been necessary to issue a Coolidgean declination. As one ex-president summarized: "I would not have missed the experience for a million dollars. Neither would I accept a second term for the same amount."
Besides, those eager beavers coming up the "escalator" might be inclined to mayhem.
 |
| The beloved Charlie Campbell, who served as the internationally famous information chief for Britan during World War II, regales Gerry Robichaud, Ed Jamieson and John O'Brien. A top story teller and humorist, Charlie appears to be repeating a few choice items from a story written about him by Vance Johnson for Collier's, entitled "The King's Man." |
NPC shrdlu | Previous: Chapter XI - Jubilee | Next: Chapter XIII - World Forum
shrdlu
- an affectionate chronicle
Published on the 50th anniversary of
The National Press
Club
Copyright © 1958 by The National Press Club
All rights reserved
