AGAIN WITH THE SECURITY

Some years ago, when former NY Gov. Nelson Rockefeller became Gerald Ford's Vice President, he was making a campaign tour of LI on behalf of Ford. My paper had applied for credentials for this event and I was assigned to spend the day with him.

The Gov. probably recognized me by sight, if not by name, since I had covered many, many assignments with him, locally and in Albany during his long tenure as Governor. That may have been all well and good, but I was a stranger as far as Secret Service was concerned. So, I went through the usual security procedures at each stop, enduring the time consuming search of the camera bag, the firing the camera at my face and the firing of the flash gun to satisfy the security that I wasn't concealing a weapon.

Sometime around noon, the media was told that "Rocky" was having a private lunch with some friends and that we could pick him up at his next stop; a meeting with senior citizens at a local restaurant. I went off to grab a sandwich and then got to the restaurant early to scout it out for positions. On entering, I was frisked by a Secret Service agent. He told me that the Veep was going to hold a press conference in a basement room before he spoke to the senior citizens. So, I went down there to check that out. And, had to undergo yet another security shake-down by yet another agent. This one was a young woman, and as she was going through my camera bag, I asked her, "What makes me such a great security risk?" She said she didn't understand my question, so I replied, "I am wearing all these tickets on a chain around my neck. In addition to the Rockefeller credential, I have a New York City Press Card, and one from Nassau County and another from Suffolk County issued by their respective police departments. I have a United Nations Press Card, and even a National Press Card (which was issued by the US Government back then.)"

I asked her if Secret Service was going to inspect every pocketbook, every shopping bag and every coat pocket on every one of the senior citizens that would be in attendance upstairs. She said, "Of course not."

I went on to explain. "My fingerprints are on file in almost every law enforcement agency in the country and with InterPol. I have been subjected to security clearances from here to Timbuktu. When Rockefeller shows up, I will be herded into a media bull pen and a bunch of steely-eyed agents will do nothing else but keep their eyes on me and my associates. We are probably the cleanest, safest, most investigated group of individuals you will ever come across. Can you say the same about the senior citizens upstairs who are probably pissed off at the government for spiraling inflation and meager Social Security payments? How can you be sure that some silver-haired, blue-rinsed old lady doesn't have ulterior motives with the needles she carries in her brocaded knitting bag?"

All I received for my troubles was another steely-eyed glare from her. I should have known. The Secret Service aren't known for their senses of humor.

© 2002 Dick Kraus
May not be republished in any part without written consent of the author