By KATIE KERWIN '88
have ridden in a presidential motorcade just once.
Escorted by dozens of motorcycle cops, we raced blissfully along a Colorado Interstate hogging the middle lane. We were the only cars on the road: a shimmering snake of black limousines and dark blue vans en route to somewhere very important. Police officers halted pesky cars driven by regular folks at every on-ramp so that no one would disturb our little adventure.
After basking for just one day in such privilege, I can understand why politicians put up with endless scrutiny from reporters like me.
The trappings of power can be magnificent.
I am a reporter at the Rocky Mountain News. My specialty these days is politics.
While a student at Colorado College, I can remember a mentor confiding his favorite thing about journalism: "it's a first-class ticket to the world.''
Every once in a while, I do get to ride first class, witnessing the world as our nation's most pampered politicians do. More often, however, I ride in coach class and love it. No motorcades. No coddling. Just the joy of watching events unfold before my eyes.
The high point of my career as a political reporter so far was a one-on-one interview with retired Gen. Colin Powell.
He came to Denver on his book tour and unlike many of the big names who float through town, Powell took time to have real conversations with people.
We met at the stately Brown Palace Hotel in a modest suite where he was staying. Accompanying him was just one aide, far different from the raft of valets and handlers who trail President Clinton, Sen. Bob Dole and House Speaker Newt Gingrich.
Powell and I talked for 45 minutes. He came off refreshingly real. So many politicians I interview speak in well-rehearsed platitudes. I can see the gears shifting in their heads as they imagine how pundits might spin each word they utter. Powell gave the impression that he hadn't memorized every answer.
The O.J. Simpson verdict has just been announced. I got the first interview in the country from Powell about his views on the racial fracture that the verdict was exposing. We talked about affirmative action, life in the military, his wife's fears that he would be assassinated if he ran for president. He had not yet decided to heed her advice and sit out the 1996 campaign.
Most national politicians don't bother to chat with local reporters. Their events are highly choreographed. I have covered President Clinton several times, but have never actually interviewed him.
Each time he comes to Colorado, I request a private interview. Each time, the president's press aides humor me: "We're working on that. We're going to do that.''
One of these days, they'll actually agree and I won't know what to ask.
I spend far more time pestering local politicians. Each day, we tug at each other. I get to know them far better than they would wish. I hunt for news. Candidates try to manipulate coverage so it casts them in a good light.
I try to balance coverage about issues with stories about campaign tactics and personality. I struggle to write stories that give voters insights, rather than boosting their cynicism about politics. But I do think character counts. I hunt for details about politicians lives that reveal who they are. That sometimes makes them very angry.
The 1994 gubernatorial race in Colorado left Republican oilman Bruce Benson particularly bitter. He revealed that he had gotten two DUIs in the past. While covering the story, we found that he had sealed old divorce records. We wondered what he had to hide. A TV station went to court to open the records. The media won. Benson decided to discuss the bruising divorce that he so much wanted to keep secret. There were references to another woman and fights over hundreds of thousands of dollars he spent on her, allegations that he was siphoning away marital property.
I showed up at the packed press conference knowing I would have to ask about the alleged affair if no one else did. I waited and waited. No one else asked so I did. Benson has never forgiven me.
Other politicians have developed a thicker skin. Colorado Gov. Roy Romer, who prevailed over Benson in 1994, had some problems of his own. I got a tip that the Democrat and his family had used state patrol troopers to conduct personal family business. It took me weeks to confirm that the troopers had moved the governor's daughter across the country to college in Connecticut and done odd jobs at the family's cabin. As I closed in on the story, the governor knew I was about to pounce.
I was spending a day with Romer as he campaigned across the state. We blitzed from town to town in the state plane. At the end of the grueling 16-hour day, Romer pulled me aside. "If you ever want to ask me about anything, don't hesitate to set up some time.''
He made it clear that he was ready to own up to "Trooper-gate'' as the story was later dubbed. Some of his family members still think it was inappropriate for me to do the story. I understand their anger. It must be terrible to become the focus of media scrutiny. At the same time, tax dollars were funding the cross-country trips. Other families were having to find ways to get their children to college without the benefit of the Colorado State Patrol.
My mantra is to try to be fair and keep my feet on the ground. I've seen fellow journalists puff up with importance. Before joining 60 Minutes, Lesley Stahl used to cover the White House. I encountered her and the rest of the White House Press Corps in Cheyenne, Wyo., while President Bush was still in office. A wide-eyed rookie, I watched the Washington experts eager to pick up some tips. It was a rainy day and I learned that national reporters are often coddled. Stahl did not come out to cover the story until she absolutely had to. One of her producers draped a blanket on the wet pavement and held an umbrella over her head so the elements wouldn't mar her shoes or hair. I watched later as the Washington reporters were too bored with Cheyenne to follow Bush from stop to stop. They lazily huddled in a room at the state capitol, sending just one representative to take notes for the rest. So much for several perspectives on a single news event. I learned there might be a good reason why coverage on the evening news appears so similar on different channels.
It's easy to start to believe you are as significant as the people you cover.
Once, while working in Washington, I received a memorable invitation. I rifled through the daily mail and a cream-colored envelope caught my eye. Return address: The White House. No street address needed. It was an invitation to the White House Christmas party, an annual event for select Washington reporters. Although I was filling in for our regular Washington correspondent, my timing appeared to be perfect.
The night arrived. My husband came to town. We made our big entrance. It was amazing to see the White House dressed in its Christmas best. All night long, Bill and Hillary Clinton posed for pictures with guests.
We felt immensely important as we passed from elegant room to room. We were part of history. We peered at presidential portraits I had only seen in books and movies. I decided to try and get a closer look at the portrait of Ronald Reagan. It meant walking up a couple steps on a red carpet that leads to the family quarters. My husband urged me to check first. Hardly thinking that was necessary, I sidled over to a secret service agent and revealed my plans. He looked at me like I was crazy.
He informed me that if I put one foot on the step, alarms would immediately sound.
I winced as I imagined the headline: "Colorado reporter undermines White House security. Never invited back again.''
Katie Kerwin is a reporter at the Rocky Mountain News who covers politics. Back to index