Somewhere between 16 and 18 years ago, a staff assistant walked into the back office and said, “Charla, Congressman Al Swift is on the phone.” Had my own boss at the time, Rep Rick Larsen, not been around, it would have made sense that the call was going to me but Rick was in the office and I pointed out as much to the great staffer who relayed the message.
She said, “He’s not calling for Rick. He’s calling for you.”
I have to admit, I was nervous and confused. I answered the phone and still remember the tone of my voice when I said, “This is Charla?”
I heard a booming voice, “Charla, Al Swift here! I just spent a week on the beach hearing hilarious stories about you that made me laugh more than I have in a while. (This from a guy I later learned kept type-written jokes in his wallet to pull out on any occasion, not that he ever needed them.) I thought, I need to have drinks with this person. When are you free?”
I remember what was going through my head. I was young twenties and hadn’t lived enough to be that entertaining, at least not in a way that wasn’t utterly embarrassing. I was honored, flattered, excited, and even more nervous from the pressure than when I had first answered the phone.
That was the start of years of martinis, (sometimes with his spirited wife, Paula, other times not) great story telling, numerous lessons, witness to stature and humble leadership, confidence instead of pandering, great exchanges about how Congress has changed over time (and, instead of judging and quarterbacking, he had empathy for the growing challenges and would frequently comment about how he had it easier because the only thing constituents wanted was for him to be in DC and do his job. He lamented over today’s expectations of seeing their member of Congress at every local function, which then makes it nearly impossible to develop the necessary relationships with colleagues across the aisle and makes bipartisanship and cooperation more difficult), and guidance and reassurance from a Congressman who didn’t just mentor his staff, he mentored future staff as well.
After he retired from Congress, he lived in a condo in Virginia and lobbied part time. I don’t even know who his clients were. That was never why he took time out for me. We would just shoot the shit. Either at the Monocle on the Hill or the Bellwether in Bellingham. There were a couple of other places but those were the regular spots.
One of the martini and cigar sessions included him lamenting to me about becoming the President of his condo association. I howled. Could not stop laughing.
Finally, I said, “Al, that’s the most pathetic attempt to regain power I’ve ever heard.”
Then we both laughed together.
RIP Congressman Al Swift. You left a mark in this world and I’m sorry for not saying thank you sooner.
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Charla Neuman is a political consultant and former congressional staff person.
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