SHAMELESS NAME DROPPING

(Note: Ran out of time during my days off, but here's a little something from the archives)

First printed in the Daily Sundial, February 2004...

So did you know I’ve had lunch with Sam Donaldson? Really! I’m not joking this time. It’s not like I showed up to a restaurant and he was already there or that I had lunch with a plumber named Sam Donaldson. Legendary Newsman Sam Donaldson took Dopey Journalism Student Matthew Workman out to lunch. How did such a thing happen? I’m glad you asked.

Last winter, I was in Washington DC on a journalism program that my editor says takes too long to explain in detail. At the end of the semester, you get to have lunch with someone more important than you are. In my case, it was Sam Donaldson.

I get a call from Sam’s (I like to call him Sam) appointment secretary, and a few days later I show up to his office.

When I arrive at Sam’s office, he doesn’t seem to know why I’m there.

“SO WHAT DID YOU COME HERE TO ASK ME?”

Sam’s voice is loud. I’m a little flustered by his question. After all, it was his office that initiated contact with me. I mutter something about a lunchtime mentor program.

“LUNCH? SO WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?”

He sticks his head out of the door.

“NOBODY TOLD ME THIS WAS A LUNCH!”

He turns back to me.

“WANNA GO FOR LUNCH?”

“Sure.”

“LET’S GO ACROSS THE STREET!”

We head out of the office as his secretary asks, “Should we call ahead?”

“DON’T BOTHER.”

We walk across the street and enter the ultra-swank Mayflower Hotel. Upon entering the restaurant, we cause a minor stir. Now when I say “we,” I really mean, “he.” It is unlikely anyone in the place was saying, “Hey, there’s Matthew Workman with that guy from ABC.” The waiters snap to attention and we are immediately seated.

“ORDER ANYTHING YOU WANT. I’M GOING FOR SOMETHING LIGHT, PERHAPS A SALAD, BUT DON’T LET THAT STOP YOU.”

It’s important to read that line with the intensity you’d expect if someone were announcing the resignation of the president while standing on the South Lawn of the White House with a helicopter taking off. Sam’s voice is still loud. The couple at the table next to us asks to be reseated after a few minutes.

I fumble through the menu and order a sandwich with an ingredient that started with a “T” that I had never heard of. I figure ordering something with an unknown object on it will make me seem more sophisticated to Sam.

“SO WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THIS BUSINESS?”

I ask about his time as a White House correspondent and the rigors of life in broadcast journalism.

“SURE, IT WOULD BE NICE TO KNOW WHEN I WAS COMING HOME FROM WORK EACH NIGHT OR TO PLAN A VACATION AND KNOW THAT I WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO GET TO GO ON IT. BUT IT’S EXCITING! THOSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THE JOBS WHERE THEY HAVE TO PUT THE SQUARE PEGS INTO THE SQUARE HOLES, I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY DO IT.”

We talk more about current events (the Iraq invasion was in full swing at the time) and some judgment calls CNN made (I was interning there). We gossip about whether Colin Powell will stay on if Bush is reelected. At one point, a woman approaches the table and asks Sam for his autograph.

“My son really wants your job”

“TELL HIM HE CAN HAVE IT!”

“Great, I’ll…”

“BUT HE HAS TO WAIT UNTIL I’M DONE WITH IT!”

“Will that be within the next six months?”

“NOT LIKELY, I’VE GOT THREE MORTGAGES TO PAY!”

“Oh, come on.”

“BILL BENNETT HAS A VICE CALLED GAMBLING. MINE IS CALLED THE NASDAQ. THREE SEPARATE TIMES I’VE BEEN CONVINCED IT WAS COMING BACK. THREE SEPARATE TIMES I’VE BEEN WRONG.”

We finish off our meal and make our way back to ABC. Sam stops outside of the bureau to offer me a few last pieces of advice.

“BE CURIOUS. HAVE THAT SPARK THAT MAKES YOU ASK MORE QUESTIONS.”

As he’s speaking, he’s standing behind a parking meter. He’s clutching the top of it, like he’s choking it. It’s a rather odd image.

Finally, he has to leave and I thank him for his time.

“YOU’VE SEEN HOW I PRATTLE ON, SO YOU KNOW ABOUT WHAT MY TIME’S WORTH.”

Since we lunched last spring, the NASDAQ has finally bounced back, so perhaps Sam will be getting out of the journalism racket soon. But if a lifetime spent as a journalist makes a person as funny and engaging as Sam Donaldson was over lunch, maybe there’s something to this profession. I’ll let you know in 40 years.