Those embarassing moments

I held the last “coffee hour” that Sen. Warren Magnuson ever held.

The senator had assisted me with some of my arrangements when I made my trips to the Far East.

So when one of his aides called and asked if I would hold a coffee hour during his reelection campaign, I said yes.

I explained to the aide that I didn’t want to advertise the event because I was a reporter and tried to stay as far away from that kind of thing that I could.

So his office promoted the evening coffee hour and said that the public could come in and meet the senator.

Our house filled up, about 75 to 100 people, and true to form the senator was late.

He arrived along with several members of his staff, and as soon as he greeted me he asked if he could have some black coffee.

I could tell the senator was a little back on his heels and had been drinking, not unusual for him.

When you entered our house through the front door, you couldn’t be seen from the living room or dining room. We had a hall just inside the house that led to the kitchen where the coffee urn was located. He hurriedly downed the black coffee and took a second cup.

The senator came into the living room and worked his way through the crowd. Then he gave a short talk about running for another six-year term and asked if anyone had any questions.

There was an elderly woman there who lived down the block who asked a hard question that caught Magnuson off guard. He stumbled in his answer, and she pressed him again. He became a little unglued and later told his staff not to ever schedule a coffee hour for him.

All and all, it went pretty well, and he seemed appreciative. But it was his last such coffee hour.

• My wife and I occasionally would go hotel hopping in downtown Seattle. Many of the nicer hotels had live music in their bars where you could go in and enjoy the music.

There were four or five of them that had music and we would go to enjoy the evening, moving from one to another.

This evening we went with Frosty Fowler, a former disc jockey in the city, and his girlfriend.

There was a sax player who was in the background of a five-unit group. When it became his time to shine he moved forward on the stage to play. His fly was open and there was a gasp from the crowd.

He was animated and was playing his heart out and the laughter was picking up.

Frosty was not one to let things get in his way, and stood up and motioned to his fly to get the sax player’s attention. 

When the sax player realized what was wrong, he hurriedly worked his way to the back of the band and turned his back while he zipped up.

• When I worked in Boise, I was asked to give a talk to a group there.

I looked out, and in the crowd I saw my close friend sitting about halfway back in the auditorium.

I thought it would be a good thing to acknowledge him and introduce him.

I tried and suddenly completely forgot his name. While it probably wasn’t my most embarrassing moment, it ranked right up there.

He lives in Wenatchee now and often reminds me of my memory problem at that time.

• My brother-in-law in New Jersey was the subject of many embarrassing moments. We were back there to see my sister, my oldest sibling.

My sister asked what we would like to do while there, and I told her, go to D.C. and to the Amish area nearby.

I had made arrangements earlier to go see our congressman, Lloyd Meeds, at his office.

We went down to the nation’s capital and went to see Lloyd. He offered to take us to lunch at the House’s dining room.

It’s a nice dining spot and he was picking up the tab, at least signing for it.

All the time we were there, my brother-in-law was complaining about the life of luxury our elected officials led.

He was loud and abusive, and later Lloyd asked me who he was.

My sister’s husband was an embarrassment to me, and as far as I was concerned to the human race.

These are not my only embarrassments, but a start.