Governor McGreevey Reveals: "I Am a Gay American" (August 12, 2004)

It was late afternoon on Aug. 12, 2004, a Thursday, and I was finishing the exit interview of our department's summer intern (at media buying/planning agency Carat USA.)  Then I heard the soft "ping" from my computer indicating incoming mail so I casually glanced at the screen and saw a CNN Breaking News alert (the 21st century's version of "Extra, extra read all about it!"). 

 

 

It reported that New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey was stepping down upon revealing at a news conference that "my truth is that I am a gay American."  Furthermore, he had been involved in an adulterous affair with his former 36-year-old homeland security advisor who planned to press sexual harassment charges against the governor.  McGreevey's announcement was made to pre-empt this action.  The aide, Israeli citizen Golan Cipel, vigorously denied the affair and claimed McGreevey made three advances that he rebuffed.  (He returned to Israel and hasn't been heard from since.)

 

 

 

Upon reading this news I let out a "whoa!" and chuckled with surprise. The expression on his wife Dina's face in the photo above is priceless.  I'd love to know what was going through her mind at that very moment. A few years later her tell-all book, Silent Partner, told us.

 

 

Since then online news alerts have informed me of other equally stunning admissions of philandering by two other governors, i.e. Eliot Spitzer of New York (March '08) and Mark Sanford of South Carolina (June '09) and online adultery by New York congressman Anthony Weiner (June '11).  For these revelations, however, I didn't make any audible exclamation, I just shook my head silently, exasperated by their transgressions.

 

 

 

Richard Nixon Resigns the Presidency (August 8, 1974)

 

 

 

I was a teenager at the time of Richard Nixon's resignation and had yet to develop much in the way of a political consciousness.  Sure, I knew my parents were registered Democrats but I didn't really have an opinion about President Nixon (although I had some initial misgivings when he was first elected because the scuttlebutt on the playground was that he was going to institute Saturday classes).  And although the televised Watergate hearings had been a constant presence, and part of the background "noise" at home during the preceding 12 months, I watched tonight's presidential address to the nation with no feelings of triumph or vindication.  Rather, it was a somber occasion and I thought how lamentable it was that Nixon had let his presidency unravel.  (For background on the Watergate affair you may find Carl Bernstein & Bob Woodward's acclaimed book The Final Days helpful; or perhaps the Oscar-nominated film from 2008 Frost Nixon.) 

 

It was just me and my mother watching; Dad was outside puttering in the garden.  And although I knew I was witnessing an event unmatched by few others in US history, I had other pressing concerns on my 17-year-old mind -  I was editor of the yearbook and had plans to make as my senior year in high school approached.  (I also hoped that Nixon's resignation wouldn't cast a pall on the upcoming school year.)

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of the yearbook, I had just returned the day before from a workshop for yearbook staffs from high schools throughout Western Pennsylvania.  It was held over the course of three days at Seven Springs ski resort, about 50 miles east of Pittsburgh.  My ascension to the post of editor (at Sto-Rox High School) was a bit unconventional because I hadn't been part of the yearbook clique.  A new yearbook advisor decided to select the editor based on who wrote the best essay - and I was chosen. 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, a Friday, I watched as Nixon and Pat Nixon, now private citizens, left the White House and boarded a helicopter for San Clemente, CA.  Newly sworn-in president Gerald Ford and the new First Lady Betty Ford saw them off.  However, I was preoccupied with my morning paper route (I delivered the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette) because I had one paper left and I didn't know who I had missed.

 

 

 

My interest in politics would begin in earnest two years later when Jimmy Carter ran against Ford and I voted in my first presidential election. 

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Yankee Catcher Thurman Munson Dies in Plane Crash (August 2, 1979)

I had been working in New York for just four months and had yet to develop an allegiance to any New York team so perhaps that's why I don't recall what I was doing when I heard of Thurman Munson's death.  However, a number of years earlier I experienced the same shock and utter disbelief as Yankees fans when Pittsburgh Pirate great Roberto Clemente was killed - also in a plane crash.  I was getting ready to deliver the morning paper, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, at 6AM on Jan. 1, 1973 when I heard the news on the kitchen radio.  What an awful way to begin a new year.  I tried to console myself with the memory of Clemente getting his 3,000th hit in his final at-bat of the 1972 regular season.

 

To pay proper tribute to Munson I've asked a friend and devoted Yankee fan, Sam Belil, to fill in for me and provide his memories and reflections.  Sam, thanks for your heartfelt tribute.

 

Thursday, Aug. 2, 1979 - I'll never forget that day, the day we lost our Captain, the heart and soul of the New York Yankees - Thurman Munson.  He was my first baseball hero and is STILL my favorite Yankee of all-time (Jeter is #2).  I remember it as if it were 30 seconds ago and not 30+ years.  I was watching General Hospital on WABC-Channel 7 when a "Special Report" came on and (pardon the pun) a VERY grim looking Roger Grimsby reported that "New York Yankee star catcher Thurman Munson has been killed in the crash of the plane he was piloting".  As I write this I feel the same exact pain in my gut that I felt that afternoon.  For those of us who were alive back then losing Thurman is something we'll probably never get over - a part of my heart was forever broken. (In less than a year's time Yankee fans had gone from the exhilaration of Bucky Dent's game-winning home run in their one-game playoff against the Red Sox to take us to a third straight World Series, to this crushing blow.) 

 

 

Not surprisingly, the next few days were emotionally draining.  Before the start of the game on the day following his death (and with home plate left unoccupied), Munson received a 10-minute standing ovation from the Yankee Stadium crowd.  Then on Monday, August 6, the day of Munson's funeral, the Yankees flew to Canton, Ohio for the morning funeral and flew back for that evening's nationally televised game - which MLB commissioner Bowie Kuhn wouldn't allow the Yankees to postpone.  Fittingly, the Yankees came from behind to win in the bottom of the 9th on a 2-run walk-off home run by Munson's close friend Bobby Murcer.

 

 

 

As a teenager, besides my girlfriend at the time, Thurman Munson was MY EVERYTHING.  My favorite memories of him come from his extraordinary 1976 post-season - he batted .435 against the Kansas City Royals and .529 against the great Cincinnati Reds, including six consecutive hits.  He was the only Yankee not to be intimidated by the Big Red Machine, the only Yankee whose body language said, "Yes, I belong here and I will make the most of it!"  Whenever I watch highlights of that World Series I always listen to the meeting at the pitcher's mound between the Reds' Pete Rose, Johnny Bench and manager Sparky Anderson as they talked about Munson ... "Man that guy can flat out HIT!"  It still brings tears to my eyes.

 

 

 

Although he played shortstop in high school and college Thurman looked so natural in his catcher's gear.  Statistically speaking he may not have been the greatest Yankee ever, but his leadership, grit, genuine concern for his teammates and clutch hitting make him, to me, the greatest Yankee Captain of all time. (And he holds the distinction of being the only Yankee to win a Rookie of the Year and MVP award.)

 

 

 

When his autobiography was published in 1979 (and I've already bought and read the new biography about him, Munson: Life & Death of a Yankee Captain) what touched me most about Munson was his dedication to his family and the importance he placed on being a good father.  Ironically, it was his desire to be in close contact with his family in Ohio that motivated him to take up piloting.  From Thurman I learned the importance of family and being close to them. I have a 19-year-old son (and just celebrated 21 years of marriage). Coincidentally, his name is Michael, the same as Munson's son.  I cherish every day with him as if it were my last on this planet.  Thurman Munson was my role model in more ways than one.

 

  

  

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