For the first time in years, I was assigned to cover a political watch party on Tuesday, the latest episode in the media’s “Election Night: Democracy in the Balance†production.
Can’t say I’ve missed these shindigs in my decade-or-so absence. But my editor had penciled me in for the Eric Schmitt soiree, so off I went.
Schmitt, Missouri’s attorney general and now Republican nominee for the U.S. Senate, was holding forth with about 300 faithful at Westport Plaza.
You may be asking yourself why covering a party could be considered a bad gig, right? To be blunt, they’re short on both news and fun.
Let’s look at the “party†side of the coin first.
As a reporter, you have to accept that you’re not considered a party guest, you’re viewed as part of the service staff: Do your job, be polite, try not to mingle too hard with those who actually gave money to the candidate.
People are also reading…
And just to make sure the paying people can spot the media people in a crowded room, journalists are given a lanyard and badge labeled “MEDIA†in bold, dark letters, not at all unlike a scarlet “A†or a “†sticker.
Then there is the issue of food and drink: Partake or abstain?
One school of thought is that reporters should not drink or eat anything at a political rally. Journalism professors and young reporters are the most fervent followers of this concept. And theoretically, I get it.
But in the real world, a reporter should use these events to test their dedication to the profession. Go ahead and fill a plate and eat the food, then write your story and check it for bias.
If you find that your objectivity was swayed by a couple of coconut shrimp and some sweaty cubes of cheese, then you have no business being in this business.
Admittedly, being objective is much easier now that many parties have cash bars, unlike the old days of free booze. Nothing like a $6 domestic beer to keep journalism on the up and up.
Another downside of such an assignment is the fact that you have about a 50-50 chance of getting sent to a losing party.
There are few things more morose than being with several hundred people whose candidate just had his or her dream dashed. Once it’s clear that the candidate got beat, the room gets stuffed into a giant vacuum food sealer and all that’s left to do is listen to the candidate say something about dedication, democracy and ... well, you know.
Still, there was some fun to be had on Tuesday.
Since this is STL and no one ever has six degrees of separation from anyone, I ran into some familiar faces and had a few pleasant chats.
Former state legislator Mike Gibbons, now a lawyer/lobbyist, and I swapped a few stories about the Kirkwood City Council in the early 1990s, when he was a young councilman and I was one of the new guys at this paper.
Then there was Leigh Svetanics Stevens, also a lawyer and a VIP-level Schmitt supporter.
We talked about : Her father, Milton Svetanics, was a former ºüÀêÊÓƵ alderman and later chief of staff for Mayor Vince Schoemehl; and her uncle Neil Svetanics was the longtime ºüÀêÊÓƵ and Lemay fire chief.
Her dad died in 1999, her uncle in 2017. “I still miss both of them,†she said.
Also in the house was longtime County Executive Gene McNary, 87 years old and in fine humor.
“Well, I’m a consultant,†McNary said when asked what he was doing these days. “But I don’t really do anything.â€
At least Schmitt’s party was a winning one and the crowd went wild when he began his victory speech with, “You guys ready to take this country back?â€
Right then, I was glad I wasn’t sent to the Eric Greitens party. After the troubled ex-governor finished a poor third in the primary, I had mental pictures of him challenging reporters to arm-wrestling bouts, with the losers having to take a sprint lap around the banquet center.
So after Schmitt wrapped up his speech, I called into the office and fed some quotes to the reporter compiling election stories (and getting an unfair share of Election Night newsroom pizza). Then I headed out to get myself something to eat.
Truth be told, I’m not a big fan of coconut shrimp.