Not for publication
The other day I was flipping through a book of famous quotations that my wife got me for Christmas. I was trying to see if I was listed among the famous “sayers.” I thought that maybe the editors might have lifted one of my bon mots from MRT. (That’s right, I am delusional.)
As I was reading the pith and wisdom of Mencken, Woolcott, Locke, Aquinas and Buffalo Bob, it dawned on me that none of the FCC chairmen’s names appeared. These guys speak all the time to gatherings of (allegedly) important people-like Congress. They’re stars at events that shape the world of media and information. But, not one chairman has ever said anything profound enough quote for posterity.
Laws are like sausages. It’s better not to see them being made. -Otto von Bismarck
This struck me as a curious omission in the history of pith. Certainly, some FCC chairman has uttered words that are worthy of note. Perhaps the editors of books of quotations just hadn’t recorded them. Maybe the problem is that the commissioners use speech writers and, therefore, their utterances do not qualify as original quotes. Are there rules to this game? I don’t know. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to know about the speech writers. I wanted to know what kind of person is penning the majestic phrases of our highest communications officials.
I checked the FCC telephone directory to see if anyone was listed in the position of speech writer, but no name appeared under the category. Now, I know that the commissioners don’t write this stuff themselves. They’re too busy with 3G, reciprocal compensation, WAPs, CDMA and other stuff that ordinary Americans assume refers to the secret ingredients in toilet cleansers.
It took four days, a small bribe and a look of pure confidence to search through the halls and floors of the FCC’s new digs at the Portals. Eventually, I found “him” in a cubicle in the basement, banging away at a 40-year-old Remington typewriter, cursing the keys. Mort Stessel, the unofficial-official speech writer for the commissioners, glanced up and said, “Can’t talk. Trying to come up with an opening joke for Kennard’s speech at CTIA.
“Say, have you heard the one about the monkey, the lawyer and the local exchange carrier who were trapped in a refrigerator?” he asked in rapid-fire, clipped speech that hinted of a New Jersey childhood. “I can’t remember if it’s the monkey or the lawyer who sits in the butter.”
Ninety percent of the politicians give the other 10 percent a bad reputation. -Henry Kissinger
Mort scowled at the typing paper with hooded eyes that were shadowed by a battered porkpie hat. A lock of limp, partially gray hair fell across his equally graying face, scrunched up in concentration. Suddenly, he rocked back in his cracked, green leather office chair and emitted a “Darn it!” that echoed off the concrete basement walls, where someone had taped a sign with faded block lettering: “it’s not what you say. it’s whether they thought you did.”
Mort turned his tired, feral eyes on me and asked, “You here for the Sugrue speech? I told ’em I’d have it on Thursday.”
“No, sir. I just wanted to meet the FCC’s official wordsmith,” I declared with a friendly smile. My attempt at cordiality netted me a snort from Stessel that also echoed off the cold walls.
“Wordsmith? Who are you kidding, kid? I’ve been banging this thing since Marconi was in Pampers, and I’ve never had to speak to a civilian. So why’d they send you to see me?”
“They didn’t,” I said. “I just wanted to meet you-learn about you.”
The only thing that saves us from the bureaucracy is its inefficiency. -Eugene McCarthy
“Why?” Mort asked suspiciously.
“Well, I figured that somebody had to be writing all of those speeches that the appointees deliver all over the place. I didn’t know anything about you, so I ‘looked you up,’ so to speak.”
“Yeah, I write ’em,” he sighed. “And it isn’t easy. You ever try to write a joke about telecommunications? It’s not exactly the funniest subject on the planet. But, I’ve been coming up with them since 1971 when I was transferred from the common carrier microwave branch. I used to be a processor. The guy that used to do this job died right at this typewriter. Had half a page written for a speech in San Francisco. I’ve still got his opening joke around here. Not bad.”
“Is it getting any easier?” I asked casually.
“Nope-harder. Now my stuff’s got to be ‘politically correct,’ sensitive, give a sense of business savvy but never be controversial enough to upset anyone. Around the time of Fowler, the blue pencils really started working overtime. He wanted to send a ‘message’-I just couldn’t figure out what it was.”
“How about Chairman Patrick?” I asked.
“The kid was always going on about the Fairness Doctrine, as if anyone outside of politics even knew what the hell it was. I told him to stick to cellular, but no-o-o-o. I’m just Mort, ‘the Man in the Basement.’ Whatta I know? So, he didn’t get reappointed because he’d upset just about every sitting political big shot on Capitol Hill. I’m still here-he’s history.”
I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible for any public office. -H. L. Mencken
“How about Hundt?”
“Don’t get me started. I was working nights and weekends trying to figure out how to spin the auction thing. I mean, selling spectrum? What’s that? The stuff doesn’t even exist! But this guy’s out peddling this stuff to the rubes like snake oil. By the way, I caught hell for that ‘federal cash cow’ comment. It’d been a long weekend, and I guess I got a little nuts.”
“Sounds like you don’t like the guys you work for,” I said flatly.
It takes a special breed to be an FCC chairman. Between the White House and Congress, you don’t know if you’re Charlie McCarthy or Edgar Bergen, but you know everyone’s going to treat you like the dummy. -Mort Stessel
