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On May 9, 1980, I had an up-close and personal encounter with the Secret Service. I must say that I was highly impressed.
In October of the prior year, as the director of housekeeping at Temple University, I, like many others, was very excited to learn that the university would be hosting a town hall meeting with President Jimmy Carter. This event would be unlike anything I had previously handled. With the world watching, the pressure was on to make sure the meeting went off without a hitch. The town hall was scheduled for Nov. 5, which meant that we only had about a month to get things in shape. The to-do list was formidable. The site of the meeting, McGonigle Hall, was “spit-shined” from top to bottom. New lights were installed throughout the building. Floors were polished. Graffiti was removed. One thousand white folding chairs were rented for the invited participants. Special electrical and telephone services were added. Another building was set up to accommodate the press, and so on. The Secret Service advance team met with and vetted all of us who would have close contact with the meeting site. My acquaintances and neighbors were questioned about me.
Finally, we were ready for Nov. 5, but geopolitics threw us a curveball. On Nov. 4, 52 American hostages were taken after Iranian militants overtook the American Embassy. The town hall meeting was canceled because President Carter would be too busy trying to get the hostages released, which was far more important.
The White House did, however, promise to reschedule.
In April, we were told that the meeting would take place on May 9. The hostages remained captive, but it was an election year, and Carter was doing poorly in the job-approval category. The economy was terrible; mortgage rates were sky high; and, of course, he was the guy at the top, so he was blamed for everything going wrong in the country. If he hoped to be re-elected, Carter had to regroup and mingle with the folks, and the town hall meeting would help him do that.
The extensive preparations mentioned above were repeated, and May 9 arrived. Hundreds of protestors gathered on Broad Street, across from McGonigle Hall. They were peaceful but adamant in their displeasure with the president. After we were given our security credentials, several of us were chosen to meet and shake hands with the president, so that he could express his thanks for our efforts. One of my supervisors was assigned to the press area across the street, but she was also chosen to meet the president. So, 10 minutes before the meeting closed, I needed to run across Broad Street and escort her back to the outdoor patio where we would greet Carter.
When I received the 10-minute warning, I began trotting across the street. Amid the throng of protestors, I heard someone call my name. It was one of my retired supervisors, who was just there as a spectator. As he called for me, he waved a small camera, obviously beckoning me to take a close-up picture for him. I thought it was no big deal, so I quickly detoured into the crowd to get his little Instamatic flash camera. As I turned to resume my mission, I spun around abruptly when two burly guys grabbed me by the arms. I didn’t know where they had come from, but when they said, “Secret Service. Where are you going?” I thought it wise to stop, smile, and show them my credentials. Then I realized, when the president is nearby, it’s probably not a good idea to suddenly take something from a crowd of angry protestors and run.
I explained, showing them the camera, and I was allowed to get my supervisor in time to meet Jimmy Carter as he exited the building. Ironically, almost 30 years later, my son married the daughter of a retired Secret Service agent who had helped protect the elder George Bush. When I shared this story with him, he just smiled, not at all surprised.
The whole episode left me with a deep appreciation for the diligence and skills with which these agents selflessly protect our top government officials and their families. May God protect them all.
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