Daily Press (Sunday)

Warner’s poise should be a model for others

Piedmont is distinctiv­e for habits of human encounter that often run toward cordially formal — and you pick that up in Warner

- Gordon C. Morse

A certain sentimenta­lity runs through this reaction. But former U.S. Sen. John Warner’s voice, lent to TV advertisin­g in support of Rep. Elaine Luria’s bid for a second term in the House, is good to hear.

You pick up some Piedmont lilt in there and rightfully so, given Warner’s roots in Amherst County, via the Tinsely family. My mother’s older sister married a Tinsely and more than a few of them run about that part of the world and have for a long time.

I raised the issue of Amherst with Warner once and learned it was about summer and his grandparen­ts, and realized we shared a circumstan­ce of going there because we loved being there.

We likely also shared a similar childhood dilemma of iron-infused, clay-encrusted clothing and that the reddish oxides — in the Piedmont soil, in the creeks, everywhere — required a certain amount of vigorous laundering afterwards.

The eroded uplands of the Piedmont constitute a “peneplain,” a roughly level land surface produced by erosion over a long period, undisturbe­d by crustal movement.

How about that? Be assured, none of this I would know about had I not married a geologist. But, as children, knee-deep in Tribulatio­n Creek, we lived in the stuff and you could even smell the iron.

The region is also distinctiv­e for habits of human encounter that often run toward the cordially formal and you pick that up in John Warner, too. He’s a charming man who managed to succeed in a line of work — politics — not always endowed with charm.

You marvel at Warner’s life, his ability to combine romantic encounter — including celebrated marriages to heiress Catherine Mellon and actress Elizabeth Taylor — with martial endeavor.

It wasn’t enough for Warner to serve as a petty officer in the Second World War Navy. He also joined the Marine Corps during the Korean War and earned his commission. Later he would serve as secretary of the Navy under President Richard Nixon.

Warner’s 1978 bid for the GOP nomination to succeed U.S. Senator Bill Scott came up short in the now aged Richmond Coliseum and I sat in the rafters to watch that convention unfold.

There was nowhere else to sit for this remarkable event. The Republican­s packed the place with more than 9,000 delegates and alternates, with the specific intent of demonstrat­ing their party’s political vitality. Warner brought some surprising vitality of his own.

Over the preceding year or so, with Liz Taylor in tow, Warner had dazzled local GOP chicken/ pork/fish fundraisin­g events, helped fill local coffers and thrilled (oh my gosh, look who’s here!) Virginians from sea to mountains.

During the GOP convention, Taylor climbed onto a chair and enthusiast­ically cheered her husband on. The whole affair got raucous in a happy way and consumed nine hours before 42-yearold Richard Obenshain — a former party chairman and political strategist with few peers in that era — prevailed on the sixth ballot.

Anticipati­ng the outcome, just prior to the final tally, Warner grabbed a microphone and urged the convention to unanimousl­y support Obenshain. Warner’s grace in defeat did not go unnoticed.

Two months later Obenshain was dead, his campaign plane having plowed into the woods short of Chesterfie­ld County Airport, and it’s near impossible to convey how shocking that was at the time. Campaigns force considerat­ion of many variables, but that was not on the list.

Within two weeks, the much

rattled GOP handed Warner the nomination to compete against former Virginia Attorney General Andrew Miller, a Democrat, who promptly secured his lasting reputation for being one of the worst campaigner­s to ever live.

Warner won that race by about 5,000 votes, ultimately chaired the Senate Armed Services Committee and retired in 2008. The only Virginian to serve longer in that body was Harry F. Byrd.

What does charm get ya? A few years ago, America gave John his own submarine. Well, they put his name on the thing and the Queen

of England made him an honorary Knight Commander.

“Yes, we can do it.” Warner said, as he began his 76-day campaign for the senate in 1978, “because we recognize that voters are a lot smarter than we give them credit for.”

That proved to be something of an anthem for Warner’s markedly independen­t political career.

Here was a public servant who took his countrymen seriously enough to make his own choices, believing they would see the sense and wisdom of his decisions.

Generally speaking, they did. If only that would happen more often.

After writing editorials for the Daily Press and The Virginian-Pilot in the 1980s,

Gordon C. Morse wrote speeches for Gov. Gerald L. Baliles, then spent nearly three decades working on behalf of corporate and philanthro­pic organizati­ons, including PepsiCo, CSX, Tribune Co. and the Colonial Williamsbu­rg Foundation and Dominion Energy. His email address is gordonmors­e@msn.com.

 ?? L. TODD SPENCER/STAFF FILE ?? Former Sen. John Warner tours the submarine that bears his name hours before the formal christenin­g in 2014 at Newport News Shipbuildi­ng.
L. TODD SPENCER/STAFF FILE Former Sen. John Warner tours the submarine that bears his name hours before the formal christenin­g in 2014 at Newport News Shipbuildi­ng.
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