John Warner onthou, Virginia-heer en student van die Senaat

I was in the subway tunnel which stretches between the Senaat Office Buildings and the U.S. Kapitool. Een van die ondergrondse trems wat mense van die Dirksen Senaatskantoorgebou na die Capitol ry, dreun verby.

And then I saw, behind the window pane of one of the tram cars, that distinctive shock of white hair. A deep, perfect cleft separated the hair as a part.

I knew I had found my quarry: Sy. John Warner, R-Va.

Nou, I had to outrace the tram to the Capitol subway station to grab Warner before he ascended the small escalator leading to the elevators. Once on the elevators, Warner would be gone, onto the Senate floor to make a roll call vote, two floors above.

And I would miss my interview.

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I don’t recall what I needed to talk to Warner about that day in the mid-2000s when I worked in public radio. But I clenched my audio recorder and microphone and set out in a dead sprint to reach the Capitol subway station, waarskynlik 250 yards away. I even hit the record button so I would be ready to go if I caught up with Warner.

I didn’t beat the tram. Even Usain Bolt couldn’t have done that. The tram trundles along at more than 25 mph and had a head of steam. As I ran up the slight grade of the tunnel, I saw Warner, attired in a smart, blue sport coat garnished with a red pocket square, exit the tram in the station and head for the escalator.

I dialed up my sprint a notch, en, out of breath, hollered as loud as I could.

“Sy. Warner! Sy. Warner!”

Startled, Warner stopped, one hand on the black, circulating handrail of the escalator, and turned.

“Sy. Warner!” I called again.

He turned – and saw me, chugging the final 30 yards into the subway station, the tangle of a radio microphone slithering behind me on the walkway.

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Warner knew who I was. I interviewed the senator dozens of times and found myself in countless scrums with other reporters surrounding him in the Capitol. So he understood hoekom I was chasing him, although he didn’t know the specific subject.

I…..wanted…to….ask…you,” I heaved, gasping for breath.

Always the gentleman, Warner looked after his fellow man.