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The 1934 Democratic convention had been dead
locked for 23 days between Hart and Mondale the
unspoken issue being which candidate would be
more easily defeated by the incumbent president.
It was at this historic moment that Sonny B.
Goode trotted up the center aisle on his milk-white
stallion, Clyde.
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At the time, Sonny was 82 years old, although he
looked several decades younger. There was not a
gray hair on his curly blonde head, hardly a line on
his handsome, tanned features and certainly not a
cavity among his 64 sparkling teeth.
He gave a humble little wave to the crowd, ducked
his head modestly and then tossed it back with a
lopsided, boyish grin. The delegates nominated him
then and there by acclamation.
"Aw, shucks," he said in his now-famous accep
tance speech, "I sure didn't aim to run for president
when I happened to ride in here because I'm just a
regular guy and not a politician. But if you want me
to do my very darned best to make this great coun
try even greater, I guess 111 just have to do my very
darned best to do it."
Sonny, as it turned out, hailed from Sweetapple,
Ohio. His wife Betsy, a perfect five, never bothered
her pretty little head about politics because she was
too busy making this great country even greater by
collecting pennies from school children to feed
hungry koala bears and baking lettuce-topped apple
pies for the press.
Sonny, himself, spent most of his time digging
postholes for exercise and telling stories of his
youth. When he was accused later in the campaign
for having "no compassion for the rich," he recalled
how J. P. Morgan had come to the family farm in
1934, pleading to be allowed to bale hay, which he'd
never done before.
"I had to beg my Pa to let Mr. Morgan do it,"
remembered Sonny. "But when I think of the grati
tude in Mr. Morgan's eyes, I always have a soft spot
in my heart for the rich."
Initially, the republicans took Sonny's campaign
as a joke. But when the polls showed him pulling
ahead, even the president became a bit flustered.
"What does Sonny B. Goode know about the issues?"
complained the president.
But Sonny simply shook his head sadly and said in
his kind, fatherly voice, "It's just too bad that some
people would rather stress negative things when
there's so much good to be said about our great
country and the wonderful people in it."
By late October, the desperate president chal
lenged Sonny to a debate. Barbara Walters asked
Sonny the first question: "What would you do if Iran
blockaded the Strait of Hormuz at 4 p.m. tomorrow?"
"Heck, that being my nap time, I'd just let the boys
at the State Department handle it," said Sonny.
"That's what all those experts are paid for."
The audience roared its approval "Where's the
beef?" demanded an angry president. But Sonny
merely looked at him with a sad but forgiving smile.
"There you go again," he said.
So it was Sonny in a landslide. On taking office, he
appointed all his old buddies from Sweetapple to
the top administration posts, willy-nilly.
The town druggist, who happened to be a pacifist,
became secretary of defense and sold the Pentagon.
The town feed merchant, a dedicated believer in the
trickle-up theory, became chief economic adviser
and gave all the government's money to the poor.
And the town drunk, an avowed isolationist, became
Secretary of State and said that he not only didn't
know the difference between El and San Salvador,
but he didn't give a fig. As for Sonny, he napped a lot.
Naturally, many people didn't care much for the
administration's policies. But everybody agreed on
one thing: There never was a sweller president than
Sonny B. Goode.
1984, Chronicle Publishing Co.
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Ed Sullivan...
Continued from Pass 5
My conversation with her was not
the first time I have seen this new set of
attitudes come up. A few months ago I
was talking to another teenager this
one 1 7 years old and she mentioned
that her parents liked to play tapes in
their car.
I asked her what kind of music her
mom and dad played.
"You know, classical stuff," she said.
Like what? I asked.
The Grateful Dead," she said.
And my old college roommate called
me the other day to ask me if I'd seen
the current issue of Playboy the one
that features a pictorial about young
men being romantically involved with
older women;
The 'older women' in the article are
younger than we are!" he said. The
'older women' are 35 years old!"
Oh, well. My 18-year-old acquain
tance asked me another question about
what Ed Sullivan's show had been like.
I was going to tell her about Topo
Gigio, but I didn't have the heart.
1984, Tribune Company Syndicate, Inc.
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