I say proposed response, because Charlie Bennett read or reviewed however quickly, every one of the hundreds of letters that flowed out of his office every day. If he spotted a response not to his liking, he would grab for his pen, cross out the offending word or phrase, and insert his corrections. Often enough, he would write between the lines to the end of the right margin, turn the letter on its side and write to the top of the page, then turn the page upside down and continue writing across the top.

After being on the job for a day or two, when I saw that he had made such a lengthy correction, I retrieved the letter and returned it to one of our hard working typists to be redone. Since all copies of correspondence, even revisions, were kept together, he soon spotted the retyped draft.

“John,” he yelled. He could have used the telephone, but more often than not, I was on the telephone following up on the myriad initiatives underway in any Congressional office. Calling out instead was faster and more direct.

Even through the heavy paneled oak door to my left that separated our offices, I could hear him when he raised his voice.  John Farley had been my predecessor as Administrative Assistant. For a few seconds it didn’t register on me that he was calling John out of habit, but meant me.

When I was in front of his desk, he explained, “When I call John, I mean Tracy,” he said staring intently at the retyped letter. I was just beginning to think he was going to say something positive about the now perfectly typed letter, when he began to lecture me on how inefficient it was to have letters typed and then retyped.

But what about the lengthy, hand written revisions; didn’t that look messy and unprofessional, I countered.

It didn’t bother him one bit, he explained. Besides, the people who received those replies would certainly know that their Congressman had actually seen and thoughtfully replied to their letters. Of course, he was absolutely right on both points.

© Copyright 2015 Tracy D. Connors