Personal lives do inform public lives

You go to Mayor Jim West’s press conference because you remember the press conferences you attended 21 years ago when you worked in Washington, D.C., for USA Today and covered politics, a beat you were too young to appreciate.

You remember the pack journalism and how it felt to run with the big dogs. Terrifying. The TV cameramen shoved you out of their way.

This was 1984, the beginning of the era when the personal lives of politicians became fair game for journalists.

And so you walk to City Hall on Dec. 7, 2005. The space in front of the mayor’s office is crammed with about 25 journalists. The TV camera guys have formed a barricade around the podium where West will soon speak. You wish to get closer.

Your TV-cameramen fears return and so you ask KHQ’s Matt Rogers, a guy known for his niceness, if he will move his camera tripod and let you through. No problem.

The mood in the room is cordial. This is Spokane. It’s hard to play tough-guy journalist in a town where your kids play soccer against one another on Saturdays.

Another TV guy kindly asks if you could move away from a city banner that will provide the backdrop for his camera shots. No problem. You sit on the floor, a foot away from the podium.

West emerges from his office. You are sitting near enough to see his hands grip the podium. You sense his voice might be close to breaking; he speaks more softly than usual.

You flash back to Aug. 13, 2003, to the editorial board’s endorsement interview with the five mayoral candidates, held at the Spokane Public Library downtown. You asked the candidates how their personal lives informed their public lives. You remember that West said he didn’t really have a personal life; his public life was all.

Back to the present. The journalists fire questions at West, but in a respectful way. West knows many by name: Tobby, Mike, Tim.

Tim is Tim Egan, a New York Times reporter who asks pointed questions, but in a considerate way. He grew up in Spokane.

As the minutes tick by, West relaxes. His hands unclench. His voice grows stronger. To an Egan question, he fires back: “None of your damn business.” But his tone is not rude. West is enjoying the back-and-forth with reporters. He says, “I’m in my element.”

As he speaks, you flash back to an editorial board meeting this summer at the newspaper. City officials arrived to discuss the budget. West was with them. He was not expected. Halfway through the meeting, two newsroom editors walked in. West’s ears turned red. You remember his hand cupping his right ear to hide the blushing.

West’s scandal turned sad and awkward for many. This is Spokane. So folks know the women West dated, or the men he tried to date, or the editors and reporters he blames for his downfall. The Rev. Lonnie Mitchell, in whose church West has found solace, is almost as well-known as West.

The only time West’s eyes fill with tears is when he tells reporters that he prayed with Mitchell just before this press conference began.

You realize that the West scandal has made it clear how personal lives inform public lives. There is no denying this anymore. Not in Spokane, not in Boise, not in Olympia, not in Washington, D.C. In the end, the secrets are the killers.

You hope the scandal frees other elected officials to be who they truly are. People hunger for authenticity in their leaders; they will more easily forgive mistakes if it’s there.

You want to ask West if he realizes that as he lost his public life, he gained a personal life he can speak of without shame and apology. People stepped forward to support him. Not because he was the mayor, but because he was Jim.

You want to ask him this question, but the press conference is winding down. West lingers at the podium for a moment as cameras flash their final shots. And then, it’s all over.