Fat Man Speaks Out

Jack W. Germond, 76, has covered politics for half a century for The Baltimore Sun and other publications and is, arguably, the country's most astute political reporter. These days he works in a Charles Town, West Virginia, home office with, as he says, "a huge triple window facing the Shenandoah River." In other ways, too, life seems good. He has lost weight (down to 220 pounds – luckily, still enough to live up to his billing); lives only 10 minutes from a racetrack; and has a new book, Fat Man Fed Up: How American Politics Went Bad. Here, he talks about liberal journalists, October surprises, and why telling Bob Shrum to push off is one of John Kerry's greatest accomplishments.

How did you come up with the title of your book?

In my memoir, Fat Man in a Middle Seat, I talk about how people think covering presidential campaigns is a glamorous way to make a living. In fact, it often involves being trapped on standby in the Atlanta airport on a rainy Friday night and ending up as the fat man in the middle seat on the ride home.

The subtitle of your new book is "How American Politics Went Bad." Can you tell me about that?

Yeah, I'll give you an example. We had this big argument in the press about whether John Kerry had thrown away medals or the ribbons or the pins or both. We know he was the leader of the anti-war movement 30 years ago. Since then, he's had 20 years of public policy. Why was that important? Nobody's going to vote because of the medals.

You say Americans get what they deserve.

It is my thesis that the dumbing down is the fault of the politicians – but not only. It's also the fault of voters because they don't pay attention. And of the press because we don't do a good job. I don't have clean hands. Ordinarily, a book like mine will have solutions. I don't have any. The other day, I was talking to a group of people at a Chicago library. Somebody asked me about the book's pessimistic tone. I said, "You know, if anyone is remotely suicidal, they shouldn't read it."

There are funny parts, and I enjoyed it. But, yes, it's kind of a downer.

It's supposed to be. The people we're electing are terrible.

In your book, your political writing is all about "judgment and detachment." Is it necessary to be detached?

I think it is. You have to understand other people's point of view and not be judgmental, and, yes, you have to have the judgment in a different sense. If you're a political writer in the big leagues, everyone's trying to con you. Politicians ask you for advice during a campaign. Ah, give me a break. We know what they're doing.

But it's seductive, isn't it?

It can be. But you can be friends and stay detached. I enjoy going to the racetrack with Bob Strauss. But I can set that aside when I'm writing about the Democratic Party.

Now you're open about being a liberal. But you weren't always.

I used to give the standard answer that editors like that – and that reporters give. That you're totally objective all the time. And it was such a load of crap I decided to stop doing it. You know, I'm a liberal. So what? I'm also a professional reporter. I'm able to detach myself from my biases and cover a story. Our conservative critics think there's some plot. The only plotting we're doing is to beat Dave Broder every day.

You write, "Being a political liberal seems to entail, among other things, limiting the harsh use of tactics." Should liberals be tougher?

The reason liberals don't work on radio talk shows is they don't have moral certitude. Rick Santorum gets up and talks about purging evil from the Senate when they pass a bill that limits "partial-birth" abortion. He has the kind of certitude you can't find in liberals. In my time, the worst things in campaigns have been done by hardcore conservatives. Look at the campaign against Max Cleland.