I’m going to make a couple of assumptions. First, the keynote speaker at the National Convention of the Tea Party was really Sarah Palin—not Tina Fey doing her Palin imitation. Secondly, if it was the real Sarah Palin, I assume the speech was not intended as an audition to replace Fey on Saturday Night Live. I make these assumptions despite evidence that Palin’s palm peeking could be interpreted as a remarkably well-written comedy bit.

Although Ronald Reagan—the idol of Palin, Tea Partiers and most conservatives— made his share of gaffes, he never relied on a palm prompter. At least, as far as I know from my limited contact with him. As a budding radio reporter in 1966, I first interviewed budding politician Reagan a few weeks before he announced his initial bid to become California’s Governor. Earlier the same evening, the future President had addressed an outdoor rally sponsored by the Republican Party of the twin cities of Marysville and Yuba City in northern California. He wowed the crowd. And me, too, for that matter.

I had previously traveled on a campaign swing with two term, incumbent Governor Edmund G. Brown—Jerry Brown’s daddy—and listened to the same speech over and over again as we flew across the state. “Seven years and four months ago, voters brought forth in this state…..” I recall the Brown speech when reading of water-board torture. However, was free booze on the plane that helped ease my pain and that of ”real journalists.” The term did not yet apply to me. By the time we reached the final stop in Eureka, some of us staggered into a big Democratic fundraising dinner. We were rowdy, but did not completely disrupt the event.

No doubt, the Reagan speech in Marysville-Yuba City was well rehearsed and repeated at every stop. But it didn’t seem that way. The actor knew how to deliver lines like he never spoke them before. His movie and TV roles had trained him for politics. And not once did he peek at his palm. 

The local GOP Chairman had promised me an exclusive interview with the soon-to-be gubernatorial candidate prior to a fundraising cocktail party that was scheduled to follow the rally. When I arrived at the restaurant, Reagan was stashed in a backroom, where he and wife Nancy were taking a break. Entering the room, he was complaining about how tired and hungry they were after a full day of campaigning. The weariness was apparent on their faces. Then, just as the food arrived, my GOP contact interrupted. “Remember the interview I mentioned, Ronnie. This is the reporter.”

In a flash, Reagan’s demeanor completely changed. He walked across the room, hand extended and a smile on his face. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said. “Lets move away from these other people so we can have some privacy.” The transformation was amazing. But how many times had he been summoned to the set to shoot another scene, or the same one over again.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, I asked inane questions. My naiveté as a cub reporter was obvious. The only question I remember was the first. “Are you now officially a candidate for Governor?” For several weeks, he had declined to reveal his plans. I was idioltic enough to think he was going to make the declaration in my interview.

To his credit, Reagan did not answer, “Of course I’m a candidate. Why the hell do you think I stand here answering dumb questions by a small town northern California radio reporter when I’m so tired and hungry I can hardly stand on my feet?” 

Although I have no memory of the overall substance of the interview, I suspect that some of my questions were more bizarre than any he heard from better informed reporters. I didn’t know anything about politics and had failed to write questions on the palm of my hand. So I simply asked whatever popped into my mind. Fortunately, Reagan was too nice a guy to insult me or anyone else needlessly. 

It’s a helluva lot different today. I find it curious that so many conservatives who consider Reagan an icon are unable to follow his example of civility and end Congressional gridlock. Indeed, bipartisanship could be restored  in Washington, perhaps, if politicians—Republicans and Democrats alike—scribbled a note on the palm of their hands that said, “Be nice. Put the nations welfare ahead of my own personal interests.”