Over the years, as a writer for the Tampa Bay Business Journal and media relations manager at USF, I had opportunities to cover and interact with the late Sam Gibbons, the iconic congressman who never lost an election. He was invariably friendly, polite, self-effacing and direct. He was a Tampa native who never forgot his roots or whom he represented.
Thanks to Tom Brokaw, Sam Gibbons became an avatar of “The Greatest Generation.” He was that important–but never self-important. He was what a public official should be–and he was ours.
Once Gibbons retired from Congress (in 1997) after 17 terms, there were far fewer opportunities to meet up with him.
Then about two years ago I heard Sam Gibbons and John Germany give a co-lecture at the Tampa Bay History Center. It was about the birth of USF; Gibbons was its “founding father.” The presentation was informative and anecdote-laden.
I was reminded what a treasure Gibbons was. Some people know history. Some lived through it. Sam Gibbons helped make it. From Normandy to Tallahassee to Washington. Along the way, he was a key catalyst in reshaping Tampa.
But now he was in his ninth decade and needed a cane to get around. Intimations of mortality were manifest. I resolved to reserve some time with this Tampa institution–who was born during the Woodrow Wilson administration–while we were still fortunate enough to have him in our civic midst.
We met at his place, the Canterbury Tower retirement residence in South Tampa. Three hours never seemed like 30 minutes before. It was more tour de force recollections than interview. From parachuting behind enemy lines on D-Day to pushing for the establishment of USF and Head Start. From accompanying President John F. Kennedy in Tampa days before the assassination to jawing with President Lyndon Johnson over Vietnam. From being one of Congress’ staunchest advocates of free trade to throwing a righteous, congressional-committee fit over Medicare reform. The details came cascading back. He was still nimble where it mattered most.
One conversational habit was particularly pertinent. He invariably spoke in the first person plural. “Nobody ever accomplished anything alone,” he explained modestly, sort of a precursor to “you didn’t build that by yourself.”
D-Day Recalled
Nothing was more mesmerizing than his account, delivered in less-than-heroic and sometimes wry fashion, of his Normandy experience. I, however, felt queasy just listening.
Some background: 24-year-old Army Captain Gibbons and the other 600 members of the 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment had been practicing in Southern England near Newberry, about 60 miles west of London. But the real thing, come June 6, 1944, was nothing like the dress rehearsal.
For openers, it was at night (1:00 a.m.), and the C-47 had to keep its lights and radio off. It was part of an ultra-tight formation. “Were we scared? We were young and optimistic, but, no, we didn’t think we were immortal,” recalled Gibbons. “But, yes, you always feel like you’ll be one of the survivors. But the actual jump? Hell, it was more of a relief. We were just glad to get out of that airplane. You could hear small arms hitting the sides of the plane. And we have all this fuel on board.”
Gibbons acted as jump master for his 17 fellow paratroopers as they descended from the relative impunity of 2,500 feet to the absolute peril of 800 feet, well within enemy range.
They landed behind Utah Beach in the Cotentin Peninsula near the Normandy town of Carentan on the main road between Cherbourg and Paris. Right in the heart of French dairy-farmland. “Picturesque,” impishly noted Gibbons, “except for the Germans.”
“After about 30 hours without sleep, we had to take a break,” said Gibbons. “The weather was perfect. Not a cloud–or a plane–in the sky. Surrounded by farms. Perfect picnic weather except you were being shot at.”
Living off the land, the Americans, courtesy of Gibbons, were once memorably treated to a touch of home. Gibbons’ 40-pound knapsack contained two cans of Schlitz beer that he had stuffed into his gas mask before jumping. (They were what was left of a case given him by sailors aboard the American cruiser Quincy, a D-Day rehearsal participant.) He bayoneted them open and passed them around during a break in the action. The Schlitz incident had been a local tale until a captivated Brokaw informed readers in “The Greatest Generation.”
The Germans had the Americans outgunned. More than half of the 501st never made it home. Gibbons recalled communicating by clicks of a metal, noise-making “cricket” and living the aphorism of foxholes as atheist-challenged enclaves.
“The Germans were probably100 yards away,” said Gibbons. “You do get kind of introspective when you’re being shot at,” he deadpanned. “I remember praying. And thinking that they were probably praying too. They were, what, Lutherans, I guess. So they were probably praying to the same God. I figured it put God in an awkward place.”
Gibbons went on to fight in the Battle of the Bulge and would leave the service as a major. He would also leave with a Bronze Star. Later he would be awarded the French Legion of Honor. He was a true American hero.
Kennedy Connection
By the time Gibbons reached the U.S. House of Representatives in 1962, he already had some standing within the Kennedy White House. He was John F. Kennedy’s Florida point man in the 1960 presidential campaign, having been personally picked by Robert Kennedy while he was still a Florida state senator. He would later team up with Sargent Shriver to establish Head Start.
As it turned out, Sam and Martha Gibbons and their three kids moved in near Bobby and Ethel Kennedy and their family–by then well on its way to 11 children. The Gibbons and Kennedy kids used to play together and ride ponies at the Kennedy’s. Sam and Bobby stayed in touch after the latter became a senator from New York.
“He was always polite,” recalled Gibbons of Bobby Kennedy. “Called me ‘Senator’ when I was still in Tallahassee. I never saw that ‘ruthless side’ that was written about. He had a wife and all those children who loved him. He had loyal friendships.”
He also knew JFK well enough to help escort him around on his Nov. 18 Tampa visit just days before Dallas. They shared a motorcade limo as well as a stage at old Al Lopez Field.
The crowd that day, said Gibbons, was more “enthusiastic” than expected. “He wasn’t that popular before the election. But now whole schools got off. Whole families got together. The president waved and shouted back. Even had the limo stop a few times to get out and talk with the crowds. I remember him saying, ‘Sam, you’ve sure got a lot of pretty girls in this city.'”
As for security, Gibbons said that he wasn’t privy to details or rumors, although he noted that Secret Service agents rode on the presidential limo’s rear bumper throughout the downtown motorcade. Nor was he overly aware of the beefed-up police presence–from overpasses to the Floridan Hotel. “I guess I was too busy waving to the crowd,” he reasoned.
Later that day Gibbons would accompany JFK to Miami and then back to Washington on Air Force One and on to the White House via helicopter. Among the topics broached on that return trip: JFK’s re-election chances–especially the prospects of his presumed opponent, Sen. Barry Goldwater, the Arizona archconservative. Kennedy’s assessment: “Don’t worry about Goldwater. We’ve got him well researched.”
The Johnson Relationship
Gibbons’ relationship with Kennedy’s successor, Lyndon B. Johnson, was more complicated.
One time LBJ called him to the White House to talk about Gibbons, a member of the House Education/Labor Committee, playing a key role in anti-poverty legislation. Taken aback, Gibbons asked, “Why me?” LBJ’s reply: “Because you can speak Southern but vote Northern.”
Another time Johnson invited him over to try and defuse Gibbons’ increasingly vocal opposition to the Vietnam War. It didn’t work.
“I said, ‘You haven’t got a plan. You can’t win. You’re grinding up people.’ He about threw me out. Held my arm all the way to the door.”
They later resumed a cordial relationship after Johnson left office amid the societal upheaval caused by Vietnam.
When it was time for Gibbons himself to leave office, he knew it, he underscored. And unlike President Johnson, he would be going out on his own terms. After 35 years in Congress, including a stint as chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, the 77-year-old knew when his best years were likely behind him.
“You have to know when it’s time,” he explained. “When I was there, I would notice some of my older colleagues had become, in ways, an embarrassment to the institution. I didn’t want that to happen to me. I retired before I stumbled or made an ass out of myself. I didn’t want to overstay.
“Oh, to be 75 again,” he said through a broad smile.
Sam Gibbons left Washington the way he entered. A courtly gentleman from Tampa, Florida. One for whom decency and honesty were givens, not clichés. One who answered to his conscience, not the agenda of “states’ rights” segregationists or the cajolery of lobbyists. He was a Tampa original, as well as a native.
Gibbons Outtakes
* American troops in harm’s way: “It must really be hell. People look alike, dress alike. Which one is the enemy? They can walk right up to you and kill you. I’d hate to be a soldier today.”
* Medical care: “The best medical system in the world? Well, first in cost. Go to Canada, for instance, and see if the average person likes their medical-care system. They love it. It’s mainly the vested interests in this country that say it’s terrible.”
* Cuba: “Our policy with Cuba is stupid. The craziest I’ve ever seen. Yes, from the beginning we had real differences. But that should have been settled with the missile crisis. They’re not a threat. Sure, I’ve been cussed at by Miami Cubans. But, no, I never considered it an actual threat.”
* Prospects of President Barack Obama: “I worry about Obama. That’s all I’ll say on that.”
* Most dramatic societal change he has witnessed: “The status of women in America. Used to be that working women were secretaries, clerks, teachers and nurses. I think we had three women in law school at UF. Now less than half are men.”
* What remains on America’s “to do” list that is invariably ignored: “I still say we should learn the metric system like the rest of the world, and we need a value-added tax.”
* Former President George and Barbara Bush: “I served with George Bush Sr. Smart. Likeable personality. Never saw him get mad at anyone. His wife, Barbara, she was smart too. But she was, well, tough as nails.”
* His D-Day “cricket”: “So many people asked me for it. I had to lie to so many. Finally, I gave it (along with his medals) to the Tampa Bay History Center.”
* Toughest vote: “Martha was the hardest vote I ever got. Her support was critical. More than a few campaigns were run out of (Tampa’s) 940 Sterling Avenue.”