Veteran delegate drawn not by spectacle but duty

I've been a sportswriter my entire adult life. This is my first attempt at writing about political conventions, which strike me as overblown parties celebrating foregone conclusions.

So I asked a gentleman sitting in the Xcel Energy Center on Tuesday to explain the appeal. He was wearing an ancient cowboy hat and a leather vest blanketed with buttons celebrating the recent history of the Republican National Convention.

Why would he spend his week here? He answered with his life story.

His name is Gordon R. Pederson. He's 81. He served in the infantry during World War II, and in Korea and Vietnam. This is his 30th and last year in the South Dakota Legislature.

He saw his first president in person when FDR traveled to Mount Rushmore more than 70 years ago. "I was interested in politics, even then," Pederson said. "Since then, I've met Harry Truman, and then all the Republican presidents."

Pederson served in three wartimes before getting into politics. His favorite button features a picture of himself and his wife, Betty, at the Republican convention in Kansas City in 1976.

"This is a Reagan hat," Pederson said, taking the hat off and displaying the old red-white-and-blue band hidden beneath the buttons. "Ronald Reagan was trying to knock off Gerald Ford, and we came within about 20 votes of doing it. We didn't do it that time, but we sure as hell did it the next time.

Delegates began filing past Pederson, seated 15 rows above the floor. "I'm spending $230 a night on a motel room that's 30 miles out there," he said. "I've been to every convention since '76, and this time I've got my grandson with me, and my wife and my daughter. I wanted them to see this."

Nobody mentions the Iraq war, but Pederson makes a point, anyway. "I was drafted in World War II -- FDR's war," he said. "I was recalled for Korea -- Truman's war. And I served in Vietnam -- Kennedy's war.

"You get the connection, don't you?"

Pederson offered his card. On the back is a list of telephone numbers of world leaders, from George Bush to the premier of Russia. At the bottom is Pederson's number.

"I tell voters that they can call any of these people," Pederson said, chuckling. "But I'm the only SOB who has to answer."

As stale as conventions might seem to some of us, he'll miss them. "I am not here for entertainment," he said. "I know that in a sense this is a big party. We know who the delegates are going to choose. I've been there when we had fights on the floor. There's been a lot of change.

"Now it's well-orchestrated, because of the press. We're here, mainly, for the young ones to get fired up and go out and work for the candidates.

"It's not a party. Well, it is for some people. But it's a duty. I had to work hard to get here."

Pederson fitted his hat back on his head and looked at the stage. "I remember when we had bands playing," he said. "Can't find a band to save your life now. I remember sitting down there right in front of movie stars before, when I was a delegate."

Pederson nodded and said, "Now it's somebody else's turn."