Politics rough now? How about back in the 1950s?

It was a scene worthy of an old film noir thriller. Barbara Vaughan, in the early 50s, was fresh out of college and working for the State Department in Washington, D.C.

Vaughan, now a Lewes resident for more than 20 years, loved her job. She considered herself lucky.

“The man I worked for was just delightful,” Vaughan said, “quiet, pleasant, hardworking. How lucky I was to have that guy as my mentor right out of college.

“And then one day when I went to work he wasn’t there,” Vaughan said.

It was the era of Sen. Joe McCarthy. Vaughan’s boss was one of his victims. But Vaughan, who described herself at that time as “the most naïve sort of hick” from small town Beaver, Pa., didn’t realize that yet.

Vaughan lived at 18th and G streets NW. One day she was walking on 17th Street, not far from the White House, “and there he was,” her former boss.

Vaughan asked, “What in the heck happened?” At the office, there had been no explanation.

Her “quiet, pleasant” former boss was curt.

“He said, ‘Do not stop. Do not talk to me. Just keep walking.’”

“I said, ‘Are you nuts?’”

He was adamant.

“He said, ‘I’m telling you. You do not want to be seen talking to me.’

“I said, ‘This is the United States of America. I can talk to who I damn well please.’

“He said, ‘I don’t think so.’”

Vaughan, a former Lewes City Councilwoman and present member of the Lewes Planning Commission, describes a time when fear and paranoia reigned in Washington.

You might think of Fear and Paranoia as full-time residents of the District, but they were rarely so powerful.

The McCarthy era began in 1950, when the little-known senator from Wisconsin waved a piece of paper before an audience in Wheeling, West Virginia, claiming it contained the names of 205 known Communists in the State Department.

McCarthy offered wildly inconsistent numbers of known Communists and never actually produced a single name, but the announcement had its desired effect.

Americans, in the early days of the Cold War, believed the country was under assault by subversives, much as some present-day Americans fear we’re being overrun by people immigrating illegally to this country.

(Many of these people work in the food industry, whether in the fields, the restaurants or the chicken-processing plants of Delmarva. Apparently, they’re trying to undermine our country by helping us put food on the table.)

And despite the polarization and pettiness of Washington in 2015, Vaughan believes the political climate was worse in the ‘50s.

Today, Vaughan said, “I don’t think there’s fear. I think there’s animosity, but I think fear is a much worse feeling than antagonism … It was much more destructive.”

Not that everything was worse. Vaughan also tells of a time that seems nearly magical in lack of concerns about security.

She recalls running into Eleanor Roosevelt in a Washington hotel and asking the former First Lady to speak to her group. Roosevelt graciously accepted and presented a spontaneous talk.

She also remembers a Washington where she could greet President Harry Truman as he was returning to the White House from church and ask him how the sermon was.

Hard to imagine. Sounds like the best of times and the worst of times, to coin a phrase.

How so, Joe?

The hottest national political parlor game and one of particular interest to Delawareans is: Will Joe run?

One story even said Biden is running, based on a conversation overheard on an Amtrak train. According to an unnamed passenger, a Biden operative supposedly said he was “100 percent” sure the vice president was running.

Not exactly an official announcement.

Still, a CBS story said Jill Biden would be on board for a presidential bid by her husband, a big factor.

And even conservative columnist Rick Jensen suggested that Biden would be a good alternative to Hillary Clinton.

When even conservative columnists are calling on Biden to enter the race, it’s pretty obvious what Joe should do: Stay out.

It must be exciting to have people egging you to enter the race, but Biden should consider the tale of Fred Thompson.

It’s hard to believe now but Thompson, for a brief time in 2007, was repeatedly referred to as the “800-pound gorilla” of the Republican Party.

The nomination, it seemed, was his for the taking.

Unfortunately for Thompson, he did announce and he vanished as quickly as Ricky Perry and Rudy Giuliani, two other candidates once called 800-pound gorillas.

Potential candidates face a political Doppler effect. Before the announcement, interest in a candidate sounds at a high pitch. Afterwards, it fades away like a passing train.

That’s because potential candidates make wonderful copy, most of it positive. Actual candidates make mistakes and are ripped to shreds.

The same thing could happen to Biden.


Don Flood is a former newspaper editor living near Lewes. He can be reached at floodpolitics@gmail.com.