More than a decade ago, I had the privilege of spending a few hours, over the span of two days, speaking one on one with Senator John McCain. A Hollywood producer had optioned the rights to the first volume of Sen. McCain’s autobiography, “Faith of My Fathers,” and had hired me to write the screenplay. I’d read the book and admired it for its candor, plain but vigorous prose, and the understated way McCain described the horrific five years he’d spent in the “Hanoi Hilton” — North Vietnam’s infamous P.O.W. camp. Adversity does not create character, it reveals it. Under the most adverse conditions imaginable, tortured and interrogated for days on end, he displayed an astonishing degree of courage and steadfastness, especially when his captors discovered that he was the son of a famous U.S. admiral and offered to release him, on condition that he confess to committing war crimes. He refused, first because he wasn’t about to betray his country, and second because the military code of conduct prohibits a prisoner from accepting release ahead of P.O.Ws who have been held for a longer time. That is honor, my friends. Honor can mean a lot of things. In McCain’s case, it meant knowing what your duty is and then doing it.

My interviews with him took place in his offices in the Senate Office Building. It was arranged by McCain’s long time aide, friend, and co-writer, Mark Salter. I knew I could write the screenplay merely by re-reading “Faith of My Fathers;” but I wanted to see McCain in person, to get a feel for the man, and to ask him to flesh out a few episodes in his book. He’d portrayed himself with admirable honesty as a temperamental, rebellious, hell-raiser at the Naval Academy and as a newly-commissioned ensign at the Naval flight training base in Pensacola, Florida. He brought a stripper known as the “Flame of Florida” to married officers’ parties, crashed a training plane in the Gulf of Mexico, and made a career of breaking rules and regulations. Even then, as he was training to be a fighter pilot, he was honing his skills as the maverick he would eventually become in the U.S. Senate. McCain had a great sense of humor. He made me laugh when he depicted the reaction his fellow officers’ wives to the Flame of Florida when she whipped out a switchblade and began to clean her fingernails. He also told a funny story about his mother, Roberta, from whom he inherited at least some of his scrappy personality. In her late 80s, she made a trip to France, where she attempted to rent a car to make a driving tour of the country. The rental agent turned her down; under French law, cars cannot be rented to drivers over 75.”How much is that car?” she asked. The agent told her the price. Roberta bought it on the spot and drove off.

McCain was a true-blue, Arizona Republican. He had won Barry Goldwater’s Senate seat in 1986. But he showed some of his independent, non-ideological spirit when a discussion we were having about the media turned to my old employer, the Chicago Tribune Company. It was then involved in a kerfuffle with the Federal Communications Commission over its proposed acquisition of a TV station. Or maybe it was several TV stations, I don’t recall. The Tribune already owned more than 20 TV and radio outlets, in addition to half a dozen major newspapers from Los Angeles to Orlando. Why do these guys need another one? I asked. When is enough enough? McCain leaned back and said quietly, “That’s why we have government, Phil.To keep these guys in check.” A Republican stating that we need government to put the brakes on greedy corporations? Wow..

McCain’s political reputation as his own man is well established and needs no elaboration from me. Though I’m a registered Democrat, I’d admired him before I met him, an admiration that only deepened afterward. I was going to vote for him if he won the Republican nomination in 2000, and I never forgave the George W. Bush campaign for the way it viciously smeared his reputation in the South Carolina primary, which led directly to McCain’s loss. Likewise, as a combat veteran of Vietnam myself, my loathing for President Trump began when he disparaged McCain’s service and the captivity he endured for so long.

It is probably a cliché to call McCain a lion of the Senate, but sometimes clichés are clichés because they’re true. He marched to his own drummer for most of his political career, and made a point of calling shots as he saw them. Remember his campaign bus in the 2000 elections, the Straight Talk Express? The man had his flaws, an explosive temper among them, but they were far outweighed by his virtues. I treasure the brief time I got to spend with him. He showed me, showed all of us, how to live a life of dedicated service, and in the last year of his own life, struggling with brain cancer, how to face death with grace and dignity. When I think of him, in these divisive times, in this era of rampant political corruption, and lies, and “alternative facts,” I think of the great statesmen of the late Roman republic, like Cicero and Cato the Younger, fighting to retain the republic’s values even as it grew into a bloated empire. There is no one in the Senate today who measures up to McCain, and that’s why his departure is an especially grievous loss to the country.

There is one other thing that he showed us — what it means to be a man. I can think of many things it doesn’t mean, like making a hundred million as a hedge fund manager or dreaming up a cool new app. God knows, it doesn’t mean behaving like a hyper-masculine jerk who gropes women. It does mean cultivating the virtues of courage, honesty, and a sense of duty to one’s country, to one’s society. To me, he was a warrior and a brother-in-arms, and if there is a warrior’s heaven, I hope he and I can one day share a beer at the Valhalla officer’s club.

R.I.P. John Sidney McCain.

PS:I never wrote the screenplay. I quit the project because…oh, let’s just say that honor is not characteristic of most Hollywood producers)

Discover more from Philip Caputo

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading