Mayor learned how he was doing

William Hudnut, longtime mayor of Indianapolis, died late last month. And his departure got me thinking about the time our paths crossed.

Hizzoner and I didn’t hang out together, but there was one memorable luncheon back in the early 1980s. At least it was memorable for me. I’m not sure Mayor Hudnut could have given you many details the next day.

Through a series of events, I had found myself as president of a loose-knit organization called the Indiana APME. In those days, the acronym stood for Associated Press Managing Editors. These days, the group is just as loose-knit but the acronym stands for Associated Press Media Editors, a reflection of our changing times.

Being president of the Indiana APME wasn’t a chore anyone longed for, because the title brought a lot of work with it. Specifically, it meant planning two statewide meetings a year, choosing the location, arranging the speakers and panels, and even picking the menus for the meals.

In theory those chores were to be accomplished with the help of the Indianapolis AP Chief of Bureau, the head honcho for the AP in Indiana. But some COBs weren’t as much help as others, and sometimes you’d find yourself dealing with the transition from one to another.

That’s what happened when I was trying to put together a meeting in Indianapolis.

The kid from Jay County — and I was indeed a kid in those long ago days — was pretty much on his own.

Still, the plans came together. And those plans included a luncheon speech by Mayor William Hudnut. A lot was going on in Indy in those days, things that would transform the downtown and much of the city; Hudnut’s obituaries spelled out many of the details.

The plan was that since Indianapolis was hosting the meeting, the mayor would be asked to make some welcoming remarks, then fill us in on what the capital city was up to during his watch.

Simple enough, right? Nothing is ever simple.

Take the head table.

Because there was transition between one Chief of Bureau and another, neither COB wanted to sit at the head table for the luncheon.

The compromise choice was Walt Tabak, who was chief of communications for the AP in Indy. Walt was the guy who kept the wheels going around, no matter which COB thought he was actually in charge. Walt was a techie before the term had been invented. He wasn’t focused on reporting or writing; he was focused on transmission of the news out to the various parts of the universe that depend upon the AP report.

Joining Walt at the head table would be his feisty, inimitable wife, Dot.

Dot was little, but you always knew she was in the room. She was a woman of opinions, and she was a woman with a voice. I can hear her now.

Mayor Hudnut had no idea what he was walking into.

It was back in the day when Ed Koch was mayor of New York City, and Koch had a trademark phrase, “How am I doin’?”

Bill Hudnut had adopted the same phrase when meeting with constituents.

“So, how am I doin’?” the mayor asked Dot as he took his seat at the head table for the luncheon.

Not a good idea. Dot glowered.

He pressed further.

“Did we get the snow cleared off your streets in good time this winter?” he asked.

Dot glowered again, but only for a moment. Then she let loose, pointing out to the mayor that through some glitch in city ordinances their subdivision did not merit city snowplows.

And it quickly went downhill from there.

I grimaced and tried to focus on the meal in front of me. Mayor Hudnut did his best to fend off Dot’s litany of complaints and grievances.

He must have been relieved when it came time for me to introduce him.

I stood up and said that how honored we were to have the mayor here to welcome us to the city and tell us about some of the exciting happenings in Indianapolis.

I turned to the mayor and started to sit down.

He started to stand up and turned to me with an urgent whisper: “Do you want a welcome or a speech?”

Apparently there was a difference that I had not understood.

We stood there, both of us in mid-movement, almost crouching as if our lunch hadn’t agreed with us.

“I was hoping for both,” I said.

Then he stood up the rest of the way, and I sat down.

And he went on to deliver a speech he’d probably made a thousand times before.

As to Dot, she had made her points.

And my guess is that Bill Hudnut never used that “How am I doin’?” line again.