The Presidential primaries are often good theater, and Indiana is getting a road show this year that it hasn’t had in four decades. It’s exciting that Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama want to spend so much time with us and leave so much of their money with our TV stations and hotels. I was in the newsroom at the Princeton Daily Clarion the day before Sen. Clinton spoke to thousands on the city’s courthouse square. “This doesn’t happen very often in a small town like Princeton,” the publisher told me. He was right. The last presidential candidate to speak on that square was John Kennedy in 1960.

Obama and Clinton have honed their stump speeches. They tell us about their backgrounds and their values. They talk about their ideas and ask for support. That’s good, and might even encourage some people to be involved in some type of community service. And that may be a great lasting effect of this presidential road show when it packs up and leaves the state.

Candidates can argue all they want about the fairness or unfairness of their opponent’s campaign commercials. Who wants to be criticized in front of thousands of TV viewers, regardless of the accuracy of the attack?

How tough is it to run for governor when Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are crisscrossing the state and flooding the airwaves? Ask Jill Long Thompson and Jim Schellinger. Ordinarily, reporters would be all over this race. Not this year. Obama and Clinton are playing the main tent while Long Thompson and Schellinger work the sideshow.

So it’s important that every commercial gets their story right. Back to the fairness argument: Today’s Indianapolis Star rehashes the “he said, she said” nature of their ads. Is it fair to criticize Schellinger’s architectural firm for designing school buildings paid for with public funds? Probably not. Is it OK to select a few Long Thompson votes in Congress that appear to cast her as opposing Medicaid? Again, probably not.

But Schellinger may be doing Long Thompson a big favor in at least one of his ads. His voice over narrator uses Long Thompson’s name three times and Schellinger’s just twice. There is no doubt the commercial is a slap at Long Thompson and mildly laudatory of Schellinger. But in a race where the low name ID of candidates is a factor, why would Schellinger’s campaign want to mention the opponent’s name more that that of their own candidate? TV watchers don’t always pay close attention to the substance of a commercial.

A memorial to Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy stands in the middle of a park at 17th and Broadway in Indianapolis. It is one of the few physical reminders of the 1968 Democratic Primary election in Indiana won by Kennedy over a field that included Eugene McCarthy.

The memorial’s location is the result of an historical accident: Kennedy was scheduled to speak in the park on April 4, 1968. It was to be one of many speeches he made in Indiana as he and McCarthy campaigned for votes in the last Democratic Primary for president that counted, until this year. The governor at the time, Roger Branigin, was also on the ballot. He gave speeches around the state with his hands in his pockets as a stand-in for President Lyndon Johnson who did not campaign. In fact, in a famous speech to the nation, Johnson declined to run.

But King was assassinated in Memphis just a couple of hours before Kennedy arrived in Indianapolis. The mayor at the time, Richard Lugar, the police chief and various other leaders begged Kennedy not to go to the park. Riots were erupting in other cities and officials were worried for Kennedy’s safety.

Kennedy kept his date at the park and broke the sad news to a mostly African-American crowd. The festive mood ended in a heartbeat: a collective moan welled up from thousands of people, both black and white.

And Kennedy adopted the role of counselor. Speaking in calm, even tones he reminded the crowd that his brother, like King, had been shot by a white man. He understood the desire for revenge and the catharsis of violence. He also understood the futility of anger, and he asked for peace, prayer and grieving.

That impromptu speech ran no longer than eight minutes. But it may have kept peace in Indianapolis’ streets.

Kennedy’s victory in the Indiana Primary came a month later. A month after that, he was shot and killed in Los Angeles.

President Bill Clinton and members of King’s family dedicated the monument to that speech.

It consists of two, curving wrought-iron panels. They are rusty-red by now, but they are heavy and solid. A figure of Martin Luther King reaches out from one panel, about seven feet off the ground. A figure of Robert Kennedy reaches from the other panel. They are reaching for each other across a brick walkway. Their hands nearly touch. They are about three feet short of grasping the other’s hand. Perhaps they have by now.

Here is a news item:

WIBC-FM in Indianapolis is launching a free mobile traffic service to help Indianapolis commuters avoid traffic tie-ups. Cell Cam Traffic will stream live video to drivers' mobile phones. The service relies on 56 traffic cameras operated by the Indiana Department of Transportation and is part of the Intelligent Transportation System.

My comment:

This is a terrible idea. Maybe I’m missing something here, but why do we want to encourage drivers to look at the screen on their mobile phone while they drive to work!

Radio actually has a big advantage over TV during morning and evening commutes. Relying on motorist phone calls and law enforcement agencies, people on the radio tell us where the tie-ups are. We can look at the road while we listen. TV shows us pictures while we are still at home or have already completed our commute.

Another disadvantage of video is perspective: which way is the camera pointing? Is that clogged interstate ramp from northbound Keystone onto eastbound I-465 or from southbound Keystone onto the westbound I-465? What lane is blocked on Meridian? Is it the southbound lane, or the northbound?

Radio should tell us, as accurately as possible, the locations of traffic jams and then suggest a way around them. We shouldn’t have to look. If we do, we might create another accident scene for other drivers to avoid.

Southwest Airlines has built a reputation on being friendly and economical. Many polls of airline passengers indicate that people like to fly Southwest.

So the airline took a public relations hit when the Federal Aviation Administration fined Southwest for maintenance failures.

The airline responded first by saying the FAA was exaggerating the seriousness of the problem. But it also grounded 38 Boeing jets for maintenance and reinspection. And President Gary Kelly says he wasn’t satisfied Southwest was as compliant with FAA regs as it should be.

Kelly had just finished showing Chris Bury of Nightline around the company’s Texas headquarters for what was sure to be a favorable piece. Then the FAA report hit. Kelly called the reporter, who returned to Texas to re-interview the chief. Kelly owned up to failures and said Southwest would pay a multi-million dollar fine. He also apologized to passengers. An apology he has repeated several times in the past few days.

Southwest and Kelly dealt seriously and openly with the maintenance problem and moved quickly to get in front of the cameras and into the press with their apologies and their plan to make things right.

It was a bad week for Southwest, but the spotlight on the company is a little less harsh because of the airline’s public response.

Which is more important news: the commanding officer of the U.S. Central Command in charge of the Iraq and Afghanistan operations steps down, or the resignation of a governor implicated in a sex scandal?

Admiral William Fallon’s surprise resignation just a year after President Bush named him and others to oversee the surge in Iraq, bears more serous consequences for the country. AP military writer Robert Burns called it “highly unusual” for a commander to resign in wartime. Admiral Fallon released a statement in which he said he said he is retiring to avoid the interpretation that he disagreed with President Bush, the commander in chief, on American policy in Iran. This a few days after Esquire magazine portrayed Admiral Fallon as opposing from within the administration a possible war with Iran to halt that country’s campaign to build a nuclear bomb.

We’re getting very little discussion of what Fallon’s retirement says about the dialogue in the Bush administration over the Middle East and Asian regions. Does the admiral have a political agenda? Or is he sounding an alarm?

The admiral’s timing was poor. The day he said “adios” was the day after NY Governor Eliot Spitzer was implicated in a call girl ring. The next day Spitzer resigned. The press is all over the lurid, easier-to-cover and perhaps more interesting sex scandal.

Admiral Fallon’s resignation may be the more interesting and important story in the short run and the long run.

Chilly talk in the elevator

Two people on the elevator were grumbling about winter the other evening. One took the optimistic view that February was nearly over. The dour pessimist observed that we could get plenty of crummy weather in March.

At this time of year, most of us are tired of winter. We’ve said all we can say: “Sure is cooling off nicely from those 90 degree days last August,” and “I hope it won’t snow/dip below zero/get too windy.”

Robert Frost, a word crafter of the pre-Blog era, wrote several times about the ravages of winter in his native northeast. I’ll give him the floor. First a downer of a line from his cheerless "Snow."

“I’ll own it’s cold for such a fall of snow.
This house is frozen brittle, all except
This room you sit in. If you think the wind
Sounds further off, it’s not because it’s dying;
You’re further under in the snow – that’s all –
And feel it less.”

Frost was a little more upbeat in his classic "Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening."

“He (his horse) gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.”

You don’t get this level of interpretation from the color weather maps on TV.

The new Indianapolis/Marion County Public Library is a grand structure: a sweeping new glass tower attached to a 90-year old limestone colossus. Millions of dollars were spent, deadlines were missed, but it’s a great building. I haven’t been inside yet, but it’s neat from the outside. My daughter has been in the library twice and likes it.

So, here’s the question: how come it doesn’t have a print copy of the Elmore Leonard short story “3:10 to Yuma?”

I liked the new movie version; I liked the old one, but when I went online to access the library’s collection, I found it has video copies of the older movie starting Van Heflin and Glenn Ford. But it does not possess any short story collection containing the original material for the films.

The library has a bunch of Leonard’s crime fiction, for which he is justifiably famous, but no westerns, which he wrote earlier.

It also has a little book called “Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing.” I checked it out. Good tips. It’s also hilarious. Rule #10 is my favorite.

If the economy dives into the dumpster, it’s your fault. No, it’s my fault. Your fault. It says right here on the news: retail sales aren’t up as much as experts thought. Stores are worried. They are putting stuff on sale. Wall Street is keeping a close eye. Retailers make 30/40 percent of their profits during the Christmas season.

So forget the sleigh bells. If the American economy is going to be the powerhouse we all know and love, or if it’s even going to survive, we know what to do: buy Uncle Fred that blue & red tie; and would Aunt Mildred love to set that glass bunny on her knick-knack shelf! Cha-ching!

Isn’t the idea of Christmas to tell people you love them or at least appreciate their role in your life? And it would be a perfect season to suggest that your kids help someone else. And this Peace on Earth idea: how are we doing with that?

Let’s think about this over a dish of Figgie pudding.

There were politicians who campaigned against Julia Carson, the congresswoman, but not against Julia Carson the person. When she died Saturday morning, she left thousands of people who were convinced that Rep. Carson was their member of Congress, whether or not they lived in her district.

A visit to a machine shop on Indianapolis’ east side about five years ago is a good example:

A client was receiving a federal grant to conduct industrial training. The client’s office was located downtown in her district, so Representative Carson would conduct a press conference to announce the grant. We set it up at a small company, Garrity Tool, whose ten or so employees skillfully manned machines that manufactured, among other things, artillery shells for the military and scientific instruments with micro-inch tolerances.

As a reporter and PR man, I have walked through plenty of manufacturing plants. The tours are always educational and I come away with new appreciation of the things people do to earn a living and improve our lives. But, I often don’t understand the details of the industry I’ve just visited. Same goes for many of the office holders I’ve accompanied or covered.

A lot has been written about Julia Carson’s background: how she grew up poor and worked as a single mother in a variety of jobs. Part of her early work life was in a machine shop. Most of the skilled machinists who waited for her to arrive at their workplace that day several years ago were Republicans. They didn’t expect to warm up to the unapologetic liberal Democrat from a downtown neighborhood.

She wowed them. Julia’s warm manner and interest in those with whom she was talking were evident. And, she knew one part of a machine from the other. She knew the importance of changing a die quickly so that production time would not be lost. She asked good questions and understood the answers.

The Republican machinists were impressed.

Several of them probably remembered that day when she died this past weekend.