My Evening with Charlie Rose

It was the first black tie affair I'd considered since I-don't-know-when. The invitation was to attend the 2014 National Press Club Fourth Estate Award Gala in Washington, D.C. Charlie Rose, acclaimed broadcast journalist and interviewer, had been tapped to accept the Club's most-honored prize, the Fourth Estate Award.

As a member of the Club and long-admirer of Charlie Rose, it didn't take me long to make up my mind to be a part of this annual event which recognizes a journalist who has made significant contributions to the field. Past winners have included Andrea Mitchell, Bob Woodward, Jim Lehrer, Walter Cronkite and Christiane Amanpour. I was going. End of story.

I'd gotten hooked on Charlie's interviewing style as a new mother. When 2 a.m. feedings rolled around, I would settle into my favorite chair with the baby nestled in the crook of my arm. As I was feeding her, I would turn on the TV to catch Charlie on PBS. I was fascinated by his interviewing style. Unwaveringly intelligent, sufficiently probing without prurience and issuing just the right measure of persistence, he conducted interviews with an air of elegance.

So, to be invited to the gala and learn that Gayle King would be among present to help honor Charlie, I RSVP'd, booked a round-trip airline ticket from Louisville and a hotel room located across from the U.S. Department of Treasury. Determined to celebrate the event as once-in-a-lifetime, I pulled out all the stops.

It was from across a room where cocktails were sipped and hors d'oeuvres were passed by gloved ma?tre d's that I spotted Charlie at about the same time that he spotted me. From a few yards away, he flashed a smile and began walking toward me. He was within a few feet when he was intercepted.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said to the well-wisher. Then, he leaned toward me and said, "Don't go anywhere."

And, of course, I did not move one inch. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Like that, I was mesmerized. I stood there in just-for-the-occasion stilettos and a ball gown and waited.

Because Charlie Rose said to.

A couple of minutes later, he made his way over and said hello, and I said hi.

And, like that, the interview began. Just as I'd seen for so many years on TV, he looked pensive, eyes downcast. Then, he leaned in, looked into my eyes. He asked who I was, what I did in the field of journalism. I introduced myself and shared that I'd worked for many years in print journalism and was currently director of communications with Kentucky Health Cooperative, one of a handful of non-profit entities established by Affordable Care Act funding. I knew he would recognize the relevance and timeliness-- this was in the early days of health insurance exchanges, and Kentucky was among the most successful -- and, sure enough, Charlie did.

I waited for an invitation to appear as a guest on the show, but the thinking turned out to be no more than wishful.

"Kentucky," he said. "What made you willing to travel so far to be here?"

Indeed, I was in a room represented by Washington insiders and New Yorkers.

That's when I told him that, for years, I had followed him on PBS and that, for me, he had set the bar.

And, like that, the conversation was over. Charlie thanked me for the commitment to be at the event. As he walked away, I shook off some type of shock. I acknowledged the lure and power of his style. He had succeeded in making me feel not just like the only person in the room, but like the most important one. 

What followed was a wonderful dinner-fundraiser, and toasts made to Charlie, including a televised one from Oprah, was fabulous. It took days to come down from the cloud I was on.

When accusations surfaced last fall of sexual harassment, the National Press Club Board of Governors voted unanimously to rescind the achievement award that had been presented to Charlie.  By then, he had been fired by three news organizations, and the Club board concluded that his conduct does not represent the values of the National Press Club nor the criteria for the award. The Club did what it needed to do. The decision was the right one.

There's something about this turn of events that I continue to grapple with. I have often prided myself in -- and I suspect that most journalists share this -- the ability to pick up on vibes. As observers from the sidelines, most of us have a reliable sense of people. Good people. Creepy people. Flat-out bad apples. Somewhere in between.

With Charlie, intuition completely failed me. Somehow, this makes the circumstances seem all the more unfortunate. Because, I suppose, I can personalize it.

The disappointment in Charlie Rose will never go away, and I hate that. I just hate that.

* I was employed in 2014 by Kentucky Health Cooperative, Inc., headquartered in Louisville, Kentucky, a not-for-profit health insurance company made possible by start-up funds through a section of the Affordable Care Act. It tended to benefit lower-income Kentuckians whose earnings made them ineligible for Medicaid, but who might be thought of as "the working 'poor.' " The CO-OP, as it was called, is now defunct.