In response to his second letter, two National Security Council staffers, Elliott Abrams and Stephen Hadley, came to Capitol Hill to see him. "They told me, 'It's going to be all right, Ike,' " he recalls. He shakes his head slowly.
He wonders why his concerns didn't get more attention back then -- not just from the White House, but from other members of Congress and from journalists. "I was out there by myself," he says. "I got no encouragement. The news media didn't seem to follow through on it.
"No one paid any attention to me, my two letters," he says.
Now Skelton is getting a bit more attention.
What Truman Would Say
He is greeted boisterously by Gib Adkins Jr. as he enters the coffee shop of the Wyota Inn in Lebanon. "Last time I saw you, you was buddy-buddy with Kerry and Edwards" at a recent campaign event, the insurance agent says. "They were just smooching all over you."
But Skelton has not lost Republican support, according to others at this morning coffee meeting. "This is a very conservative Republican county," says Lebanon Mayor Stanley "Bud" Allen, himself a Republican. "It's probably 65 percent Republican, 35 percent Democratic. But he always manages to get 70 percent -- and he deserves it."
Worry about Iraq splits this room nearly in half. Of the 17 people attending the coffee, all say that it will be a major issue in the presidential election. Asked who will win, nine hands go up for Bush, and eight for Kerry.
In the car afterward, Skelton is cheered by that outcome. "Oh, my," he says. "This is Republican territory. If they're talking that way . . . "
But as he comes to that hopeful conclusion he also sounds almost wistful. When he was growing up, Missouri was unassailable Democratic turf, the proud base of President Harry Truman. When his father was a prosecutor in Lafayette County, Truman was the judge -- the job was really more that of county commissioner, Skelton says -- in neighboring Jackson County. In 1952, Skelton and a friend went to the train station where Truman was whistle-stopping for Adlai Stevenson, talked themselves past the Secret Service and spoke briefly with the president -- an event that has more in common with the times of another Missouri river-town boy, Tom Sawyer, than it does with today's white-knuckled security environment.
Truman's widow, Bess, endorsed Skelton when he first ran for Congress in 1976 -- a reimbursement, he says, for his own father backing Truman in a tough Senate primary in 1940. Take down a volume of Truman's memoirs from the shelf in Skelton's home library, and it is signed to Skelton by the former president. But the connection goes beyond family ties, to Truman's political mold of being pro-defense, internationalist and culturally conservative.
Times have changed. Today Skelton is the sole Democratic member of Congress from Missouri representing a rural district. And if current trends continue, he might well be the last for some time.
What would Truman say about Iraq? "Four-letter words," says Skelton, zipping over the rolling hills toward Sedalia on the second of two 250-mile days around his district. He shakes his head. "He didn't suffer fools gladly."
Back at the State Fair for a second visit, Skelton stops at the Armory building to meet with Army Brig. Gen. Dennis Shull, the commander of the Missouri National Guard. The officer tells Skelton about the strain on his troops from Iraq-related deployments. "They're getting tired," he says. "The thing we're finding that is a little bit problematic is riding 'em hard and putting 'em up wet." Skelton nods. He has been hearing many such reports lately.
At the end of the discussion, Shull turns to a reporter. "I'm just glad you didn't ask me if I support the war in Iraq," he says.
The reporter takes the bait: Okay, do you support the war?
His response falls strikingly short of a whole-hearted endorsement. "I support these soldiers," the general says.
Researcher Lucy Shackelford contributed to this article.
