Harry S. Truman

Harry S. Truman strolled through the exhibition. His very presence commanded attention. He was long past his prime, and the days as the 33rd president, were a distant memory. But he attracted everyone’s attention.

As he passed the photo button booth, which I manned, I shouted, "Mr. Truman. Can I put your picture on a photo button?" I was a brash 18 year old with no fear of the powerful. I actually wanted him to buy a button. After all my pay was determined by the financial success of the booth.

To my surprise, he agreed. He stood in front of the blue backdrop and posed for my Polaroid camera. It was a great snap shot. Then my sister Sylvia showed up and was excited to see “where the buck stops”. "Can I get one with you Mr. Truman?" Again he agreed.

Mr. Truman stood as straight as a totem pole, in front of the screen, with Sylvia at his side. I couldn't fit them both in the shot without backing up so far that neither was recognizable.

"Can you get closer to each other?" I asked.

"Take your picture." he replied.

"But I can't fit you both in."

"Just take your picture." he repeated.

"Can you at least tilt your heads into each other."

"I said take your picture." he wouldn't budge. Years of political scandals made him wary of any compromising situations besides, Bess was watching.

I took the picture from a distance to fit them both in. Truman never paid for either picture and never asked to see them. They became Sylvia’s prized possessions.

(269 words)