The cynics would have us believe that politicians might be influenced by contributors of large amounts of money. They tarnish the whole foundation of American politics with the absurd notion that dedicated public servants seeking office might even stoop to buying votes.

Before the recent resurgence of the two-party system in Virginia, such notions were laughable. There was no hint of corruption and everyone knew that high-minded integrity and honest intentions were the hallmark of the state’s political system.

At least, that was true on the state level. When it came to local politics, "campaign ethics" was more loosely interpreted. In one rural county with which I am most familiar, it was not unheard of to have a 90 percent voter turnout for local elections, despite the fact that only 70 percent of the registered voters knew how to read. One year, when the election campaign was particularly hard-fought, the turnout actually surpassed 100 percent – it seems that both parties had learned the trick of casting absentee ballots on behalf of deceased registrants whose names still appeared on the books at many of the 15 or so rural voting precincts.

Many stories, some true and some apocryphal, circulated about local political campaign practices. One of the most prolific sources of these stories was a retired U.S. Senate aide who had been witness to decades of campaigning from the county level all the way up to the Presidency. He was a great storyteller, but he always cautioned his listeners against repeating his tales of campaign foibles and political intrigue.

This man is now long deceased and I’m sure he won’t mind my telling this one story which he repeated to me more than once:

In the early days of his political career sometime in the 1930s, this truly dedicated and loyal man was seeking the office of county commissioner of the revenue. Campaigning at that time involved going door-to-door all over the county, even into the remote rural hollows near the mountains.

On one visit to an older couple who lived far from the main road, the campaigner handed the lady of the house his business card and said as he was departing, "I would appreciate it if you would vote for me when the election rolls around." The man and woman said nothing, but just smiled and waved goodbye.

A few days later, a letter arrived at the candidate’s home. It was hand-printed with all capital letters on lined paper. It said:

"Dear Mr. ________,

"Clarence and me want to thank you for stopping by to see us the other day. That night after you left, I had a dream. I dreamed that Clarence and me both voted for you in the election and the very next day, you sent us a whole quart of oysters. Ain’t that a funny dream, Mr. ________?"

"Yours truly,

"Sarie ______

"P.S. And they was nice big select oysters, too, Mr. _______!"

The candidate had a good laugh over the letter and, following his successful election a few weeks later, he dispatched a quart of oysters to the old couple. And they were nice big, select oysters.

When his four-year term ended, the commissioner began his campaign for re-election. Again, he visited residents all over the county. At one house in a remote area, he found the homeowner busy working on his old model car, only his feet protruding from under the rusted vehicle.

"Hello, Mr. Comer," the campaigner yelled. "I can see you’re busy, so don’t bother to get up. I just wanted to leave my card and ask you to vote for me for commissioner of the revenue in the upcoming election."

"Hell, yes, I’ll vote for you," said the voice from under the car. "Anybody would be better than the son of a bitch who’s in there now!"

The candidate turned quickly and left, leaving Mr. Comer unaware that he was speaking to the maligned incumbent.