You might wonder why Democratic U.S. Senate candidate Elizabeth Warren is receiving such gentle treatment in Banker & Tradesman.
The local and national press have been having a great time beating up on her about her supposed American Indian heritage, which seems to come and go depending on her mood or the affirmative action game being played at the moment.
But in the case of Banker & Tradesman, the issue is family loyalty. Yes, Elizabeth Warren is a second cousin, six times removed, of the founders of The Warren Group, owners of this paper and distant relatives to several Indian tribes.
The Warren family wants this paper to reflect our family affection, which is one of the reasons I was brought on board as a contributing writer. I attended the Warren Elementary School, in Chicago, named after the uncle of the twin brother of my second cousin, who is part of the far-flung Warren family.
The Human Resources department at Banker & Tradesman didn’t even know that I was a relative, until I quickly flashed my Warren graduation certificate – which was good enough for them. They’re almost as gullible as Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania, where Elizabeth occasionally played the Indian card.
Family connections and distant memories are complicated things, which may be part of the reason Elizabeth can’t quite remember the address of the casino site where she once lived.
U.S. Sen. Marco Rubio of Florida has told a pretty good story about how his parents escaped Cuba and the nightmare that was Fidel Castro. Trouble is, his family left before Castro came to power. He blames his parents’ faulty memories. That works for me. I blame everything on my parents.
Credentials are important. You never want to forget any of the good stuff. Who would know better than the MIT Dean of Admissions Marilee Jones, who resigned after it was discovered she had invented a few cool degrees to spiff up her resume.
Hard To Be Humble
Former Secretary of State Alexander Haig came up to me once at a conference, to compliment me on a speech I had written for one of the participants. What were the first words out of his mouth? Not, “great speech, Larry, where did you learn to write like that?” No, Al firmly shook my hand and said, “Where did you go to school?”
Coming from the Midwest, I had never been asked where I went to school. In the Northeast, that was the most popular introductory question from almost every snobby person I knew. No wonder the Northeasterners tend to exaggerate their backgrounds a bit.
In Boston real estate circles, I tend to play my Warren Elementary School card. I throw in little snippets about how “The Warren Group” often gets together to share old memories (that was my elementary school reunion.).
I occasionally tell people that I really, really like to play poker – and the instinct is strongest when I’m visiting friends in southeastern Connecticut. I attribute the urge to what must be Native American heritage – a genetic thing so deeply imbedded that I can’t even remember it, except when I’m filling out affirmative action surveys.
Family heritage doesn’t always work to your advantage. It might be well and good to be a Native American; it might be helpful to be the offspring of Cuban refugees escaping from Castro; it is, of course, wonderful to be a part of The Warren Group family.
But it hasn’t helped Barack Obama to have been born in Kenya.
The alternative to an affirmative action-friendly background, or the right relatives, is, of course, simply to be wonderful – so wonderful that all are dazzled and never ask embarrassing questions about where you went to school. As Muhammad Ali used to put it, “When you are as great as I am, it is hard to be humble.”
It’s probably a good idea to periodically review your resume and posted biographies, just in case any inadvertent errors or exaggerations crept in.
Oh, I have to stop now. Mr. Warren, the publisher, is loudly calling my name. The family affection is strong.
