To listen to them talk, most political flaks, hacks and old sacks over a certain age are dreading the tedium of the back-to-back national political conventions this summer. They complain about having to trek to St. Paul, Minn., directly from Denver without time to get back to the safe confines of the East Coast.

They openly worry about their children in a year when “back to school” week and “convention week” coincide.

And, for any who care to listen, they question whether there will be any “real news” worth reporting. Probably not worth going this summer, kid!

To be sure, recent political conventions haven’t exactly delivered the news punch that others have throughout history. And unless we are still awaiting VP choices to be announced, this summer’s conventions will likely follow suit.

Like I said, if you listen to the old-timers, they might convince you to just stay home this time around.

But, a little insider’s intel for you. It’s all a sham. To eloquently quote one of my favorite political commentators: “It’s a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham.”

A big fat lie.

The truth of the matter is this: All those jaded flaks, hacks and older sacks secretly not only want to go to Denver and St. Paul, they would pay their own way if they had to. Just do them a favor and don’t rat them out to their bosses, please.

All the bellyaching is a deliberate smokescreen with one purpose in mind: scare off all the flaks, hacks and aspiring sacks under a certain age, so it frees up some precious hotel rooms, keeps those middle seats unoccupied, and minimizes competition for the few news stories that will emerge.

But there is another reason why they wouldn’t miss this year’s conventions: history.

Standing up there on their respective stages this summer, both Sens. Barack Obama (D-Ill.) and John McCain (R-Ariz.) will be living, breathing examples of two distinct, yet quintessential, American stories.

Both on prime-time display for all their countrymen, regardless of party affiliation, to witness, embrace and celebrate.

The first African-American ever nominated by a major political party, and with the added drama of delivering his acceptance speech on the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

And, a never-say-never war hero, whose road-kill carcass of a campaign scraped itself up off the pavement by sheer force of will, now marching those few final steps to that podium after an improbable eight-year quest.

Like I said, please don’t rat us out …

For some cosmic reasons, conventions ending in “8” years always seem to etch something new into the lexicon of political Americana.

As a reporter, I would have loved to have been in Philly in 1948 when Strom Thurmond and his segregationist Dixiecrats stormed out of Convention Hall.

Or, in 1968, to have been on the streets of Chicago when tear gas filled the air and goons on the convention floor were roughing up network reporters.

My own first convention year was 1988. Atlanta for the Democrats and New Orleans for the Republicans. And even without renegade walkouts, or tear-gassed streets, I can remember both like they were yesterday — for the big moments and the small.

The 1988 Democratic convention (which nominated Michael Dukakis) is probably best-known as the “Jesse Jackson” convention after his spectacular showing in the primaries.

It is also the convention where a very long and unspectacular nominating speech was delivered by an unknown Southern governor named Clinton who, based upon his performance, would, no doubt, never be heard from again.

New Orleans 1988 is best-known as the place most first heard the name Dan Quayle, the surprise pick of nominee George Herbert Walker Bush. The sound bite of the convention, and arguably the line that ensured Bush’s one-term presidency, was “Read my lips: No new taxes.”

My favorite moment from that convention, however, was a small encounter on the steps of the Superdome after the proceedings had ended one evening. I met this new, relatively unknown senator, who took time to show me kindness as we walked toward our respective hotels chatting about this and that.

Pretty heady stuff for a cub radio reporter, with more ideas than contacts, and covering his first convention. The backbench senator’s name: John McCain.

That encounter ranks right up there with another I had at the 2004 Democratic convention in Boston. Met some backbench state senator from Illinois with a really funny name.

Like I said, not much happens at these conventions anymore. Probably not even worth going this time.

You can reach Jim Mills at This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it