A good bureaucrat

This is an admission of a shortcoming I have, along with just about everyone in the country. It is a defect in our usage of the word "bureaucrat." Everyone uses that word in writing, public speaking and daily conversation.

It has a negative connotation, something undesirable. That includes the dictionary, which says, "An official in a bureaucracy, esp. one who follows a routine in a mechanical, unimaginative way, insisting on proper forms and petty rules." The dictionary goes on to mention the use of a writing style "full of insider jargon and roundabout phrases."

Bureaucrats are an historic part of government service operations of all kinds; however, they are much more prevalent in a democracy, mainly because they grow from the inside and develop so much power. We don't like it, but no one can come up with a better way of getting the government business done while trying to protect the citizen's rights. Even Hitler, Stalin and other infamous tyrants had to deal with a certain amount of bureaucracy; however, they did have quicker methods of dealing with those they didn't agree with, i.e. firing squads.

Having worked many years with the Forest Service, three years in the Army, two years as a legislative assistant in the U.S. Senate, and dealing with unnumbered agencies such as National Park Service, Federal Communications Commission and county planning boards while I worked in the business world, I know about bureaucrats.

So what's your point, George? Right here I have to bite my tongue, but reveal something else I've come to believe: "There are good bureaucrats."

I've met several of those but am not going to reveal actual names because they might be in big trouble. These are those brave souls who manage to work through, around, under and above all the red tape and get things done. We all know about those kind of public servants, but seldom or never give them credit. One of the reasons is that in a majority of cases, we don't know who the darling soul is.

Let's look at one example: In 1980, while running our newspaper, Iris and I provided Wednesday night jobs for about a dozen kids, ages 10 to 18. They inserted, folded and sorted the papers. Older ones ran the addressograph, distributed them to dealers and the post office. The kids as well as their parents loved the idea. It was inky work, but it was fun and provided self-earned spending money.

One Wednesday night when I wasn't there, the U.S. Labor Department sent enforcement officers to disrupt the operation, greatly upsetting Iris and causing kids to worry about losing their jobs. They cited federal rules about working grade school kids past 8 p.m., etc. The feds followed up the next day by trying to get pupil records from the schools to verify ages and grades. Luckily, a principal called and told me he had cited the law against releasing such records without a court order. Several parents called the Department of Labor office and were told it was none of their business that I was breaking the law.

The next Monday, one of the agents came to my office, and I found him domineering and impossible to reason with. The visit ended with me sticking my fist through a door panel and telling him to get the hell out of there. Our paper that week was headlined, "Government goons raid the news."

Somewhere in the Labor Department bureaucracy was an angel. All harassment suddenly ceased. Our kid crews kept their jobs, and I had my wrist fixed by a doctor. A majority of those young workers went on to lead successful lives in their chosen careers. They've told me those childhood jobs helped them develop self-confidence and pride.

I never considered wanting the goon who came to my office put in front of a firing squad, but I did think if I could find the big bureaucrat who called off the dogs, I would give him a big kiss.

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.