Democratic politicians have disliked things I've written

“Democratic politicians have disliked things I’ve written, Republican politicians… if they all love you, you might as well be driving a Good Humor truck.”
Thus spoke Adam Clymer, the seasoned chronicler of power and truth, whose words carry the weight of a life spent walking the perilous line between honesty and approval. In these words lies not merely the reflection of a journalist, but the eternal principle of integrity — that to speak truth is to invite displeasure, and to please all is to serve none. His message is not bitter, but noble; not cynical, but wise. For he reminds us that the measure of one’s worth lies not in being loved, but in being authentic.

To “drive a Good Humor truck” — that image, playful and piercing, speaks of the sweet, harmless, and safe. The Good Humor truck brings delight, not challenge; comfort, not confrontation. It is the symbol of the agreeable man, the one who sells joy but never truth. Yet Clymer’s duty, as a journalist and a thinker, was not to soothe the world, but to illuminate it. The writer who seeks universal affection has abandoned his mission; for truth, like fire, always burns someone. His words teach that to offend both sides may be the surest sign of impartiality.

In the ancient world, Diogenes the Cynic carried a lantern through the streets of Athens, claiming to search for an honest man. He mocked the powerful, questioned the wise, and spared no one his biting humor. Kings despised him; scholars scorned him; yet his name endures, while the flatterers of his age have been forgotten. So too does Clymer, in his modern age, embody that same defiance — the courage to displease. For the seeker of truth must learn to walk alone, scorched by both sides of passion, yet guided by the inner flame of integrity.

The origin of Clymer’s quote lies in his long career as a political journalist for The New York Times, where he covered presidents, campaigns, and controversies with relentless precision. He lived in an arena where truth was constantly tested by power, where every word could anger one faction or another. When he said that both Democrats and Republicans had disliked his writings, he was not lamenting, but rejoicing — for it meant he had done his duty well. The honest chronicler must stand above the battle, even as arrows fly from all sides. Neutrality is not passivity; it is strength earned through discipline and courage.

In every generation, there are those who must choose between truth and popularity. The teacher who tells hard lessons, the artist who paints unsettling truths, the prophet who speaks against the comfort of the crowd — all walk the same narrow path that Clymer describes. If all men praise you, it is not a sign of wisdom, but of compromise. For truth, by its very nature, disturbs the false peace of illusion. The world often rewards the gentle deceiver, the one who smiles and sells sweet lies like ice cream. But the world remembers those who tell the truth, even when it stings.

Consider Galileo Galilei, who dared to speak the truth that the Earth moves around the sun. The church condemned him; the scholars shunned him; yet centuries later, his name shines brighter than all his persecutors. He could have chosen silence, and been loved; he chose truth, and was scorned. This is the same wisdom Clymer gives us — that displeasure is the shadow of honesty, and that every voice that matters must walk through that shadow to reach the light.

So let this be the teaching drawn from Adam Clymer’s words:

1. Seek not to be loved by all, for universal approval is the reward of mediocrity.

2. Speak truth with courage, even when it offends both friend and foe.

3. Measure your worth not by applause, but by integrity.

4. Remember that criticism is proof of impact, not failure.

Thus spoke Adam Clymer, the watchman of truth, whose quill cut deeper than flattery and whose wisdom still echoes across the chambers of public life. His words remind us that to live rightly is not to please, but to stand firm — to be honest when silence is easier, to be steadfast when praise is more tempting. So, O seeker, when you are tempted to soften your words for comfort or to chase favor over truth, remember this: the Good Humor truck delights the crowd, but the truth-teller moves the world.