Was I seeing things?

I looked again. Could that be former Governor Philip Noel lifting weights?

I turned to the physical therapist showing me where to sit so that I might start a 45-minute routine of exercises aimed at speeding my recovery from back surgery.

“Is that the governor?”

Steve kept on instructing me what to do.

“Start with heel pumps,” he said. It was like he had never heard my question. I did my pumps, but now the man was looking in my direction. I could tell from the smile he knew me. It was the governor, but appropriately the staff at Saint Elizabeth Home in East Greenwich was following protocols on the disclosure of patient information.

I waved to Phil and he waved back. Over the next two days we were to cross paths several times. With his room opposite mine, I stopped in late one afternoon and ended up staying for dinner. That’s not what I would have expected upon entering my recovery stay at Saint Elizabeth. Indeed, it made it homey, although the scheduled vital checks, reminders to take medication and physical therapy sessions kept me on a rigid plan.

I was introduced to Phil soon after Tony Ritacco and I acquired the Warwick Beacon in late fall 1969. He was mayor, and although I don’t remember what we talked about, there was no forgetting his chunky stature and hearty handshake. It was easy to see how years of quahogging had shaped his physique and   why colleges pursued him as a football player. I felt welcome, but as it turned out I didn’t have a lot of interaction with Phil. He had a good relationship with the City Council, although at the time it was about equally divided between Democrats and Republicans. Politics didn’t play a huge role in city operations then, and besides, Phil had his sights set on running for governor. It’s a job he won in 1972 and was reelected to in 1974.

Phil is great at telling stories, and I realized as our dinners arrived that I had the opportunity for the interview I never had 54 years earlier.

He didn’t need prompting. Between bites, he told me how the late Sen. John Pastore had played such a role in his life. Phil said he had no intention of becoming a politician, and perhaps that’s what made him so effective. As he related, he was introduced to Pastore following a Brown football game.

“He was a tiny man,” said Phil, invoking an image of a hefty, fully clad player hunched over the senator.

Phil reached out his hand to engulf Pastore’s hand. Pastore pulled his hand away in shock. It was cut and bleeding. He demanded to know what had happened. Phil was startled, and apologized for his rough, calloused hands, the result of quahogging. Pastore wanted to learn more, and as the two unlikely friends got to know each other, Pastore suggested Phil become involved in politics. It was a ride that was to take him to places he never would have imagined, although at the time he had his sights set on going into law enforcement and the FBI.

At the time, Republicans held all the seats on the City Council, but that didn’t deter Phil from inquiring how he could become involved. He was directed to a man at the end of the bar.

“Anyway, he comes over right away. He remembers me from playing football, and I was an all-state football player, so there were people that knew me,” Phil said. “So he says, ‘I'm the chairman of the Fifth Ward committee.’ But what he didn't tell me is that no Democrat had ever been elected.”

Phil joined the group of older men at the end of the bar and they unanimously endorsed him as the council candidate. Phil doesn’t name the candidate who beat him but recalls losing by nine votes.

Two years later, the incumbent didn’t seek reelection, and the Republicans “put some rookie in there that knew less than I did. So I got elected to the council, and I served three terms on the council.”

Phil made it sound so simple and a matter of fact. That was just the beginning, however. After three terms on the council, the Democrats realized Phil could go farther, although he wasn’t thinking that way.

“The city committee endorsed me to run for mayor, and I hadn't even asked for the endorsement. They endorsed me. That's how I got into politics.”

We eat in silence for a few moments, and after reflection Phil added, “[I] never wanted to be a politician. Now I'm a politician. Unbelievable.”

And then, he adds, “Never wanted to be a lawyer.”

That’s whole another story.

An attendant cleared our trays. Phil had an audience, and he settled into his chair. I never imagined back surgery would lead me here. There’s so much more to tell.

He should write a book.