Dr. Dancer is a surgeon and a fascinating man. He is a graduate of George Washington University's medical school, a former professor of surgery at OU Medical School, a highly successful Air Force surgeon who was commissioned to be the surgeon on the Search and Rescue Mission of the only United States atomic submarine to ever sink (the USS Scorpion), and a long-time successful surgeon in Shattuck, Tulsa, and Stillwater. (Edit: Two commenters pointed out that the USS Thrasher also sunk in 1963, making TWO nuclear submarines that have sunk, not one). Dr. Dancer retired about 10 years ago at the age of 73, but he still serves on many prestigious national medical boards.
Dr. Dancer told me that while he was in medical school at George Washington University (1957-1961), he worked at night (after classes) as the elevator man for the United State Senate elevator in the old Senate building. He regaled me with stories about Lyndon B. Johnson, John F. Kennedy, and a host of other U.S. Senators with whom he rode privately on the elevator over the course of four years. His stories and anecdotes of the various senators, including LBJ and JFK before they became President of the United States of the United States were fascinating.
But there was one story that stood out to me.
When Richard Nixon was a Senator from California (before he became President), he used his elevator key and Jack Dancer took manual control of the elevator and went to Senator Nixon's floor. When the elevator opened, Richard Nixon looked at Jack and said, "You're new here, aren't you?"
"Yes sir," Jack replied.
"What's your name?"
"Jack Dancer."
"Whose patronage are you under?" asked Nixon.
It was customary for elevator worker and security guard jobs in the Senate building to be given to students in the Washington D.C. by various U.S. Senators in a patronage program.
"Senator Barry Goldwater," responded Jack.
Jack had attended Arizona University where he obtained his Bachelor's Degree in chemistry and physics before going to medical school. It was while in college at Arizona that Jack met Senator Goldwater.
"Are you still in school, Jack?"
"Yes, sir. I just started medical school at George Washington University."
Are you married?" the future President asked.
"Yes sir, I'm married to Joy Sue."
"Any children?"
"Yes, we have two kids, Sheila and Brian."
"Well, I'm glad to have you on the Senate elevator. Nice to meet you!" With that, Richard Nixon stepped off the elevator in the basement and took the underground trolley to the Capital to cast a late night vote.
Dr. Dancer continued telling me the story.
"I didn't see Senator Nixon again until over two weeks later when once again Nixon used his private elevator key to call me to his floor. When the elevator arrived and the door opened, Senator Nixon got in and I closed the door."
"Hello Jack," said the Senator, "How's medical school?"
"Fine, Senator. I am enjoying it."
"How's your wife Joy Sue?"
"She's doing well, thank you."
"Well, I know it must be a difficult transition for her, especially watching over the two little ones. Tell me, Jack, how are Sheila and Brian doing?"
Jack Dancer was stunned.
He was a lowly elevator boy, and here a powerful Senator from California not only remembered his name, he remembered the name of his wife and two small kids.
The conversation continued until the elevator reached the basement and Senator Nixon stepped off and bid Jack goodbye.
"That conversation occurred 60 years ago and it has never been forgotten by me," Dr. Dancer, said, "but what happened the next time I saw Senator Nixon is what taught me the importance of knowing peoples' names."
A few weeks later Jack was alone in the elevator again with Senator Nixon, and the future President once again inquired about each of Jack's family members by name.
Jack said, "Senator Nixon, I must ask you a question. How can you remember names like you do?"
Nixon paused, looked Jack in the eye and said, "Jack, I'm a politician. I learned a long time ago that names are important."
"Yes, Mr. Nixon, but I ride with other Senators, and they don't even remember my name. Why are you different."
Nixon then reminded Jack of the Bible story where Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord. "What is your name? Jacob cried, What is your name?"
Nixon said, "Jack, Jacob knew what every politician ought to know. When you know a person's name you control that person."
"That lesson," Dr. Dancer told me, "is a lesson on leadership I've practiced since."
As I've since reflected on Dr. Dancer's anecdote, I can't help but reflect on Jesus' words:
"I am the good Shepherd, and I know my sheep" (John 10:14).
Pastors aren't trying to control people, but we are wanting to lead people.
I can't lead anyone unless I know their names.
It's a challenge I give over and over to myself and the other pastors at our 3,500 member church.
It's a challenge I give over and over to myself and the other pastors at our 3,500 member church.
There are many reasons, psychologists say, why we forget names.
But pastors should work harder than anyone to remember names.
Nixon's motives for remembering names may not have been the same as ours, but if Nixon can remember everyone's names, so can we.














