Practically indispensable. Now sadly gone, too soon.
That was the first thought that crossed my mind on hearing that Concord-based political historian Charles Brereton had died last week from kidney-related disease at age 68. Never an academic scholar or a credentialed journalist, Chuck nonetheless built a well-deserved reputation as one of the most knowledgeable and astute observers of New Hampshireโs first-in-the-nation primary.
As a freelance writer, he interviewed everyone who had anything to do with the primary, published innumerable articles and three books on the subject, and for several decades was a go-to guy for visiting major-league journalists, ranging from the liberal Mark Shields to the conservative Robert Novak.
Although Chuckโs active engagement with primary research and analysis diminished in the past decade as his health failed, his book First in the Nation remains an essential source for primary scholars and buffs. A quick check of the footnotes in Andrew Smithโs and David W. Mooreโs latest study, The First Primary, will confirm the ongoing value of Breretonโs work.
Chuck earned his spurs as a primary guru the old-fashioned way โ by engaging in primary politics.
Born in Connecticut and raised in California, Chuck moved to New Hampshire in 1972 to work in Paul McCloskeyโs quixotic anti-war Republican primary campaign. At the time, President Richard M. Nixon was seeking re-election and riding high in the polls. But it was an exciting opportunity for a young activist โ for Chuck, the right cause at the right time. He made lifelong friends through the McCloskey campaign and set down roots in Concord, where his obsession with politics was sated.
I first met Chuck in 1983 when I was hired as the Monitorโs editorial writer and Chuck was pounding out political columns and pitching them to newspapers across the state.
The Monitor paid for op-eds in those days โ not much, but enough to make it worth Chuckโs effort, especially as his success rate landing space in the paper with his columns was higher during my stewardship of the editorial page than it had been under Tom Gerber or would be under my successors at the paper.
When Chuck brought his columns in, we discussed them at length. I soon realized his knowledge was both deep and wide, even if he sometimes indulged in wishful thinking when it came to certain favorites or cynical theories about politicians he disliked.
Every four years Chuck was in his glory, writing columns, lecturing to students and buffs, and talking regularly with visiting reporters who needed a quick primer on the stateโs electorate, its political leanings, and a knowledgeable expertโs take on who seemed hot and who was failing to connect with voters.
Because he readily embraced and just as readily shed enthusiasm for candidates in each party, Chuckโs predictions were no better, and possibly worse, than the average interested citizenโs might be. But no one could converse with him about primary politics without learning something worth remembering.
Chuck was almost completely absorbed reading and talking about politics and politicians, but not quite. In his last years he became fascinated with the history of his California family. He conducted an enormous amount of research, which, regrettably, did not reach fruition as a book โ a book which would include, as he intended to show, a fascinating political dimension. Time ran out on that project.
Chuck was a memorable character. He wasnโt the easiest friend, though he forged lasting personal connections, both in and beyond Concord. He chased many rainbows. That most were beyond his grasp did not invalidate the pursuit.
New Hampshireโs political scene is diminished by his loss.
(Michael J. Birkner is professor of history at Gettysburg College.)