There Was Bad News Every Day
The paradox was that this national comforter---and, in an apparent rarity for public figures, a man devoid of scandal---may have needed an awful lot of comfort himself, as Heatter admitted when he wrote in due course that one secret to his uplifting style was that by trying to pick himself up, he seemed able to pick others up as well.
Insecure to the point of tears in moments alone, Heatter as often as not could barely compose himself when a stranger said hello to him or praised him; he was unable to eat what was put in front of him at formal affairs and often tucked a carefully wrapped sandwich of his own to eat; as much as he loved dog stories and his own dogs, strange dogs on the street terrified him; he was fortunate to have a wife and family who understood and supported him and never seemed to have assailed or criticized him for the insecurities his listeners would never have believed.
The audience of the 21st Century, had it known of the turmoil that roiled him, would probably consider him a prime candidate for deep psychoanalysis, a candidacy Heatter himself would probably have rejected.
Read more about this topic: Gabriel Heatter
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