Bio, Vinson, Bobby G.

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In September of 1968, Joan Vinson picked up the phone in Orly Airport and called the North Vietnam delegation. To her surprise, the voice on the other end of the line spoke perfect English. She was in Paris, she said, because she wanted to meet with them to discuss her husband, Col. Bobby Vinson, whose plane had been shot down in the Quang Bin Province in April of that year.

"Come right over," the voice said. Soon, she found herself face-to-face with representatives of the North Vietnamese government, asking for the release her husband, or at least for information on his whereabouts and condition.

For the next three hours, Joan pleaded her case, drinking "more tea than I ever had in my life." The North Vietnamese listened, but made no promises. So before leaving, the petite blonde with the soft southern accent reminded them, "as nicely as I could," that they were signatories to the Geneva Convention and it would be to their advantage to abide by it.

Back at home in Alexandria, Va., Joan was determined to do something about her husband's situation. She began making the rounds of Congress, talking to anyone she could about the plight of servicemen classified as Prisoners of War, referred to as POWs; or Missing in Action, MIAs. "I did not get a particularly positive reaction," she recalls of those early visits. "Bob Dole was one of the few senators that seemed concerned."

But there was one man who was supportive of the efforts of the families of missing servicemen. H. Ross Perot, a 1953 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, had many friends who were serving in Vietnam, including some who were POW/ MIAs.

Out of the blue, she received a call from Mr. Perot's office inviting her to join him in visiting the North Vietnamese delegation. And on Christmas Eve of 1969, Joan and her four children found themselves on a chartered plane with Mr. Perot and some sixty other wives and families of servicemen who were missing or in prison camps, headed to Paris to speak with the same delegation she had visited on her own one year earlier.

"Perot organized and paid for everything," she says, "even played Santa Claus to the kids." The families were taken by private bus to the North Vietnamese delegation, where they knocked on the door and asked for the opportunity to speak with them. There was no response. But this time, the media had been alerted and were covering the entire event. With international coverage, an entire movement took off.

The families who visited the delegation on Christmas Day 1969 formed the core of what became the National League of Families of American POW and MIAs in Southeast Asia. Mr. Perot continued to be a strong advocate and supporter of the cause, and Joan became president and spokesman of the organization.

The efforts of "The League," as she calls it, created a sea change in the way the United States addresses the issue of POW and MIA servicemen.

The American public began pressuring U.S. Congress and the North Vietnamese to bring home the prisoners of war. Seeing how ordinary citizens could advocate for change was a lesson she never forgot.

In 1973, American POWs began returning home. Colonel Vinson was not one of them. Finally, in 1977, the Air Force changed her husband's status from Missing in Action to presumptive death. With the status change, Joan was able to close a chapter of her life and move on. She sold the Alexandria house and moved to Annapolis with her children.

Fast forward to February 20, 1992. Joan turns on her television set and sees Mr. Perot talking to Larry King. She had been volunteering for presidential candidate Bob Kerrey, who was days away from dropping out of the race. Mr. Perot, never shy about stating his opinions, berates Americans for not taking charge of their political destiny. Like many others watching, Joan finds his no-nonsense, populist message calling for ordinary citizens to retake the country appealing. And she knows from personal experience that Mr. Perot is a man who can get things done.

During the interview, Mr. King asks if there is any scenario in which Mr. Perot would run for president. He says, "If you want me to run - you the people - you register me in 50 states. If you're not willing to do that, this is all talk." Immediately, Joan scurries around looking through old Rolodexes, hoping to find a fax number. The search is unsuccessful, but the next morning, she gets on the phone to his Dallas office and offers to help.

After several back-and-forth phone calls, Mr. Perot asks Joan to head up his Maryland office. She gets to work right away, transforming the lower floor of her Epping Forest home into a temporary office. Soon, she has to install 18 phone lines to handle the torrent of calls. The response is overwhelming.

Mr. Perot's message of balancing the federal budget, ending that "giant sucking sound" of jobs heading south of the border and the need for trade protectionism as well as the call for citizens to "look in the mirror" if they wanted change, electrified voters.

The "Perot Phenomena" swept across Maryland. People swarmed all over Joan's home, eager to be a part of the movement to get Mr. Perot on the ballot in Maryland. "I'd turn around and there would be a newsman from Japan or the BBC." People she didn't know or never spoken to before made their way to her home. The response, she says, was "phenomenal."

The goal was to register 250,000 voters. "We doubled that," she said. The group garnered a half million signatures in Maryland. Joan and her volunteers decided to transport the petitions to the state Board of Elections in Annapolis by a twenty-four boat flotilla, representing the State's 23 counties and Baltimore City. Each boat would be specially decorated and carry the signatures from their individual jurisdictions.

On June 24, 1992, Mr. Perot boarded the boat that led the flotilla down Spa Creek as "Anchors Away" played on the sound system. Six thousand people waited for the flotilla to arrive at City Dock as Betsy Ross and Uncle Sam mingled with the crowd. The entire event was recorded on C-Span and covered on national news. "It was the most significant day in Annapolis," says Joan Vinson, "since George Washington resigned his commission."

Mr. Perot did go on to get on the ballot on all fifty states, and made a compelling case for a third-party candidate. Running against incumbent President George Bush, a Republican, and Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton, a Democrat who won the race, Mr. Perot got 19 percent of the vote in the 1992 presidential election. While he didn't win, he energized people around the American political process. "It was amazing, Joan says. "People were excited that they could make a difference, make things happen in Washington."

She sees many parallels in this year's presidential race with the 1992 elections. "I think media and the political elites don't understand the depth of desire in American citizens to change American politics." She is encouraged by the involvement of young people in this year's campaigns.

For Joan, staying involved is a personal passion. A lifelong learner, she holds three master's degrees, and has done doctoral work in political science at George Washington University. Her experience with "The League," she says, was an exciting challenge, as was the work with Mr. Perot's organization, "United We Stand America." And she continues to believe in the power of engaging government to create change.

"As citizens, we owe it to our country and our future to be involved." To bring the point home, she shares a 1992 photo of her holding 10-month-old Michael Harper as he reaches for Mr. Perot's nose during one of his visits to Annapolis. "You see that," she says, pointing to her grandson. "That's what it's all about."

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Janice Gary is an award-winning writer of creative nonfiction. She teaches memoir at Annapolis Senior Center.

Do you have an Annapolis story? Contact jangary22@hotmail.com