In golf 's time line 1960 is a watershed year, the one in which Arnold Palmer starred in the first color telecast from the Masters and then made his maiden voyage to the British Open, chasing the Grand Slam.
Finchem has always been an unabashed Palmer fan, but 1960 was the year he fell under the spell of another American icon, John F. Kennedy.
Finchem's grandfather Timothy Kelly was a well-connected pol outside of Chicago, and family dinners were always flavored with robust political debate. When Finchem was 13 his mother, Margaret — "an Irish Catholic saint," he says — instructed him to sit in front of the TV to monitor the Democratic national convention that begot Camelot. Finchem was spellbound by Kennedy's charisma and idealism.
"That set the course of my life for about the next 20 years," he says.
Growing up, Finchem, the second of six children, apsired to be one of the best and the brightest, devouring books on military history with a special emphasis on the Civil War, Russian revolution, World War II and — Norman would love this — Napoleon. He got his intellectual curiosity from his mother; old school discipline was instilled by his father, Harold, a master gunnery sergeant who spent 30 years in the Marine Corps.
"I've never thought of my father as a disciplinarian," says Finchem, "but one thing that's always stuck in my mind was the morning I was heading out to school and he pointed out that my shoes weren't shined. I said, 'Ah, Dad, nobody will know.' All he said was, 'But you will.' After that I shined my shoes every morning."
The family home in Virginia Beach had no air conditioning and only three bedrooms — three sisters in one, three brothers in the other. If Finchem wanted to have any fun he had to finance it himself, so beginning at age 11 he took on various jobs to pay for golf, which he had come to love through spirited matches with his father.
His home away from home was the golf course at Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek, which he could play all day for about a dollar. In the summers, when he wasn't working, Finchem and his buddies would often squeeze in 54 holes a day.
Finchem played on the golf team as a sophomore at Princess Anne High. For his nine-hole matches he considered 36 a good score, and a few times he went as low as 34. But, he says, "If I was going to go to college I had to have a scholarship. By my sophomore year it was evident golf was not going to be the path."
As a junior he gave up competitive golf in favor of the debate team. The Cavaliers won the state championship, and Finchem was the first-place speaker, a double-dip he repeated as a senior. That earned him a full ride to the University of Richmond to compete in its powerhouse debate program.
After graduating in 1969 with a political science degree, Finchem matriculated at the University of Virginia Law School, which is home to the prestigious Lyle Moot Court, a cutthroat two-year elimination competition. Finchem and his partner, Virgil Goode, reached the finals, which were judged by Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall.
"I know I was intimidated, but Tim seemed very much at ease," says Goode, now in his sixth term representing Virginia's fifth congressional district. "He and Marshall went round and round."
While in law school Finchem began indulging his passion for politics by doing campaign work, and he continued the moonlighting even after entering private practice. In 1977, having just turned 30, he decided to run for prosecuting attorney in Virginia Beach (the equivalent of district attorney). His idealism was no match for the messy realities of politics on the ground. In the final days of his campaign versus an archconservative incumbent, the local paper ran a frontpage story about Finchem's propensity for speeding tickets.
"I had five or six speeding tickets over a period of three years, mostly for going 10 miles over the speed limit," Finchem says, plaintively. "None of them were for reckless driving or DUI. The whole thing was overblown."
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