Race of a Life
by Daniel J. Erspamer
Chapter Two
“...so, as I embark on this journey, I implore you, my fellow Americans, to get ready, and come aboard with me. It’s going to be exciting. It’s going to be rewarding. It’s going to be long. But, together, we can rise up and we can proclaim with one strong voice, ‘It’s time for change. It’s time for a new spirit in Washington. It’s time for our voices to be heard!’ And, with that, I begin my candidacy to become the next President of the United States of America. I ask for your support, and I ask for your vote.” Candidate Rumble, with poise, nodded his head once, blinked slowly, looked earnestly at the cameras, and closed his speech with the traditional, “May God bless you, and God Bless America.” The now-former New York Post columnist stepped back from the podium looked at the people covering his announcement, and took a deep breath.
“Here we go,” he said under his breath, as he smiled for the flashing camera bulbs and the still-rolling news cameras. He answered questions from his colleagues in the mass media about just about everything, ranging from when he would assemble his staff, what grassroots organization he had, what he would do about his newspaper during the campaign, and how his family had reacted to the decision. Paul answered the questions with a smooth, confident style that left no real room for follow-up questions. There was no doubt he was good at getting his point across. The question was, would America listen?
He knew many of the people in the room covering his announcement from various local and national media outlets. Some had worked for him, even. Some of the veterans he had worked alongside in the early years as a beat reporter. His closest friend in the business, Leonard Mayer, a six-foot, three-inch tall, bearded, rather imposing senior political correspondent for the Associated Press, was there to cover Paul’s announcement.
Of course, Leonard knew what Paul would be saying without ever being told. In fact, many keen political observers had suspected in the past few years that they would see red, white and blue “Rumble for President” signs adorning yards across the country in this presidential contest. Leonard could remember back in their early days. Paul had always had ambitions of grandeur. Back then, no one ever really thought he could achieve them. Leonard chuckled to himself as he thought back on those years. After a long night, a group of the low-men would take a break, have a beer and talk about the future. The guys used to tease Paul about his ambition. Since then, Paul had ascended from the beat reporter position, to an opinion writer, to the Washington Post chief political correspondent. By that point, Leonard knew he would eventually be the editor. He had made good with the publishing staff and the board of directors with his well-read conservative column. It was, at its height, syndicated to over 125 newspapers across the country. What did those guys think now, Leonard thought to himself. He could only shake his head. Ole Paul was poised to meet the most ambitious of his goals. At least, it would be an interesting ride.
After the reporters had exhausted their questions for Paul, everyone began to pack up and head home. Leonard met Paul backstage.
“Want to grab a bite to eat, Mr. President?”
“Not so fast, Leo. But I am pretty hungry. How does a burger sound?”
“Great! Let’s go.”
They drove separately to the burger joint around the corner, giving each time to figure out exactly how the conversation at lunch should go. Leo had many questions to ask the candidate, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the questions Paul had ready for him.
After they ordered--Paul a bacon cheeseburger and a coke, and Leo a cheeseburger with Swiss cheese--they settled into a nice conversation. They talked about some of the problems Paul foresaw in the primary season, who formidable opponents might be--Paul was the first to announce his candidacy--how Rose and the kids were handling the excitement, and who would be on his staff. They joked about the old days, about the ones who never thought they’d make it. They had sure shown them.
“Now, I expect some special access to the candidate and his staff there, Mr. Rumble,” Leo laughed.
“Well, actually,” Paul began, nervously, “I was hoping you would be a part of it. I had you in mind for my campaign spokesman.” The two grown men sat in silence for a few moments in the busy urban restaurant. The possibility had never crossed Leo’s mind. He really didn’t know why, but it just hadn’t.
Paul knew that it was asking a great deal from his old friend. He was, in essence, asking him to give up a secure, high-paying job with seniority with a reputable news wire to come work on a largely grass-roots campaign. And for what? A little bit of money and the possibility, but only the possibility, of a White House position if his candidate won. The silence lasted for just a few moments, as each contemplated the idea.
“Okay.”
“Okay? You’ll do it?”
“Of course I’ll do it,” Leo told his old friend, “I know how much this means to you, and I want to be there to help you. I want to be there when you flash your brilliant smile and win the people over with your words, your ideas and your passions. I want to be there when you put your hand on that Bible and take the oath of office. I want to be a part of that. Whatever I can do to help.”
Paul just smiled. If nothing else, he would have the best potential press secretary of all the candidates. That thought made him smile. With that, the partners commenced to talking strategy and planning. That afternoon, they formed a staff. A staff built on loyalty, quality, and honor--some from home in Alabama, some insiders in Washington. It would be a hell of a campaign, and Leo was glad he was on board.
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