Building was booming in Nashville. Not just apartments and homes, but office buildings, industrial buildings, warehouses, and everything else. Nashville had managed to avoid the severe ups and downs of typical housing booms and busts over the years, but the newest highs it was hitting had been a source of both pride and concern to the city’s leaders.
Everyone knew a steep boom was often followed by a sharp decline, and everyone wanted to avoid that. But there was a general sense that Nashville was booming. There were several television shows dealing with the city, although mostly superficial efforts based loosely on the music business. Several surveys had rated Nashville either a good place to live, a good place to retire, or a place where people were among the happiest. No one took such surveys seriously unless they impacted one’s own home city, so the city fathers were making the best use of the temporary favorable publicity.
Unemployment, which had hit a record low approximately fifteen years before, had soared during the last recession, although it had not gotten nearly as high as various hotspots around the nation. Now it was coming down, slowly but steadily, back to reasonable levels. People were generally encouraged as new investment poured in from outside the city, and there was a general feeling of prosperity in the air.
The Nashville city fathers had worked to diversify Nashville’s economy over the last few decades. There was the famous music business, of course, but there was also healthcare, insurance, banking, and other industries common to every city. The construction industry thrived during boom times, and the housing industry was steady. Auto manufacturing, and its related spinoffs, had grown substantially twenty-five years before, but had ebbed and flowed since then. In a sense, there was Nashville the city itself, and the surrounding metropolitan area, similar to many medium-sized large cities.
Nashville published a lot of books, too. Many of them were bibles; some of the largest bible publishers were located there. The bible companies had begun other publishing ventures as well; there were fiction and non-fiction books, and large wholesalers and print-on-demand facilities located nearby.
And then there was politics. Congressman Joe Caldwell was entering the most hectic stretch of his campaign for re-election. This would be his eleventh term if re-elected, and no one seriously doubted that he would be. Congressman Joe Caldwell always put on an excellent show for the people. He believed that the people wanted a race, and he gave them a race every time. Actually, two races—a primary race and a general election race.
The primary election would be held in August, and the first debate was held in mid-June. It was an open question how many people believed it was a real race for the party nomination in the primary, but no one doubted that many people treated it as if it was a real race. They watched the debates, watched the television ads going back and forth, and although they never turned out to vote in large numbers, since no one could really believe that Caldwell would be knocked off, surveys had shown that having a primary opponent for Caldwell increased total participation in the primaries, and brought more voters to the poles in other races.
In the middle of the first debate, one of the panelists asked both candidates whether they supported the legalization, or decriminalization, of medical marijuana. Joe Caldwell had his answer ready, an answer that he knew from past experience would satisfy most voters: He would ascertain what the people wanted, and carry out their wishes, only overruling them if he thought they were unquestionably incorrect in that position. He had even privately told his opponent, whom he had known personally for a number of years, generally what his response was going to be. Knowing that, the opponent, a nice young man from a local law firm, began his own answer seeming quite confident.
“I think that most people are ready for a change,” he said. “I think they are ready to look at old issues in a new way, and to try to make a determination if things should be done differently. That’s the reason I’m in this race, to give them the option of doing things differently.”
He paused for a few moments, and that appeared to be the end of his answer. There was an embarrassed silence, and the moderator jumped in and followed up. “But the question was about medical marijuana. What do you think should be done about it? Should it be legalized?”
“Well, I think that the people ultimately will decide that question,” the young candidate said. “Regardless of my own personal feelings about the subject, it is ultimately up to the people to determine whether such a dramatic change from our past history should be made, and” His voice trailed off, and he made a few halting attempts to continue, but nothing really came out.
Congressman Caldwell had a mixed reaction inside. He was glad to see that his opponent was sticking to the program, so to speak, that he wasn’t trying to get out there and be too independent in the first debate, the way some of his handpicked opponents had done in years past. At the same time, however, it pained him to watch the young man struggle so much; his failure to rise to a certain level might give the game away, and make the general public think the race was not all that serious after all.
Caldwell, a tall, lean, some would say “Ivy League-looking” man, whom the voters had found attractive through the years, could barely resist the temptation to jump in and help his opponent with the answer. Any answer would do, Caldwell knew, as long as it was presented in a certain style, with a minimum of hesitation, stuttering, and uncertainty. But he knew better than to do that; that would really be a tip-off to even the slowest voter.
Eventually, the young opponent managed a continuation of his original reply, but without strengthening his logic or the impression he made upon either the debate panel or the audience. He managed to go on speaking for another minute or so, until he reached the point where his answer was almost as embarrassing as his previous inability to continue answering. The members of the debate panel looked somewhat frustrated and disappointed at such a lackluster response. It wasn’t that they supported Congressman Caldwell; it was simply that their bosses wanted a good show, and this wasn’t the kind to guarantee a good audience for the next debates.
“Congressman?” the moderator asked, turning his head. “What’s your position on this issue? You have two minutes.”
“I’ve always trusted the voters,” Caldwell began confidently, speaking neither too softly nor too forcefully. He seemed in control of the situation, like he was performing an act he could have performed while sleeping. “At the same time, a good representative has to know when to independently decide, even if all of the voters aren’t in sync with his opinion. He must strive to represent them, true, but he must also lead them as well. Like everything in life, there is a balance. I believe the way to approach this issue is the same as one would approach any issue, to begin to examine the facts behind the issue, to gather and ascertain the opinions of the voters in my district, and”
Nashville: The Mood (Part 2) Page 10