The Latina President...and the Conspiracy to Destroy Her

by Joe Rothstein

  But election campaigns are seldom as rational as cold statistics. A candidate with a brain cancer diagnosis is a candidate facing a billion dollar wall of press scrutiny, and a politically organized death watch. Guess recognized that immediate widespread sympathy and prayers for his condition would quickly be redirected into more critical channels. He had to abandon his campaign.

  Managing the Guess campaign’s strategy and organization was Susan Cipriani, a political veteran and rival of Sage and Searer at the top rung of Democratic Party candidate politics. For the past three years, she had built the organization that would make Reed Guess president. For the past three nights she had been at the hospital with Guess and his family sharing their anguish, and the campaign’s undoing. This morning, sleep deprived, powered by endless rounds of caffeine, but tightly focused on her mission, Cipriani appeared at the Georgetown office of Sage and Searer.

  “It’s true,” she confided in Ben and Lee, “Senator Guess is withdrawing from the presidential campaign. You know how close he’s been with Senator Tennyson in the five years she’s been here. Their styles are different, but they agree on just about everything important. Rather than just fold up everything we’ve built for this presidential campaign, Reed wants to turn it all over to Senator Tennyson and try to convince her to run instead. I can keep the Guess campaign intact so you won’t be starting in first gear. We’ve built a great group. Transition wouldn’t be a problem since both Guess and Tennyson are on the same page when it comes to issues and outlook.”

  “Has he talked with her?”

  “Not yet. It’s up to you. You two know her better than anyone else in the campaign world. She’s not likely to agree unless you both are aboard. And as a practical matter, you’d know how to adjust what we’ve built for Reed to her style and strengths. I’d like to stay involved, but I can’t win her trust for this or manage her anywhere near as effectively as you guys could. Not in the short time before the primaries begin. So the question is—three questions, really. Can she handle a presidential campaign? Would you encourage her to get into it? And if she does, can you pretty much devote all your time to making this work?”

  “You mean handling a Tennyson for President campaign with your people like it’s our own?” asked Lee.

  “Yes. With the organization we’ve already built and whatever help you want from me.”

  Tenny for president? It wasn’t the first time the possibility had been considered. In the days after her election to the Senate, that idea had bounced through the writings of a number of well-known political columnists and commentators. A brief boomlet to draft her even resulted in an internet petition. Tenny quickly squelched all of that by announcing her support for Reed Guess. She was the first Democratic senator to endorse Guess and never wavered. Ben was certain that she had never seriously considered running for president herself. Would she now?

  “Yes,” said Ben. “She’s ready. She may not know it yet, but she’s ready.”

  “And you?”

  “We’re in if she is,” said Ben. “And we’d want you with us, Susan. Have Senator Guess make the call.”

  Three hours later Ben was in Tenny’s Senate office.

  “You’re in on this, too?” Tenny greeted him.

  “Not the instigator, but, yes, an advocate.”

  “How on earth do you think I can win? A so-called far-out liberal in a nation of centrists? A Latina at a time we’re gridlocked over immigration?”

  As she spoke, Tenny rose from behind her desk and walked to where Ben was standing.

  “Wall Street’s worst nightmare at a time when they can spend unlimited secret campaign money? A divorced woman whose former husband is god-knows-where doing god-knows-what? A single woman who hasn’t exactly lived the life of a saint? Talk about a mountain to climb. Reed might have made it because he’s a war hero with a beautiful family and a more restrained way of pushing issues. Me?” She poked a finger into Ben’s chest for further exclamation. “I’m a walking political disaster!”

  Ben smiled, captured her extended arm, reeled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. She rapped him on the forehead playfully with her knuckles and broke free.

  “I’m not kidding, Ben. How do you think I can win?”

  Ben settled down in a chair and motioned her to sit next to him.

  “I didn’t say you would win. I’m not sure you can. But I’m sure you should run.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, win and you’re president. Lose and you still have two years left in your term as senator. You’re beating your brains out trying to get immigration reform and change the financial system. And for all your work, and speeches and crowds and enthusiasm, what’s actually happened to change things? Nothing. You run for president and you elevate these issues to the biggest stage in the world. You make your case to tens of millions who haven’t heard it. You win and you actually change the world. You lose and you’ve got a much bigger constituency for change than you could ever create as a senator. If you don’t get into the primary, we get Rusher as our candidate and maybe as president. Even worse, we could get a Republican. Everything you’ve worked for goes backward.”

  She turned from him and paced a few circles around the center of her office.

  “Damn you, Ben. You always make the most ridiculous ideas sound almost sensible when you’re trying to get me to run for something. But why me? There’s lots of others.”

  “Really? Who? Who else would raise a billion dollars for the campaign this close to the first primaries? Who else would put together an organization as strong as the one Reed has now? That organization folds if you don’t run.”

  She paced a couple of laps more. Ben didn’t push. He allowed her space for silence.

  “But how do I win it? I’ve got all the vulnerabilities I just told you about. Admit it.”

  “How do you win it? Damned if I know. Susan Cipriani just blew my mind a few hours ago. Now I’m here blowing yours. You agree to run. I’ll figure out how to elect you.”

  “Get out of here you trouble-maker. I’ll think about it. I need to talk to a few people with more common sense than you. I need some time.”

  “You don’t have much before the window closes and the Guess team begins scattering. Everything else gets a lot tougher.”

  

  Her first call, as always, was to Carmie, whose career had moved to the penthouse level of the Wall Street elite.

  “Carmie, they’re pushing me hard to run for president. What do you think?”

  “Well,” said Carmie, “I personally know eighteen of my fellow banker friends who would jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if you take over the White House. In my small world, your picture is on dart boards in every executive suite.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “Me? I’d immediately take a leave of absence, or quit my job if they made me, and knock on doors for your campaign. And if you win, I’d be golden because I likely would be one of just three people on all of Wall Street whose phone calls you’d take. I’d be in high demand.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “Then you and I would start a socially conscious venture fund and get even more rich than you already are. Or, even better, we’d just travel the world together breaking hearts and getting into trouble. That’s how we started out as I remember.”

  “Hey, come on. This is serious. Do you think I could win?”

  “Of course. The country’s ready for Madam Hot. You’re fiery, passionate. They’d love you. A lot of people already do.”

  While she was talking with Carmie, the call came in from Hal. “The governor’s on the line,” said the voice from Sacramento.

  “Tenny,” said Hal, “Ben’s running a big campaign to get you into the race and I’m shilling for him. He wouldn’t let me off the phone until I promised to call you.”

  “Well, my friend, you’ve done your duty. Now you have to say no more.”

  “But I do have more
to say. Two words. The same two words I said when I asked you to run for Congress: Do it. You win California hands down. Washington, Oregon, Nevada, New Mexico, Colorado, maybe even Arizona. Then you take all of the states Obama won twice.”

  “Hal. Honestly. You know me better than almost anyone. Can I do this? Forget the numbers. Can I be what people see in a president? I’m totally different than anyone else in the history books. And if I win, what kind of leader would I be? I know myself pretty well and I’m not going to change much. I have so little tolerance for idiots. I’m more a lone wolf than good manager of people and things. When I start being eaten alive by ducks pecking on my ankles there’s no telling what I might do or say. And I’m talking here about generals and admirals and leaders of other countries.”

  “Agreed. You’re likely to screw up royally. But someone’s going to get elected and whoever that is just as likely to screw up. Better that it’s you.”

  “I just talked with Carmie. She says Wall Street would do everything it could to stop me.”

  “Sure they would. You know I’m pretty cozy with a lot of those types. They’re terrified of you out here in California and still think I lost my mind when I appointed you. Expect the worst from them. But this isn’t their year. In fact, the harder they push against you the better off you’ll be. It just makes you more credible.”

  “Why don’t you run? You could beat Rusher and get elected more easily than I could.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, I did spend some time last year testing whether I should. When I looked at getting in it was pretty clear I’d split support with Reed Guess and almost guarantee that Rusher would win the nomination. So I backed off. That’s why I never asked you to support me or raise money for me. But while I was trying to make that decision I seriously had to ask myself whether this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and I got some really good answers. I have a great family situation. I’ve never made much money, but after I leave office I can make a ton, and have time to enjoy it. By the time I heard about Reed’s cancer, I’d drifted really far away from wanting to run for president. But even if I did want it, let’s be real. You’re way more popular than I am. You have natural support groups everywhere, women and Latino, that I don’t have. And you can write a check for your whole campaign if it comes to that. I’d start off late with an empty bank account. The fact is, I just don’t want to do it anymore. But I want you to. I really want you to. You can beat Rusher. And you, me, the whole country needs to beat Rusher.”

  “Hal, you left something out. What about us? We both saw how ugly that got in the Senate campaign. What was ugly then is bound to be horrible if I run now.”

  “I can handle my end of it. Can you handle yours?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt. The Senate campaign was so hard on Sally and your kids.”

  “The only way I can be hurt now is if you don’t run. Anyway, I’ve got my answer ready when the media quizzes me about us.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I didn’t appoint you to the U.S. Senate because you were good in bed. You just paid me more than any other candidate.”

  “Goddamn it, Hal,” Despite herself she couldn’t help laughing out loud.

  Tenny moved on.

  Fish was still a member of the U.S. House, winning re-election every two years and rising in influence. Republicans held the majority, but Fish was able to avoid the worst of political partisanship. She had friends in both parties. Alaska’s an exotic destination and Fish was a valuable conduit for arranging trips there for congressional business, and often the hunting and fishing side trips that came with them.

  “Of course you should be president,” said Fish. “Why do you think we organized Great Cooks and Tough Cookies? Remember? Our version of Nixon’s old Marching and Chowder Society? The whole idea was to elect you president.”

  “You bull-shitter! I thought the idea was to elect you.”

  “California has a lot more votes than Alaska, my dear. Besides, you can’t pry me from Alaska. It’s an ugly job, but someone has to do it. Best that it’s you.”

  “So, will you carry Alaska for me?”

  “Not a chance. But I promise you this. I’ll be first in line with my hand out after you get elected.”

  Tenny had been trying all afternoon to locate Federico. Now he was on the line.

  “Federico, where did I find you?”

  “In Medina. Bell, I’m so very pleased to hear from you.”

  “You are well?”

  “Quite well, my dear. I think of you often.”

  “Federico, I’m seriously thinking of running for president of the United States.”

  “Then my prayers have been answered. I’ve often thought that such a possibility existed. What a treasure that would be for so many people in the United States and everywhere. Someone with both a head and a heart and the power to make a difference.”

  “Federico, you’re the only one who can really understand this. If I run, it would be because I feel the same obligation you do to make things right after what our family business has done. I can’t change what’s past but maybe I can do something about what’s ahead.”

  “You’ve already done much good, Bell. Everyone here knows about you. You inspire people with hope. I’m so very proud of you, Bell.”

  “All my years as a small girl I heard from Papa that Aragons were different than most people. Leaders. Born to rule. He didn’t use the word aristocrat much, but that’s what he meant. We were a class apart. I believed that as a girl, then didn’t believe it after you told me the truth.”

  “It’s not the blood of ages, Bell. It’s the good heart God gave you and the good sense to use it properly.”

  “Federico, you’ve always been my mentor, my wise adviser. Should I do this? Should I run for president?”

  “Your taking the time to call me is the answer. You know the answer. You know you should.”

  “If I get elected Federico, you and I together will visit with Pope Francis. Would it be out of order for me to ask for his autograph? I am such a fan.”

  “Most certainly. First we will ask for his blessings. If you win you will need all the blessings he commands, in writing.”

  

  While Tenny made these and other calls, calls were moving the other way, into her U.S. Senate office. Word that she was jumping into the presidential race was filtering out. The political spotlight of Washington was being focused on her third-floor office in the Senate’s Dirksen building.

  Henry Deacon, her Senate chief of staff, saw that she was off the phone and felt it was time for a talk.

  “Deacon, I think I’m going to go for it.”

  She didn’t have to define “it” for Deacon.

  “You know what this means. You have to keep the Senate operation going as if I’m here even though for most of the next twelve months I won’t be.”

  “When do we tell the staff?”

  “I guess that’s a question for Ben. It needs to fit whatever schedule he’s got for us. I’d better see him now.”

  “Well he’s not far away. He dropped by about a half hour ago and said he’d be in the coffee shop waiting for your call.”

  In a few minutes Ben was there. It was just the two of them.

  “Ben. I’m scared.”

  “Then you’ll do it?”

  “I’m in. Now what? And don’t answer the way you did after talking me into running for Congress.”

  “What did I say then?”

  “You said, what would you like to do? Right now I’d like to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.”

  22

  Was the United States in a collective mood to turn the White House over to a president deeply rooted in Mexican culture? Barack Obama had been born in the United States and raised by an American mother and American grandparents, yet he endured years of grief from millions who could not reconcile his Kenyan father to his U.S. nationality. Tenny’s Mexican roots we
nt much deeper. Her attachment to her Mexican family was much stronger. She was more politically vulnerable on the citizenship question than Obama ever was.

  Conventional wisdom would say to mask your vulnerabilities. Announce your candidacy in Iowa or New Hampshire or somewhere with a sea of supporters and leave it to the opposition to call attention to your potential weaknesses. But Ben knew political prejudice all too well. He’d been in countless campaigns working for women and minority candidates where polls failed to show hidden resistance. A published ten-point lead a week before election could shrink to a cliff-hanger on election night. Few express their prejudice aloud or on poll questionnaires. In the privacy of the polling booth, though....these issues could not be finessed. They had to be met up front with enough drama to change perception.

  For that drama, Ben and Lee selected a most improbable site to launch Tenny’s campaign, a contrarian gambit given Tenny’s Mexican roots and immigration’s political sensitivity. She would announce at the Alamo. The Alamo, shrine to Davey Crocket, Jim Bowie, and other iconic historic figures who died fighting the Mexican army in a battle central to the annexation of Texas from Mexico.

  “People will think we’ve lost our minds,” said Lee.

  “Do you?”

  “No. I think it’s one of the best ideas you’ve ever had. But we need to explain it and make sure the media understands what the Alamo was all about. The Alamo was about a fight for Texas independence. But at the time, Santa Ana had become a dictator in Mexico. He’d overthrown a democratic government and was trying to consolidate power in all the Mexican states. So this wasn’t just an us-against-them war. Mexicans were also fighting Santa Ana in lots of places. It wasn’t just Americans against Mexicans. It was freedom-loving people on both sides of the border fighting against dictatorship.”

  “Good. Very good. Common purpose between Americans and Mexicans. Not adversaries. Strong points for the media and her speech.”