The Second Declaration

by T Emerson May

  The Second Declaration

  A novel by T. Emerson May

  Chapter I

  An Idea is Formed

  Tom Adams sat in the Senate gallery watching the vote being tallied on the issue before the Senate, the Jennings-Holt Gun Control Act. He was in Washington to drum up support for its defeat and to see his old friend Robert Winston, Senator from Idaho. No one had worked harder for the defeat of the bill than had Tom Adams, Governor of Colorado, a second termer who was immensely popular in his own state and throughout the west. Forty-eight, over six feet in height and still trim, Tom Adams was everyone's stereotype of the consummate politician. His finely chiseled facial features were softened by deep blue eyes and a mop of dark brown hair. Not brilliant, he was smart, perhaps better to say cunning in the way that successful politicians usually are. He and his friend Robert Winston had chosen two very different paths to political success. While Winston had opted for Washington for his success, Tom Adams had chosen to stay in state politics, rising from state house member to state senate and finally to the governor's house. They had been friends since college, where they met as underclassmen.

  The House had narrowly passed the gun bill two days after it left the joint committee. It came out of the joint committee relatively intact. The only major change was an amendment to empower state law enforcement officials to confiscate any weapons not registered by June 30. The lobbying for and against the bill had polarized politicians and citizens alike across the country. The opposing sides had hurled bitter invectives at each other for weeks. The west was strongly opposed to the bill, though a number of liberal westerners in Congress had declared their support for it. Adams looked down from the gallery at Senator Robert Winston as the senator showed his reaction to the final tally.

  "Damn it, damn it," said Winston. "They've passed the damned thing. Fifty one to forty eight. Damn it, anyway." Winston was sitting at his desk in the Senate chamber. He had leaned back in the ornate old leather covered chair as the vote on the gun bill concluded. His effort to stop passage of the hated bill had failed, narrowly, but failed nevertheless. Winston looked up into the gallery and found Adams. Winston motioned for him to meet outside the chamber. The two greeted each other as they approached in the outer hallway.

  "Bob," said Adams, "Two more votes and we could have buried that damned bill for the rest of this century. Where were Harry and Phil when we needed them?" He was referring to Harry Baxter and Phil Snead, senators from Indiana and Iowa respectively.

  "I'm not sure. I suspect too much pressure by special interest groups and well-meaning liberals cost us those two votes," answered Winston. "I talked to them just before the vote and they were wavering then. I imagine their campaign fund's a little fatter tonight. Well, they've done it, Tom. They passed the damned thing. Could you in your wildest dream imagine this country coming to the point where the government can force people to register their firearms and then take them away if they refuse to comply?" Winston appeared shaken by the vote just concluded. "Let's go down to the lounge and have a drink. This thing has really screwed me up."

  "My doctor tells me to lay off the stuff, but to hell with him. I think he supported the bill, anyway." Tom Adams was angry and needed his old friend Bob Winston in order to vent two months of pent-up steam. He had practically abandoned his gubernatorial duties for that length of time while campaigning against the bill in Washington. Had it not been for the strong support of his constituents back in Colorado, there might have been an uproar over his absence.

  They found a table in a corner of the lounge and ordered whiskey and water. As they waited for the drinks to arrive, Adams looked at Winston and, almost wistfully, said, "Bob, what the hell is happening to this country? A month ago Congress passed the most stringent mining law in the history of this country."

  "Oh, yes, the famous Hawkins Mining Reform Act," said Winston. "Now we have another layer of bureaucracy to oversee mining operations in the US. We need another bunch of bureaucrats in this country like we need another asshole."

  "They aimed it squarely at western miners from Montana to Arizona, didn't they?" asked Tom, though it was more a statement than a question. "It ended the favored treatment which mining operators had since 1872," said Adams with bitterness. "Perhaps there were some abuses on the part of certain mining operations, but I think the act was far too vindictive and hurt the honest miners far worse than it did the dishonest ones."

  Adams continued, "You know, Bob, we can't mine anymore, we can't own a revolver, we can't take a piss in the dark without some bureaucrat looking over our shoulders. The country seems to be headed down a very dangerous road. Drugs are everywhere; kids buy and sell the stuff on the schoolyard. There's no fiscal discipline at the federal level. It seems as though the country has lost its sense of purpose, its goals and values. I remember what Alex Haig once said about countries losing their national 'will'. I think we've lost ours."

  "Tom, It sure looks like he was right. I really don't know what the answer is," said the senator. "It seems like it has happened just during the past twenty years. You and I are from the west. We tend to look at things from the western point of view. Maybe what the country needs is a dose of western values."

  Winston's fatigue had left him. The narrow victory of the gun control lobby was suddenly not on his mind any more. He felt, even through defeat, that a great burden had been lifted from him. He sensed too that he and Tom Adams were suddenly, subtly expressing the same dismay with the country for the first time in the years they had known each other.

  "Bob, has the federal government outgrown its usefulness to the people out west?" Tom Adams's question did not really surprise Senator Winston. Ten years ago, it might have, but not this night. Adams continued, "I mean, what do we really get for our efforts and tax dollars? Oh, I know, we get Air Force bases in Montana and Colorado. We get a few research facilities, maybe a few dollars to build up a national park. But is it really worth all the grief? Hell, the only people that ever go through the parks are from Chicago and New Jersey, and they don't have enough common sense to snuff out their cigarettes or stop feeding grizzly bears. As far as I'm concerned they can stay in New Jersey. Who needs 'em?" Senator Winston looked Tom Adams directly in the eye, his own flinty blue eyes sharp and slightly squinting. "Tom, maybe the federal government as we know it has outgrown its value to those from the west. Every time I go back to Idaho, which is as often as I can find an excuse, people that I talk to are just completely fed up with Washington. I'm never quite sure if they include me in that condemnation. They don't really say so, but I know some of them think it. I find myself assuring them that I agree with them and that I do everything in my power to change the situation when I can. They feel completely alienated from Washington, like the people in Washington are from another country, maybe even another planet. There's a hell of a gap between what the citizens want and what Washington does for them."

  "I know, Bob, I know exactly what you mean. People in Colorado these past five years have talked to me about their attitudes toward Washington. If I understand their concern, they would just as soon break away from the US and form another country. Most of the people I talk to really don't see any change coming down the pike in the near or long-term. They mostly think it will just get worse."

  Bob Winston leaned back in his chair and sipped the last of the whiskey in his glass. He looked down at the table for a moment, as though reassuring himself that what he was about to say would not be misunderstood. He thought he knew Tom Adams as well as any man alive, but about some things, he could never be sure. "Tom, why don't we test the waters. Whatya' say we get some people together next week up at the Lodge in Idaho and talk about this. Maybe we aren't the only ones who feel
this way. Maybe a number of people out west feel as we do."

  "Hell, why not, Bob," said Adams. "Whom do you have in mind for this seditious little gathering?"

  "Well, let's not call it sedition just yet. What I have in mind is an open hearing, just to let people air their views and blow off a little steam. Maybe we should just put everything on the table, and see what comes out of it. One person who ought to be there is Bill McKay from Wyoming. I think he's a pretty straight guy. I'd also like to see Sam Brouchet there. As owner of Consolidated Mining, I think he might have some pretty righteous views on that damn Hawkins Mining Reform Act."

  "I know Sam fairly well, Bob, and if he's on your list, that's good enough for me. Bill McKay's a good man. I've gotten to know him well in the Western Governors Conference. How about Hal Browning? He's a Harvard man, but I won't hold that against him." Harold "Hal" Browning was Governor of Oregon and one of the most educated men ever to hold elective office. More important he was one of the most intelligent men ever to be elected to a governor's post in the west. "I like Hal. I shouldn't joke about his Harvard education. He's probably the most effective executive in the US. If he were president right now, the people of this country would be getting their money's worth. "

  "There's one more guy I would like to invite up there next week, Tom, and it's George Brazleton. As a Texan, he might shed a little light on what folks are saying down south. The fact that he's in line for Speaker of the House won't hurt anything, either. Though I'm not sure it will help either," concluded Winston.

  "Bob, if you can think of anyone else to ask up there, let me know," said Adams. "What day's a good day for you to get out of here?"

  "Let me make some phone calls and I'll call you in a day or two," said Winston. "I imagine I can get it organized for Thursday of next week. You'd better be prepared to stay more than one day, though. God knows how the agenda will shape up when we get this many angry people together. If we're in luck, maybe we can get in a little fishing or a good poker game. People out here don't ever fish and can't play poker worth a damn." Winston laughed as he said it but the truth was that he missed Idaho more with every passing year. He had been in the Senate for seventeen years and the House for eight years before that. His wife never said it, but he knew she would not be disappointed if he chose not to run for reelection next year. She, as he, missed their ranch and the grand kids whom they only saw for a few precious days each year. The only time that they really had a chance to spend more than an occasional long weekend with their family was at Christmas time.

  "Bob," said Adams. "Here's to a change in our luck." He held up his nearly empty glass in a toast. Robert Winston clanked his own glass softly against that of his old and trusted friend.

  "When are you going back? Tonight?" asked Winston.

  "Yeah," answered Adams. "The sooner I get out of this hellhole, the better I'll feel. I haven't drawn a fresh breath since I arrived here a week ago. Besides that, I can hear gunfire from my hotel room. Where do you suppose it's coming from?"

  "Probably from a couple blocks over from your hotel. That's where a heavy concentration of drug dealers mix it up about once a week. Somebody's turf must have been invaded," responded Senator Winston, his voice tinged with obvious disgust. "I'll drive you over to the airport when you're ready."

  "Thanks, Bob. I really appreciate it. Let's get out of here." They left a tip and went straight to the hotel to pick up Adams' things. On the way to the airport Tom looked over at Winston and mused, "Bob, what if we do find that there is sentiment for a separatist movement? Have you considered the magnitude of an undertaking like that?"

  "Well, I'll tell you this. I'm the chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee. For the past two years I've watched as country after country in eastern Europe and the Soviet Union have struggled for independence from the Soviet yoke. First Poland, then Romania, East Germany. Now the Soviet Republics like Ukraine and Georgia have achieved their political independence."

  "Yugoslavia has spun apart like a cheap watch," added Tom. "Exactly. Maybe there's something in the air," continued Winston. "Maybe these events in Europe are just a harbinger of a much deeper feeling of frustration all over the world. If it can happen in Europe, it can happen in the United States."

  Tom did not respond to Winston's comments. He sat instead and mulled over Bob's words in his mind. "Bob's right," he thought to himself. "Maybe there is a worldwide feeling of frustration with government. Who knows. Maybe this chance conversation could mark the beginning of a different course for this country."

  It was nearly midnight before Winston returned home after dropping off Adams at the airport. Winston felt energized, alert, even though it was past his usual time to retire for the evening. His mind was active with a replay of his conversation with Tom Adams. He had come to a decision that he had been afraid to make for over five years. He parked the car, entered the house and went into the den. He poured himself a small drink of straight whiskey, thought better of it and poured it back into the bottle. He went upstairs and found his wife still awake, reading in bed. He walked over to the bed, leaned and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Would you like to go back home next week, honey?" he asked.

  "Sure, we haven't seen the kids since January. What's the occasion?" she asked.

  "I'm going to meet some people up at the Lodge next Thursday. Tom Adams, Sam Brouchet, Bill McKay, and maybe George Brazleton."

  "Uh oh, sounds interesting," she teased. "Sounds like you need a hostess."

  "I do," said Winston. "These guys are heavyweights. I need you to keep them in line. Incidentally, I've decided not to run for reelection next year." He appended that last remark with a casual flair that belied the gravity of its content. Theresa Winston held her breath, afraid that Bob would change his mind and tell her he was not serious. She was not even sure if she heard him correctly.

  "You're not running again?" she asked, as though trying to affirm what she had heard.

  "No, we've talked about this for over five years and I think it's time we return to the ranch and get re-acquainted with the family. You won't be too disappointed, I hope?" Winston asked that with a little smile on his rugged face. He knew the answer as well as she did.

  "No, I think I can live with that decision, Bob." The smile refused to leave her lovely face. After twenty-five years in Washington, the thought of returning to their ranch for the remainder of their lives was almost too much to hope for. She leaned back against her pillow and began to think delicious thoughts of homecoming.

  Tom Adams arrived in Denver just as the sun was peeping over the horizon. His driver, already alerted to the Governor's arrival, was waiting for him at the airport. The drive to the Governor's residence was a quiet one for Adams. Normally talkative with his driver, he had little to say and the driver respected his silence. He entered the Governor's mansion and went immediately to his bedroom. He had slept very little on the flight from Washington and was very tired. His wife Susan heard him as he entered his bedroom and came out of her own room to greet him. "Tom, I didn't think you'd be in today. How was the trip?"

  "It was a total disaster. The Gun Bill passed. All my efforts and those of Bob Winston went for nothing. Susie, there's no need for you to be up. I'm going to bed as soon as I take a shower."

  "OK, I'll talk to you later. Do you want to sleep in this morning?"

  "Yeah, I need at least four good hours. Would you mind waking me about ten thirty?"

  "I'll see to it. I may be gone by then. I have a trip to get ready for and I need to do some shopping."

  "Never mind then, I'll set an alarm. I certainly wouldn't want to interfere with your shopping." The sarcasm was not lost on Susan, but she disregarded it as she usually did. The exchange between Tom and Susan was all too typical. It seemed that when Tom needed Susan the most, she was the least available and most distant.

  Tom showered and returned to his bedroom. He was asleep in fifteen minutes.

  Chapter II

  The Invitation
s

  Sam Brouchet sat at his massive oak desk, poring over a stack of documents which just arrived from the legal department. They were lease renewal options which had to be signed by midnight. He pronounced his name 'BROOSHAY', though often people called him BROOCHETT. He quickly corrected them. He owned Consolidated Mining, a vast empire of copper, silver and associated minerals in Nevada, Montana and Colorado. He had inherited the business from his father fifteen years earlier. Already a wealthy man by virtue of the inheritance, he enlarged the business by shrewd ventures and diversification. He was immensely wealthy, with estimates running into billions of dollars. His actual worth was probably closer to one billion. Well educated, with degrees from Colorado University and Stanford in engineering and geology, he liked to project the image of a rough hewn man of the earth. His appearance certified that image, with 230 pounds wrapped over a six foot two inch frame. He was forty five years old and could still win eight of ten arm wrestling contests. He drank straight whiskey and smoked cigars. He had been heard saying, "If I'm thirsty, I drink water. When I wanna' get drunk, I prefer whiskey. They should never be mixed."

  Sam picked up the phone and called Kent Pritchard, a rising star in his legal department. "Kent, come up to my office. I need to talk to you about these lease options."

  Pritchard was there in five minutes. "What's up, Sam? Is there a problem with the leases?"

  "No, not a problem really. I know these leases are in the computer and they're timed to print one day before they expire, but I was just wondering if there was some way to speed up the entire process so we can get them ready ahead of time."

  Just as Kent was about to comment on Sam's question, the buzzer sounded, indicating an incoming call for Sam. Sam's brow furrowed with chagrin, but he picked up the phone. "This is Sam," he said.

  "Sam, Senator Winston is on the line," said his secretary Ruth. "Bob, how the hell are you? I haven't talked to you since the Hawkins Act passed a couple months ago. Hang on a minute, Bob. I want to finish up with someone in my office." Sam pushed the hold button and told Kent that he would talk to him later about the leases. Kent excused himself and left the room.