When Mullenski's report arrived in Atlanta it was reviewed and scheduled for a later showing. There was still nothing to report to the nation concerning this curious gathering of western Americans and Canadians. That status changed abruptly at nine- thirty pm. It was then that Sam Brouchet, Tom Adams, Bob Winston, Mitch Elliot and a Canadian observer decided to go for broke.
"Tom, call Bill McKay and ask him to move that Proposition 5 be placed before the convention. Let's go for a roll call vote," said Bob Winston.
"I agree," said Sam. "I think it's now or never."
"Absolutely," Mitch concurred.
"All right," said Tom. "Let's find out where we stand." Tom moved to the podium as Mitch called Bill McKay. As soon as Mitch signalled him with a thumbs up sign, Tom recognized the chairman of the Wyoming delegation, Bill McKay, who rose from the floor to address the chairman of the convention.
"Mister Chairman," intoned Bill McKay in that flat, featureless voice which was the trademark of so many westerners. "The chairman of the Wyoming delegation wishes to place a motion before the convention."
"The Chairman recognizes the Honorable Governor from Wyoming. Please approach the platform in order to file the motion," invited Tom Adams. I took McKay only a minute to walk the sort distance from his seat to the podium. He bounded up the ten steps in three easy strides.
Bill McKay, six feet tall and trim as a twenty year old, stood before the convention, his slightly graying hair uncombed. "Fellow delegates, fellow westerners and friends from the North. I move that the convention adopt Resolution 5 by roll call." Resolution 5 was the clearly stated, briefly worded call for secession from the United States. It had been drafted even before the convention convened and had been written by Tom Adams. The resolution was presented to committee earlier in the day. Every delegate knew its content verbatim. Tom Adams thanked Bill McKay and took the gavel to address the convention.
"Let us have order in the hall, please, ladies and gentlemen. A motion has been placed before the convention. Do I hear a second for the motion?" John Stinson, a delegate from Montana rose and seconded the motion.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the motion having been seconded, the clerk will call the roll and record the ayes and nays. Mrs. Benton, will you please call the roll?" directed Tom Adams. Ellie Benton, a tiny much loved woman who had just passed her 70th birthday began to call the roll.
"Alaska," she started.
"Mister Chairman, Alaska proudly casts four votes in favor of Resolution 5 with one vote against."
"Alaska four votes aye, one vote nay," repeated Benton.
"Idaho," she continued.
"Idaho casts five votes for," said Mary Hopkins, the chairman of the Idaho delegation.
The roll call continued to Washington. Tom Adams was sitting out of the view of the floor of the convention in a chair behind Ellie Benton. Adams's head was in his hands and he was looking straight down at the floor of the podium. He knew that even if Washington cast all five votes for the resolution that it would fail. It would come down to a final vote of 34 for and 36 against. Wyoming, the final state to cast votes would cast all five for approval. He knew that because he had talked to all five delegates before the evening session had begun. Washington did cast all five for the resolution and Bill McKay cast five ayes as the chairman of the Wyoming group.
It was over. Tom Adams and the others in the group had lost their gamble. The delegates had rebuffed their attempt to sever the west from the US and invite the western Canadian provinces to join with them. Very slowly Tom Adams rose and walked to the microphone. It was his sad and painful duty to announce to the gathering that Resolution 5 had failed for lack of a majority. Summoning all his professional strength and demeanor, he announced, "The Chair is informed by the Clerk that the motion for approval of Resolution 5 has failed by roll call vote, 34 for and 36 against." For all practical purposes the convention which Tom Adams and the others had so painstakingly planned and executed was over. The pitiful details to be completed would be handled by an acting Chairman. Tom Adams looked for Bob Winston, Sam and Mitch and together they left the convention center.
As they returned to the hotel in Sam's car, none of the men spoke for at least five minutes. Each was lost in his own painful thoughts. Finally Winston broke the silence with a long sigh, saying "Fellahs, I'm going to resign my seat in the Senate. I don't think I can go back there and face the humiliation and possible censure that waits for me. It's not inconceivable that I might even be cast out of the Senate on grounds of sedition. It doesn't really matter anyway."
"Damn, Bob, we came so close, so very close," answered Tom. He had heard Bob's words but he had not really listened to what Bob had said. "Where did we go wrong? What did we underestimate? Were we at fault? Were we too ambitious?" sighed Tom Adams wearily.
"I don't really know," said Mitch. "I talked to Bill McKay this afternoon and he thought that Washington was bringing some pressure to bear against the Texas and Oklahoma delegates. There was talk of keeping some military installations open, money being pumped in, that kind of gentle bribery."
Winston said sarcastically, "Just once before I die I'd like to see something done because it's the right thing to do?" Winston appeared to the others to be at once angry and depressed.
"Bob, did you say that you were resigning from the Senate instead of retiring next year? I wasn't really listening very well," apologized Tom.
"Yes, I'm going to quit, just as soon as I can get back to the capital and straighten everything out. I may even fly back tomorrow alone. There's really no need for Theresa to have to see that shithole again."
"Bob, don't do anything too quickly," said Sam. "We can have another go at it down the road. Besides, the Senate isn't going to censure you. What grounds would they have?"
"Oh, you may be right, Sam. But I'm tired. I just want out of this political ratrace. Nobody ever wins in this game."
The men met McKay, Hal Browning, Brazleton and two other supporters from Canada at the hotel lounge and talked, drank and commiserated until two am. By that time only Sam, Mitch and Tom Adams were still there.
"Sam, what did you mean about having another go at this down the road?" asked Mitch Elliot.
"Well, we lost the first round. You really didn't expect this to take off without a little turbulence, did you? You never know when the situation can turn completely around. I'm not going to give up."
"I think it would be very difficult to get enough people together very soon, Sam," said Tom. "I don't know what it would take to change the situation."
"Well, maybe you're right. But I can tell you all from my experience in business that if I had given up every time I got knocked down, I wouldn't be where I am today. I don't like losing. Incidentally, Mitch, don't leave town until we have a chance to talk. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll have lunch. We still have to talk about Laramie." Sam was trying his hardest to shake the others out of their dejection, without much visible success. Sam looked around the table at the other men and thought to himself, "Damn it guys, we only lost round one. This is a fifteen rounder." Mitch turned to Sam and asked, "Sam, do you think it's too late to call Sandra and Kira?"
Sam looked at Mitch and said, "She got to you, didn't she? She's quite a gal. Sure, I'll call her right now if you're serious."
Tom Adams leaned over to Sam and asked, "Is there room for three couples in the cabin?"
Sam smiled at Tom and said, "You guys are gonna cost me a fortune before this is all over. At least I'm glad to see you all smiling again."
Tom answered, "Your friends have a way of making men smile."
Sam rose from his chair, walked to a phone booth and called Kira's apartment. After a brief conversation, he returned to the table and said, "We can pick them up in half an hour. They hadn't even gone to bed yet. Tom, do you remember Yvonne? She'll be meeting us at the cabin."
"Oh, yes, I remember her well," said Tom.
Mitch looked at Tom with slightly lifted eyebrows. He thought to h
imself that if there were any more surprises tonight that he ought to consider going back into the Peace Corps for another tour. "Politics," he thought to himself. "What a shitty business. He's got a beautiful wife across town and he goes off to sleep with a hooker." Then he realized that he was being a bit self-righteous; after all, he'd be sleeping with one himself. What would be the difference?
Bob Winston left with Theresa the next day to return to the ranch in Idaho. Tim Mullenski and Julie Warner filed a final report from Denver and caught a late flight back to Atlanta. The next day all the delegates had returned to their homes or left for vacation. Robert Hall Jeffries, extremely disappointed with the outcome of the roll call vote, continued his trip through the west. He had the unhappy prospect of returning to Manitoba with the bad news, to explain to his fellow secessionists what went wrong. George Brazleton, pondering what fate was in store for him, left and flew to Oregon with his wife for a two week vacation.
On the flight back to Atlanta Tim Mullenski turned to Julie and said, "Julie, something happened back in Denver. Those delegates came in with the intent of approving Resolution 5, but by the second day their enthusiasm really petered out. I talked to over a dozen delegates during those two days. About half of them changed their minds on the second day. I'm going to poke around and see what I can find out." Julie nodded and mumbled her agreement and then fell asleep, her head on Tim's shoulder. He looked down at her head and began to think about Angie Brett, then he fell asleep to escape the dreary ride back home.
Chapter VI
The Disasters
Tim Mullenski called a friend in Washington, D.C. who worked in the Treasury computer center. "Angie, how are you?" said Tim to his old classmate from college. "I have a very special favor to ask you."
"Tim, you didn't pay me from the last favor. You promised a fabulous weekend in Vegas, and all I got was pizza and beer," she chided Tim. "Whatcha' need? You working on a hot story?"
"Yeah, have you followed the story about the meeting of the western states in Denver? Their convention just ended yesterday." "Oh, not much," answered Angie. "Something about a bunch of cowboys unhappy with the way Washington is running the country. Didn't they threaten to secede or something?" Angie Brett was a very intelligent, very attractive, athletic young woman, but her lack of knowledge of current events constantly amazed Tim Mullenski. "Well, that pretty well sums it up," he responded, trying very hard not to sound too condescending. "There's a lot more to it than that, and that's why I'm calling you. You remember when I called you last January and you got into the computers and came up with some interesting figures for me? Can you still do that?"
"Yeah, we have MSNF links to all the mainframes and the midranges are networked through APPN," she replied. Angie might be a little deficient on her knowledge of current news, but her knowledge of computers thoroughly astounded Tim. "What kind of data do you need?"
"If I give you a list of names of some of the delegates out at that convention, can you run a trace through the computers and see if anything recently has appeared? I'm looking for recent appointments to boards, government loans or guarantees, that kind of thing. It's a real long shot, but I think somebody was bought off or bribed out there. Do you follow me?" asked Tim with a note of confused curiosity in his voice.
Angie did not answer for a period of time sufficient to prompt Tim to ask if she was still on the line. "Yeah, I'm still here. I was just thinking about how I could go for this. I'd have to access the Personnel System for appointments, the Housing System for FHA or FMHA loans. Let me call you back tomorrow. I need to think about this and talk to a guy upstairs in Systems. He and I have been dating for about a month. If I wiggle it for him, maybe he'll help me out."
"Angie, you're a sweetheart. I don't know how you let me get away from you when we were in college," he kidded. He had always had a thing for Angie but their relationship never got past the good friends stage that both were so comfortable with.
"Hey, fellah, this one is really gonna cost you. I still want that trip to Vegas and about three hours of your undivided attention some night." Tim honestly did not know if she was kidding about that or not. But he still remembered how she looked in a bikini playing sand volleyball. Tall, long muscular legs, full breasts straining under the top. He felt himself getting hard just thinking about her.
Bob Winston arrived in Washington two days after the convention adjourned in Denver. He went by cab directly to his home in Alexandria. He had been gone several weeks and the house had a stale, musty odor about it. Though it was hot, he opened several windows and allowed the slight breeze to air the house out. When he was satisfied that it was fresher than when he came in, he turned on the air conditioner, closed the windows and poured himself a drink. He made the first of several calls that afternoon to a realtor friend of his. "John, how are you? I would like you to list our house, John, and to do so as discreetly as possible."
"Bob, you know I'll do it as quietly as possible," said the voice on the other end of the line. "Bob, you made some real news out in Denver. Anything you feel you can talk about?"
"No, not right now," answered Winston. "You'll see some announcements on the news in the next day or two. Right now, I just need to take care of the house here. Why don't you do an appraisal and list it for what you think it's worth. I trust your judgment." Bob concluded the call with some social amenities and continued his list of calls. Not far down the list was a call to his office. He directed his chief of staff to call a meeting at 10:00 the next morning and to be sure everyone was present. His chief was reasonably certain what the nature of that meeting would be.
At promptly 10:00 the following morning Winston entered his office in the Senate Office Building and greeted his staff. The looks on their faces revealed their concern and genuine heartache for the man many of them had worked for these past 25 years. Ralph Miller had been with him since his first term in Congress. Now 62 years old, Ralph would probably welcome retirement himself, thought Bob. He continued to look around the room at the other members of his staff, some of whom he hardly knew. There were Susan and Kelli, the two bright young graduates of Idaho State whom he had hired only last January. There were Gene and Robert and Mary who had been with him since first entering the Senate 17 years ago. Finally Bob spoke. "I suppose you all know that I've spent the last few weeks in Colorado and back home. The media didn't overkill coverage of the convention, but I guess you know what happened." There was nervous laughter at his reference to the lack of press coverage in Denver.
"I went to Denver with some very definite items on my agenda. Whatever your feelings for me, I hope you appreciate that I will not be welcome in Washington after the events in Denver. I had already made up my mind to leave the Senate at the end of my term anyway, and now I intend to resign my seat effective immediately. I will submit my letter of resignation today without a press conference. Ralph, I would like you to do me one last favor. I would like you to call a press conference after I leave, which will probably be at the end of the week, and inform the press that I have resigned. Will you do that for me?" Ralph nodded his consent, the tears welling up in his eyes uncontrollably. Several of the women and half the men were patting their eyes with napkins and handkerchiefs, trying to stop the flow of tears.
"I think you are the greatest staff in the history of the Senate. I love you all and wish you the very best of everything in the future. I have already taken the liberty of calling four other senators to try and place you in appropriate positions with their staffs. I don't think any of you need to worry about finding fine positions in the Senate. Or if you like, you may want to remain here and wait for my replacement, as soon as he or she is named by the governor. I know that whoever that is, they are going to need some experienced people." Winston was feeling his eyes fill with tears and he walked quickly into his office and closed the door.
The next day, Winston stayed around the house and started thinking about the logistics of packing and moving his things back to the ranch. Th
eresa had not accompanied him. He had kept his promise not to drag her through this ordeal of moving, packing and press conferences. But he wished she were here now. He missed her company and the way she knew how to make good coffee. He finally decided to call a mover and let them do the whole job, packing, sorting, everything. There was no way he could cope with the task of making any sense at all out of this. In twenty five years he and Theresa had accumulated a wealth of objects. He decided to move everything back to Idaho. Hell, he thought to himself, I've got the rest of my life to sort all this out. The mover he called said that he was booked up for at least a week, but could come in then and move the household. The mover's estimator came to the house that afternoon and inventoried the contents for the move.
That evening, Bob felt like eating out, but really did not want to go to any of the well known restaurants in the Washington area. He called Patricia Wellingsly, widow of an old friend in the State Department to see if she could join him for dinner. "Pat, it's Bob Winston, how are you and what are your plans for the evening?"
"Bob, how good to here from you. When did you arrive back in the Capital? Is Theresa with you?" asked Patricia, silently hoping the answer was 'no'.
"No, I left her in Idaho. I don't think she was up to the return trip this time. Do you have any plans for dinner tonight? I need some company and you're the first person I thought of," Bob said.
"With flattery like that, I'd cancel a trip to Paris. You know I would never pass over a chance to have dinner with you. What do you have in mind? Can I assume you want a little out of the way place far away from nosy reporters and photographers?" she asked.
The Second Declaration Page 8