“The governor asked me to get in touch with you. He really wants to see you; must be something important.”
“Isn’t it always something important with the Gov. Look Bernie, you can tell the governor we spoke. Tell him not to worry. Tell him I’ve got his back.”
“Sure. Jack, what the hell does that mean?”
“He’ll understand. And Bernie, don’t say anything to Samson, just the governor. Got it?
“Sure Jack.”
“By the way, congratulations on the 127th District nod. I heard about it on Dan Gross’ video blog. It’s about time those folks get a real representative.”
“I really don’t think I’m cut out for that kind of thing. It was the governor’s idea and I never actually agreed to run.”
“Well it’s out there now, and even the governor can have a good idea every once in a while,” he said.
“And Bernie, you and Nicky Miller, you are the man,” and he hung up.
I stared at the receiver. It sounded so ominous. I called Nicky. “Is the governor in? I need to see him. And if at all possible, I need an audience without Samson.”
“He is in and he’s flying solo today. Why don’t you come over now? Did you see Dan Gross’ blog?”
“Yes, and apparently so has everyone else, including my mother down in Boca. She was on your Facebook. She wants to meet you.”
“That’s so funny. My father saw it too, he ‘Googled’ you. The Major was very impressed. He told me you were the first real man I ever dated.”
“I must be the only person in the world who doesn’t know about Dan Gross.”
As I made my way to the governor’s office I thought about what Jack Collins had said. I had no intention of running for District Representative. I was not cut out for the political life. I had grown comfortable flying under the radar. Besides, I was concerned that I would end up like the governor, or god forbid like Senator Cinaglia if I stepped into the political arena. From what I had seen every politician I encountered was either worthless or corrupt, and usually both. I don’t think they all started out that way. Egotistical, for sure, you had to have a healthy ego to put yourself out there. There must be something about the process that changes you, the ‘Dark Side’, like in ‘Star Wars’ movies.
I could feel the pull of the job already. I would have to convince the governor it was a bad idea. Maybe the governor had a nephew or a cousin he could prop up for the office, anybody but me. I knew there was no way I could withstand the media dissecting every part of my personal life.
It was a shame I didn’t have a real opportunity to discuss my dilemma with Jack Collins. I was certain that if I could explain my concerns about the political life Collins would come up with a plan to get me out of it. Just when I needed Collins’ sage counsel and advice Jack was acting like some CIA undercover agent.
As I approached the governor’s suite the words to a Warren Zevon song came to me, “Send lawyers guns and money and get me out of this!”
CHAPTER TEN
That’s A Very Brave Thing You Did
Two years earlier.
I had returned from what turned out to be my first deployment to Iraq, although I didn’t know there would be a second deployment at the time. The fall semester at Temple Law School was five months away. My mother suggested that I ask my father to pull some strings and get me a job until Labor Day. I didn’t think that was a good idea, since I hadn’t had very much to do with dear old dad after the old man divorced mom eight years before. I made it through college on my ROTC scholarship and part time jobs. I made it through Iraq by the grace of god and I would find a way to finish Law School without my father’s help. The next thing I knew mother told me I had an interview at the State Office Building.
It had all been arranged. I figured my father must have been involved in some way even though my mother denied it. Since I had no other prospects I decided to go along with the plan. I reported to the 14th floor of the State Office Building as directed by the guard at the lobby. I didn’t know it was the Governor’s Office until the elevator doors opened and I walked through the glass doors that had ‘Governor of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’ and the state seal stenciled on it. A drop dead gorgeous young woman looked up from the reception desk. She dazzled me with a smile and led me to a large conference room.
“He’ll be with you shortly,” she said as she left. I walked over to the wall of windows and looked out at the breathtaking view of Fairmount Park. I could see all the way up the Schuylkill River to Valley Forge.
“Some view, don’t you think?” I turned it was the governor.
“Yes sir.” Surely the governor had more important things to do than to conduct my interview.
“You’re Max Green’s kid. Max and the Industrial Workers always supported me. I’m happy to return the favor. You make sure you tell your Dad, OK?”
“Sure, I mean, yes sir.”
The governor asked me a series of questions and looked at what appeared to be my resume. When the interview was just about over he looked me straight in the eye and said, “There’s just one thing, you’re not a republican are you?”
“No sir.”
“Good, I mean it’s not that republicans aren’t good people. I just, well...go see Nicky. She’ll get you squared away.”
“Governor, a Mr. White is on the line for you,” I heard over the speaker phone. The governor held up his hand indicating for me to wait as he picked up the receiver.
“Mr. White, I was just about to call you,” the governor said.
“Yes, as a matter of fact that young man is standing here, right in front of me,” the governor smiled at me; then he frowned.
“Why of course…certainly,” the governor looked confused and hung up.
He stared at me and must have realized from my reaction that I didn’t know who Nicky was. “Nicky’s my Secretary, the young woman who sits out front,” he said and picked up the telephone. As I left the conference room I heard the governor ask the operator to get Mr. White back on the line for him. I thought about the call and wondered why a Mr. White would call the governor and ask about me. I laughed to myself thinking that Mr. White and I were like characters in the movie “Reservoir Dogs”, I wondered if there was a Mr. Pink and a Mr. Blue among the governor’s acquaintances.
“I guess you’re not a republican,” she said as I approached her desk. “No ma’am.”
She smiled, stood up and extended her hand. “I’m Nicky Miller.”
“Bernie Green,” I mumbled and took her hand in mine.
When I continued to hold her hand she smiled and said, “You can let go of my hand now.”
“Yes ma’am sorry.” I was such a dolt.
She laughed. “Come with me I’ll show you where you’ll be working and introduce you around.
She continued to speak as I followed her to the other end of the floor. I was more interested in her backside than what she was saying. When I failed to respond she turned catching me in the act and laughed.
“Sorry,” I was beyond lame.
“You’ll be a Constituent Services Representative,” she said as we entered the office that occupied the other half of the 14th floor. It was a large room with about a dozen cubicles, each containing two workstations. Nicky introduced me to the other C.S. reps as we walked towards the next to last cubicle. “You’ll be working here. There are some forms on the desk you’ll need to fill out. When you complete them return them to me. OK?”
“Sure.”
“Good. While you’re doing that I’ll start working on your security pass. OK? I’ll see you later.”
I watched her as she walked down the corridor.
“Great ass, don’t ya think?” A tall man dressed like an undertaker had caught me in the act of ogling Nicky Miller’s backside. The tall man looked a lot like W.C. Fields; at least he had a nose like the actor, a drinker’s nose.
“I’m Jack Collins, welcome aboard,” he said as we shook hands. I felt the heat of t
he blush on my face. My first day on the job and I had already been caught two times in less than five minutes concentrating on Nicky Miller’s derriere. I would be marked as some kind of pervert.
“Forget about it, all of us pay careful attention to Nicky’s behind. You’re Max Green’s kid. I heard the governor was giving you a job. I know your dad. Didn’t know he had any sons. He never mentioned you.”
“Well, we haven’t had much of a relationship for quite a while.”
I did not elaborate further and Collins stared at me for a moment and said, “OK.”
“I’m Bernie Green. Jack, can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“What exactly do Constituent Services Representatives do?”
“As little as possible my boy,” he laughed and patted me on the back with a hand as big as a grizzly bear’s paw.
As the days dissolved into weeks I discovered I liked the job. I had been assigned to assist Harry Barlesky the principal CS for my home district. Barlesky was, according to Jack and everyone else, a complete fuck up. Shortly after I came aboard, the ward leaders and committeemen and women with whom I worked in dealing with their constituents’ problems were grateful they no longer had to deal with Barlesky.
Every Friday Collins would take me for a drink at Westy’s the local watering hole for both the state workers and journalists for the local newspapers who worked at the opposite corner of the 400 block of North Broad Street.
Everyone at Westy’s knew Jack Collins. He was so popular he never had to buy a drink, and because I was his companion, I drank for free as well. But it wasn’t the free beers that attracted me. Jack was a unique character. He was wise and funny and kind. As Labor Day approached, over dozens of beers, and thousands of anecdotes I had pieced together most of the mystery of Jack Collins.
Jack had run for the Democratic Party’s nomination for Registrar of Wills, one of the Row Offices in the City. Collins nearly upset the endorsed candidate; he lost by less than 200 votes.
“The fuckers stuffed the ballot box and robbed me.” In politics, unlike bocci, close is not good enough.” However, Collins’ skill and savvy as a campaigner caught the attention of Ernie Slattery, then a young and extremely ambitious Assistant District Attorney.
“Slattery was a veritable force of nature. He had a plan from day one and being the DA was only the first step. Back in the day people ran for office for the salary and perks of the job. Ernie grew up in New York. It’s an entirely different game there, and Slattery brought all of that and more to Philly.”
“By the time he had finished his first term as DA, Slattery had used his influence to get his wife a job with one of the silk stocking law firms in the city. He also outsourced as many billable hours as possible among a number of big law firms in order to assure their financial support. Everyone in the ‘know’ knew Slattery had plans to run for mayor. The power brokers all wanted to be on the inside. Slattery had so much money behind him the race for mayor was over before anyone else announced.”
Jack described how Slattery had transformed the way business was done in the City of Brotherly Love. Slattery outsourced millions of dollars in legal work that had formerly been performed by the city’s lawyers at a fraction of the cost. All the big firms dipped their beaks deep into the public trowel and found ways to show their appreciation to their benefactor.
By the time Slattery was finishing his second term as mayor, his wife had been appointed to the Court of Common Pleas. Slattery had made it known that he intended to run for governor. During his brief hiatus from public office, he was hired by one of the big law firms and paid a handsome salary. His only assignment was to run for office.
Two years later Slattery was the governor, and his former law firm reaped the rewards on a grander scale.
“But doesn’t giving his contributors public business break the state’s ethic laws?”
Collins looked at me, from the expression on his face I could tell he was astonished by my naivete. “The line is very blurry. There has to be a direct quid pro quo. Slattery being the master of nuance that he is could pull it off without breaking a sweat. No promise was ever made. No request was ever mentioned. Things just kind of happened, the way they were supposed to work out. It’s the new politics.
Bernie, you can’t trust any of those fucking politicians,” he continued.
“Not even the governor?”
Again he gave me that look of astonishment, “Especially the governor; and never trust him with your woman. The man would fuck a snake. He can’t keep his johnson in his pants.”
I laughed.
“I’m not kidding. You have to be careful around politicians. Try to avoid one on ones. Remember, it’s the new politics. This breed will throw you under the bus in a New York minute!”
It had been almost six months and I felt secure in my new routine working at the Governor’s Office during the days and attending law school classes at night. One morning as I approached the State Office Building the crowd trying to gain access was larger than normal. Must be the elevators again I thought.
“Young man!” an older African American woman yelled at a skinny olive skinned man who was walking away from her. “You left your book bag!”
I saw the bag and looked at the young man who immediately broke into a run. Without thinking I tripped the man and jumped on him. I grabbed his left wrist and yanked him to his feet using the pressure on his arm and shoulder in a wrestling hold I had learned years ago when I wrestled in high school. I outweighed my captive by at least twenty pounds and forced the young man back to his book bag that lay on the ground next to the glass wall near the entrance to the building. I could feel the man’s heart beat faster and smell his fear. He struggled as we got closer to the bag and I applied more pressure on his arm to subdue him.
“What’s the problem?” one of the security guards asked.
“Officer, clear the area and call the police and tell them to get the bomb squad.” I said nodding at the book bag that lay on the ground at our feet. The man continued to try to get away.
The security officer paused and then keyed his radio and barked the code for an emergency.
“Everyone clear the area, immediately!” he shouted.
The crowd began to run in a near riot as more security officers came out of the building. I could hear sirens in the distance.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked my captive.
“Let me go!”
“Sure, but first tell me what’s in the bag?”
I forced the young man closer to the book bag. He tried to head butt me.
“Let me go!” he screamed.
I could feel him try to reach in his pocket with his free hand. I increased the pressure on his other arm.
“Officer, reach into his pocket and find out what he’s trying to get his hands on. Be careful!”
The security officer pulled a cell phone from the man’s pocket and looked up at me.
“OK don’t touch any of the buttons. It may be the detonator for the bomb.”
The three of us stood there as pandemonium broke out around us. I maintained my hold on the bomber. I tried to search the area to see if there was anyone who was in league with him. Although it seemed like an eternity within eleven minutes the police bomb squad had arrived took charge and secured the area.
As I had feared, the book bag was an explosive device with enough C4 to blow up the glass lobby to the State Office Building and god knows what else.
I explained to the Police Officer in charge that when I saw the young man running away from the book bag it reminded me of a similar incident that had happened in Iraq.
“You took one hell of a risk grabbing that bastard and moving closer to the device. It could have been on a timer. You could have been killed.”
“Captain, I figured if it was an IED I couldn’t get far enough away anyway and there was no way I was going to let that son of a bitch walk away.”
Later that day I was summ
oned to the meet with the governor. On the advice of my colleagues, I had managed to stay clear of the governor and his chief of staff since I had been hired. Even though I kept my distance from the governor I never missed an opportunity to gawk at his secretary when I walked past his office. On more than one occasion she favored me with a brilliant smile whenever she caught me in the act.
“That was so brave of you,” Nicky Miller said as I entered the governor’s suite. “You risked your life…I don’t think there are many people who would be that courageous!” She walked around her desk and approached me.
I blushed not knowing how to respond.
“Thank you.” She said and kissed me on his cheek. She took my hand and led me to the governor’s office. I was completely under her spell as she knocked on the door and opened it. “Governor, Bernie Green is here,” she said.
“Oh, your Max Green’s kid”, the governor said. “I didn’t realize it was you. That’s a really brave thing you did. We’re going to make sure everyone knows that you single handedly prevented a terrorist from attempting to assassinate me.”
“Thank you but that’s really unnecessary.” A nice gesture on his part I thought considering the fact that the governor was nowhere near the explosive device and was never in any danger whatsoever.
“Nonsense young man, I asked my publicist to set everything in motion. They’ll be a news conference next week. You’ll see it’s all good.”
The next day I got my orders in the mail. The new unit to which I had been assigned was going to Iraq. I was scheduled to meet them at Fort Benning next week. I assumed the governor would hold the press conference anyway. After all, why should the governor miss an opportunity to get good media coverage just because I had to go back to Iraq.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Who’s Roscoe Smith?
The Present
I was unable to convince the governor that I wasn’t cut out to run for District Representative. Perhaps I hadn’t tried hard enough, or maybe I really wanted the job. I still had reservations over the consequences of opening up my life to the scrutiny of the media and all that may entail. The governor told me not to be hasty. “Just think about it OK? Your concerns about the media are way over-blown; after you’re elected no one will give a rat’s ass about you. Most people and that includes the media don’t even know they have a District Rep. In the meantime, I want you to go down to Sylvester Johnson’s office and make sure things are being taken care of. You can take Zeebooker with you. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
The Pa-la-ti-'shan Page 5