Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance

by Roger Herst

  "What would make you any different from other challengers?" asked Harry Dealson, ever pragmatic in his approach.

  "An excellent question, Harry. I'm different because I won't need a lot of money," she declared. "My campaign will cost a fraction of what it normally costs to run. The important thing is not that I'm elected, but that others follow my method."

  "Could you let us know how this might happen?" Harry pursued.

  Gabby weighed the request before responding. "I'm afraid I cannot be specific at this moment, Harry. It's just too early. Am I to take from this meeting that you forbid me to run against Toby?"

  Stan interjected, "We can't do that. You're a US citizen and have a constitutional right to run for office. But we are the stewards of Ohav Shalom, responsible to promote its health and longevity. If you run, Gabby, we must protect the congregation and begin looking for your successor. That's only fair play. It's our opinion that religion and politics don't mix. Good politicians don't make good rabbis and, thank God, good rabbis don't make good politicians. You're going to have to decide whether you want to remain as our rabbi, which is our unanimous choice, or go into politics. Please, think very seriously about this."

  When the meeting ended, Gabby felt isolated. In the vestibule, several trustees cordially helped her with her overcoat but none accompanied her to her car parked up the street. Just as well. She wanted to walk in the cold air and clear her head. How naive she had been not to have foreseen this coming! Stan was right about rabbis lacking political savvy.

  Chuck Browner stood like a Roman statue at his desk as Gabby approached, navigating by peering over the top rim of reading glasses perched on her nose. Sometimes these cheaters got shifted above her forehead into her short brunette hair and sometimes were permitted to dangle from a thin silver chain below her neck. That she was forced to make appropriate concessions to the aging process appealed to him.

  At the last moment, he declared in an imperious tone, "A messenger just came by and asked for my signature of receipt," he said raising a large gray envelope and forcing her to halt.

  "What court wants to subpoena me today?" she often jested to illustrate her natural skepticism.

  "Nothing illegal, for a change. I think it's from an admirer."

  "Right," she was sarcastic. "From the President of the United States."

  He made a smacking sound with his lips. "Among other qualities, you're prophetic. You nailed it, Rabbi Gabby."

  "Okay, okay," she became impatient with the banter. "Just tell me what it is, please."

  "It's stamped with the presidential seal of the United States of America," he said while withdrawing from the large gray delivery container a smaller cream-colored letter-size envelope.

  Her eyes dropped in terror over the presidential seal. "Get me a bottle of smelling-salts. God never speaks to me from Mt. Zion and I never expected to get a letter from the President."

  The familiar blue seal of the Presidency with its eagle wings was richly embossed on heavy cream-colored stationery, though she noted it did not originate from the White House. The signature of Cornell Lewis Talisman, President of the United States, ended a perfectly spaced paragraph. Her eyes skimmed the text as her lips mumbled. The second time her eyes covered the text she read loud enough for Chuck to hear.

  THE DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL COMMITTEE

  WASHINGTON D.C.

  Rabbi Gabrielle Lewyn

  Congregation Ohav Shalom

  Washington, D.C. 20021

  Dear Rabbi Lewyn:

  It is with great pleasure that I learned from the Democratic Party in Maryland of your interest to run for the Eighth Congressional seat. We feel it is time for the citizens of the Eighth District to send a devoted Democrat to the House of Representatives.

  I learned of your courageous testimony at the Zentner Trial when I was a senator. It was a powerful statement for justice. In addition, Vice President Giles now reminds me of your sterling efforts to build a tennis facility for underprivileged students at Anacostia High School here in the District of Columbia. We have every assurance you would make a superb representative for Maryland's Eighth District. I am aware that the Republican incumbent is strongly entrenched. With your help, we hope to change that. Please be assured that Vice President Giles and I will do whatever is necessary to support your candidacy. It will be a pleasure to stand beside you as soon as you're prepared to meet the public.

  The Very Best of Luck,

  Cornell Lewis Talisman, President

  When finished, Gabby moved toward her desk, her mind miles away. Never in her wildest dreams had it occurred to her that someday she would be recognized by an American president. True, this recognition was self-serving since Cornell Talisman desperately needed Democratic support in a Republican-controlled Congress and he would have sent an identical letter to whomever his party selected to challenge Toby Ryles. Nevertheless, she couldn't resist feeling flattered. This merited a call to her father in Los Angeles!

  When she initially declared her intention to become a rabbi, he had his doubts. Wow!

  Chuck remained silent, viewing her unabashedly and straining to contain a whooping cheer. When she finally lifted her eyes he signaled victory with his fist and blurted, "Woopee, Rabbi Gabby. Looks like we'll be leaving these digs after all. I'm putting in my order right now. I want a big paneled office in the Rayburn Building with lots of college interns to help with the clerical work. I'm trying to imagine people addressing you as Congresswoman Lewyn."

  She waved the President's letter at him. "Now just wait a minute. I've got to win a very tough election first. If you want my advice, don't pack your bags just yet. All logic says that you and I will probably be right here next year, that is if Ohav Shalom doesn't turf me out first."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BANKCRUPTCY

  Judge Julia Karston-King wrapped herself lethargically in a black gown as though curling into a woolen blanket on a bitter winter night. Heavy spectacles, which lawyers said looked like two magnifying glasses wired together, enlarged her eyes and had slipped to the tip of her nose, arrested there by thick bovine nostrils. She wore no jewelry and employed no feminine makeup. Her hair, gathered into a careless bun at the rear of her head, was secured by a bone barrette. No one in the Bankruptcy Court in Baltimore's Federal Building had ever heard her mention a husband or children. She held the reputation of a fierce defender of the Bankruptcy Reform Act of 1978, devised to help failing businesses stave off their creditors while they returned to financial solvency. She like to reminding those before her bench that the state provided her significant discretion in resolving financial disputes – and that she looked with disfavor upon unnecessary disputation or delaying tactics. Personal vengeance between creditors and borrowers had no place in her court.

  Attorneys who argued before Julia Karston-King liked to comment how she would growl at counsel who bucked her will. True to form this morning, she was humorless and impatient – snapping like a carnivore at Bartholomew George of Delmontroy, Marks and Syson, who represented thirty-eight vendors, owed money by Politicstoday.

  "Mr. George, the court is impatient with your continuous attempts to adjust the priority of creditors. Let me remind you that bankruptcy is not a contact sport, particularly when the assets of Politicstoday are unlikely to satisfy all who seek redress. I'm losing patience with this wrangling. I don't suppose your firm of Delmontroy, Marks and What's-His-Name would be willing to concede its priority claim to fees and wait for compensation with the other unsecured creditors, now would it?"

  Bartholomew George glowered back. To his mind, such disrespect for his position was unwarranted. The law had long recognized that in Chapter Eleven, nothing would be gained by having lawyers join the throng of creditors. Without legal fees paid up front, there would be no incentive for attorneys to expedite their clients' complex reorganization proceedings. While Judge Karston-King and Bartholomew George sparred over the list of secured creditors, Kye Naah conferred in a whisper with his
attorney Jefferson Thomas Bell. Kye, who donned a business suit only on the rarest occasions, wore a smart dark blue gabardine with a striped Brooks Bros necktie knotted snuggly at his throat.

  "Creditors always end up cannibalizing each other," Jeff whispered to Kye. "They're like lions after a kill on the savanna. If you don't secure a position beside the carcass, you're not going to eat. They refuse to acknowledge that by trying to put you out of business they're going to get only table scraps, if that."

  There was a touch of bravado in Kye's response. "I'm wounded, but not dead. Someday I'll buy back what they intend to repossess."

  Since it became clear that more homework needed to be done before resolving disputes over the legitimacy of secured debts, the judge instructed attorneys for the creditors to finalize the list before the hearing next month. She then shuffled through a stack of reports, eventually extracting a spreadsheet with columns of figures. "According to these numbers, Mr. Naah," she eyed Kye at a distance over her magnifying glasses, "Politicstoday was making payments on time in accord with the Resolution Agreement last October. Can you explain why this pattern of repayment has ceased."

  Kye stood behind the table while regarding attorneys for the creditors who have just re-taken their seats. "The big storm last month, Your Honor. At the time, we were positioning ourselves for the upcoming mid-year election cycle. During the storm, electric power to the New Carrolton area failed. We were well prepared for a loss of power with three redundant generators, each of which could have handled our needs on a temporary basis. But in the middle of the storm, our generators failed, too. Lines to the fuel tanks were deliberately cut with hacksaws. No force majeure, mind you, but sabotage. Then somebody re-connected a shock of power from the outside and jolted our computers, burning through our surge-protectors. When PEPCO finally restored current to the neighborhood, we still couldn't get power. PEPCO managers kept making excuses, though nearby buildings lit up like Christmas trees. No matter how hard I tried, we were left completely in the dark. Our business relies upon electricity. Without it, we're dead in the water. I had no alternative but to release many associates, though most, cold, hungry, and discouraged, wanted to stay on without pay. I postponed as long as possible, but couldn't jeopardize their careers any further."

  "Mr. Bell, I see here that you've provided a copy of the police report. I presume the investigation is ongoing," the judge commented, her command of the ongoing details thorough.

  "Yes, Your Honor. I'm afraid that even if the police are successful in apprehending the saboteurs, that won't pay off my client's debts."

  "I understand you're still operating, Mr. Naah?" she stated a declaration as a question.

  "Yes. But scaled way back," Kye answered.

  "Your Honor," Bartholomew George lumbered to his feet and rocked for an instant to stabilize his equilibrium, caused by an overdose of monosodium glutamate from his Chinese lunch. "Politicstoday has just purchased a very costly tractor-trailer that does not fall within the guidelines established by this court in October. Trustees for the creditors must approve non-essential expenditures such as this."

  "That is, "Karston-King re-positioned her robe around her and emphasized, "That is, unless I rule that the expenditure is reasonable and likely to promote the repayment of debts. Somewhere in the file, I saw a requisition for this expenditure which made the point that it was in lieu of rent."

  "We're going mobile," Kye interjected. "Since we're reduced in size, we no longer need to be tied to a specific location. Online services are in the airwaves, not the ground. Our products are in cyberspace. We can ship our data to servers anywhere on the Internet. All we need is a modest studio and mixer location. What was once located in brick and mortar buildings is now on four wheels. It's true, we did spend seven hundred thousand on the tractor-trailer, but that's a fraction of the three and a quarter million dollars needed to maintain for our campus at New Carrolton. Our creditors should be delighted with the savings."

  "Your Honor," Bartholomew George interjected, "the creditors believe this is another one of Mr. Naah's fanciful ideas. This concept is nothing more than pie in the sky."

  "With respect," Kye answered, returning the look of scowling creditors seated behind Bartholomew George, "at New Carrolton we underestimated our vulnerability. We were sitting ducks, waiting to be shot while swimming in a pond. This whole mess could have been avoided if we had given greater attention to security. Now we're going to stay one location ahead of our enemies. We'll move before they can strike again."

  "Preposterous!" said Humphrey Tirell, representative of SIR Real Estate Investment Trust, who owned the campus at New Carrolton and who some believed to be the greatest beneficiary of the sabotage. "There are methods of triangulation to determine broadcast locations. How long will it take to target your new mobile studio? An hour or two at most?"

  "That's all the time I need," answered Kye. "We're in the air, not at a location."

  "What about the back-room requirements, such as billing?" asked another creditor without permission to speak.

  "That's online too. All clerical functions, banking and accounting included, are now handled in cyberspace."

  "Great," the same creditor continued. "So the assets of Politicstoday will be shipped out each night to a Caribbean island and we'll never see a penny of what is owed."

  Jeff Bell snapped, "That's illegal, Mr. Bau, and you know it. My client has a responsibility to this court and intends to meet it. Your speculation is insulting. You guys seem to think he enjoys being in Chapter Eleven so he doesn't have to pay his bills. I can assure you that is not the case. Never has he contended the legitimacy of these debts. If Politics hadn't been sabotaged you would have gotten back every cent. Those who are prepared to be patient may still be repaid. But it will now take more time."

  Nyeun Bau half rose among fellow creditors who were as annoyed with each other as Kye Naah. "Remember, in Chapter Eleven, we have a right to examine the books."

  Kye forced an artificial calmness into this voice. "Force me into liquidation, friend, and non-secured creditors will get nothing at all. These good attorneys in the courtroom today will walk away with the residual assets from Politics not you." After a whisper with Jeff Bell, he said aloud, "I'm not required to do this, but I'm prepared to ship our month-end results to an accountant you establish. He or she can report to you. Mr. Bell here can work out the details with Mr. George."

  "Can you give us an idea how many clients you have at this moment?" Judge Karston-King interjected herself.

  "After the sabotage, thirteen of our clients remained loyal, Your Honor."

  "All for the mid-term November congressional elections?"

  "No, some in municipal elections. One in St. Paul, another in Las Cruces, New Mexico. We have a woman candidate here in the area to showcase our product. If she's successful, we'll be inundated with clients in federal, state and municipal elections. We'll service senators along with candidates running for dogcatcher. We still have the best data of any in the business and are unquestionably the industry standard. Nobody will be able to catch up until a new technology is introduced."

  "Is this all pro-bono work, or have you paying clients?" asked Bartholomew George.

  "The Democratic National Committee has underwritten many of our expenses and is waiting to evaluate our success. If that happens, the Republican National Committee will jump in and match or exceed anything its competitor does. In addition, there are countless think tanks, universities and election committees that will need our services just to keep current. Foreign governments with vested interests in who governs this country are also likely clients. Radio, television, and print media won't be far behind."

  Judge Julia Karston-King relaxed back against a chair that, due to her weight, produced a shrill squeak. "Mr. Naah's suggestion to send his monthly accounts for review appeals to me. That should reduce suspicion. But in the meantime you, Mr. George, have homework to do. I'm not going to reconvene this court until you ge
t all your creditors to execute the priority list. I want this list in my chambers and I want notarized signatures from company officers. You know of my reputation – no food fights here. Either the creditors learn to cooperate or we wait until they do. I know some of you don't believe this process is fair. As an official of this court, I will reiterate what your attorneys have undoubtedly told you. This court is and must be governed by a sense of pragmatism. We all want to resolve the difficulties and move on. Therefore, it's up to the creditors to be both reasonable and practical."

  A disgusted look grew on Bartholomew George's face. His clients were unhappy, but experience had taught not to challenge the bench. He had explained to his clients that Chapter Eleven laws favored the debtor not the creditor. Failing to understand that fact, they were likely to shoot the messenger and fire him.

  "So, Mr. George, the ball is in your court, not mine." Judge Karston-King's iron cheeks enlarged into a smile which she immediatly took steps to repress, obviously pleased with her pun on court. "Notification of the future proceedings will be made in writing."

  ***

  The DNC deadline for declaring herself a candidate loomed over Gabby's head like a threatening thundercloud. Meanwhile, phone, postal and email traffic at the synagogue escalated in response to rumors that she was planning to challenge Toby Ryles. Accustomed to receiving congratulatory letters from people who usually appreciated her services, the angry tone of this communication was upsetting.

  In this matter Chuck Browner remained aloof. He knew how to be caustic by employing a question: "What did you expect, Rabbi Gabby? That folks would bubble over with enthusiasm?"

  "They must know my chances of winning are slim to nil. Regardless who wins, they'll still have a friend in Congress."