Talk

by Michael A Smerconish

  I sat with my back to a wall, looking at a landscape that consisted of the console, guest positions and finally, 15 feet away, the glass separating the broadcast studio from the control room, with Alex and Rod seated on the other side in close quarters. Alex was on the right, dressed in drab with a t-shirt that said, “There Is No Plan B.” A small looped earring protruded from her left eyebrow, and she wore a sleek headset with a mouthpiece that made her look like she was working in a call center in Mumbai. Rod sat a few feet away, wearing his bow tie, while his outstretched arms and hands ran “the board” as we call it. His job was to maintain audio purity, keep close track of time and play the commercials. It’s a job that demands attentiveness and organization, and although I personally found him to be a major ass pain, I had to admit that he was damn good at it. The obsessive nature of his personality was one of the reasons that I never wanted to see him outside the studio, and the same reason I wanted to make sure he was there when I was working. Rod looked suitably dour, no doubt at the prospect of a prominent Democrat having been invited onto our show.

  But today, Alex and Rod also had company. Jammed into the already narrow confines of the control room alongside them were three cameramen from the local Tampa network affiliates, plus two guys I assumed were print reporters more on account of their scruffy looks than their tablets. Funny how the media world is evolving at a rapid clip, but the newspaper guys always look the same.

  “We’re awaiting the arrival of Governor Bob Tobias here in the WRGT studios,” I began. “He’ll give us the latest in his thinking about his run for president, and I’ll try to include your calls.”

  I killed some time by recapping what had been going on in the race, namely how the Democratic Party was more unsettled in its nomination process during this election cycle than any other in recent memory. With seven serious candidates, including the governors of two big states—Florida and New York—readying to do battle, the primary process for the Dems still had all the makings of a cluster-fuck. President Summers’ announcement had caught everyone by surprise, and there hadn’t even been time for the candidates to use that old canard about how “people have asked me consider it” when in fact they were dying to run. Tobias was garnering support from some party elders who believed the Democrats were behind the eight ball and needed to quickly coalesce around a candidate who could appeal to centrists. Proving that appeal was no doubt one major reason that Tobias was about to walk through my studio door.

  As I jabbered more or less on autopilot, sharing tidbits about the bios of the more serious candidates, I kept the right-wing rhetoric to a minimum and kept my eyes fixed on the other side of the glass, looking for a sign of Tobias’ arrival. The harbinger came when the three cameramen all turned on the lights atop their cameras, and then swung their gear in the direction of the corridor that led to my studio. I couldn’t see what they were focusing on but I knew it had to be Tobias. Rod looked like he’d just seen Janet Jackson’s nipple. That was to be expected. But Alex’s expression was more unusual. She looked surprised. As the cameramen got their shot of something not yet visible to me, I watched as her eyes widened. Then her head swiveled to look squarely at me, still with that quizzical facial expression, while the heavy soundproof door to my studio swung open. Something was coming and it wasn’t good.

  I was trying to process all of this while carrying on a coherent conversation with my listeners, an ability I’d honed from years on air, which has also served me well atop plenty of barstools.

  “And here he is right now. Joining us for Morning Power at WRGT is the Governor of the great state of Florida, Bob Tobias,” I intoned, as the governor strode toward me with his arm outstretched. With my headphones tied to the console, I could only half-rise and shake his hand, lest I’d be disconnected. The headphones also muted my ability to actually hear him because he was not yet close enough to the microphone.

  “…surprise…the First Lady….”

  His words were muddled. But then I saw who he was referencing.

  My eyes moved quickly from the governor to Alex’s frozen expression, to someone else who’d entered the studio behind him. I think I inhaled her scent before I actually saw her. It had been many years, but I thought I recognized that smell. Funny how the olfactory sense can jog the memory. It immediately took me back in time. And then there was her hemline, revealing those toned, tanned calves as they walked toward me. I raised my eyes and they locked on the pair of green ones directly in front of me. It was her, alright. Susan Miller was now standing three feet away, with her own right hand reaching toward me while the governor, now getting settled in front of a microphone, continued to speak words that I could now hear.

  “…which is why I thought it’d be great for your listeners to hear from Susan, too….”

  I stood there like some fucking Cirque du Soleil contortionist trying to shake her hand while not traveling too far from either my headphone connection or my microphone, and simultaneously trying to digest the enormous knot that had just formed in my stomach. I thought I had planned for every eventuality concerning this interview, but it had never occurred to me that she would come with him.

  “I’ve always appreciated our frank conversations, Stan, and so I was glad to accept your invitation,” the governor said as he settled into his seat.

  Thank God he was in wind-up mode, requiring little or no prodding from me because I couldn’t think straight. Did he know that I knew Susan? She now sat cross-legged in front of me, as sexy as ever, with a Nancy Reagan-like focus on what her husband was saying. It would have been easier for me to concentrate if a truck had hit her in the intervening years. But instead she looked amazing. Did she even know it was me? She gave no hint. The governor continued to talk about who the fuck knows what while I did some mental calculus. I figured there were three possibilities. Number one was that she had no idea who I really was. It had been many years since Susan Miller had banged a guy named Stan Pawlowski, a stoner in a redneck bar whose only knowledge of illegal immigration was Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song.” It was entirely possible that she did not make the connection. What reason was there to think she’d ever thought of me after she left Shooter’s? None.

  Possibility No. 2 was that she absolutely knew it was me and had shared with Tobias some sanitized version of our prior relationship, which is why he wanted her to come along and help him curry favor with this conservative nutbag (me) who he now needed to behave. The third option was that she knew it was me, but had not told him, in consideration of which, I got instant wood. Dammit she was beautiful.

  “Assuming you run, will you feel obliged to offer national voters a greater insight into your personal life than you have afforded Florida voters?” I said, trying to regain some of my footing.

  “Stan, I’m confident that voters will view my long career as a legislator and chief executive for one of our largest states as appropriate preparation.”

  He didn’t answer my question, but I didn’t give a shit. This was all preliminary, passing time until I could go for the jugular. My attention was now evenly divided between Susan Miller’s legs and the legal tablet in front of me. Phil had been so precise about what I was to ask that I’d written out his edict:

  DO YOU PERSONALLY EMBRACE THE JUDEO-CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THIS NATION WAS FOUNDED?

  Those were some important buzzwords in my trade. I might just as well have asked, “Please convince us that you are one of us and not one of them.” I’m convinced that most of my listeners could not even define the Judeo-Christian principles to which I was referring, even though they demanded that presidential candidates swear allegiance to them. But Tobias would know the intention of the question. It was a shot across the bow with network cameras watching. And it was a set-up, given his prior unwillingness to play this game. Of course, lost on my colleagues and those listeners who denounced anything but strict adherence to the Constitution was the fact that there were 55 delegates to the Constitutional Convention in Philade
lphia who never wanted a religious test of any kind, Judeo-Christian or otherwise. Article 6 of the Constitution expressly forbids a religious test as a qualification for office, but Phil knew that in the minds of our listeners that didn’t apply to a presidential candidate. The test they wished imposed was a blood oath to some amorphous Judeo-Christian principles that no Muslim or atheist could agree to. Funny thing—they loved to cite Thomas Jefferson or Abe Lincoln, but overlooked the fact that the first was a deist and the second refused to join any church.

  I also wondered what Susan’s reaction would be. She had now redirected her gaze from her husband and was watching me. Or so I thought. I didn’t dare return the look. Was she studying my face? Did I detect a hint of recognition? I felt like a spotlight was shining on me. Maybe this was an opportunity to let her know I’d expanded my horizons since Shooter’s.

  “But governor, we’ve already tried spending our way out of this economic morass.”

  “Well, that’s exactly right Stan, which is why I favor a balanced approach between spending cuts and improvement of our infrastructure.”

  Damn, this guy was good. He made even our points of disagreement sound like consensus. I could see why the combination of his bio, home state and charisma were vaulting him to the front of the donkey pack. But my desire to impress Susan with my ability to host a substantive conversation was interrupted by the realization that somewhere in a mud shack in Taos, listening by Internet feed, fat fucking Phil was having a conniption over the chummy nature of an exchange that was supposed to be my golden opportunity for candidate assassination.

  I glanced again at my notepad, but still didn’t say it aloud.

  DO YOU PERSONALLY EMBRACE THE JUDEO-CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THIS NATION WAS FOUNDED?

  Tobias kept talking while I tried to refocus. I looked around. One of the local network cameramen had turned off his light. That was a bad sign. And the two print guys were not writing anything. Even the cameraman inside my studio looked bored as hell. I felt the moment slipping away and grabbed my balls.

  “Governor, there are many across the country getting their first look at Bob Tobias. So let’s not assume they know your background.”

  I was trying to get closer to religion, but he took my poorly phrased, open-ended question and used it to his advantage.

  “Thank you, Stan. Like you, I am a native Floridian….”

  Like me? How did he know that? Was it because Susan had given him a briefing? So she did know it was me! Or not. Maybe he had just read my bio from the Morning Power web site. My head spun. Suddenly I wished I was playing “Toys in the Attic” back in Pittsburgh.

  It was true that Tobias and I were both natives of the Sunshine State, although we had been raised in opposite corners. For him it was St. Augustine where his family history ran deep. His father was a blue-collar guy who was a local fire chief and coached Pop Warner on the side. Daddy knew he had a ringer in Bobby and so did the rest of the state by the time he was in his freshman year. He went on to set so many passing records that I knew his name clear across the state when we were both in high school because he was a stellar quarterback for a team that reached state finals. High school football was so big then that the championship game was televised on cable statewide. Tobias’ team didn’t win but he ended up with a free ride to Florida State University where his All-American play cemented his status as a Florida god. I don’t know of too many things you could do in this state to make yourself more of a household name than play quarterback for FSU. Maybe drive NASCAR or take off for the moon from the Kennedy Space Center, but I doubt it. Football is king. When he entered political life by running for the state legislature not too long after college graduation, it was a lock that he wouldn’t leave Tallahassee without first being governor.

  “…where I played quarterback, although many in the Sunshine State will never forget how I came up short in the final game….”

  I’d tuned out again, lost in a peripheral view of the glow of Susan’s lip gloss, perfectly manicured nails and bronze skin. I told myself to stop looking at her and concentrate on him.

  “…and wanted to serve my state in the legislature….”

  I felt too guilty to make eye contact, so I stared at the repeated H’s on his bright red Hermes tie. Then I lost my concentration again wondering if Susan had picked it out for him. It didn’t matter. He was spinning.

  “…and while I haven’t made a final decision, I am listening to an increasing chorus of people who are telling me that the type of solution-oriented governance I brought to Florida is what the nation craves.”

  Tobias was cruising on autopilot and sure sounded like a man running for president. After all, everyone knew he was going to formally announce in St. Augustine the following weekend. I knew this was getting away from me. My audience would be disappointed. And Phil would be furious. So I finally interrupted, trying to get back to the narrative Phil had prescribed.

  “Let me ask you about your family….”

  He took that as an invitation to talk about his parents, their work ethic and deep Florida roots. I swallowed. He rattled off the names and ages of their three daughters, before walking into the militarized zone.

  “For them, my greatest gift, I can thank their mother, my wife Susan….”

  The mention of her name from his lips gave me a temporary bout of courage, and I looked again at my notes. Phil had said that it was important that at this moment I be looking right at him so that our face-to-face would appear direct. I looked back at the tie, hoping that on camera, it would look like we were mano-a-mano.

  “Right or wrong, governor, when you step onto the national stage you must do so knowing that the media spotlight will shine brightly on your personal life.”

  It was like he didn’t hear me. Like a sprinter who was now in an open field, arms and legs pumping, all motion synchronized, Governor Tobias kept talking. He had yet to comprehend what was unfolding around him. Instead he offered his understanding of how a national campaign would change his life forever while simultaneously wishing for the ability to raise their daughters with some continued sense of normalcy.

  “Should you run, you surely know you will be exposing your personal life and that of your family to a level of scrutiny never seen in any Florida election.”

  “Well, I’m confident that my family can withstand any reasonable scrutiny that respects our privacy.”

  I glanced at the digital on my console. Time was running short. We had a hard out at 7:58 for network news and so the interview, which I fully recognized had been a bust up until now, would soon end. It was now or never.

  “Do you believe that matters of faith are fair game in a presidential contest?”

  Tobias paused before speaking, something he had not done when responding to my prior questions. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Through the glass, I saw the print guys pick up their notepads. The third camera light suddenly flashed back on. Rod Chinkles’ eyes were so focused they looked like an ad for x-ray vision goggles. I could see Alex suddenly put a caller on hold. I sensed that her initial concern for my well-being was now being replaced with a sense of disgust.

  I didn’t wait for him to reply. I rephrased.

  “Governor, my fellow Tea Partiers would be right in wanting to know whether you, like the signers of the Declaration of Independence, believe we are endowed by our CREATOR with certain unalienable rights?”

  It wasn’t exactly Phil’s line, but it was as close as I was comfortable in going right then.

  “As I have often said Stan, my faith is something deeply personal to me. I believe this country was founded in support of both freedom of religion and freedom from religion.”

  Music began to play which signaled we were headed into a commercial break. That cue told me I had only 30 seconds to wrap up. It was pointless to probe any further on a matter of substance. I was a total pussy and Phil was going to be pissed.

  “Governor please come back, we thank you for appe
aring on Morning Power.”

  “I look forward to that Stan; I wish all of your listeners a good day.”

  The volume of the music increased and the segment ended. Again, Tobias and Susan both stood up and extended their hands, but I remained anchored to the console because I now needed to read a live spot for a home medical supply firm. Tobias shook my hand first and was headed toward the door. Then Susan reached for me and our eyes locked. With her not on microphone and me still wearing headphones, the best I could do was lip read.

  “Nice to see you again, Stan.”

  Maybe it was, “Nice to meet you, Stan.”

  Or was it, “We should do this again, Stan”?

  I had no idea. And I would have paid a thousand dollars to not have to sit there, read a commercial about incontinence, and then do another hour of talk after that disaster. It only magnified the angst I felt about having to face Phil, at least over the phone. I had turned his idea of a searing cross-examination about religion into a softball which simply enabled Tobias to repeat one of his well-worn lines from previous campaigns. It was a missed opportunity, even though I knew the national media would still make a big deal out of Tobias reaffirming his belief that the Constitution protected those of faith, and those of no faith equally. He might have been sent by Floridians to Tallahassee without spelling out his personal faith, but no way was he getting to Washington without some affirmation of a belief in a divine being. The line that always won him plaudits on the Florida left simply wasn’t going to be sufficient in a national campaign. But his more detailed reply on faith, whenever it came, would now make somebody else a star, not me.