by Dan Donovan
Therefore, it came to pass that Alex Poller arrived at a conference of exacerbated leaders who were primed to hear the musings of a man ingrained with the belief that you cut to the heart of the matter best by using a bayonet. Poller met with the Premiers of Canada’s four western Provinces at a hotel in Vancouver. Poller’s own staff included a number of security assistants, who dutifully checked the conference suite for susceptibility to on or off-site surveillance. Poller had a definite opinion on what he would say to the four men, and wanted to be assured that no one else was aware of his remarks.
Poller spoke for the better part of an hour recounting much of what his listeners had themselves stated about Quebec. He outlined the future of a society where the number of those capable of contributing to the overall good would diminish (attributed to Quebec’s departure and the Inuit’s embargo on releasing resources from their territory without a pre-mium payment in other than Canadian dollars). All of this would place an increasing burden on the prosperous western Provinces to provide for the less developed Atlantic region.
One Premier acted as a devil’s advocate and challenged Poller to explain why they would not be accused of Quebec-style separatism and disloyalty to the Confederation. Poller responded with an assertion that any contract, whether between individuals or political entities, is only binding as long as all parties adhere to the provisions. Quebec’s aban-donment of its responsibilities under the nation-building accord rendered the entire system dysfunctional. The western Provinces would not be abrogating their commitments as their obligations would be negated by Quebec’s precipitous actions. It would then fall to the western Premiers to chart their future in the most advantageous way possible. Naturally, since they share a good working relationship the four could envision a compact regional affiliation. However, in an ever increasingly complex and competitive global marketplace such a downsized unit might find itself at a distinct disadvantage. Perhaps in reviewing their options the Premiers might entertain other arrangements.
Again, the devil’s advocate spoke out. What if the electorate in Quebec again rejected independence? What if the separatists had gone to the well once too often? What if we are left with another narrow margin scenario and with Quebec still loudly dissatisfied with its place in the Confederation?
Alex Poller looked each of the men in the eye and sternly advised them. “If I were you I would do all that I could to ensure an outcome that would allow for a future action that would be in the best long-term interest of my constituency. If someone else required assistance in facilitating a course of action which would enhance my own options, I would provide appropriate accommodations to their needs.”
For a final time the devil’s advocate spoke. He alluded to the U.S. political situation. The primary season was nearly complete, and the candidate of Poller’s choice while still in the running was not the odds-on favorite. Poller replied, “You have your work to do, I have mine.” They agreed to talk again, conditional upon the outcome of their short-term endeavors.
The Western Showdown
THE NOMINATION PROCESS had come to resemble two contending forces stalking one another, engaging in tactical strikes while maueuvering for a climatic encounter. The campaign for the selection of the Federalist Party Presidential candidate had developed into a head-to-head struggle between Cory Stratton and Bert Maurus. Stratton had achieved a narrow victory in the second round (The Southern region). Texas Senator A.B.E. Connell had sought a boost from his home territory, but he decided to withdraw when Texas was his lone triumph on voting day.
What was obvious, and yet unspoken, about the contest came to the forefront during the Southern phase. Cory Stratton was the first Black (male or female) to be considered a serious candidate for President in either major party. In the initial clamor the issue of racial background was not a prime topic. Yet because the South would vote following the opening hoopla, this would allow the public’s natural bluntness to draw attention to the subject.
The history of racial discrimination and animosity in the United States reached back to colonial era policy of Britain engaging in the abduction of people in Africa and then subjecting these individuals to the horrors of slavery. This abomination transported tens of thousands of children, women and men to the American colonies and spawned a social tragedy that still afflicts the land of the free.
Cory Stratton was asked by a reporter how he felt about being the first Black likely to be elected President. Stratton responded, “I am, of course, proud of my African-Caribbean heritage. But I am not seeking the Presidency to represent just one ethnic group. A President must be mindful of the views and needs of everyone in America. I am keenly aware of the emotional and symbolic significance many people associate with my efforts. If what I do contributes to a better understanding between all the people of this country then I will have been successful, regardless of any personal political outcome. America is a unique concept. People come here from all over the world now by choice. They want to contribute to a society based on the inalienable rights proclaimed in our Declaration of Independence. I seek to be President because I want to defend these rights, and extend them to anyone who is today deprived of such rights because of injustice or intolerance.”
In a region some expected to be hostile to Stratton, he found instead warm support from all racial groups. The one event that caused the Secret Service to tighten the security around Stratton occurred on Primary Day while he was in Chicago.
The Lincoln Hotel Incident
May 20, 2008
THE WORK FOR THE Central-Mid West Primaries was now up to the labor-intensive, get-out-the-vote function of the local organizations. Cory Stratton had no rallies scheduled for the morning or afternoon. Still he was up and ready to go by 5:30 am. The events described here were not reported at the time by either the local or national media at the direct request of the Secret Service. Although the Presidential candidates did not have a detail of Secret Service Agents assigned to them, the agency kept track of security anomalies. Following this day’s incident outside The Lincoln Hotel in Chicago all the Presidential candidates were assigned a team of agents.
A tragedy was averted because a dog sat down. Chicago Police Officer Tracey Richards was out for an early morning jog before reporting for duty. She was part of the security operation at O’Hare Airport. Along for the run was her “partner,” Max, from the K-9 unit. Most days Officer Richards and Max (a specially trained Labrador) ran along the Lake shoreline. Today she had decided on a city street course. At 6:17 she turned a corner and approached the vicinity of The Lincoln Hotel, which was across the street from her position. She could see the detail of CPD officers standing outside the building. One of them recognized her and waved. She waved back as she proceeded along. A delivery van was parked on her side of the four-lane boulevard across from the hotel’s main entrance. The driver appeared to be checking a list. Officer Richards was about three paces past the driver’s door when she noticed that Max was no longer at her side. He ran without a leash, a small technical impropriety.
She made a slight turn and froze. Max was sitting down and facing towards the driver. Officer Richards quickly drew her badge and service handgun from beneath her sweatshirt. She retraced her steps and was now in front of the van. In a voice loud enough to be heard across the then fortunately lightly travelled street she yelled out, “Chicago Police! Driver, get out of the van!”
The driver hesitated. Two officers from the hotel detail sprinted towards the van, guns drawn.
Officer Richards yelled again, “Chicago Police! Get out of the van!”
The driver seemed to move, and then slumped forwards. Officer Richards pulled open the door near her, as the other door was opened by one of her colleagues. The driver was foaming from the mouth. She checked his pulse, fading, nearly stopped.
“Call 911! We need an ambulance!” she shouted to the other officers.
The third officer now opened the side cargo door. “Damn! We need the bomb squad first!�
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When the van’s contents were examined it revealed enough of a nitrate-fuel mix to kill or severely maim anyone within 100 yards. The driver had killed himself with a cyanide tablet. Despite an exhaustive search by the Secret Service and the FBI the driver’s identity could not be established. The van and the contents could not be traced.
There was no direct evidence of an assassination plot against Cory Stratton, but the Secret Service’s view was “Believe that it is until proven otherwise.”
The Chicago Police released a statement that the response to scene of a large number of emergency service personnel was due to a leaky propane tank in the van. The driver had apparently died of a heart attack before he could call for help.
Max was trained as an explosives locator. When he caught a certain scent he was to sit down facing the object.
The Stratton campaign moved on with an added sense of alertness. Stratton’s top staff members talked among themselves about President Rockefeller’s close call in Dallas 45 years earlier.
The campaign in the Central-Mid West had been clarified when Representative Lori Ann Nasus announced that she was ending her quest for the nomination. She had decided to accept a standing offer to be a political consultant for World Network News. Her final press release included the statement “campaigning is no longer about discussing the issues. It is simply a commercial that’s gotten way out of hand.”
The region was Governor Maurus’ home base. He had good rapport with the party’s organization in the neighboring States. Along with the support of traditional line leadership here, which dated its philosophy to the inward-directed policies of a powerful Senator of 50 years earlier, Governor Maurus was able to do well enough to achieve a virtual tie with Cory Stratton in the number of committed delegates to the July Convention. June became the decisive month in the contest, as the candidates headed for California (with the largest delegation) and its satellite members of the Western region.
Economic refugees had long been a tough reality facing the four American States along the 1951-mile border with Mexico. The autocratic Popular Revolutionary Movement (MPR) was seeking to regain its stranglehold on power after narrowly losing the Presidency in the prior election. Shock waves of disorder had jolted the country over the past 6 years; more than once was suspicion aroused concerning the directing force behind the violence. Active, armed revolts were occurring in southern Mexico, and the Durango drug cartel was steadily corrupting an ever-growing number of government and military officers. In the prior election campaign the two political groups in opposition to the MPR had formed an alliance, nominated the same candidate, and aided by a virtual army of international observers had se-cured a victory by an extremely narrow margin. The incumbent was barred by Mexico’s Constitution from running for a second term. For the upcoming Presidential election the alliance held together and again nominated a joint candidate. The MPR still controlled many key State Governorships, and this group was broadly hinting they would not acknowledge any result overseen by foreigners. The MPR Governors claimed the press and League of Nations observers were fronting for subversive elements.
All of this propelled thousands of improvised Mexicans to make the often hazardous journey to communities north of the border. Many were caught and sent back; nevertheless, a steady flood of desperate people seeking a better life ran, swam or crawled through whatever gap they could find in the Corrugated Curtain (the network of steel barriers along the border). Mexico could not provide for these people—its own citizens- and the Western Border States did not want to provide for them, yet on they came.
Bert Maurus brought to this emotional tinderbox a message of stark, dispassionate social myopia. There must be no consideration of any remedy other than to close the Curtain and keep it closed. Anyone in the U.S. illegally must be returned to their country of origin—whether or not that country wanted them. Maurus clothed such opinions in velvet rhetoric. He would speak first of the hard-working American-born laborers, of their economic plight, of their struggle to claim some of the star dust of the American Dream. Maurus acknowledged the difficulties of the refugees, while pleading for a “practical” analysis of the issue. Maurus’ basic argument was “If America must be care-giver to the world, if we must accept all the misfortunate, untrained, uneducated souls of the earth, and struggle for years attempting to raise them up to the standards enjoyed by responsible, industrious Americans—we will bankrupt ourselves.”
Cory Stratton had known arduous tasks from his career in the Marines. Parris Island almost became a fond memory compared to the incessant frenzy of the Western campaign. It was a life of virtual reality conducted within the realm of television, radio and web-broadcast studios. Stratton’s favorite aspect of politics was the one-to-one meetings with voters. He could ask direct questions of actual folks and receive answers not processed analysis from researchers. The vastness of the region (from the Pacific coast to the Great Plains equalled nearly a third of the national territory), and the importance of every delegate, required a candidate’s presence simultaneously at various sites. Television was regretfully the most efficient means of achieving the objective. Web broadcasts might have the potential to reach a larger audience, but the denizens of Web World had less of an interest in public policy than most other social groups.
Stratton’s desire to express his ambitions for the future, his hopes for an emphasis on an individual’s responsibility for the course of their own life became lost in restraints imposed by interviewer’s scripts. The various chat shows, superficially designed as local soft-news oriented programs, were enthusiastic about offering Stratton a platform. It would surely give their station a boost in the ratings. “Yes, indeed, electing a President is a commendable civic undertaking. Certainly, it was thrilling to have such a dynamic personality on the show highlighting the major topics all citizens should turn their attention to at the proper time. Mr. Stratton…Cory, if I may… could you wrap it up into a few good sound bites. After all, shouldn’t five and a half minutes be enough?”
The televised debates did not provide any more fruitful opportunity for expansive discourse. Stratton had suggested earlier in the year abandoning the standard format of replying to questions posed by a moderator, without being able to speak directly to an opponent. He preferred to face Governor Maurus without such a filter; and, he requested that they meet on a stage, sit at a table and question and reply in a normal conversation. Maurus would not consider it and accused Stratton of wanting to back out of the debates. Reluctantly, Stratton accepted what he could not alter; but, he devoted his closing remarks in the first debate to a challenge for a direct face-off and the abandonment of an outmoded format which politicians used to give mini-speeches rather than reply to specific inquiries.
The ballot counting should have been the easiest part of the Western campaign. California led the nation in the use of computerized voting machines. Unfortunately, it also led the nation in delays caused by voters who mangled their turn at the machines. It was not until the afternoon of the second day following the election that Cory Stratton was declared the very narrow victor. Delegates were elected from zones based on a State’s Congressional districts. Stratton won in northern California, Oregon, Washington State, Idaho, Montana, the Dakotas and Utah. Maurus picked up delegates in southern California, Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Wyoming. The final overall delegate count gave the nomination to Stratton by 70 votes from a total of 2509.
Strategists within the party besieged Stratton with calls for a statesman-like decision which would greatly aid party unity and the Fall campaign. Stratton’s initial response was “HELL NO!” He threatened to court-martial (meaning “fire”) anyone on his staff who spoke in favor of the proposal. A change in his viewpoint began to surface when Stratton was confronted with media speculation concerning a party-rending split over wording in the Convention’s policy declaration. Unofficial sources claimed that Maurus was considering mounting an attempt to gain control of the Platf
orm Committee, which would write the declaration. Stratton was advised he had one chance to avoid such a disastrous spectacle. He must offer Governor Maurus the Vice Presidential nomination.
Stratton, against his better judgement, agreed to invite the Governor to his suite at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, which had been his headquarters for the Western campaign. They met on the Saturday following the vote.
Bertford Edison Maurus, a middle-aged, middle-sized product of Middle America. He was once described by a commentator as a classic example of a harried, high school principal. Maurus’ most notable characteristic was his earnest ability at promoting himself. Throughout his school years Maurus was well-known by other students; although when those classmates were interviewed in later years they often had difficulty recalling why they had liked Maurus at the time. One of his political opponents dubbed Maurus the “Cotton Candy Man.” “He makes you want to have him, but afterwards you’re left with a vague recollection of nothingness.” Maurus was the quintessential organization man who got along by going along. He looked reasonably good in photographs, and was reasonably pleasant in person. No one in the party considered him an obstacle to their own potential, so no one put roadblocks in his path. Early on Maurus made himself available to the party leadership as a sacrificial candidate against entrenched incumbents. Maurus bided his time, racking up points he later converted into a legitimate nomination. He steadily worked his way up from County Commissioner to the State Assembly and the State Senate. Maurus’ advancement to the Governor’s Mansion was aided by a brawling primary battle that left the other party’s organization in tatters.
“Why make an attempt at the Presidency from a base of obscurity?” a reporter bluntly inquired when Maurus announced his candidacy. “Who but a poli-sci nerd knew much about Milton Prescott or Jeff De Witt before they crawled out of the woodwork?” Maurus retorted. To himself he added, “The American system of government is open to those crafty enough to grab the public’s attention just long enough to get a desired outcome.”