by Dan Donovan
The major fault in this concept was that Maurus had nothing to grab said attention…until. When perennial independent Presidential candidate Ray Oberauer re-emerged on the scene in 2004 he unleashed shrill rhetoric on the topic of foreign-born workers “stealing” American jobs. Maurus knew many people agreed with this view, but they were reluctant to openly endorse it with only an oddity such as Oberauer as the main proponent. When Maurus raised the topic with his aide Alex Poller he saw the other man’s eyes light up with malevolent glee. “That’s our ticket to Washington,” chuckled Poller. “America has nothing to fear except a wretched refugee seeking to breed free-of charge.”
Thus, a campaign was born based on appealing to concerns about a volatile future populated increasingly by desperate people seeking escape from threats economic and lethal; and, a candidate came to meet the one obstacle remaining before his final objective.
“Governor Maurus, I’m glad you accepted my request to meet here. We have a better chance at privacy,” said Cory Stratton as he met his visitor.
“I was delighted, General. It’s an honor and a privilege for me to be in the presence of the next President of the United States.”
“You’re getting a bit ahead of events. Come in, there’s a very good couch which I’ve made little use of. Is coffee OK? I don’t have anything stronger on hand.”
“Thanks, coffee will do fine. I should be able to hold out until cocktail hour.”
They entered a sitting room with a dramatic view of the city. Stratton spoke briefly with an aide, who returned in a few minutes with a coffee pot, a pair of mugs, milk and sugar containers, and plates of fruit and Danish. After pouring the coffee the aide (a retired Marine Corps Sergeant who could pass for a 49ers offensive linesman) left the General and the Governor to continue their discussion.
Characteristically blunt Stratton looked Maurus in the eyes and declared, “Maurus, you’re not my first or hundredth choice for Vice President. You take liberties with emotional issues and compound them with anxiety. My background is in solid teamwork. I cannot have, I will not tolerate, self-aggrandizing commandos running amuck and disrupting my strategy. If you sign on it means you park your ego somewhere safe. I will respect your opinions, I will consider your input, but you will abide by the final decision which I will make. “
“General,” replied Governor Maurus, “Politics has been my professional career. Of course, I did my service for this great nation. Yep, two years in the State Militia Reserve.”
[Note: In this history the SMR is a non-combat unit that is primarily a pool of office workers that assists the National Guard.]
Maurus paused, anticipating some comradely military chatter from Stratton; what he received was a stony, cold glare. “As I was saying, politics has been the major force in my life. I understand the process. I know how to interpret the core belief behind someone’s public posturing. In this endeavor I’m the hard-nose veteran. Your straightforward, novice enthusiasm is certainly refreshing. It attracts the attention of voters who have chosen to become cynical. They don’t understand the process. Of course, they’re always delighted when our labors result in projects directed at their home town—no special interest boondoggle then. Yet its heaven forbid if somewhere else gets a slice of the pie. To them it means we’re not doing our job correctly. All that mealy-mouth whining about closed door deals.”
“Most people don’t comprehend national issues, or don’t want to be bothered. Just give them what they need to succeed on a day-to-day basis and they’re happy. A politician who wants to be a leader realizes he must be seen to have a response to topics which the media propels into the headlines. Quite often the only way we can grab the public’s attention is by going over the top. If we perform like college professors and explain, explain everything it comes across as so much blah-blah-blah. The people tune us out.”
“Politics is the last surviving act of vaudeville. It may seem as if we’re no more than a travelling circus act, nevertheless this is how the job gets done. The military confronts hard reality. Therefore, it requires a different response mode. Government is about romancing the source—whether it’s the source of a bureaucratic decision, a legislative vote or a personal contribution. You gotta learn to ‘walk the walk, talk the talk.’ I’ll play by your rules General ‘cause you’re the main game in town. Just don’t shut me out. I can help you survive behind enemy lines.”
Stratton was silent for several minutes. “So you want the position,” he said regretfully in a declarative question.
“It will be a great honor and…” Maurus began. He cut himself short when Stratton abruptly snorted. “Yes, sir. I do accept your offer,” he concluded quickly.
They stood and stiffly shook hands. Perhaps beckoned by an unseen signal Stratton’s aide was at the door.
“The Sergeant will escort you to the elevator, Governor.”
“Thank you again, General. I’m looking forward to the Convention.”
Once they departed Stratton went to the washroom and scrubbed his hands.
In Convention Assembled
NEW YORK STATE’S GOVERNOR, Nelson Balboa, was having a very busy, very productive year. He had been one of the leading advocates for Cory Stratton’s entrance into the campaign for the nomination. On a second front, Balboa worked overtime to complete a task begun the previous year. The party’s National Committee had agreed to hold the quadrennial nominating fete in his State. Moreover, for his unique candidate Balboa acquired a unique venue— the recently refurbished Ebbets Field, the home of Major League Baseball’s Atlantic Division’s pre-eminent fran-chise: the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Field had been initially renovated 50 years earlier, with assistance from the City of Brooklyn’s taxpayers as the price for retaining the team. In 1957 the incumbent Mayor of New York City opposed a similar plan for the Polo Grounds, home of the baseball N.Y. Giants. The decision cost the region a team, and the Mayor his renomination.
In 1958 Ebbets Field became the first professional sports facility in the country to be encased in a dome. This game of the Boys of Summer was never intended to be played in the frost and icy rains of the Northeast’s early Spring. The re-born ballyard could now accommodate 60,000 fans, and offered exquisite luxury for corporate sponsors in a ring of sky boxes. The dome was redesigned in the early 21st Century make-over to be retractable. This allowed sunlight to flow once more on the natural grass in the outfield; and on Autumn afternoons when the top was down the Yogi-ism that “it gets late early out there” once again applied.
At the completion of the baseball season, the Field becomes the playing ground for the region’s junior National Football League member: the Titans. Baseball’s nearly perennial champion, the N.Y. Yankees (of the Northern Division), and the NFL N.Y. Giants shared the historic grounds of Yankee Stadium.
[Note: In this history Major League Baseball is a single league with six divisions.]
Governor Balboa had made his request to MLB as soon as he learned that the team would be on an extended road trip in the first half of July. This would give the National Committee enough time to transform the Field into a convention site. A platform floor would be overlaid above the grass and dirt surfaces to spare it from the trampling by an expected crowd of over 55,000 people (comprised of delegates, alternate delegates, their families, special guests, the news media and security personnel.)
Opening Day, as everyone fell into the habit of calling it, was Monday July 7th. Long gone was the era when political conventions could drone on for the better (worse?) part of a week. The parties knew the event must be packaged as a prime-time special. They would have two days to showcase their best and brightest. Deadlocked conventions with multiple ballots had become extinct in the age of hyped-up primary election results.
Cory Stratton would not make an appearance in public or at the Field until the time of his acceptance speech, scheduled for 9 pm Eastern Time Tuesday evening. Until then it was the delegates’ picnic. Many arrived a week early and spent their time
gawking in the usual manner of tourists. A great number of delegates and their families arrived by train; they wanted to be enthralled by the classical and austere Pennsylvania Railroad Station in Manhattan, which was even now preparing for 2010 and the 100th anniversary of its opening.
[In 1963 Jacqueline Kennedy, the spouse of then former Vice President John Kennedy who was later elected to two terms as President, led an effort that saved the Romanesque architectural splendor of Penn Station from demolition. Her support also aided the passage of landmark preservation laws in the Tri-City region of Brooklyn, New York and Newark.]
The delegates were headquartered along Hotel Row, which was built above Manhattan’s Second Avenue subway line. The transit authority provided a special series of trains to run from the hotels to Ebbets Field’s subway stop of Flatbush Avenue during the two-week period. The Stratton entourage was settled into the Presidential Suite at downtown Brooklyn’s appropriately four-starred Marriott Hotel.
Among the attractions to visit in the region were:
—Wally Datbow’s entertainment complex of film, play and stage show theaters standing along Manhattan’s First Avenue between 42nd and 48th Streets.
—The Long Acre Reservoir which encompassed the former Times Square district. Redevelopment plans for this previously most seedy of Manhattan neighborhoods had been launched thirty years earlier. Buildings were levelled or moved, huge new foundation pits were excavated, and then it all slammed to a halt because of relentless litigation unleashed by developers competing for contracts in the project. After a quarter century of court battles, and a Federal inducement of considerable tax credits, the combatants surrendered the land to the City’s Environmental Protection Agency. A small lake and park were eventually established on the site, which had previously been named for a newspaper once housed there. The publication had folded in 1962 as the victim of a protracted contract dispute between management and labor.
—For outdoor enthusiasts the unspoiled nature reserve of the Meadowlands was just across the Hudson River.
Tuesday, July 8th
SHORTLY BEFORE SUNRISE a high-level wind over the Tri-City metropolitan area began to stir, delivering cooler air from the West. For several days prior a thermal inversion had parked above the region trapping pollution and waste heat in an already sultry air mass. The dawn’s early light reflected in dazzling luminance from many of the high-rise structures, including the landmark Home Office Building of the Pinnacle Insurance Company near Madison Square Park. With the change in the weather the delegates felt free to express their enthusiasm for what The Brooklyn Eagle newspaper proclaimed as “Stratton’s Surging Sojourn.”
This would be the first Convention to reflect recent changes in the Union—the addition of Puerto Rico as the 51st State, and the transfer of the residential portions of the City of Washington, D.C. to the jurisdiction of the State of Maryland—which at last provided them with full represen-tation in Congress.
Ebbets Field was almost literally packed to the rafters as the session was called to order at 1 PM. This would allow for speeches officially placing Cory Stratton and Bert Maurus before the Convention as candidates. No ambitious office-holder, no potential office-seeker wanted to be denied their 15 minutes of fame in declaring their loyalty to the nominees.
At 8 PM “America The Beautiful,” the National Anthem, was played to initiate the evening session; as the final phrase of the first verse “…from sea to shining sea.” was sung by the crowd, Governor Balboa rose to begin the ubiquitous “Man Who” speech. This would be followed by the acclamatory votes of endorsement, and what the organizers advertised as a stirring biographical film on Stratton. All would be ready for the 9 pm grand moment in time.
As the last of the cheers re-echoed off the domed ceiling, as the final credits of the film rolled past on the four very large screens set around the Field, the lights stayed dimmed. Slowly, section by section the vast throng fell silent, in questioning anticipation of what seemed a delay in the scripted proceedings. The pause had been calculated. The thunder was about to roll, and this was the lull before the storm.
Tentatively a soft, lilting note wafted through the enclosure. Off-stage in a runway leading to the playing area a musical instrument was being put to use. Its tonal production was steadily increased, and now all could clearly hear. The solitary instrumental voice did more to hold those gathered in captive rapture than any throaty roar. Then, from the opposite side of the Field a companion instrument answered; then a third, then a score. The lights now spotlighted the instrument players as they proceeded towards the podium.
In total 108 bagpipe players (two for each delegation— the territories of Guam, Samoa and the Virgin Islands were also represented) marched in the stylized cadence of the song they performed. “Amazing Grace” resonated through-out the building. Everyone not already on their feet was now standing, jumping, shouting and at least attempting to sing the lyrics. Cacophonous was too polite a description for the auditory mayhem that erupted within Ebbets Field. Spotlights that had been bathing the euphoric throng in alternating tides of red, white and blue brought an abrupt cessation to the raucous outpouring when the beams were dramatically focused at once upon the speaker’s podium. Shouted commands went from floor mangers for the delegates to be silent. As a wave retreats from a shoreline the noise dissipated—momentarily.
A military bugle let loose a single note and a figure emerged from the shadows to stand in the center of the floodlit stage. He waved to the crowd. Instant recognition produced instant pandemonium. Cory Stratton, attired in a classical business executive’s dark suit, with white dress shirt and dashing red silk tie, raised his arms and then saluted the Convention. Cheers, shouts and blasts from air horns and plastic tooters roared backed the delegates’ reply. The de riguer well-rehearsed “spontaneous” parade of delegations swept across the floor. The New York State delegates, situated front and center before the podium, were doing their Empire State best to out-shout everyone else.
Stratton could do no more than wave and laugh. He walked along the edge of the stage acknowledging individuals known to him by pointing and giving a thumbs-up signal. The demonstrations seemed capable of going on all night; actually the floor managers were timing the event. It would be allowed to run for ten minutes, and then curtailed. A national television, radio and Internet audience was waiting for the true business of the evening.
Stratton was given a cue. He stepped to the microphone and began calling out “Thank you, thank you…thank you, delegates!” Exhaustion, as much as the barked orders from the managers, soon quieted the crowd. The light beyond the podium faded. Cory Stratton stood out from the Field’s shadows in a golden circle of light.
“Thank you! I haven’t seen or heard such excitement since my barracks at Parris Island got its first week-end pass!”
(Shouts of “Semper Fi!” rang from the Field.)
“I am humbled by the great honor you have bestowed upon me this evening. I am glad my family can be here with me…I wish there was one other…”
He stopped, unable to continue. A silence so deep it seemed impossible in such a setting swept through the arena. They all knew to whom he was referring.
From the twilight of a corner a solitary figure emerged, and proceeded to where Cory Stratton stood. It was Elizabeth, his spouse. They embraced and kissed.
This display ignited the crowd. Everyone jumped to their feet again, cheering again, applauding again, crying softly or loudly.
The Stratton’s children joined them at center stage. Joyful pandemonium engulfed the floor of the Convention. Delegates were chanting “Strat—tons! Strat-tons!” over and over. Five minutes went by, and still it all continued. Only exhaustion curtailed the demonstration after nearly eight minutes.
The Stratton family stood in a close circle, then turned and waved to the delegates. Mrs Stratton led the children back to their seats.
Once more Cory Stratton was a solitary figure in the spotlight of the Conven
tion, of the news media and of history.
“Thank you.”
Once more cheers erupted, for two minutes this time.
In a voice that was initially soft-spoken, but which grew in strength, he began. “I pledge to you I will dedicate all I do between now and November 4th to fulfill your hopes. We begin today a great sojourn…”
(Cheers and applause.)
“…to restore the integrity of the American people’s Government!”
(A flurry of hoop-la on the floor.)
“The task ahead is not easy. It requires a deep commitment to duty. Many Americans are ashamed of the State of the Union. ‘Politician’ has become a foul word, rather than the title of an honorable servant of the people. A Government position has too often become the fast-track for acquiring questionable personal rewards from those seeking to do business with the nation. Officials in Washington now seem to spend more time dining with possible future employers than working for the people.”
“Election campaigns have become fat-wallet, free-for-alls, with glossy, glib, distorted messages replacing well-reasoned presentations of alternative view points. The vast majority of Americans do not engage in such behavior, and they do not support it! We have been too long silent in our opposition. We must proclaim our demands for reform! It’s time to let the thunder roll!”
(Full-scale, full-throated enthusiasm throughout the Field.)
“I have spent most of my adult life in service to this great nation of ours. My parents came to America seeking the freedom they were denied in their homeland.”
(A wave of applause swept across the crowd.)
“They made America their new homeland. America is my home! And I want the world to again marvel at our society!”