The result left Bruce in a deep depression. He couldn’t hide the embarrassment of a two time lieutenant governor losing to a neophyte politician, a car dealer who came out of nowhere. His law practice became his refuge and he began to cut himself off from Carol and their closest friends. He might as well have been off campaigning for President for the amount of time he spent at home. Nothing changed after John Sacco soundly defeated McGurty in the general election, receiving sixty-seven percent of the vote, an unbelievable result in a state where Democrats were the overwhelming majority. Carol began to worry about her husband. When he wouldn’t discuss his feelings with her, she urged him on several occasions to see a psychiatrist. But he refused, always intimating that his workload was getting lighter and he’d have more time to be with her.
She recalled that little changed even a year after his unexpected defeat. Carol took several weeks off from work during the summer to spend as much time as she could with Rachel, their younger daughter, who was starting college at Cornell University the last week in August. They spent long days at the shopping malls, mostly in the Boston area. And there were some wonderful mother-daughter talks when they went out for dinner together on nights when Bruce let her know he’d be home late. Carol wanted him to get in some “quality time” with Rachel also, but his tentative plans to do something with her always fizzled at the last moment.
Their sex life was mostly non-existent after Bruce’s failed campaign for governor. Every so often he seemed to break out of his depression for a day or two and appreciate her being there, but then weeks of nothing more than a soft “good night” at bedtime would follow. Carol hoped things would change when Rachel went off to Ithaca and they were alone in the house. She dressed a little more provocatively in the evenings and tried to bring a more romantic setting to the dinners they had together. Even so, her success in stimulating Bruce’s passion was very limited.
She felt unloved and unwanted most of the time. Eventually, Carol began to fantasize about a love affair that would make her desirable to someone and let her respond like a woman again. She knew she was ripe for the picking when she first fell into Doug Fiore’s arms. Her marriage would come to a crashing end if Bruce ever learned of her infidelity, but he still was far from being the partner she had to have before she could stop seeing Fiore.
Bruce looked at his wife a long time before answering. He noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and the small folds of flesh that were beginning to invade her face on both sides of her jaw. He spoke in a quiet, relaxed tone, the same way he would have tried to persuade one of his children not to drop out of college.
“Look, I don’t want anything to happen to our marriage. You know how I feel about you. But I’ve got to tell you a few things. In the first place, Carol, you’re exaggerating the time that goes into a campaign. Maybe it turns into an all consuming thing a few weeks before the primary and for a good part of the general election, but the period from April through July isn’t that bad at all.”
She cut him off. “So maybe you’re home by eleven on those nights. Call me a liar for an hour.”
“Wait a minute,” he answered quickly. “I listened to everything you had to say. It’s my turn, so let me finish.” He didn’t speak until she sank back into her chair. “I got home late a lot of those nights because I had to go back to the office and do some things for clients after I got through campaigning. Everyone there helped me out as much as they could, but there were some cases I still had to work on myself. I’m pretty sure they’d give me a commitment for more assistance this time if I asked for it. That would let me be here for dinner most nights until the heavy campaigning picked up.
“Secondly, you knew when you married me that I wanted to get into public service at some point. Two of my uncles were in the State Senate for years and that’s all I used to hear about when I was a kid. You and I laughed about my being governor some day, remember?” He paused a few moments to see if she would answer, but she didn’t.
“I stayed out of politics until Bonnie was twelve and Rachel was ten because it would have been too hard on you before that. I waited until the kids could stay home alone. That way you wouldn’t be under any pressure to leave your office by a certain time every day if I couldn’t be there. But I always contributed whatever spare time I had to help out in the elections. I networked, Carol, because I felt pretty sure that I’d be looking for those people to support me some day.
“Politics isn’t an ego trip for me. You know me better than that. I never wanted power just for the sake of having it. I don’t want people fawning over me and I don’t need anyone applauding when I speak or telling me what a great man I am. As far as I’m concerned, that stuff is just bullshit.
“All I’m interested in is making this State a better place to live and giving people a chance to grab hold of at least part of what they dream about. I want to help solve problems. Since I think I’ve got good ideas on how to make that happen, I have to be in a leadership position. Those four years as lieutenant governor don’t count. My role was just a ceremonial one. No one was interested in what I thought. I’d hate to look back years from now, knowing that I had a chance to make a difference, but stayed out of it. That would really hurt. Look, Carol, I …”
“You’ve already done your share,” she interrupted, not quite in control of her voice. “And you know that you don’t stand a chance of beating Sacco, so why drag the both of us through hell for nothing? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You may be right,” he said. “And I haven’t told Waller yet that I’d be a candidate. It might be a lot smarter for me to wait until I don’t have to go up against an incumbent, assuming the Party would still want me then. Whoever runs this time may be the Party’s choice in the next election too. It would depend on the type of campaign it turns out to be and how close the vote is. Look at what happened to Mario Cuomo in New York. He figured it would be better to wait and run against Dan Quayle instead of Bush. He never dreamed that Bush would get beat by Clinton or any other democrat. Now he’s looking at maybe eight years of Clinton and eight more years of Gore. At his age, he’s probably all washed up as far as ever running for President.”
Bruce moved his chair a little closer to Carol and put his hand on her knee. He gave her a smile he hoped would send a message that he was serious about what he was about to say but didn’t want it to anger her. “I feel bad for Mrs. Cuomo if Mario decided to stay out of the race because she told him he didn’t stand a chance of beating Bush.”
Carol didn’t react to it in any way. “When do you have to give Waller an answer?” she asked.
“He didn’t give me a deadline but the time’s getting short.”
“How will you make up your mind?”
“The usual way,” he said. “There are a number of people I still want to call. I’ll see what they think, get their advice. Then I’ll just have to weigh it myself and make a decision.”
Carol put her hand on his. “Can I add my parents to that list of people you’ll speak to before you decide?” She gave him less of a smile than she intended. Her face wasn’t cooperating.
Bruce was relieved by her change of mood. “Carol, I started to say before that I don’t want anything to hurt our marriage. I really mean that. I may hardly ever come out with the words and say ‘I love you,’ but I do, I love you very much. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without you in it. You’ve been a wonderful wife and a great mother.
“But you’re a lawyer because it’s something you wanted to do and I’ve had to adjust to that in different ways. I’m not complaining about it. I admire you for what you’ve achieved. I just want you to understand that public service is a very big thing in my life right now and that it’s something you have to find a way of adapting to. Maybe I’ll never run for office again, who knows? But if I do, we’ve got to work out something we can live with during that period. I’ll do my best if that time ever comes, I promise. What do you say?”
Carol
understood why she chose to marry this man. “I don’t know, Bruce. You’ve got to appreciate the fact that I detest politics as much as you love it. I hate what it takes away from our lives. But for right now, let’s wait and see what happens.”
Bruce took his wife’s hand, stood up and pulled her to her feet. He opened his arms and she moved willingly into his embrace. He held her tight and pressed his cheek against hers. “Are you in the mood?” he whispered.
Carol took his hand again. “To tell you the truth, I was looking forward to some good sex all day long.”
23
WHEN DELTA FLIGHT 458 landed at LaGuardia, Doug Fiore made his way quickly through the terminal and took an escalator to the lower level. He waited at the designated location for the Ramada shuttle bus that brought him to the hotel, a half mile off the airport grounds. Fiore entered the lobby and followed the signs to the men’s room where he washed his hands and face in cold water and combed his hair. Returning to the lobby, he found a chair facing the entrance. It was easy to see that the hotel was in need of some serious renovation. Listening carefully to hear a pager call for “Paul Rome,” he didn’t notice when an older man carrying a briefcase sat down in the chair closest to him. Several minutes later, the man turned to Fiore and said, “We ought to go outside now, Mr. Rome.”
He followed the stranger out the door without asking any questions. A black stretch limo, with its lights on, was parked in the road to the left of the entrance, about 200 feet away. As soon as the two men were in its sight, the limo pulled up to where they stood. The rear, passenger side door was opened from the inside.
“Come on in, old buddy.”
Fiore recognized Sandy Tarantino’s voice, climbed in and sat down next to him. They greeted each other by name and with a half hug.
“Doug, let me introduce you to Cyril Berman,” Sandy said. Berman had followed Fiore into the car and took one of the large, padded jump seats opposite them. The two men leaned toward each other and shook hands. “Cyril flew in from Washington. His plane got in just a few minutes after yours.”
Fiore looked at the man who was hired to put him into the governor’s office. Berman appeared to be about ten years older than Doug, and central casting’s answer to a call for a tenured English professor at a small university. His tweed jacket had leather patches at the elbows, and a gray turtleneck sweater overlapped the waistline of his wrinkled khaki pants. A pair of glasses rested on his chest, hanging from a thin leather strap around his neck. Berman’s hair was long and black, but with some graying at the temples. A heavy mustache over his lip showed more pepper than salt, while his cheeks and nose were red, as if recently sunburned. Fiore would later find out that Berman’s face kept that color all the time. It was the result of a skin disease called rosacea that he constantly aggravated by his regular consumption of hot coffee and alcohol.
“Well, it’s time to get our campaign for governor on the road,” Tarantino said to them, “both literally and figuratively.” He looked at Fiore as the limo pulled away from the hotel and headed for the Expressway. “Providence is four hours away. It’s your show, Cyril.”
Fiore listened, in awe at times, as Berman laid out the progress of the campaign to date. He told Doug that exactly fifty-five people throughout Rhode Island were contacted and that his impending candidacy was discussed with each of them.
“I spoke with every one of them personally and visited the dozen who I believe have the most influence in the State. They know it’s all predicated on some inside information that Spence Hardiman will be stepping down when his term is up and the assumption that John Sacco will want to run for that seat in the US Senate. No, your name wasn’t divulged yet, but they were told you’re one of the state’s finest lawyers and a candidate whose positions on the issues they can wholeheartedly support.”
Almost a third of the number Berman talked with were also informed that the Tarantino family endorsed the individual and would contribute heavily to the campaign. Each of the seventeen urged Berman to assure Sal Tarantino that he or she would be committed to the candidate’s election.
“Some of the people we’re talking about are in the State legislature,” Berman said. “Others are well-to-do businessmen and women. A few are socialites we’ll count on to throw the big parties where hopefully the heavy hitters get separated from their cash. We probably could have added twenty more names to the list, but we didn’t want too much dilution. Down the road, one full page ad in the Herald will list the fifty-five of them if they’re all still on board at the time. Believe me, with maybe a few exceptions, they’ll like being in each other’s company.”
Berman told him that Spence Hardiman would make his announcement, declining to run again, somewhere between the thirteenth and eighteenth of the month. (Tarantino didn’t inform Berman of the exact date. He thought it better for him not to know until a day before the event.) Sacco would probably then take less than a week to get into the race for Hardiman’s seat, Berman said. About three weeks after that he would see to it that Fiore’s name started to leak to the press as a potential gubernatorial candidate.
“In the meantime, you’ll start visiting the fifty-five names on the list at the rate of six a day, in the order I’ve laid out and according to the appointments I’ll set up. You’ll be accompanied on all those visits by Russell Walsh, a former chairman of the Republican State Committee, and by Lester Karp, a real estate developer who’s serving as your campaign treasurer.
“As soon as the paparazzi get hold of your name,” Berman warned, “you can expect calls all day long in the office and at any time of the night at home. In fact, you probably ought to change your telephone number in the house right away and keep it unlisted. It’s okay to confirm the rumor that you’re thinking about throwing your hat in the ring. Tell them you’re trying to gauge what support you could count on, but don’t mention any names.
“If your answer to seven out of ten questions isn’t ‘no comment,’ you’ll probably be saying too much. We’ll tell you exactly when you can make it official, where, and how you’ll do it. That’s when I’ll step out of the shadows and join you as the campaign manager you just hired.” After glancing down at his notes again, Berman asked, “Any questions?”
Fiore had a few things he wanted clarified. As he gave the answers, Berman took a videotape out of his briefcase and inserted it into a miniature VCR that he also brought with him. He ran a wire from the VCR to the Sony color TV that was mounted behind the limo driver’s seat, and turned it on.
“Sit back and relax, Doug,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to introduce you to the fifty-five pillars of your campaign.”
24
BY THE TIME THE limo turned off Interstate 95 in Stamford, Connecticut, and pulled into the parking lot of a nearby Friendly’s Restaurant, Fiore had seen the faces of all the people he would start to visit in about two weeks. He watched them talk to the camera about themselves, and listened to Berman, on the video, fill in a number of other background facts on each of them. Berman rewound the tape and gave it to him. “Do your homework on these folks,” he said. “If you bump into any of them at the Trinity Theatre or the TK Club, you should recognize them and know their names without any hesitation.”
Tarantino was silent throughout the tutelage. In the parking area, he jotted down their food orders on a piece of paper and gave it to the driver. Berman declared it an official break time. “I don’t want to discuss anything else about the campaign until we’re through eating,” he said. He got out of the limo to stretch.
“This guy’s good, Doug,” Sandy said. “I want you to listen to everything he tells you.” After a moment’s pause, he corrected himself. “I mean I want you to do whatever he says. We’re paying him good money to get you elected. He’s been through the mill on this stuff and he knows his way around. You’d make us very unhappy if you did something Cyril was against and it cost us the election. We’ve all got to be on the same wavelength. Right, buddy?”
Fiore knew it was time to simply agree. Sandy’s voice made it clear he was dead serious about him taking his orders from Berman.
“Right. No debate. I hear what you’re saying,” he replied.
After that, the two of them took the opportunity to engage in some small talk, inquiring first about each other’s family. Fiore asked whether Tarantino had any thoughts about the kind of contract settlement that management was looking for at Ocean State Wire & Cable, whether he was discussing the matter with the Platt brothers. He was surprised to find that Sandy knew all the current wage rates for production employees at the plant, and what it was costing the Company on an hourly basis for employee health insurance and pensions, its major fringe benefits.
“I imagine your negotiator will show the Union how much money Ocean State lost last year,” Sandy said. “Hopefully, that will make it a little easier to settle.” He gave Doug his view of what changes ought to take place in the most important economic items over the three-year term of a new agreement and waited for Fiore to write them down. “Those are the wage and benefit numbers we’re looking at for a settlement, and they should be the only major issues,” he concluded. He never said whether the numbers were discussed with the Platts.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Fiore replied. “Johnny Morelli gave Hanley a pretty miserable time three years ago. He called his bluff on the final offer Hanley gave him, and won. That was your decision, remember. What if Morelli feels like trying to do more of the same and get everything he can?”
“I’m not worried about that, Doug. I couldn’t do anything about the situation last time. There was too much emotion involved and it was the Machinists’ first contract there. They had to come out of it smelling like roses. This time I’ll have a friend of mine take a message to Morelli.”
My Honorable Brother Page 17