by Joan Dempsey
“I hate to tell you, but teachers were fired in other districts, too,” said Eric.
Aggie froze in midchew. Lolek felt a prickling sensation between his shoulder blades; he shuddered involuntarily.
“My friend Peter texted when I was on my way over. His colleague got an early morning call telling him not to come in to school. He’s down in Fall River. He checked with some other teachers he knows around the state and they had similar stories. There could be as many as a dozen.”
“Oh my god,” said Aggie. “This is a full-frontal attack.”
“And an entirely new ballgame,” said Lolek. “Eric, I’m going to have you run off copies of every last page in these files, and get them back to Education before eight. Aggie, where are you with talking points?”
Aggie tapped her temple. Eric left with the files. Lolek strode around his desk and took a fresh legal pad out of a drawer. Aggie started to pace and counted off on her fingers.
“One. You talk directly about Tommy, say you support him, that this is very personal, that you can relate to what other families are going through. Two. We immediately frame the argument: civil rights. This was a deliberate attack on a targeted minority. Use an example from civil rights days to stimulate people’s sense of fairness and put this issue into a context that connotes politically incorrect, passé. Three. We put on a second frame that will appeal to the conservatives: this is an attack on civil liberties. Don’t forget Ronald Reagan himself came out against the Briggs Initiative based on a libertarian argument: kids could accuse any teacher of being gay, for any reason, and bam!—there goes his career, based solely on allegations. Basic violation of privacy. Use Reagan. And four, stress that we’re just learning about it now and are gathering the facts about who’s behind it. We’ll have more to say later today.
“They’ll ask you about your father, of course, if he’s going to be involved, and I imagine the answer to that is yes? Good, that will help tremendously. They’re also going to ask you some pointed questions about Tommy. I hate to ask, but do you know anything about Tommy’s private life? About his …? We really shouldn’t have any surprises.”
She hesitated a moment, and when Lolek didn’t answer, she went on.
“Right. You’ll need to find out from him if you can, or you’re going to be finding out on tonight’s news, and that puts us behind the eight ball, which we need to avoid at all costs.”
Lolek tossed down his pen on his pad. “Get me phone meetings before noon with the usual crew on the Education Committee and bring that testimony as soon as Eric’s done. Tell him to get anything else from Education on the other bills, too; tell him to ask Gauch personally so Gauch knows I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Alert Mary over at GLAAD and Cyril at MassEquality; make sure to ask them about gay teens and suicide. And put somebody on discovery for the latest research about the pedophilia connection—we know that one’s going to get trotted out. And get me a meeting with Warren Meck, even if it’s in the district. I want to talk with him directly. I’ll need to be fully briefed, so give yourself time to do the research. And Aggie? Don’t delegate that one—I want you on Meck.”
Aggie nodded and closed the door behind her. Lolek reached into his bag and slipped out his slim silver laptop, alien on the antique oak. He opened his browser. It was time he learned something about his son.
9
The Praying Indians
At the State House on Monday afternoon, more than a week after the dismissals, Warren Meck stood alone in the narrow marble balcony high above Memorial Hall, girding himself for his meeting with the senator. He’d climbed there to take inspiration from Henry Walker’s mural of John Eliot preaching to the Nipmuc tribe in the mid-1600s. Eliot was one of Meck’s heroes. By learning to speak the Nipmuc language, Eliot had created fourteen theocratic towns. He’d even translated the Bible for the newly converted “praying Indians.” He also wrote the first American book on politics, The Christian Commonwealth: or, The Civil Policy of the Rising Kingdom of Jesus Christ. Of course, the General Court had finally banned the book and demanded every copy be destroyed, all because Eliot had had the courage to say what he believed: that Christ alone was the true heir to the Crown of England and should govern not only England, but the world, including the new England. Meck smiled; despite the banishment, here was Eliot’s portrait, towering above Memorial Hall, holding court in the most important building in the state. Eliot, in casual tunic and knee breeches, legs grounded in a wide stance, arms outstretched and chest thrust forward, offered salvation to the Nipmuc, the same salvation, Meck realized with a profound sense of destiny, that he himself had accepted into his life when Pastor Royce had offered it.
“Tell-it-like-it-is,” he whispered. He checked his watch. It was time. He smoothed his bangs across his forehead, glanced once more at Eliot, and set out. His clipped steps echoed around the rotunda, and every visitor in the hall below looked up, surprised to discover the balcony wasn’t off limits.
In the senator’s office, Aggie welcomed Meck with a firm handshake and ushered him straight into the inner office, where he didn’t waste any time marveling at the room but strode right up to the senator, hand outstretched. He didn’t temper his volume, but allowed his voice to fill the regal space.
“Mr. President, it’s a delight to finally meet you in person. I hear you’ve been of stalwart service to this community for some time.”
“And I hear you’ve spent some time in Washington, Mr. Meck. Special campaign advisor to Colorado’s Youst, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Those were brilliant days on the hill, yes. And it’s Warren, please.”
Meck smiled, a handsome smile that transformed him entirely, making him seem taller, more expansive, the kind of smile Lolek could imagine wanting to elicit, it was so much like a gift. Lolek warmed to him. Eric came in with a tray of coffee and walked past them to set it down on the low marble table between the rococo couches. They’d decided earlier that the meeting should be both special and casual, a friendly chat by the fireplace, just to get a read on the man.
“This is Eric Barton, our intern,” said Lolek.
“Well hello, Eric! We’ve met, actually. Nice to see you again.”
Aggie and Lolek exchanged a look of surprise, and Eric frowned fleetingly, something only Meck noticed as they shook hands.
“Representative Youst?” said Meck. “Remember?”
“So that’s why your name was familiar.” Eric considered Lolek and Aggie in turn. “I was a page in Congress then. Seems so long ago. I’d completely forgotten.”
“Glad to see you’re still climbing the political ladder, Eric. I’m not at all surprised.”
“The senator’s given me a great opportunity here, no question.”
He smiled at Lolek, and excused himself, citing a busy schedule.
“So, Warren.” Lolek gestured for him to sit down. “I truly appreciate you coming all this way. We won’t take a lot of your time.”
Lolek and Aggie claimed one couch. Meck unbuttoned his slate blue suit jacket, gave a little tug to the knees of his slacks, sat on the edge of the opposite couch, and helped himself to coffee. After stirring in a scant teaspoon of sugar, he settled back, trying to appear as comfortable as if he wore an old pair of jeans and a beloved sweater. It was only then that he gazed with appreciation around the room.
“If I had a desk like that, I’d never leave the office. Exquisite.”
He could tell by the senator’s expression he’d hit home. Meck and Whit had agreed that there was one primary goal for this meeting: to humanize Meck in the eyes of the senator, to demonstrate that he was a reasonable, likable fellow with whom deals could be done. And, if possible, to get through the meeting without mentioning the senator’s son.
“But of course you have far more on today’s schedule, Senator, than chatting with me. What can I do for you?”
Aggie fanned out the series of bills on the coffee table.
“We don’t like to beat
around the bush,” she said. “We’d like all of these to go away. It’s as simple as that. We thought we’d come straight to the source to see what it would take to make that happen.”
Meck smiled and sipped his coffee, looked from Aggie to the senator, and back.
“I appreciate your candor. We all know it’s not quite as simple as that.”
He leaned forward, placed his cup on the coffee table, and rested his forearms on his knees.
“I have my own constituency, I’m sure you understand, and they are energized and determined. Their goal is to put every one of these bills on the governor’s desk, and as many times as I’ve told them this isn’t quite reasonable, they’re raring to go. You and I both know they’re being naive, but they need to take their own journey. I, however, am on a slightly different journey and am more than happy to work for half the loaf. There’s always room right here for reasonable accommodation.” He patted his chest with an open hand. “That’s democracy at her best.”
“I do want to be clear,” said Lolek. “I don’t like these bills. And I don’t agree with the opinions behind them, nor can I imagine what half a loaf would look like. But we do work hard in this office to understand every facet of every issue, and we do value educated dialogue, which is why I wanted to meet you from the outset, rather than later in a heated debate, once lines have been drawn. You’ll find that our office likes to learn so we can make informed decisions. You are welcome to be in touch with Aggie directly, and she’ll do her best to be as responsive as her schedule allows. Does that sound amenable?”
“Better than amenable. Thank you, Mr. President.”
Meck moved forward on the couch as if to get up, but Lolek held up a hand to stop him.
“Tell me, Warren. In a nutshell, what is it you want to accomplish?”
Meck stayed perched on the edge of the couch. He’d have to tread carefully here—what he said today would set the tone for the whole legislative fight. He turned his attention to Aggie, stalling for time.
“I trust you’ve already received copies of the testimony? Those folks pretty much spell things out. I can ask for future testimony to be copied directly to your office, to your attention, Miss Roth. Save you some work.”
Aggie nodded. She and Lolek waited in silence. Meck rubbed his hands on his knees. He pictured the second hand on his studio clock ticking up to the top of the hour, the red on the air sign alighting, the microphone less than an inch from his mouth. He thought of John Eliot.
“Here’s the story. It’s pretty simple. School has become unwelcoming and unsafe for our kids. Starting as early as kindergarten, they’re bombarded with curriculum designed to indoctrinate them into the idea that their Christian faith is wrong. When they try to express their own deeply held moral opinions, they’re silenced, ironically in the name of tolerance and inclusion. We tried for a long time to convince the schools that our kids’ beliefs matter just as much as other kids’, that they’re protected by law, but we got nowhere.”
He gestured to the fan of bills on the coffee table.
“This is the result. We just care about our kids. My wife and I finally decided to homeschool our own children; we’d love to have them in public schools, but not in this climate.”
“Well done, Mr. Meck,” said Aggie. She reached forward and straightened the stack of bills into a neat pile. “No mention at all of the elephant in the room. Very impressive.”
Lolek suppressed a smile. When Aggie decided to put on her bad cop hat, she clamped it down tight. Meck covered his frown by smoothing his hair. Aggie Roth might pose a real problem. He took his coffee cup and held it in both hands.
A quick knock sounded on the door, and Eric stuck his head in and apologized for the interruption.
“It’s Governor Patrick, Senator. Wants to see you as soon as you’re able.”
Lolek nodded curtly, then turned back to Meck.
“If I understand you, then,” said Lolek, “your people just want your kids to have equal time and consideration in the classroom?”
“That’s right. And we’d like the option to exempt our kids from certain curricula and discussions.” He paused and took a sip of his coffee. His palms had gotten damp. He hoped the governor’s request would truncate the meeting, but the senator was regarding him expectantly. “We believe—to address the elephant directly, Miss Roth—that issues pertaining to human sexuality, procreation, sexual intimacy, and the holy basis of matrimony should remain private, within families. Our parents want to be the ones to introduce these issues to our kids. As I’m sure I don’t have to spell out for you, we believe homosexual behavior is immoral. It violates the laws of the God of Abraham.”
“Luckily for us,” said Aggie, “we’re not ruled by the laws of the God of Abraham.”
“Not at present, we’re not.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Meck forced himself to speak in what he hoped would emerge as a gentle tone.
“You may not be aware of this, Miss Roth, but this great commonwealth was founded on deeply held Christian beliefs. We believe it’s beyond time to excavate those foundations and stand upon them proudly.”
He’d sounded terser than he’d intended. He could imagine Pastor Royce laying a restraining hand on his arm, telling him to tone it down, ratchet back the talk of God. “It closes people’s minds if you’re too forthright about this stuff,” he always said. “They need to tiptoe into the idea of faith.”
Aggie put a hand to the back of her head and thrust her fingers repeatedly into her hair. “Our great commonwealth was founded on the idea of religious freedom, not religious prescription; our constitution is explicit about that.”
“Our constitution also explicitly praises ‘the great Legislator of the universe’ and states that it is ‘the duty of all men to worship the Supreme Being, the great Creator and Preserver of the universe.’ Article II. The duty. It was John Adams himself who said ‘Our constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.’ And as I’m sure you know, the original Article III demanded that the state ensure there be ‘public teachers of piety, religion, and morality’ and that ‘all the subjects must attend to their instruction.’ Why? ‘To promote the happiness of a people and the good order and preservation of a civil government.’ No small matters.”
“Original Article III. That article was replaced a long time ago, with good reason. Those provisions were not about public school-teachers as we think of them today, but about instructors of religious societies.”
“Ah, but it doesn’t negate the provision that religious believers ‘shall be equally under the protection of the law.’ That’s all we’re trying to preserve.”
Meck unconsciously raised a tense forefinger as he spoke, using it to punctuate his words. When he realized what he was doing, he blushed and lowered his hand.
Lolek stood abruptly and buttoned his jacket. Meck followed his lead, feeling relieved; he’d waded into waters best avoided this early on.
“You know the state’s constitutional history, Warren. I’m impressed,” said Lolek. “But let’s save the debate for a public hearing, if things progress that far. I appreciate you coming in today. Please feel free to get in touch with me through Aggie.” He handed Meck a business card.
“If she’ll take my calls, Senator.” Meck smiled at Aggie and for a moment she thought he might wink. She grudgingly gave him credit when he didn’t. He retrieved two business cards from his inside breast pocket and passed one to each of them. He buttoned his jacket and offered a hand to Aggie, who shook it with a stronger grip than she usually applied. They made their way to the door.
“I do like a reasoned debate, Miss Roth. I look forward to some friendly sparring as things unfold.”
Meck made a little bow toward each of them and walked out. Aggie closed the door behind him and turned to Lolek.
“What’s the governor want?”
“He’s annoyed I appoi
nted Doug Sullivan chair of Third Reading. He can wait. What did you think of our Warren Meck?”
“Weirdo,” said Aggie. She bowed. “It’s like he’s from another era, trapped in a twenty-first-century body. What guy in his thirties talks like that? I mean, come on. Friendly sparring? I do like a reasoned debate? Stalwart service?”
She’d deepened her voice in a poor attempt at imitation, and Lolek couldn’t help but laugh, even as he shook his head in a pointless gesture of reproval. He worked hard to walk the high road when it came to mockery and gossip, but he wasn’t immune to their appeal and could always count on Aggie for some rousing vicarious pleasure. He tossed Meck’s business card into a tray of other cards in the top drawer of his desk.
“Only problem, Aggs? He’s very, very good. They’re going to frame it as a civil rights issue, too: freedom of speech, religious tolerance, parents’ rights. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
She picked up the stack of bills from the coffee table.
“But he also tipped his hand about their bigger agenda. The laws of the God of Abraham? That’ll land him in the whacko category with the vast majority of people.”
“Except for those who’ve infiltrated school boards all over the state,” said Lolek.
Saying it out loud caused a visceral reaction; the hair on his arms stood on end. He could tell Aggie felt it, too, because she pulled the bills to her chest, stood uncharacteristically still, and stared into the fire.
“You were right from the outset, Aggs. We can’t underestimate him.”
She nodded slowly, her cheeks flushed. He checked his watch.
“Whoever called in the last fifteen minutes, get Eric to call them back and tell them I’m with the governor. I need my day as freed up as possible. Clear my schedule as best you can.”
10
Leaves of Grass