COLORADO SPRINGS, CO - Marcus took in a deep breath of the crisp, cool, mountain air as he moved to and fro on the front porch rocker. Shivering slightly, the former SAD Officer took a sip of his steaming cup of coffee to warm himself; Marcus had not yet become acclimated to the change in temperature. The family ranch sat at the foot of the Rocky Mountain range, two-thousand acres of it. There were many fond memories associated with this place. It was quiet, peaceful and beautiful. Marcus hoped he would be able to make the adjustment to a life of ease and tranquility, but the ‘old special forces’ in him was already making him feel antsy.
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DETROIT, MI - As Martinez’s newly appointed political advisor, Nelson Frank would become one of the candidate’s closest confidants and part of the group that was widely acknowledged as his “Inner Circle.” Nelson was a masterful spinmeister; his specialty was elections involving politicians of color. Nelson Frank would be responsible for Martinez’s branding and for his success in the run for President.
Nelson looked over the findings his private investigators had dug up on Martinez in silence. The document was over one inch thick, which was not good. Nelson now began the arduous task of separating the wheat from the chaff, highlighting pertinent areas from the candidate’s past.
The political advisor recognized there was not in point of fact anything unusual concerning Martinez’s dossier; Martinez was like most of the politicians running the Democrat Party, but that, of course, would need to be kept from the public.
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Martinez sat paying attention as the white Michigan establishment, politicians and union bosses, argued over what needed to be added to the legislation Washington was calling TARP, Troubled Asset Relief Program. Martinez did not give a damn why or how the real estate market collapsed; all that interested him were the opportunities the debacle created for political insiders.
The figures being bantered around were staggering: five million dollars in financial aide to institutions controlled by the AFL-CIO, one-hundred million dollars to bail out the teachers’ union, over three-hundred million dollars in payouts to companies owned by big Democrat contributors. The list went on and on. The newly appointed Senator would return with his more seasoned colleague to Washington with their demands. The only thing Martinez could conclude by what he saw was Washington was simply a bank, one that could be pilfered through political finesse.
Martinez was under no illusion; the only way he would share in the spoils would be by playing whatever part was asked of him, at least until he became President. Then he could come up with his own set of rules. He had after all learned quite a bit on his way up the ladder.
Things were shaping up in the primary quite well; the polls had him running neck-in-neck with Senator Margaret Evenson. Through his connections in the press, Martinez understood who was being secretly backed to win the Republican primary, some dimwitted hick with a dumbass southern drawl. No question about it, the media could tear apart the Republican Senator when the general election kicked off.
Martinez was starting to exhibit his natural tendencies toward cockiness and narcissism, while his handlers covered for him by calling his display self confidence. Martinez had every reason to be convinced he would win. Martinez had won every election he had entered, if not through the devices of the press, then by other devious means. What’s more, Martinez recognized what the Mexican-American represented to the Democrat establishment. Someone who acted white, but was a person of color. The Presidential Candidate mirrored perfection in their eyes with his clean-cut appearance, gift of public speaking and academic credentials. What’s more, Martinez had proven himself to be a cut of the same cloth. Some who knew the candidate better than most, Bill Nash for instance, would have said Martinez’s beliefs were far more revolutionary than even most imagined.
Martinez understood one thing when it came to politics, the media would be the one factor he needed to win. Martinez had, by now, become quite adept at playing the game. It was the same kind of game the candidate was forced to play in academia where he became a pet project. People like him, people of color, were window dressing, props to be used to support the institution and its positions. Martinez understood what he represented to the ‘white establishment.’ The candidate would continue to play their game if only because, by now, Martinez knew of no other way of thinking. Conditioning had long ago dispensed with any moral scruples Martinez may have held as a youth, and what remained was someone who was a real believer, someone who could lie so straight-faced as to be persuading to even the most ardent of skeptics.
Martinez continued to listen as the numbers grew. TARP, thought Martinez, Ha, what a joke! This was just a shell game. It was nothing more than the haut-monde way of prying money from Washington...to line their own pockets.
Hell, Martinez did not care to revamp the system. He understood that it would be impossible to change the mainly white good-ole-boy network. No, Martinez was in this only for himself, to become rich, famous, to possess all the trappings of the presidency...and to change the country...into something he was convinced could exist.
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ATLANTA, GEORGIA - Jack Newman peered out at the clear blue skies of the city skyline pondering Victor's vision for his transformative news company. Built around the emerging internet cloud technology it would for the first time enable subscribers to interact with a reporting service allowing them to control what, how, when and in what form of news they received. On top of that, the new company would give America something it had not seen in over a century, an orthodox alternative. The days where subscribers were force-fed what a handful of men believed would be over.
The president smiled slightly as he settled into his leather chair.
The MEI President had really caught the bug, becoming increasingly animated by the possibilities of his conservative news company. It was going to make a splash...a very, very big splash!
"This is Kate."
“Kate, this is Jack. Can you get your team moving on several high-priority items.”
“Go ahead.”
“First, we need an ordinary news company with printing operations. The newspaper has got to be able to handle up to two million, regular-sized dailies. It needs to be stable, no major layoffs, no unions if possible."
“I take it that your talks with the publishers did not go anywhere.”
“They still may yet, but Victor and I don't want to wait.”
“Okay, what kind of budget?”
“I need for you to fill in the blank, this is our first foray into this market.”
“All right.”
"If it helps, I’m not concerned about the location so much as the price tag.”
“You mentioned a nonunion shop, that’s going to be very difficult.”
“I figured as much, any way we can address the high-labor costs?”
“Bankruptcy, it is the only way to break the unions.”
“That’s not an option, never mind.”
"Okay, what else, Jack?"
“Have your people look into a technology firm out of Seattle, Argonaut Technologies? I want to acquire in total, so see what can be dug up, on the company, on the owner.”
“Is there anything I need to know about our interests in the Argonaut?”
“No, not at this time. Let’s move on to the subject of a senior editor.”
Senior editors, in any other business, would be called Presidents, or CEOs. Their primary responsibility would be the profitability of the enterprise. In the news industry, however, senior editors had one more responsibility and differed radically from their counterparts in the business world. Senior editors were there to ensure profitability was maximized within the constraints of creating a product that promoted the publisher’s ideology. This was always the biggest dilemma editors across the industry faced. It was every time a tricky balancing act.
“We’re going to need a seasoned pro who’s had experience running a n
ews company for one of the ‘Big Three.’ It would be good if the person had connections up in Washington; it is likely that that will be where we put the headquarters.”
“Jack, what are we going to call this news company?”
Jack, smiling on his end of the call, replied, “What do you make of Magnason Enterprise News, MEN?”
Kate could be heard laughing loudly over the receiver, "Sounds chauvinist to me.”
“Oh well, I’ll work on the name a bit. Any ideas on who we can get to run the company?”
“Yes, I do. Her name is Lucy Dietrich and she’s the Washington Bureau Chief for World News Network.”
“You've got to be kidding?”
“No, I’m not. Ms. Dietrich is the best in the business and if you want this news company to succeed, she is the one person that can make it happen. Besides, I understand Ms. Dietrich has an axe to grind.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, Ms. Dietrich was moved to Washington to shut her up.”
The president remained silent.
"Word on the inside is Donald Abraham sexually assaulted Ms. Dietrich.”
“Abraham?”
“None other. I hear if given the chance Ms. Dietrich would like nothing better than to clip Abraham’s wings.”
“Okay, see if you can make the arrangements...at the earliest opportunity.”
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SEATTLE, WA - Marlon Beechman got his start during the heydays of Microsoft, when even the software company's stock clerks became millionaires overnight. His software company had also ridden that wave. Being something of a visionary, his last five years were spent helping create a new industry: cloud computing where everything resided on the internet.
Marlon was sitting in his lounge chair, watching the light of the setting sun reflecting off the peaks of the Cascades when he heard his phone ringing. Moments later, his wife came to the open patio door. "Honey, you've got a call."
"Do you know who it is?"
"He says his name is Jack Newman with MEI."
"Jack Newman? Who is that and how did he get the unlisted number?"
"Thanks dear," as she handed him the phone.
“This is Beechman.”
“Mr. Beechman, my name is Jack Newman. I am president of a venture capital company, MEI. I would like to discuss a business proposition with you and can be in Seattle later this week. Could we arrange to have lunch?”
“It depends. What’s your call about, Mr. Newman?”
“I understand that you’ve had a hand in developing internet stores and I would like to hire you to do the same for a new company we're creating.”
“Who are you with again?”
“You might better recognize Magnason Enterprise.”
"Magnason Enterprise? Yes, I've heard of you, you're in the VC business."
"Yes, we are."
“What is it that you're looking to do on the internet?”
“Let’s just say, sell and deliver digital services.”
“Mr. Newman, there are dozens of companies out there that can create that for you, and besides, I have my hands full.”
“You’ve come highly recommended and I can assure you, our meeting will be worthwhile."
"In what way?"
"I understand you're politically active, and a big backer of the Republican Party.”
"Yes, that's well known in these parts."
"I, too, am a traditionalist and I am convinced that with your help, my company can develop something that would fill a void that has existed for our party for over a century."
"What would that be, Mr. Newman?"
"Okay, I'll tell you. We are creating a conservative news company and with your help our founder, Dr. Victor Magnason, believes it will bring an end to the cartel of American News, World News Network and World Tribune."
There was a long pause on the line.
"Mr. Beechman, are you there?"
“Call me Marlon, just a moment while I check the calendar." Beechman picked up his cellphone and brought up his week's schedule. "Lunch, you say?"
"Yes, lunch."
"Will this Friday at twelve o’clock work for you?"
"Yes, that would work."
"How about the Columbia Club?”
“That works for me, noon at the Columbia Club.”
"Very good Mr. Newman, I will see you then."
"Jack, please call me Jack."
"Very good Jack, see you at noon, Friday."
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MARTHA’S VINEYARD - Private get-togethers between the heads of the news industry, the political party leadership and the frontrunners for any approaching presidential election were a common practice dating back to the founding of the nation. The only difference today? The Democrats were the only party to receive any attention from the top brass, the publishers, “The Big Three.” Today’s private joy ride was no different save for one thing: the featured speaker was a dark-skinned man whose name was Nathan Martinez.
The private estate of a big party backer on Martha’s Vineyard was the setting for the get together where brokers from both sides understood what Martinez represented.
Around the room news people and party bigwigs laughed and carried on as if they were longtime friends. On the news side, those attending included Publisher Donald Abraham, his Senior Editor, along with a cadre of his executive-level team from World News Network. The same was true for American News and World Tribune.
Party leadership included Jim Rooney, Senate Majority Leader; Patricia Bocchino, House Speaker; Ricardo Adduci, DNC Chairman and Nelson Frank, Martinez’s Campaign Manager. The candidate, however, would become the center of most everyone’s attention.
Nathan Martinez was an entertaining and charismatic personality at such events, much like the party’s most successful president since John F. Kennedy: Gerald Evenson. Those present understood Martinez would appeal to nearly every demographic of the Democrats. Martinez was believed by some to represent a bridge between the two demographic factions, constantly at odds with one another over what programs needed to be pushed through when the Democrats took control of Washington. Everyone fully expected to win.
The Democrat Party looked at minorities as their key to success, control over which occurred through entitlement programs that maintained their substandard lifestyles. There were, of course, other programs, most of which were by design there to enrich associates of the institution. Martinez excited both groups in view of the fact he had an air of culture and refinement concerning him, and then there was the “Race Card” he could play...the most potent weapon in the Democrats’ arsenal.
Martinez was the only person on the ticket who could use the power of those two words to get what both groups wanted! How could they be so confident? The press was easily on board with the idea and would make sure any racial accusations stuck. As for the Republican Party, they would respond the way they had always responded: they would run for cover, or roll over, or play dead. Yes, Martinez represented, in theory, someone who could get them everything they wanted once he was in the White House.
After an hour, or so of ‘glad handing,’ adult drinks and hors d'oeuvres the conversations got down to more consequential, one-on-one discussions. The topic was which candidate would the news publishers back in the primaries and national election.
Senator Margaret Evenson was absent from this event, as her chance to shine before the news aristocrats had come and gone the week before. The Senator was a known quantity after years in the public light. Everyone recognized the Senator rose to the top of the party’s ticket not on her own merit, but by riding her husband’s tailcoats to the top. Everyone knew the Senator expected to get the party’s nomination; her years of playing the fool standing by her promiscuous spouse, keeping hidden a dozen or so other scandals during his administration all meant the Senator carried a big IOU with many inside her party. She had, after all, kept the Democrats in control over Washington when everything
could have completely unraveled. The Senator would score high with women voters, but she carried little weight with any other demographic save for committed ultraists. Senator Margaret Evenson, however, expected the pay off now...it was her time!
“Mr. Martinez, I’d like to ask you a few questions in private if you don’t mind?”
“No, not at all.”
The two entered a side room, Donald closing the door behind him.
“It’s good to see you again, Senator Martinez, I am Donald Abraham.”
Martinez remained cool and confident; the candidate had already established he needed to win over this white guy to win the presidency.
The WNN owner motioned to Martinez with a wave of his hand. “Please Senator, take a seat.” Donald pointed to a leather lounge chair, while he remained standing, drink in hand looking down on Martinez.
“Senator Martinez, I need for you to leave here today with a clear understanding of where news organizations like mine fit in the grand scheme of things.”
“Certainly, Donald.”
“It’s Mr. Abraham! If you get into the White House, then you may call me Donald.”
Martinez’s face darkened with anger, but he remained quiet, collected. The Senator had had many run-ins with this sort of condescending white guy.
Donald continued, “First, let me say everyone is very impressed with you and if you succeed in winning the primary, it will be in some part due to your skill as an intelligent, well-spoken politician. I am afraid those fine qualities will, however, never be enough to win the presidency. Don’t get me wrong, you appear well suited for the job, but those qualities are never enough on their own to secure the highest office in politics. Am I making myself clear?”
Martinez’s fear of the Donald’s power and influence were beginning to get the best of him. He answered nervously, “Yes, but why...?”
The publisher cut the politician off. Donald already knew what the candidate was going to ask, having heard the same question repeatedly from so many want-to-be presidential candidates.
“Because Senator, speeches are just so many words and like the air we breathe, are soon unremembered in a matter of hours, if not minutes. This is the reason you are here today. It is the reason every big-shot politician has come calling. It is why we are having this little talk. It is to make certain that you understand that your political career depends a great deal on what the two other owners and I decide.”
“I say all of this to emphasize that without our services, the papers, personalities, writers, journalists, there will be no one there to repeat your words. By all estimates, we reach over one-hundred-fifty million voters every day. We can either decide to help you, or to ruin you. If you succeed in getting into the Oval Office, it will only be with our support. Are you beginning to understand my point?”
Candidate Martinez nodded his head in agreement.
“Good, one other thing you should understand. Your agenda as President will succeed only if we can convince enough of the average, ignorant citizenry to support it. Chairman Adduci has said he discussed your first term’s agenda with you. What do you make of it?”
“It’s straightforward.”
“Do you see any problem with it?”
“Don...Mr. Abraham, you have to know something of my background.”
The publisher smiled, “Yes, I do, Senator Martinez.”
“Then you understand where I’m coming from and what I will do if I get the office.”
Donald responded again with a smile, “I’m glad we had this conversation Senator. I look forward to seeing how you do in the primaries. We’re done here, let’s go join the others.”
PLANS DISCOVERED
LIARS the News Industry Page 13