Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

The governor turned to James Huntington and locked eyes with him briefly as they shared a moment when all partisan defenses were down, and two men, who for over two decades had engaged in a battle of wills, of laws, of conservative and liberal philosophical debate, took a moment to silently acknowledge their mutual respect born of difference, cultivated in political conflict, but, for this instant, treasured in memory.

“Son,” the governor continued, “this old curmudgeon came to me yesterday with a plan of action. Part of that plan involved you. You’re probably asking yourself ‘Why me?’ But I assure you, we know more about you than you think. I mentioned Speaker Huntington’s patriotism because he’s been roasted in the press lately for presumed political ambition regarding secession. Those ignorant fools in the media, for whom a story is worth more if it raises hackles than if it’s true, have chosen a few stalwarts to cast in the light of empire builders. The stories about Speaker Huntington and his quest for the new presidency bear no relationship to the work that this man,” he said, again gesturing toward Huntington, “has done to preserve California’s place in the Union. I dare say that if he were sure it would end this secession fever, he’d resign tomorrow. So would I, for that matter. But it won’t, so we need to fight it, son. We need to fight like. . well, like our future depends on it.” The governor changed tone, assuming a more directive attitude.

“There can be no room for equivocation in this office today, Mr. Rawlings. I’m against secession; Speaker Huntington is against it, and from what we understand so far, you’re against it, too. Are we right in that assessment?”

“Governor, Mr. Speaker, you’ve provided more food for thought than I was prepared to address. I conjured up multiple scenarios as to why I was invited to the governor’s office. None of those guesses came close, I might add,” he said, smiling. “As you said, Governor, you probably know more about me than I thought you did, but let me tell you just a bit more.

“My grandfather, Jack Rumsey, served in the California Legislature in the early fifties. He worked to broaden the scope of local government legislation and had a pet interest in California’s wilderness areas. Perhaps you know about James Rumsey, the Maryland engineer who invented the steamboat, and others in the family line, including our most famous family pioneer, Daniel Boone. Male members of my family have served in every military conflict in America’s history.”

Noticing the governor’s smile, Dan laughed and held up his hand. “I’m not seeking to extol a litany of family position or achievement, but what I am saying is that all these people left me with something. As this secession issue has gathered steam over the last few months and opposing interests have stood in the shadows, not believing what they were seeing or knowing what to do about it, I have wrestled with where I stood.

“My grandfather, bless his heart, is still hale and hearty at eighty-three, and he put the hard question to me several months ago. He said all my forebears would come back and stomp on me if I ever forgot I was an American. And that, Governor Dewhirst, is where I stand. I’m an American. I love California, and I always will, but I believe in what America stands for and the causes for which our ancestors died. I’ll do everything in my power to see that we retain our allegiance to that flag. If that stance warrants your earlier decision, then tell me where the waves need to begin, and I’ll start paddling.”

The governor rested a hand on each of Dan’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Did you know, son, that my father served briefly with your grandfather in the old days?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, he did, and they both have reason to be proud. Again, Dan, I say welcome to the legislature.”

Dewhirst returned to the chair behind his desk, nodding briefly at Huntington as he sat. Huntington took the cue.

“Dan,” Huntington began, “did you ever see that old Civil War movie with Gary Cooper as a Union Army major? In order to obtain information on a rebel raider outfit, he had to pretend he believed in something he didn’t. He had to disgrace himself in front of the corps and be branded a coward and traitor and drummed off the post.”

Dan’s ears perked up, and his senses quickly provided warning. “I believe I do remember that movie, Mr. Speaker. He wasn’t a very popular fellow.”

“No, I suppose not. We don’t have such drastic action in mind, as you’ll be pleased to know. But we do have a tough assignment for you, and it may go against your grain.”

Huntington looked at Governor Dewhirst, who took over.

“Dan, the legislature has stalled far too long on this issue, except perhaps for the diehards waving the red flag at the bull. Over the next week or ten days, the Speaker will announce the formation of a seven-member committee, whose primary responsibility will be to write the governing legislation for the new Republic of California. You, Mr. Rawlings, will be on that committee as a member of the minority panel, and the chairman, selected by Speaker Huntington, will be informed that you are to be assigned the primary role in drafting the constitution. It’ll be difficult work, Dan, made more so by our hope that it will never see the light of day. You’ll be the subject of praise and abuse, and, I would presume, a lot of lobbying on what to include, what to leave out-in other words, whose tail to cover, whose ox to gore, and whose barn to protect.”

Dan sat in amazement, recovering long enough to question the process. “Excuse me, Governor, but doesn’t the minority leader make assignments to new members of his party?”

“I’ll take care of the minority leader, Dan,” Dewhirst replied. “We’re of the same party-he, you, and I, remember? And the Speaker will take care of the majority committee chair from his own party. It’s a tough role we’re giving you, and especially so for such a new member. But your background and local government management experience will serve you well in this assignment. James and I will continue to take the political highroad, and the heat, I might add, against this secession mania as long as we can. But you, Mr. Rawlings, will need to tone down your opposition to the secession and go to work as if it were a fait accompli .

“Should we fail to prevent this ill-conceived secession, we need to have someone loyal, dependable, and more importantly, capable, who will have put in place the groundwork for a stable and functional government. That’s no easy task.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Dan said. Anxious not to let the momentum get away, he pressed the issue. “The committee chair from the majority party, Mr. Speaker. What will my position be relative to him and, of course, to the senior minority member? I certainly have no standing regarding seniority.”

James Huntington rose and moved to the sideboard to refill his coffee cup. “Leave that to me, Dan. You’ll have all the latitude you need to accomplish your assignment.”

“Well, that seems to have covered it,” the governor said. “We’re pleased to have you on the team, Daniel Rawlings. Welcome to the world of politics.”

“Thank you, Governor. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir. And you, Mr. Speaker,” he said, reaching for his briefcase. As they approached the door, Dan paused for a moment. “Oh, Governor, one more thing. Would it be possible to obtain the services of an outside consultant? A knowledgeable professional who might give some important insight into the process?”

“Have someone in mind, Dan?” the governor asked.

“Well, sir, I. .”

“Son,” Dewhirst interrupted, placing his arm around Dan’s shoulder and walking him toward the door, “when the Speaker and I got down to a short list of potential candidates to accomplish this difficult task, whom do you suppose we asked to confirm your qualifications?”