Leon Uris - A God In Ruins

“Clever desperation. It worked this time. It never worked before,” Mendenhall said. “We’ve got to look back to Four Corners to understand the trepidation the voters still have.”

Tomtree spoke, and both leaned forward, Darnell still the quiet, removed observer. “What the son of a bitch has done,” the President said, “is deliberately start an erosion of our Southern base. A lot of Baptist women are on birth-control pills, and a lot of Baptist women don’t like the guns in their husbands’ closets. His invasion was either going to blow him out of the race or establish him as a powerful new force. Now, what are we dealing with?”

Turnquist spoke keenly, sincerely, earnestly. “Quinn and Chad Humboldt barely slapped each other’s wrists. Our ace in the hole, Vice President Hope, has held his end of the coalition of the right wing together for twenty years.”

“It’s our imperative,” the President said. “The vice president will be here tomorrow to get his marching orders.”

“We’re still leading in the South,” Mendenhall insisted. “It’s still O’Connell’s to take, and my money is on Matthew Hope.”

“Have we got anything on O’Connell?”

“He’s refused to answer questions of a personal nature,” Hugh Mendenhall went on. “I think, maybe, the press has gotten his message. They now approach him with caution, even respect, one might say.”

“The man has a rock-solid reputation for honesty.”

“Nothing festering on the Greet Little-Crowder hump-up?” Thornton asked.

“That was thirty years ago, Mr. President. They were college students. Besides, we are in an era that flinches away from sex scandals,” Turnquist said.

“Bullshit,” the President shot back. “They’ll stop flinching when they get another juicy one to chomp into. We’re not going to lose sight of this odd relationship. If not O’Connell, Greer Little has had a reputation as a naughty girl.” They all laughed and sipped, save Darnell.

“If we can find one major indiscretion to take him down off his god pedestal, we’ve got to push it, hard. The instant he’s cut down to human status, the coyotes will ravage him.”

“We’ll do a rerun of his history,” Turnquist said. “You are right on, Mr. President. When a holier than thou falls by the wayside, he’s cooked.”

“Having established his persona, O’Connell is going to switch to issues—“ Mendenhall said.

“But,” Tomtree said, “each time we nail him, we also bring up the gunslinger, reckless, irresponsible, dangerous side of the man. This is where the cowboy is most vulnerable.”

The vice president called from Washington. He would be helicoptering to Camp David within the hour. Good!

“Should we do anything about him being an orphan .. . you know, a puzzled childhood ... all that?”

“There could be rumors floated about his biological parents.

Certainly we have friends who can raise the issue. And that wife of his. Any nudes of her around?” Mendenhall asked.

“Look into it, Hugh, but very, very carefully. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. TV and print ads are almost ready. There will be three takes of each ad: high, medium, low, low meaning negative, fuck the truth, innuendo or personal attack. If, for example, the low ads don’t work in Seattle, we try medium and high ads in Kansas City and Chicago until we know what works where. That’s a big, big job for you, Hugh. Don’t make any goddamn accusation we can’t slip out of!”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“I want all future ads run past Darnell.”

“Absolutely, Mr. President.”

“Got that, Darnell?”

“Ummm,” Darnell said, refilling his glass.

“Darnell, you’ve been very quiet,” Tomtree said.

“Just awed by the process.”

“What part of this don’t you like?” Tomtree pressed.

“Most of it. You’ve got to ride out to meet this Quinn on the mountainside. You’re not going to tunnel up to him. He’s breaking down our coalitions, for chrissake. He has become somewhat Churchillian in his speeches. He knows he is on the great issue of the century.”

“And?” the President asked.

“Take the Second Amendment issue away from him or cloud it up. Or, for God’s sake, even join him.”

“Join him?”

“Join him?”

“Join him?”

“It would show that you realize the time of the gun is over and you have’ the courage to come forth with a staggering and enlightened position. That’s how to beat this guy!”

The President pressed his fingers together and closed his eyes. Ballsy idea, but mad. “What are we looking at, Hugh?”

“After the convention you had a fourteen-point lead, plus or minus three percent. It’s down to eleven, but you know, it could be virtually the same.”

“Jacob, do we take this campaign up into the plains of heaven?”

“It’s a political campaign, and my feeling is that he has alienated the press, which will jump on your bandwagon the instant he slips.”

“Excuse me, I stand corrected,” Darnell satirized. “What do you want to do about the debates?”

“Well, he needs to debate me to try to catch me. I’d set down extremely restrictive terms, limitations on questions and positions. If, God forbid, my lead falls down to single digits, then we slide into serious negotiations. No more than two debates and keep the rules confusing.”

“Bear in mind,” Darnell said, “that if O’Connell keeps gaining, we may have to go to him for the debate.”

“It will never happen,” Mendenhall said.

“Never,” Jacob Turnquist agreed.

When it was apparent that Governor O’Connell was going to sweep the Democratic convention, the governors of Texas, New York, Florida, and California, hat in hand, pitched for the vice presidential nomination.

Quinn instead pulled a rabbit out of the hat by reaching back for Senator Chad Humboldt, his main opponent in the primaries, even though there was a difference on some issues. Humboldt was, quite simply, the best man. Moreover, the senator could neutralize Vice President Matthew Hope in the South.

After a year of mourning, the public looked anxiously toward the coming election. Quinn hit the ground running.

As governor he had sought and brokered an environmental and land-use bill that encompassed ranchers, mining interests, the ski industry developers, and private landowners, preserving open space and ranch land forever.

The University of Colorado had been upgraded to one of the top ten state schools.

Colorado was the best-managed tourist state.

Colorado had more foreign import-export deals than any state west of the Mississippi River, other than California and Texas.

The Denver Symphony had been made into one of the nation’s best, and Denver became a cultural oasis.

There was an impressive list of accomplishments in secondary education, child care, welfare, and he had shut down two of the state’s more obnoxious HMOs.

Leading the parade, the issue to repeal the Second Amendment now opened for business.

DENVER, OCTOBER 1, 2008

Greer heard the nasty sound of the phone and put a pillow over her head. The ring persisted. She clicked on her table lamp and simultaneously clicked on her head.

“Greer,” she said.

“This is Darnell Jefferson.”

“Hi, Darnell, what have you been doing with yourself lately?”