The Frankenstein Candidate Page 7

  More importantly for Colin, Katrina had worked without friction with the old fox Larry and had accepted his role as the chief of strategy. She worked tirelessly on all the details and lining up the fundraisers. She was clever and confident. This was her first presidential campaign, and she knew she had a winning horse at least for the nomination, which meant riding that horse all the way to November 3. She also knew perfectly well that her organizational skills would not go unnoticed, win or lose, since Larry would take the fall should anything go wrong. Yet if Spain went all the way to the White House, she could ride that wave into a press secretary or even a communications director position, given Larry’s age. She was on a winner any way this turned out, and she knew it.

  It was nine o’clock at night on January 9 when Colin came by Katrina’s desk. The campaigning had finished and the staff had all gone home for a well-deserved rest, but here she was, still plugging away at the schedules and the numbers.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hello, Colin.”

  “You should go back to the hotel, get some rest.”

  “I should. But we need to plan for New Hampshire.”

  “What happens if we lose in Iowa?”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’m not just talking about beating Ganon and Rogers.”

  She looked at him with a blank stare.

  “I’m already thinking ahead. We need huge turnouts. What can we do to generate that extra spark?”

  “What does Larry think?” Katrina knew her place was number two.

  “He agrees that we need to do something out of the ordinary.”

  “What about Allen?” Katrina could tell she had surprised him.

  “Olivia? What about her?”

  “Vice president. I am just thinking aloud here.”

  “She has limited experience at this stage. But one never anoints a VP until after the nomination is certain. It’s way too early.”

  “I agree. But she is fresh and young, untainted. There must be a reason you brought her into this campaign.”

  “There is. It’s because she is fresh and untainted. The party needs to cultivate new talent. For the future.”

  “The future is now, Colin.”

  He reflected on that for awhile.

  “You are so damn right, Katrina. I’ll check with Larry. Ganon, Rogers…they are part of the old and the tired and have voted every which way on various issues. Untainted, wholesome, American mom…I like it.”

  Katrina smiled. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked even when she was tired and disheveled.

  “Let me drive you back to the hotel. You really need some rest before tomorrow,” he said.

  “So do you. By the way, I’ve lined up CNN tomorrow after the exit polls.”

  “And what are they saying?”

  “Right now, you are twenty points clear of Ganon. Rogers is not even in the picture. The message is working.”

  He smiled. They got in the car. Colin was driving.

  “What do you think of Stein?” he asked.

  “One theory is that he’s doing this to get what he wants from Kirby.”

  “You think he’ll carve a dent in the Republicans and then agree to back Kirby if he gets some bits thrown his way?”

  “It looks that way. There is just no way a Jewish-born, atheist billionaire who hates antitrust legislation can win even ten points, no matter how much money he pours in. But let’s say he gets four or five points…that’s four or five off Kirby, so they have to make a deal with him.”

  “Pity. When was the last time we had a loony candidate?”

  “In 2012,” she said. “But he was unelectable.”

  The GPS in his car told him he had arrived at their hotel.

  Back in his hotel room, Colin was restless. There was plenty on his mind. He had to win Iowa. Katrina’s idea was scary but, hey, maybe worth it. He couldn’t wait for the morning. Larry was always up till midnight. He decided to call Larry and gauge his reaction. Larry, as usual, was reflective and calm. He said he would think about it.

  Still restless, Colin switched the television on and surfed the channels. Then he saw it. The loony candidate. Colin hadn’t even known what he looked like. Frank Stein had a calm, handsome face and a professorial demeanor. Colin had expected a belligerent, in-your-face personality. Stein was being interviewed by ABC. The interviewer asked, “Surely, Mr. Stein, you don’t mean not having any fiscal or monetary policy, do you?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “But…but…but that would be completely irresponsible, would it not?”

  “On the contrary, it is irresponsible and arrogant on the part of government to even think that it can correct the economy. And it is destructive.”

  “But then who will save us? Who will save the people?”

  “It is tinkering from which the people need to be saved—”

  Why do they even let such extremists run for office? Colin switched the channel. The 49ers were playing the Seahawks. The football put him to sleep.

  10

  The Monster Begins to Bubble

  On the morning of January 11, 2020, the results from Iowa began pouring in.

  At first, Ganon was in the lead, but only marginally. Larry calmed Colin down.

  “Those precincts they counted…they were always Ganon’s,” he said.

  By late morning, Spain had caught up, but it was still neck and neck.

  “West Iowa,” Larry said. “Wait for the west. They are all yours.”

  He offered to go out for lunch, but Colin could not move. Everything depended on this. Larry and Katrina went out and agreed to bring a sandwich back for him.

  CNN called just as they left. It was Dawn Massey, one of their main political correspondents.

  “Hello, Mr. Spain.”

  “Hello. We are still on at three?”

  “No, that’s what I am calling about. We have to reschedule.”

  “You think I am going to lose?” Colin asked. He got a sinking feeling. He turned the TV off.

  “No, we think you will be winning Iowa,” she said.

  “Then why?”

  “I can’t explain, sir. Just need to—”

  “Need to what? Get me Harper.”

  Harper was the head of programming.

  “Harper is the one who told me,” Dawn said.

  “Then why can’t he call me himself? Get me Harper!”

  “He is in a meeting right now, but I will tell him.”

  Colin banged the phone down, then called Larry on his cell.

  “Fuckin’ CNN. They cancelled. What’s going on?”

  “Did you see the latest?” Larry replied.

  “No, what?”

  “You are winning. By a lot. West Iowa just started streaming in.”

  By afternoon, it was clear that Spain was at least a ten-point winner over Ganon. Rogers was a distant third. It wasn’t even close.

  Colin Spain should have been thrilled, but it was more than mildly upsetting to him that CNN had indefinitely postponed his interview.

  Katrina tried to explain after lunch. “A number of switchboards around the country have been inundated with callers. A number of media outlets decided to conduct their own vox populi.”

  “About what?”

  “Stein. This first commandment thing—”

  “Dammit, damn that Stein. Stein? For God’s sake, I am going to be the next president of the United States, and they want to interview him instead? I want a list of all the editors and the programming heads who want to talk to this lunatic ahead of me. They will pay.”

  Katrina was carrying his sandwich in a bag. She gave it to him. He threw it out the window.

  It didn’t matter to Spain that the media was critical of Frank Stein or that his ideas offered them just the sensationalism they wanted.

  Presented with a multiple choice survey, over 95 percent of respondents indicated that government should have some moderating role in the
economy rather than “none” or “complete control.” That, according to several journalists, was evidence of “what the people wanted.” Clearly, if Stein wanted to deliver something other than that, it was undemocratic and not reflective of representative government.

  They were clearly unprepared for the onslaught. Stein went on to lecture the media on Keynesianism. He called it seven decades of intellectual masturbation based on two false premises, firstly the premise that economies left to themselves must go through booms and recessions, and secondly, that government policy can correct them. Most of them did not understand him. But they loved it because scandals were a good read, and it was the job of a good journalist to create scandal where there was none. That was the gold standard of journalism in 2019. Even those who were uncomfortable with that standard were delighted with Stein. The “seven decades of intellectual masturbation” comment was not just leveled at the Federal Reserve but at every hallowed school of economics in the country, from Princeton to Harvard, from the OECD to the London School of Economics. The reaction was appropriately severe. Even his old chums at Wall Street condemned him.

  For the media, the beauty was that the guy had billions, and he was willing to spend his fortune on a personal crusade, which meant his candidacy was not going to die for lack of funding. It didn’t matter what the polls said, this lunatic was going all the way to November 3.

  Colin Spain hated it. He imagined that he would be the darling of the media after Iowa. He was, after all, the front-runner of the opposition when the government was crippled by a failing economy, a falling U.S. dollar, and enormous unrest. He needed to vent. He called Larry.

  “Your time will come,” a sanguine Larry said. “Ultimately it will just come down to you and Kirby. Don’t underestimate Kirby. Kirby is not kooky. Kooky is good for the media.

  “But when the race gets serious,” he continued, “the media will need to focus on the only two electable candidates who are left in the race and that, I am certain, will be Kirby and you. There would be the debates in the fall, and that’s when Stein will be forgotten unless the public fancy ends even earlier.

  “Even so, there is a sobering lesson to be learned from the media’s latest obsession,” Larry said. “Stein is something new, something fresh. Extremist no doubt, but novel.”

  What did Spain have that was new and fresh?

  Watching the news coverage of Stein, Colin had caught himself thinking again about Katrina’s idea—what if they announced a vice presidential running mate as early as the start of fall? It was so out of the ordinary that the media would focus on him when, and perhaps even before, the Stein novelty ran out.

  “You know the Olivia matter that I raised with you?” Colin asked.

  “Yes. Olivia Allen, what a great idea. You need to check with her, of course. What’s her grasp of the nuances of foreign policy like?” Larry asked.

  “Excellent.”

  “Of financial matters?”

  “Not bad. She is, as you know, very bright. And very hard working.”

  “This means if she knew early enough, she could work on her deficiencies. By the time we announce her to the world, she would take apart any opponent, unlike when they used Palin in 2008, unlike when we used newcomer McDowell in 2016.”

  “Should I ask her?” Colin said.

  “First, let’s have her background checked out. Marijuana in college, affairs, everything.”

  “I have checked her out. She is clean. Her voting record is consistent.”

  “Pretty, wholesome, American mom, financially astute, clever, and a public service family…great package, like mixing the best of Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton in a witch’s brew.”

  Colin agreed, excited about the ace up his sleeve.

  11

  The Country Beckons

  Olivia was delighted to be back at home after a short but grueling tour. After a brief Sunday out with Gary and the children, she was off again into her political world, now even busier with the campaign.

  She had lined up a string of high-profile meetings with corporate chiefs and their nominated representatives. Of all the ills that had befallen America, it was the shortage of jobs that hurt her the most. She wanted to understand what the government could do that would raise employment. Her visitors knew that she chaired the House Employment Committee, formed to look at the prospects of the long-term jobless.

  She listened very carefully to the proposals put to her rather than admonishing the chiefs for not employing local Americans. The proposals required sacrifices: abolition of newly created payroll taxes, the introduction of new federal income tax incentives, direct cash subsidies or protection from imports. The problem was manageable, Olivia thought, but it needed a whole new way of thinking. This was one problem she badly wanted to fix. It was never easy. The Senate was an oversight body, not a legislative one. Still, she had an extensive network in Congress. She was even liked by many in the Republican administration. Senate committees could, after all, make recommendations publicly—that’s what the committees were there for.

  There was no shortage of issues before the Senate. Besides being the chair of the Employment Committee, she was on the Banking Reform Committee, and her services were being requisitioned by a newly formed Education Committee. Not surprisingly, Colin Spain had requested that she refrain from joining the new Education Committee.

  Then he dropped the bombshell. She could hardly believe her ears.

  “Are you interested in running for vice president?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the relevance. Perhaps, one day—”

  “What if the opportunity was here now?”

  “Shouldn’t we concentrate on 2020 rather than the hypothetical?”

  “I’m speaking about 2020.”

  “The nomination would be in May. You have only just won Iowa—”

  “We need media attention on us now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s never been done before.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Could this be regarded as just a media gimmick?”

  “Not at all. Larry and I have been giving this much thought over the past few days.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That you consider joining the campaign as my running mate right now. We will make an announcement within the next week or so.”

  “But…even if Ganon and Rogers are not joined by anyone else…and it does look like that now, surely the party elders would expect you to pick one of them…assuming of course you win.”

  “I have heard from sources…many, in fact…that they have done a deal. If either of them wins, the other gets to be a running mate. So you won’t get a chance—”

  “I wasn’t thinking of me. I never even thought I would be involved in the campaign strategy until you invited me.”

  “Will you consider it?”

  “Why wouldn’t you pick one of them? Whatever deal they may have done between themselves doesn’t bind you.”

  “True. But Larry thinks they may announce their deal soon. That would be unprecedented given that everyone always keeps their options at least officially open till D-Day.”

  “So you want a gimmick?’

  “No, I want you for real. All the way. Look, I really believe Ganon is a liability. He wants to nationalize the banks and the energy companies and all of Big Oil and the mining companies. Rogers, well…you know how he thinks.”

  “No, actually, I don’t know Rogers well enough.”

  “He wants to appease the environmental lobby. Impose carbon taxes—”

  “On individuals and families even, bring about a carbon apology world,” she said.

  “So you do know him.”

  “The generation that was brought up demonizing carbon is now of voting age. They are the new voters. His message that we are paying for our carbon sins resonates with them.”

  “Indeed. Meanwhile, Ganon voted to get our troops
out of Afghanistan and then into Syria back in 2015. In 2017, he wanted to legalize euthanasia, but then he changed his mind. He is a flip-flopper. Remember what happened to Kerry in 2004 and Johnston in 2016? Romney in 2012? They even created a special website for him—mittromneyflipflops.com. Once the flip flopper label sticks…you, on the other hand, you are consistent.”

  “And a woman and a mother. You need the wholesome mom magic that almost worked wonders for McCain in 2008, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. But only because beneath the wholesome mom image, you are real substance, Olivia.”

  “Oh, thank you. I will think about it. But give me a few days, a week maybe.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

  The next few days for Olivia felt as if a fog had enveloped her world. Gary was really empathetic, but Georgia and Natasha cried thinking that mommy would be away weeks at a time. Gary also wanted to spend more time at the design school tutoring, so she needed to make arrangements to have their daughters driven to and from school by her state chauffeur, a privilege that Colin was only too happy to pick the tab for.

  One evening, she remembered Gary was coming home late that night. Something about a staff get-together at the design school. She was so glad he had found something to look forward to. When his company had folded four years earlier, he had suddenly been bereft of a motive, and although he spent a lot of time with the children, she knew at heart he was also a career man. His tutor job at the school paid little, but she was bringing in more than enough money. If the economy revived, construction would boom, and Gary could always get his architectural practice going again.

  Alone at night, she looked in the mirror. The creases and the laugh lines were just beginning to feel their way into her face, and the tummy sag was almost imperceptible in her pajamas. A glimpse of grey reminded her that she had forgotten to touch her hair up since she got the call to go to Iowa.