Humble Beginnings - Chapter 1

It all started with an e-mail invitation to a fundraiser for Barbara Roberts, Democratic Senate candidate in my district. I usually didn't pay too much attention to politics, but I knew the Senate hung in the balance this election, and we were faced here in state with a three-way race: Roberts, Dufus (That's what I called him, the Republican), and Stanton, a so-called Independent. He had been governor of the state many years back as a Democrat, but was now filthy rich so who knew where his loyalty lay. Well, I was filthy rich as well, so what am I bitching about? I guess it's all where your loyalties lie.

It was many weeks to the election. I just had to check this out. I had made a lot of money in the high tech biz, and sometimes it was fun to play around with a few of those bucks.

The address for the event was in a swash neighborhood, Cape Mary, close to the Atlantic. I was familiar with the area as I loved to cruise on my Harley through the rich neighborhoods to appreciate the architecture. Many of the homes had been built in the very early 1920's, some even older.

It began to feel like this might be a nice way to spend a Saturday night. I didn't go out often, and worked at home, so a little break would be welcome. I clicked the RSVP link on the e-mail and completed the form that popped up after that. $50 seemed reasonable for the price of admission, and I filled out the credit card info and was done. And committed. I never waste money. I was going to be there Saturday night. Supporting a Democrat.

I'm an Independent. My mother brought me up that way. Vote for the candidate, not the party, she would say. My father, being a machinist, was a staunch Democrat and would never vote any other way. I early on asked my mother how she voted in an election, and she would say, "That's my private privilege. My vote is my secret." I now suspect that my mother and father cancelled each other out on some elections, but that's the way it was. And is.

The little attention I had paid to the elections had touched on Barbara Roberts. Dufus was just a total retard, and I didn't think she had anything to worry about him. Stanton was another matter. Roberts was pro-women's rights, and supported the state ballot measure to legalize gay marriage. I was cool with that. Stanton wasn't.

He had begun running some very nasty t.v. ads, sort of intimating that Roberts wasn't totally "straight" about all of this (hint hint), and what the people of the state needed was a person of objectivity, and foresight (guess whose?). The polling numbers, which had been favoring Roberts, had started to reverse. It was the least I could do to show up at the party.

Saturday, I went into the garage to decide what I would take to the ball, so to speak. First was a '57 Thunderbird, Cherry Red. Second was a MGA '62, British Racing Green. Third was a Hyundai Sonata, Silver, top of the line. Hmm ... choices, choices. What was I trying to convey when I got there? That settled it on the Sonata. Classy, but not show-off-ish. Much.

I drove across the Lee River Bridge toward Cape Mary and thanks to GPS found my way to the location of the fundraiser. I'd say "home," but the place was huge. More like a hotel or very large B&B. It was an Italianate design, with a lovely tower rising from the front façade. This layout provides substantial open space inside, and I was anxious to see the interior.

I pulled up in front and a valet took my car as I walked up to the broad entrance. There were likely over 100 people there already and it was still early. At the door, an attendant checked my name off against a roster and gave me a pass to keep handy should anyone question my presence.

He explained that the bar was in the left chamber, the buffet was in the right, and the assembly hall where Ms. Roberts would be speaking was directly ahead.

"And what time will she speak?"

"Seven o'clock."

"Thank you. I look forward to her remarks."

He gave me a half-smile, as if to both reward me for my compliment and warn me to not get too complimentary.

After I had walked on along the hall, I decided to take a left turn to the bar, and asked for a gin and tonic. There were a number of couples in the room, chatting and sipping. I stayed at the bar and nursed my G&C, just observing. Someone nudged my shoulder. "Peter! What are you doing here? I thought political shingdigs were at the bottom of your bucket list."

"Well, Walt, what a surprise. I'd always taken you for a conservative, yet here you are!" Walt was an acquaintance from the Continental Club, a private gathering place for the city's elite. He and I had had many interesting conversations there during social events, bantering about our different political persuasions, economic views and general social outlooks.

"Just curious. Always good to know what the other side's doing," he said.

"Well, treachery in the trenches, as they say."

"Perhaps."

We small talked about the surface of our current lives. He was working for a political firm, and I told him I was reporting freelance as a cover i.d. Just to give him a bit to think about. I was, really, there just because I was interested in Roberts as a candidate and had no other agendas. Walt obviously did so I would have to keep an eye open.

I noticed it was getting close to seven, so I suggested to Walt we head toward the main reception hall for Roberts' talk, or speech, or whatever she was going to do. He grudgingly agreed and we turned out into the hall to our left toward the main room.

The room was already crowded with Ms. Roberts' followers. There was a podium up front and the local mayor stepped up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here with us this evening. We're here to celebrate and support Barbara Roberts' campaign for the U. S. Senate. We're getting down to the wire here, with just a few weeks to the election. Let's pull out all the stops and help Barbara win this election! Folks, I give you Barbara Roberts!"

The mayor stepped back and I got my first full-face view of Ms. Roberts. She was stunning. Maybe five foot ten, late-thirties perhaps, blond hair swirled around a beautifully sculpted face, setting on an awesome body, with nice boobs, sweet hips, and long sculptured legs. One totally package, as they say.

She stepped up to the mike.

"My friends, I thank you for your warm welcome. I am here to ask your support in turning our country back around in good directions. We need to reform our tax code to balance how we pay for our government. We need to protect the rights of all classes, bring the lower classes up, help the middle classes, and encourage the upper classes to invest in our future!"

The room roared their approval.

"My friends, I need your help. I need your endorsements. If you can get a union or a business or whoever to endorse my campaign, I would be thankful.

"I need your guidance. If you have ideas on how to improve our country, let me know.

"Finally, I need your dollars. It takes a lot of money to run a Senate campaign, and even one or two dollars from you will make a big difference.

"Thank you for your time, your energy and your support. With you, we will win!"

The audience broke out in loud applause as Roberts raised her hands, clasped together, in a victory salute to the crowd.

The gathering broke down into people headed either for the bar or the buffet, or hanging around to get a chance to say hello to Ms. Roberts and remind her of how they had either helped her in the past or could help her in the future. I observed how she respectfully shuttered off the obvious offers without offending anyone. A statesman, or more appropriately, a "statesperson"! I like that.

The crowd was winding down a bit so I took my chance and approached the candidate.

"Ms. Roberts, I'm Peter Hancock. I was impressed with the passion you had behind your remarks to us tonight. You obviously feel strongly about your campaign for the Senate."

"Mr. Hancock, I am pleased to meet you. And yes I am totally committed to this campaign. What brings you to our gathering tonight?"

"The power of the Internet. I received an e-mail invitation and it made me stop and ponder where I stood in this election. I decided I should come hear you out, and I'm glad I did."

"Well, I'll have to thank my communications manager. What are your concerns regarding the country and what needs to be done in the Senate?"

"The deficit. That's number one for me. Peace in the Middle East would be nice, but I don't see that happening in my lifetime, and I don't think we should spend a whole lot of resources over there until they learn how to get their act together.

"Getting America back to work would be my second priority. And if we could do that quicker by fudging the deficit, I'd be all for that. More people working means more folks contributing to the tax base. Makes sense to me."

"And it makes sense to me, Mr. Hancock. How do you think you could help my campaign?"

"I'm still mulling that over. Let me assure you, you'll get my allowable contribution, and I won't do anything more than that without your blessing."

"Bless you for that. I am running an honest campaign, and any outside interference would be hard to handle."

"I respect that, and respect you for that. Some candidates would be suckering me into setting up Super Pacs or whatever."

"No Super Pacs for me," she replied. "If I can't get elected the old fashioned way, then I don't deserve it."

"And what's the 'old fashioned' way?"

"County fairs, Grange Hall meetings, farmers' markets, doorbelling in the towns and cities, chamber of commerce breakfasts, Kiwanis, Rotary, rubber chicken dinners, it never ends."

"But those give you the window to talk with your constituents, get a real sense of the people's needs, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does, and it's both rewarding and very humbling, to have a direct touch of what our people are going through, and it's not nice."

"Well, you have my respect for your commitment and you have my support. We'll just have to try to figure out the best way I can provide that."

"That sounds both interesting and arresting. Would you like to discuss this further with me, my campaign manager, or both?"

"Perhaps both would be best. Here's my card. Let me know what is convenient for you and your manager."

"Scheduling is usually arranged the other way around," she smirked.

"There are two of you, and one of me. Get your end together and let me know."

"You are a ... what do I say? Sly, manipulative, direct, clear? All of the above?"

"Most likely, all of the above, and more. We should find out together. I look forward to hearing from your 'camp.'"

"I will look forward as well. Goodbye for now Mr. Peter Hancock."

"Likewise, Ms. Barbara Roberts. Adieu."

I turned slowly and then strode out of the ballroom, leaving her with a couple of her aides, who were whispering to her while watching me leave.

It was a couple of days later that I had a call from her "chief of staff," as he referred to himself, Rob Brady. That set me off a bit. It was in reality her campaign manager, but I checked a box in my brain about his call to greatness. He wanted to schedule a meeting at their campaign headquarters at 3:00pm the next day. I told him I wasn't available at that time, and that it would work better if we could schedule a meeting here at my place.

Well, that didn't set well with him. Loss of control, I suspect. He said he would confer with Ms. Roberts and get back to me. Fine by me.

Later that afternoon, Brady called me back with a somewhat contrite tone asking when would be convenient for Ms. Roberts and he to meet, at my place. I said I was here most of the time, and to suggest a convenient slot for her. 9am the next morning was agreed to and I gave him directions.

My place is not palatial, but it's nothing to sneeze at either. 4,000 square feet, in-ground swimming pool, large Great Room – basically impressive but not ostentatious. Well, not too much. I answered the doorbell at 9am, and welcomed Ms. Roberts and Mr. Brady into the Great Room, where I already had coffee and hot water for tea prepared, along with fresh cooked croissants with all the trimmings. I think I made a favorable impression. We made pleasantries while noshing on the croissants.

"Did you make these, Mr. Hancock?" she asked. "I did indeed, just for you," I replied. "Well then you are certainly a force to be reckoned with," she replied with a smile. "That I am," I smiled back.

"I thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Ms. Roberts. I have thought about your campaign, and I am concerned that you are losing your margin to your opponent day by day. He is outspending you 4:1 on advertising, and it's all negative."

"It's the result of the Citizens United decision," she said. "I cannot and will not give into that kind of hidden financing."

"I understand, and I agree. In light of Citizens United, I'd like to suggest that you're putting your public time into the wrong places. The chicken lunch circuit won't cut it under these circumstances. Let me ask you, what do you care the most about in your state?"

"The poverty, the conditions of our roads and railways, our schools. If we can fix those, we'll be well on our way to recovery."

"Then that is where you should spend the rest of your campaign. Forget the rubber chicken. Go out and demonstrate your commitment to our schools, our infrastructure, our neighborhoods, and you will most likely prevail. You have to put a human face to your campaign."

Barbara put her face in her hands for a few moments, then looked back at me.

"You're right. I've missed the forest for the trees. But where do you fit into this?"

"I've done a lot of tech work for schools in this state, and have a few friends among the superintendents. I think we could set up a few "fact finding tours" that will garner some facetime. There's a few other things I can think of that would give you media time without undue attention."

"Let's set it up. Time's a'wasting." Brady had sat through this whole discussion with a blank stare on his face, as if he couldn't believe this was happening. His whole canned campaign strategy was going down the tubes.

A day later, we (Brady, Barbara and me) were meeting with the superintendent of the Sulpher Springs School District. The district covered over 200 square miles, with schools scattered throughout the region. Communication between schools and district headquarters was mostly non-existent. I had briefed her on the tech problems with the district aforehand, so she had a good idea of the issues at hand.

I started the meeting. "Fred, I'd like you to meet Barbara Roberts, and yes, she's running for office, but she's sincerely interested in the tech problems of your district, as well as anything else you'd like to share with her regarding challenges and opportunities."

Fred Peters was a no-nonsense kinda guy, ran a great administration under challenging conditions, and wasn't slow to look for wherever help might be found. His first commitment was to his students and faculty, second to the school board.