Chapter 34: Opening, Presents

As with being elected Alderman, it did not feel quite real the next morning. The media felt quite convinced. I was still in a bathrobe at the first knock on my door. Rather than put up a fuss, I told them I would have a small news conference on my patio. The rules were no more than six, including a blogger from each side, a local reporter, and both print and video. They could share feed and headlines. I unwound to allow two cameramen.

In this, I had an ulterior motive. Most of them were freelance, likely from out of state. It was November in New Hampshire. I could keep it short without complaints. It was the first day I really appreciated having a penthouse apartment. Rather than a small porch, I had a rooftop patio. Six floors above the street, there was a stiff breeze blowing. Slowing things down, the cameras needed care and tending. I was comfortable in my trademark sealskin coat and a wool cap. Most of the reporters had light coats or jackets.

I started by thanking Mrs. Custler for running a clean campaign. The two New Hampshire reporters snorted at that, but it was true. The rest was the standard Academy Award speech, thanking everyone in sight. I expressed hope for a productive term in office and commented that the President had called with congratulations. By the time I finished my opening remarks, most of them were ready to leave. They asked just two questions, neither worth mentioning.

Back inside, I gave everyone a stiff shot of Irish whiskey before sending them out. One remarked to another that he thought I was supposed to be new at the political game. I had to bite my tongue. Woodrow Wilson learned politics at the University of Virginia, not in Washington.

The lone woman in the cluster lagged behind and caught my eye. I figured I could loosen up enough to talk to her. I glanced at my watch and held up five fingers. She nodded and followed the crowd out. When she returned, I told her I was not giving an interview. Instead, I would return a favor by giving her contacts.

Starting with my hometown political reporter, Frank Costello, I covered how I came to be standing where I was. I highlighted Mimi, Drs. Gupta, Steele and Kerlinov, Morgan and Veronica. Along the way, I mentioned Beacon Light Project, Francine, MBC&L, Paroles and Pardons and the Manchester bridge project. I also warned that Elspeth handled most of my personal correspondence. I hoped she was recording, because I had no intention of repeating myself. As she left, she said she always wanted to meet someone important on their way up. Years later I remembered the line, but not her name.

The rest of the day was about my businesses. When my election was confirmed, the shit hit the wall. I may have been thinking about possible futures, where I was not around, but no one else had been. When I said that I had planned ahead, you would not believe their level of relief. Truth be told, most of my de facto Board of Directors assumed I would always be there to second guess their decisions. Surprise! I would not even be at Board Meetings. Sean calls it the stress test.

It took a while, but everyone started to cope. Veronica was the slowest. Eventually, she understood she had even footing with a career politician like Morgan Robertson and career military like Harold Richards. That had to be eye opening. Veronica was much more in tune with manipulating the system than with running it. It made her one of my most effective brakes. She could see all the potential abuse before we had to endure it. If Veronica vetted a project, it stayed vetted.

The social dynamics of my company would be a publishable paper, if I ever chose to write it. Initially, Morgan Robertson and Richard Harold formed an uneasy alliance. Between them, they would shape an idea to float past Veronica. If Veronica got on board, Vivian would crunch the numbers. If those made sense, the thing worked. Otherwise, chaos. I could not have planned it better, even given a year and a dozen graduate assistants to run data.

It came as a bit of a rush when I realized my approval was still the bottom line. As a Representative, my involvement was strongly curtailed by law. Yet, everything was structured to gain my approval. "What would Jo do?", was the fundamental question behind every decision. Vivian may have started the phrase, because it was common during the wedding preparations. That said, it could not last. In practice, Morgan Robertson eventually emerged as the CEO, in all but name. I always wondered if this was what she had in mind from the start.

I spent the holidays in New Jersey, where things were simpler. After eleven years at the top, Sean was very secure in his CEO chops. He could relax and spend some time with family. Just like during our school years, Sean supported me above and below the line. One small part was to sublet me an apartment that Richards Enterprises kept in Alexandria, Virginia. I moved there between Christmas and New Year.

Representative Leonard was a Godsend. He walked me through the complex orientation process and helped with much of the housekeeping. His staff went a long way toward forming my own. One of his deputies, Vincent Jackson, became my new office manager. Between the two of them, I claimed a decent place in the pecking order.

When the shakeout was finished, I had one of the better offices in the middle ranked office building. My committee was Small Business, but I also had a sub-committee of the important Ways and Means committee. That was Human Resources, chaired by Chuck Boustany of Louisiana. Representative Leonard told me that Mr. Boustany was not long for Congress. As freshmen Representatives go, I did well in my assignments.

To me, a larger interest was Siemens International. Lars was permanently assigned to the New York office. While no one would ever confirm the relationship, this happened three days after the elections. He would take his new position two weeks after I was sworn into office. That early in my first session, I could not leave Washington. Lars was equally tied up in Manhattan. At least I could help with that. Given my connections, I expected to find a good real estate agent, so I made some calls. I was not expecting Donald Trump to call back.

My relationship with the Donald is ironic when you consider his later run for President. At the time, he was two years removed from almost running. I think Rudy Giuliani talked him out of it, but no one is likely to ever know for sure. In any event, Donald Trump is in real estate and also in entertainment. Francine asked him to call. I always assumed Sheila told Francine, but I never asked.

On the phone, Donald Trump was warm and witty, which you would expect from a salesman. He gave me the name of a condominium broker. I gave him Vincent's direct line. I explained that I needed to go to the City to meet Lars. The Donald promised us dinner. It was an enjoyable conversation.

In Washington, things were less friendly. All the freshmen Republican Representatives were herded into several "orientations", which were more like indoctrinations. Some of it was good. One of the speakers was former Representative JC Watts, who is black. He spoke of how the Congressional Black Caucus refused to allow him membership. I was already getting the cold shoulder from feminist groups, even ones I agreed with.

Outside the office, I was able to join up with the rest of New Hampshire's Republican delegation—1st district Representative Frank Guinta and Senator Kelly Ayotte. Former Senator John Sununu took the three of us to dinner at Smart's Chop House near Capital Hill. It was rather like dining with Francine, because of the way they each worked the crowd. The thought was comforting.