Chapter 109: Chief of Staff

Wednesday, January 30, 1991

By middle of January, I was feeling like I had made a mistake. By the end of January, I was quite sure I had made a big fucking mistake! Stuff was piling up around the office, not much was getting accomplished, and I was hearing rumblings among the staff. I mentioned this all to Chuck Hanson, my Chief of Staff, but he assured me it was just people settling in. Meanwhile, despite my orders not to, he kept shoveling lobbyists at me, and with no rhyme or reason. One morning he had somebody pushing ‘clean coal’ followed immediately by the Sierra Club. They ran into each other in the outer office and immediately got into a shouting match! What a clusterfuck!

The final event, to my way of thinking, occurred on Wednesday, the 30 ^th of January. I was in my office and about two or so, Chuck informed me my afternoon appointment was here. I glanced at my calendar book, and it had been blank. My standing orders were that anybody could write things in my schedule (within reason) but that if it wasn’t in my book, it wouldn’t get done. Back on my first go, when I was with Lefleur Homes, it was a bit of a company joke. Even after everybody started switching to PDAs and computer calendars, Carl Buckman kept his calendar book. On the plus side, I never missed anything I put in the book.

I sighed in exasperation, and bit off the complaint. “What if I had scheduled something else, or wasn’t here, because it wasn’t in the book?” Chuck would have just given me a blank stare and ignore this. I simply told him to show them in. I stood up and slipped on my suit jacket, since I had been in shirt sleeves, and wanted to look like I knew what I was doing.

Chuck opened my door and went out into the public area, and then ushered in two men, both on the large side. He introduced them. “Congressman, this is John Talbot of the American Petroleum Institute, and Morton Adrianowicz of Dunder Logan Simkins. Gentlemen, Congressman Carl Buckman.”

“Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in.” I glanced over at Chuck and said, “Thank you, I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure, Congressman? I’d be happy to help.”

“No, that’s all right. I can handle things.” I was still irritated over the scheduling issue and wanted him away for a bit. I closed the door behind him as he left my inner office.

I showed the men over to a couch and armchair set over in the corner of my office. They shared the couch, and I sat down in the armchair. Something about the two men seemed familiar, or maybe it was just the one man, the second. The first guy was from the API, which was the lobbying group for the petroleum industry. The second guy had to be a lobbyist from one of the city’s multitudinous law firms. Still, what did these guys want with me? I had nothing whatsoever to do with oil.

“So, gentlemen, what brings you here? How can I help you?” I asked.

They looked at each other curiously, and then the first guy, John, said, “Sir? We were told you had asked to see us.”

I must have looked dumbfounded to them. “I asked to see you? Are you sure about that?”

They looked at each other again. “Yes, sir. Your chief of staff asked for a meeting.”

I ground my teeth for a moment. “Can I assume he intimated a campaign contribution would be involved?”

Adrianowicz nodded and said, “You may assume so. We were surprised at that since you aren’t on any committees or subcommittees involving the oil business. Still, it doesn’t hurt to make friends in this town.”

Damn, but that guy looked familiar, but I shrugged it off. “I’m having some growing pains with my chief of staff. Last week I had a meeting with the Clean Coal Initiative, which I did have some interest in, through the Subcommittee for Technology and Innovation. Maybe he thought I needed input on other fuels as well.” I tried to put a good face on it. Chuck must be going through the D.C. phone book selling me off to everybody.

“So, you weren’t actually reaching out to touch our wallets?” asked John, smiling.

I returned the smile. “Fellows, I’m as interested in campaign contributions as the next politician, but you’ll be wasting your money. I have about zero influence over the oil business.”

“That is refreshingly honest, Congressman,” commented Morton.

I just held my hands up in wry agreement. Then I looked at him closer. “Have we ever met before? You look awfully familiar, but I can’t say as I’ve ever met a Morton Adrianowicz before.”

“The name is Martin Adrianopolis,” he replied, which made me really scratch my head. That name sounded familiar! “You, too, for that matter. I knew a Carl Buckman back in college, but he was a math major and going into the Army.”

I sat bolt upright at that. “I knew a Marty Adrianopolis, back when I was at RPI, as a math major and ROTC cadet.” This guy looked familiar, but a different haircut and thirty extra pounds changed the line of his face.

His face broke out into a huge grin. “It is you! I thought it might be, but Carl and Buckman aren’t the most unusual names, and your background history was that you were an investment banker before you ran for office. Holy crap! It is you, isn’t it?”

“Well, by God, it’s good to see you again! We have to talk!” I looked back over at Talbot, and said, “Well, it wasn’t a wasted trip after all! Did you come over with him, or vice versa?”

“Marty came with me.”

“Marty, stick around. We are going to have a few drinks and go out to dinner. Okay?” I asked him.

He smiled. “We will discuss the ways in which the Maryland Ninth and the petroleum industry can help each other. Think of all the billable hours!”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you became a lawyer!” I said. He laughed at that.

I stood up and so did John Talbot. “Mister Talbot, I really want to apologize for getting you over here like this. I’ll be discussing it with my chief of staff, but I do apologize.”

“Please Congressman, these sorts of things happen. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we’ll both get lucky, and you’ll end up on Energy and Commerce, or Natural Resources, and you can owe me a meeting then.”

“Maybe so.” I showed him to the door, and ushered him out

Chuck came up and glanced into my office, where Marty was still lounging on my couch. “Congressman, you have another meeting in ten minutes.”

“Nobody put anything on my calendar, Chuck,” I told him. “Therefore, I don’t have another meeting.”

“But Congressman, we have you scheduled!” he insisted.

“Chuck, let me give you a hint. It’s my life so I get to make the schedules. Unless it’s the President of the United States or my wife, I’m not available. I will consider something from either the Speaker of the House, or Michel or Gingrich, but tell them you’ll have to ask me first. Understand?”

“Congressman?”

I left him standing there in confusion in the lobby, with a couple of secretaries staring at him and another smirking. I went back into my office and closed the door. “What an asshole!” I said quietly, as much to myself as to Marty.

“Problems?” he asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I went over to a bookcase-hutch against one wall. I tugged on it, and it unfolded into a hidden wet bar. “It must be five o’clock somewhere.”

Marty stood up and grinned. “Scotch and soda if you have it.”

“I have it, but I can’t stand Scotch, so I don’t know if it’s any good.” I held up a bottle. “Glenlivet. Any good?”

“It’ll do,” he said with a smile.

I made a couple of drinks, Scotch and soda for him, and a Seven and Seven for myself. I handed him his drink. “Here’s to knowledge and thoroughness.”

“Oh, Christ! Was that a long time ago!” ‘ Knowledge and Thoroughness’ is the Rensselaer motto.

We sat back down around the coffee table. “So, what the hell are you doing in Washington?” I demanded.

“I could ask you the same question! The last I remembered, you were a math major working on your doctorate and going through ROTC training. I always figured you’d end up teaching somewhere. How the hell does that translate into billionaire investor and Congressman?” he asked.

“Yeah? The last I remember of you was when you moved to Houston, to work for Exxon at a refinery. You were a chemical engineer, right? Then, a year later, we all lost track of you, and now you’re a lobbyist? What gives? You first!”

“Well, that’s right, I went to Houston to work for Exxon at one of their refineries. Not quite a year later, though, I had an opportunity to go to Saudi Arabia and work for Aramco, at one of their refineries. Big money, and I had just gotten married to a woman with expensive tastes. That would have been, let me think, late ‘76 or so. Anyway, I worked over there for about five years, got divorced, came back home, and ended up back in Houston.”

“Right back where you started from.”

“That’s what I said! I didn’t just want to spend the rest of my life in a refinery, waiting for something to blow up, or getting cancer from some shit. I went to law school, and ended up here, junior lawyer in a lobbying firm. Money’s better, too.”

“You ever remarry?” I asked.

“I am a firm believer in the sacred rite of marriage. And divorce now that I think about it. I married a second time and got divorced from her, too.”

“You’re just a sorry ass to have to live with.”

“You’d be an expert on being a sorry ass. What about you? The last I remember you were banging that little brunette with the nice tits.”

“That would be my beloved wife and the mother of my children you’re talking about,” I answered.

“And the tits?” he said, laughing.

“Even nicer!” We laughed loud and long at that.

“Good for you! So, how the hell did you ever end up in this shithole? I used to think you had principles!”

“Really? A Kegger with principles? Hard to even imagine!” I replied.

“Come on, give!”

I gave an elaborate sigh. “Remember the Grateful Dead, and that line about what a long, strange trip it’s been? That would be my life!” I got up and made us another round of drinks, and then brought them back over. Marty was still sitting there waiting for an explanation. “Okay, when last you saw me, I was still at the ‘Tute, working on my math degrees and dating Marilyn and planning to go into the Army.” Marty nodded and agreed with this.

“So, that’s pretty much what I did. I graduated on time, two years after you, and was commissioned into the Army, so I belonged to them for four years. I ended up in the 82^nd Airborne, in a battery of 105s. You know what I’m talking about?” I had to explain that to Marty. “A year after I graduated, Marilyn graduated, and we got married.”

“So, you did your four years and got out,” he asked.

I gave him a wry look. “Well, that’s the strange thing. Actually, I liked it, and was good at it. I decided to go career, but then I made a bad jump and screwed up my knee.”

“You? Career Army? Holy Christ! You couldn’t stay in?”

I shrugged. It was too much to explain unless he had been Army himself at some point. “Maybe, in a staff job somewhere, but I was a combat officer, and a good one. It’s like I told Marilyn, it’d be like working in an ice cream store and not being allowed to lick the scoop. So, I got out.”

Surprisingly, he nodded. “Okay, I can follow that. My old man was in Korea. He once said something like that to me, too. But how do you go from the Army to investment banker? I would have figured you for teaching college or going to work for Microsoft or something.”

At that I laughed loud and long! “Oh, buddy, if you only knew!” I told him.

“Knew what?”

“Back at RPI, I was a millionaire. I’m really good at investing, really good! When I got out of the Army, that summer I flew out to Redmond, Washington, and wrote Bill Gates a check for five million dollars. You think I was going to work for Microsoft? I own just under five percent of Microsoft!”

Marty stared at me. After a few more seconds, he said, “Are you shitting me? You own five percent of Microsoft?”

I shrugged and smiled. “Technically, the Buckman Group owns the shares, but I own 75 percent of the Buckman Group.”

“How much does that work out to?”

“What, the Microsoft shares? Well, the market capitalization is somewhere around $11 billion, so figure five percent times 75 percent, that makes what, $400 million or so.”

“Holy Christ! You’d better go slow and start from the beginning. You were a millionaire in college? What the hell?”

I smiled and pointed at the wet bar. “You might as well bring the bottles and ice over here. This is going to be a long, long tale!”

While Marty laughed and went over to the bar, I pulled my cell phone out and hit the first memory button. I listened while the phone rang, and then was picked up. “Hello?” It was Charlie’s voice, still high pitched and a little thin. In the background I could hear his sisters demanding to know who it was, at which point he yelled back, “SHUT UP! I’M ON THE PHONE!” I slapped my hand over my face in disbelief. Then I heard, “Hello?”

“Charlie, don’t be rude to your sisters...”

“Hi, Dad!”

“Is your mother there?”

The next thing I heard was him dropping the phone, probably on the kitchen counter, and yelling at the top of his lungs, “MOM! IT’S FOR YOU!”

I muttered to myself, and a minute later there was the sound of the phone being picked up. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Buckman, this is the National Center for Youth Telephone Discipline. Do you have time for a survey?”

“Very funny! Let me kill your son for you, and I’ll tell you all about it. What’s up?”

“My schedule’s changed. I’ll be staying here tonight. I’ll come home tomorrow night and make a long weekend. Sorry about this, but it just came up.”

“That’s okay.” Marilyn had learned my schedule needed some flexibility. “What’s up?”

“I need to have dinner and drinks with an old friend who I just reconnected with,” I told her.

“Male or female?” she teased.

I glanced over at Marty. “It’s either an ugly guy, or a really ugly girl. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

Marty flipped me the bird, making me laugh. Marilyn just said, “You can take me to an expensive dinner, and not the special at the Westminster Diner, either.”

I laughed some more and told her to make reservations for Saturday night, and then told her to tell the kids I loved them. Before I hung up, I asked, “Do me a favor and call Tyrell. I won’t need a pickup tonight or tomorrow morning, please.” Tyrell Washington was the helicopter pilot for the LongRanger. Marilyn agreed, and I flipped my phone shut and stuck it back in my pocket. “Let the drinking begin!”

Mindy stuck her head in a little later. “Anything I can do, Congressman? Chuck asked me to look in on you.”

I snorted. “We’re fine. Do me a favor. Call around and make reservations for dinner somewhere, something nice. Morton’s would be good if you can manage it, or Ruth’s Chris. Tell my driver, too.”

Mindy excused herself and closed the door again, and Marty and I got back to swapping lies and talking about the old days, and how we ended up where we were. At six, Mindy knocked and came back in. “I’ve got your reservations at Morton’s at half past, and if you go downstairs now, your car should be waiting for you when you get there.”

“Mindy, you are an angel. Don’t let Marilyn know how you run my life because she’ll only get jealous! We’re going. You should go home, too.” The girl blushed and waved good-bye.

The limo was waiting for us when we got down to the lobby, the security guy standing there holding the door for us. Marty climbed in and then I climbed in after him. He smiled as he looked around. “Pretty swanky compared to the old days, huh?”

I laughed. “Marty, you have no idea! Listen, you doing anything this weekend? I’d love to take you home and reintroduce you to Marilyn.”

“Sorry, not this weekend. Next weekend is open, though.”

“Perfect. Bring a bag or a suitcase over here next Friday and prepare to be surprised,” I told him.

He gave me a curious look. “Going to show me your castle?”

“No castle, but trust me, you’ll be surprised.”

“It’s crazy, you know. I knew about the billionaire who bought himself a Congressional seat, but I never figured it was my little brother from the frat house. You’re really a billionaire?” he asked.

I held up two fingers in a V. “Somewhere between one-and-a-half and two. And I wish I could have bought it! It would have been so much simpler than putting up with Andy Stewart!”

“Talk to me! He’s been a scumbag since before he ever made it to Washington. What happened with you?”

We talked over the campaign for a while, taking care of the ride over and getting our table and through the appetizers. It was a touch early in the evening, and Wednesday isn’t a big ‘power dinner’ day, so we didn’t have to wait. Marty loved the whole election mess; me, I was less than thrilled with it! “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I could have done without it. So, if I have to tell you the sordid truth about my election, you have to tell me the sordid truth about your marriages. What happened?”

He shrugged and sighed. “My first marriage? She didn’t handle being overseas very well. She started sleeping around, and I walked in on them one night.”

“Okay, that pretty much sucks,” I agreed. “What about Number Two?”

He shrugged. “I guess I was on the rebound. It just didn’t work out. Maybe I’m just not the marrying kind. Anyway, screw that! I want to hear how you are conquering Washington!”

I snorted at that. “Conquering Washington? I’m not even sure I’m conquering my office! So far, I am not riding to glory.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

By now our steaks had arrived and we started cutting them up. Happy cows! I savored a bite, and then answered. “I think it’s my chief of staff. I don’t think he has a clue what he’s doing. I need somebody who knows what he’s doing, since I certainly don’t, and he ain’t cutting it. He spends all his time trying to line up campaign contributions and no time trying to help anybody get anything done.”

“So, fire him! Get somebody new. Where’d you get him anyway?”

“Gingrich recommended him, but I don’t know if he knew the guy all that well. He had been an assistant chief of staff to somebody who just lost his seat. Either Newt didn’t know the guy, or Newt is trying to sink me. Now, he’s perfectly capable of doing that, but I can’t see what motive he would have. He hasn’t known me long enough to hate me yet!”

Marty gave a wry smile and nodded. “Well, at least you’re not a total babe in the woods. I know some guys who wouldn’t consider being knifed in the back. Still, you’re right. Newt Gingrich would slit your throat if he thought it was a good idea, but his big plan right now is building the numbers of Republicans up and getting control of the House. If he slits your throat, it won’t be until after he does that. The guy is probably just a good assistant and a lousy boss. We’ve all seen that before.”

“True, so true. I remember one battalion exec who was brilliant, right until the day the battalion commander had to go to Fort Sill for a week and left him in command. The guy was a miserable clusterfuck when left to his own devices.”

“Right,” agreed Marty. “So, fire this asshole and get somebody decent.”

“You know anybody any good?” That just earned me a shrug. “I don’t want to go back to Gingrich, and the only others I really know are newbies like me. Hell, you know this town, you’d be better than what I’ll find on my own!”

Marty laughed hard enough to start coughing, which got me to laughing as well. Then he said, “Carl, even if I wanted to work for you, you can’t afford me!”

“Is that the only issue? The money? Do you like being a lobbyist that much?” I asked.

He looked at me seriously. “No, but I like being in this town and I like being near power, and I really like the money. I make more than what your chief of staff makes! I like you, Carl, but I don’t like you that much!”

I nodded in agreement, and we kept talking through dinner. After dinner, we eschewed dessert, but we did order coffee (tea for me) and cognacs. Marty ordered a Remy Martin, but I said, “You know, I’m not big on cognac. Can I just get some whiskey instead?”

The waiter answered, “Yes, sir, of course. Anything in particular?”

“Canadian Mist? Or Canadian Club if you don’t have it.”

“Yes sir, of course,” replied the waiter.

We sipped on our coffee and tea while the waiter went to the bar. A few minutes later he returned with a pair of snifters, setting one down in front of each of us. I just stared at mine in disbelief. “Holy Christ!” I told my friend. “I thought he’d just bring back a shooter! There must be four ounces of whiskey here!”

Marty laughed and swirled his cognac in his snifter. “I wonder if we can set it on fire?”

“Oh, good Christ! Do you remember that night? Remember how I ended up being thrown in the pool over that?” I swallowed some of my whiskey, which I have to admit, was very nice.

Marty held his snifter out to me. “To the Polar Bear Club!”

I tinked my glass against his. “And all the idiot members of it!”

After we were nearing the bottoms of our snifters, I commented, “If it’s just a question of money, I could always raise your pay? What the hell? That’s how the real world works? Supply and demand! High end people cost more!” I was starting to slur things but wasn’t sure.

Marty was coherent enough to be listening. “Forget it! It doesn’t work that way! That’s a government job! You can’t moonlight or get paid under the table. Why do you think these guys all want to work for the lobbying firms? So they can make some money!”

“Marty, let me tell you something. I may not know shit about government, but I know about people and money, and if there’s a way to do something, it can be figured out.”

“Well, when you figure this out, let me know. I’ll be curious!” Now Marty was slurring a bit.

I waved down the waiter and handed him my American Express card, wishing now that I hadn’t ordered the whiskey. I also asked him to order the driver up. He came back, I signed away a ludicrously large piece of my net worth, and we left. Marty was staggering slightly as we went outside. I took a breath of air and got enough oxygen flowing to stay awake and helped my friend into the limo. By the time I went around to the other side and climbed in, Marty was asleep.

The driver and I stared at each other. “Crap! I was hoping he would help me get inside, not the other way around!” I said.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied, laughing. “Do you know an address for him?”

I shrugged. “Not a clue. Let’s take him over to my place. He can sleep on the couch. Maybe you can help me with him.”

He nodded. “If not, I have a brother-in-law with a construction company. We can borrow their crane.”

We went over to 30^th and up the driveway. I unlocked the front door and propped it open, then the two of us got Marty upright and headed inside. We dumped him on the couch, and then I stumbled upstairs to bed.

I woke up late the next morning, wondering why I was still wearing a suit. I remembered why when I stood up, and discovered I had a major league headache. I stumbled into the bathroom and stripped off my clothing, and then swallowed a half dozen Advils. I stood under the shower for a long, long time, then crawled out and had a few more Advils. I handle ibuprofen very well, much better than aspirin or Tylenol. Then I remembered my guest downstairs. I grabbed a robe and padded barefoot down to the living room.

Marty was absent, but there was a handwritten note on a scrap of paper in the kitchen. “Took cab ... great place ... call me” along with one of his business cards. I made myself some cereal and juice, and ate that, and then headed upstairs again. I was very late when I got into my office.

As soon as I hit the Longworth building Mindy and Chuck followed me into my office. I was all cleaned up and dressed, but my eyes were bloodshot, and my pallor was a bit grey. Mindy said, “Long night?”

I looked at her and said, “If I wanted a woman to scold me, I’d get married. Oh, yeah! I did! Too bad you’re not my wife.”

Chuck was oblivious, and immediately announced I had missed an appointment with somebody from the Renewable Fuels Association that morning. I looked over at Mindy, who gave me a blank look. I grabbed my planner off the desk and flipped it today’s page. No meetings were scheduled. “Chuck, there’s nothing listed for today.”

He waved his left hand dismissively. “This is something that just came up.”

“No, Chuck, it didn’t. If you had somebody scheduled to meet me this morning, then you scheduled it no later than yesterday, so it could have been put in my calendar. When did you actually schedule this meeting?”

Chuck’s eyes widened and he began to sputter. “No, no ... it wasn’t like that ... I mean, yes it was the other day, but no...”

“Forget it. What possible reason could I have to meet this guy?”

“Woman. Tracy Shelburne.”

“Nobody cares, Chuck. What possible reason could I have to meet this lady? Renewable Fuels? What the hell is that all about?”

“Ethanol, of course,” he replied.

“Ethanol? From corn?” He nodded. “Chuck, let me tell you, the only ethanol from corn we care about in the Maryland Ninth is bourbon. What in the world did I want to speak to her about anyway?”

“There’s a potential for a vote in the Technology and Innovation Subcommittee,” he told me.

“So, last week you were selling my soul to the clean coal lobby. Yesterday you tried to sell me to the oil and gas drillers. Today you wanted me to sell out to the ethanol refiners. What happens when these guys figure out that I can’t possibly vote for each and every one of them? Think that might be a problem, Chuck?

“Well, you obviously can’t make any promises, other than to consider their positions carefully.”

I looked over at Mindy. “You know the definition of an honest politician? One who stays bought. Mindy, I need to talk to Chuck. Can you excuse us? Thank you.”

Mindy stood up and left my office, closing the door behind her. Chuck watched her leave and then turned back to me. “Chuck, are you happy here? Working for me, I mean.”

He looked very confused at this. “Yes, why?”

“Because right now the feeling is not mutual. I want you to listen to me very carefully. From now on, you make no appointments for me without discussing them with me first and getting my permission. Any appointments get written in the calendar. You do not keep running around selling my vote to anybody and everybody. Are you getting the gist of the discussion, or do I need to be more explicit?” I said this in as calm and even a tone of voice as I could muster.

“Congressman, I don’t understand what the problem is. These are all individuals with legitimate reasons to meet with you.”

“Maybe they are and maybe they aren’t, but that’s my ruling on this. It ends today, now. Is this clearly understood, or do I need to go find myself a new chief of staff who understands these requirements?”

Chuck’s eyes snapped wide at this. “Congressman!”

“Do you understand me or not?” I pressed.

“Congressman Buckman! I don’t understand the hostility of the discussion.”

“Mister Hanson, for the last time, will you abide by these rules, yes, or no? I need a response.”

“Yes, sir, of course!”

“Now, who were you selling me to this afternoon, and why do I want to see them?” We talked about another fifteen minutes, and Chuck was flustered the entire time. I could see him flipping through appointment slips that he was now going to have to cancel. Afterwards I brought in Sherry Longbottom to discuss upcoming legislation, and then Babs Brosinski, my Constituent Services Director, to discuss any problems back in the district. Babs, despite a name that suggested a ditzy blonde, was a tough-as-nails battle-axe brunette. I had brought Cheryl down for a day, and she had taken to Babs quickly, and they looked to be a good team for handling problems back in the Ninth.

Mid-afternoon, I got a phone call from Marty, who complained that I was an individual of low moral character, who was prone to lead innocent victims to a life of ruin. He didn’t sound all that good, but he had been socking it away even more than I had. I chided him by saying I learned many of my dissolute habits from him, and then reminded him to call me next week and confirm his visit to the house.

That evening I went over to National, and Tyrell flew me back to Westminster. I made it in the house before Dum-Dum figured out, I was home, but she was so neurotically insistent on playing with me, I sat down in my chair and let her lick my face while I rubbed her belly. Marilyn came over to kiss me hello, and Dum-Dum decided to lick her face as well. “AAAAGGGHHH! Dog kisses!” Marilyn complained, sounding like Lucy Van Pelt.

I glanced around to make sure the kids were out of earshot. “I don’t think it’s the kisses so much as the tongue that bothers you.”