Chapter 158: The Calm Before The Storm

I wasn’t surprised when DeSantos agreed to the terms and had Petrelli sign the papers the next day. The marshal returned to Washington with the signed papers and the diaries. The diaries were turned over to the Federal Court while the final paperwork was finished. Eventually the diaries were turned over to me. I went home to Hereford that weekend and left Marilyn in D.C. I never read them. I just grabbed a box of kitchen matches and went up to the helipad and threw the diaries into some old cardboard boxes, doused them with lighter fluid, and set them on fire. It was chilly, but I didn’t really care. I just stood there and watched, occasionally kicking unburned pages back into the fire, until nothing was left. I didn’t think I would ever understand why Jeana had never come forward, but I just didn’t want to read her diaries to try and find out. That just seemed too private and personal. It was so long ago, and so bittersweet.

The press was loath to let a good scandal alone, though. John Edwards had mostly shut up once it became obvious he was staying in the Senate, and neither Petrelli, DeSantos, nor I were talking. Nature abhors a vacuum, however, so reporters began reporting on the lack of anything to report. It came to a head the first week of December. Brian Williams had just taken over the NBC Nightly News from Tom Brokaw, and had managed to finagle a one-on-one interview with the President as a big and flashy intro. It was big and flashy, all right, but not perhaps in the way he imagined.

We were set up in the Map Room, like on some previous interviews, but it was just me and Williams, without Marilyn or any other members of the family. It was supposed to be a discussion of my plans for a second Buckman administration, both personnel wise and about future legislation.

Williams: “First off, Mister President, congratulations on your victory in the election. Does it feel good to know you won’t have to ever run for office again?”

Me: (Chuckling.) “I think that’s a little premature, Brian. I might not be running for office, but there are certainly going to be plenty of elections coming up where I might be called upon for some influence. If I do my job right, maybe I’ll be able to help a few fellow Republicans.”

Williams: “And if something goes wrong?”

Me: (Smiling.) “Then maybe my fellow Republicans won’t want my help. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Williams: “Do you consider the Petrelli scandal one of those things that can go wrong?”

Whoa! Where did that come from? I was sure it showed on my face because I stopped smiling or laughing and gave Williams a hard look.

Me: “That’s really not something I intend to discuss, Brian.”

Williams: “Mister President, you must admit that some voters were influenced by the scandal.”

Me: “I wouldn’t agree with that, and I think the final election results speak for themselves.”

Williams: “You have refused to discuss the scandal until now. Why is that?”

Me: “I have no intention of discussing anything of the sort, Brian. I am here to discuss the changes coming in the next four years.”

Williams: “Mister President, why haven’t you discussed what happened, and explained it to the American people? Isn’t it unrealistic to expect it to remain hidden after all these years?”

Me: “Let me put this to rest, then. I think it is painfully obvious that the American public can differentiate between my performance as the President of the United States and whatever occurred with a couple of teenagers thirty years ago. It was never anything more than a personal issue to the people involved. No laws were broken. There was no scandal and no cover-up. Since then, the issue has been resolved and we have all put it behind us and moved on with our lives. There will be no more discussion of it than that.”

Williams: “What about the diaries? Was there a payoff?”

Me: “Move it along, Mister Williams. The topic is getting old.”

Ari Fleischer was leaving, effective January 1, with Will Brucis taking over his job. Once we were off camera, I told Ari that as a Christmas present NBC was losing their White House press privileges until further notice. He was alarmed and argued against it, but I didn’t much care. Williams had knowingly violated our pre-interview agreement. “An NBC reporter lied to the President of the United States! Actions have consequences, Ari, and not just for me. Maybe it’s time for a few reporters to learn that, too.”

I had won reelection (or election, depending on how you looked at it), but things were changing. Several top people had told me that if I won, they would be leaving sometime in 2005. In a way I was somewhat dismayed but working at that level is incredibly wearing. Forget about having a family or a life outside of the White House. You are on call 24 hours a day, each and every day, and might be here today and around the other side of the world tomorrow. Ari was only the first to announce he was leaving.

Colin Powell told me he would stay until the summer, but he would be gone after the July 4^th holiday. He thought Condi Rice would be a good choice, and I thought so, too. She wasn’t incredibly high profile, and despite being a big fan of George Bush, had been relatively smart and moderate. She agreed to move over and said she would think about a new National Security Adviser.

Mike Gerson was planning on leaving as my chief speechwriter. Technically he had been George’s speechwriter, while Matt Scully was mine. Matt was staying put, and Mike was leaving. He had proposed a replacement named Marc Thiessen, who used to be an aide and writer for Senator Jesse Helms of North Carolina. That made me really wonder. Mike was much more conservative than I was, and he had only stayed with me out of loyalty to Bush. When he mentioned Helms, I immediately got nervous. Jesse Helms was about a billion years old and was so conservative that he thought Abe Lincoln had been more than a little premature in freeing the slaves, that AIDS was God’s punishment on the faggots and queers, and that being a Democrat was akin to being an atheist. I told Mike I would meet with Thiessen, but that I was going to look at a few other candidates as well. Then again, a link to the conservative wing of the party might not be a bad idea. I was going to have to give that one some thought.

One of the toughest jobs in the White House is that of Chief of Staff. He travels everywhere with the President, works ludicrously long hours, and has no personal life. Josh Bolten had stepped up to the plate when Andy Card had died on 9-11. He told me he was leaving right after the inauguration. He also recommended that Frank Stouffer move up from assistant. Frank had been with me since the 2000 campaign, and was only 30 years old, incredibly young for such a senior position, but he had managed to impress Josh. I was happy with that choice. For a guy who started out as my body man, this was an incredible rise in just five years. By the time he left the White House, Frank was going to have his pick of Republican Party, K Street, or private sector jobs.

I made a major change in the Inauguration this time. I told people that I didn’t care how many Inaugural Balls there were, Marilyn and I were attending just one! I told John that if he and Cindy wanted to make the rounds, they were free to do so, but eight Balls in one night, which is what happened the last time, was simply ludicrous. I would be happy to speak to each Ballroom via closed circuit television but driving from one to another was insane. John, on the other hand, told me he was going to use this as another chance to shake hands and line up supporters for 2008. Fair enough. If we did the closed-circuit thing, I would make sure I mentioned the help he had been and how he was making the rounds.

As always, we invited my family (what there was of it) and Marilyn’s family (as many as wanted to come), along with some of my friends from back home. Tusker and Tessa came down, as did Bucky, who escorted both the girls. Charlie brought a blonde model he had met at a bike race. Jake Eisenstein, Jr. came with his wife. Marilyn and I attended a combination Maryland and National Ball, and Cheryl Dedrick was there with her husband, proudly representing the Maryland Ninth. She had won reelection twice now and remained a loyal supporter. Maryland may have voted for Kerry, but the Maryland Ninth had voted Buckman by a landslide!

It turned out that Marilyn was the belle of the ball in more ways than one. She selected a nice scarlet red Versace gown with a slit up one leg to about mid-thigh, and up top it featured a matching bolero jacket. The interesting part was when she took the jacket off after we got to the Ball - under the jacket the top was a red sequined bustier, backless and strapless! Marilyn must have been tanning topless, and she looked good! I gave a wolf whistle that a few other people noticed, and Marilyn blushed and preened, twisting around to show me, and everyone else. Later, I discovered that she hadn’t worn pantyhose, but stockings. She whispered to me during our first dance that she wanted my inauguration to be memorable. It was! She also made most of the tabloids and women’s fashion magazines, and her dress became the season’s must-have for evening gowns. Versace ended up making it in about a half dozen colors, as well as black, and the just-above-the-knee length black version became that year’s ‘little black dress!’

It was a lot more relaxing to be able to just attend the single ball, even if I did have to break off every few minutes to a sound room to make a televised appearance at one of the other balls. At least this time nobody was going to take a snapshot of Marilyn snoring with her mouth open and drooling on my shoulder. We were able to dance, and I could have an extra drink or two. Unfortunately, the guy carrying the football wouldn’t let me nuke John Edwards’s hometown. He still pissed me off with his shit during the end of the campaign about Michael Petrelli. He was another putz I wouldn’t mind nuking. (If he had managed to contact me after Jeana’s death, and introduce himself in a civilized fashion, we might well have had a very different relationship. Selling the story to The National Enquirer and then suing me for billions was not a civilized introduction!)

Shortly after the Inauguration, I managed to tweak Marilyn on national television. One of the perks of being the President is being able to host musical groups at the White House. Sometimes this means wearing a tux to the Kennedy Center for a night of classical music (good) or opera (dreadful). Occasionally it means you get to dress casually while Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band rock the East Room - that was awesome! Whenever this goes on, of course, it’s going out on PBS, and for the good stuff, one of the networks. I remember when I introduced Bruce Springsteen that I commented on the air, “It’s a bit tricky for the President to get out at times, but one of the perks of the job is being able to call up Bruce Springsteen and ask him to come over to the house and play a set or two.”

In mid-February we had a night of bluegrass and country music, with Alison Kraus followed by Brad Paisley. Marilyn and I were looking forward to this; we never asked the opinions of our children, who were under orders to attend and smile. My job in all this is to act as the host, to introduce the performers, make a joke or two with them, and then sit down and listen. Pretty straightforward and simple. First up was Alison Kraus with her band Union Station, and that was cool. I’m not madly crazy about bluegrass, but I won’t turn it off if it comes on the radio, either.

The fun started when Ms. Kraus was finished, and it was Brad’s turn on the stage. His music was a more modern country style. I went up to the low stage, and did a quick intro, but then, before I sat down, I decided to have a little fun. “Brad, before I let you perform, I need you to do something for me. Could you help me for just a minute?”

Paisley looked a little amused and confused, but he was a game trouper. “Of course, sir. What can I do?”

I turned towards my wife and said, “Marilyn, can you come on up here with me?”

Marilyn looked mystified, but she was game. She joined us on the stage and said into the mike, “I have no idea what he’s up to,” which got us some laughs.

I answered that with, “Brad, the First Lady and I have had an argument for years now, and you are qualified to settle it.”

He glanced over at Marilyn, who had a curious look on her face, but he was in too far now. “I’ll do what I can, sir.”

“Okay,” I continued. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you began singing and playing guitar back in high school, right? Back when you were a teenager, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked towards his backup band. “How about you guys? The guys I mean, not the ladies, were you in groups then, too?” I got several agreements and thumbs-up from the band, though I doubt much of it made it to the microphones. “Okay, so here’s the question. You’ll see why I have to ask you, and why I couldn’t ask Alison earlier. Marilyn and I have been arguing for years about this. She says that performers like you join bands and musical groups because they love music and performing, and I say that teenage guys join bands to meet girls.”

Paisley started laughing loudly at this, and his band pretty much broke down. Even the backup singers, all women, were laughing fit to bust a gut. Meanwhile the audience was laughing, as was Marilyn. “You are a rat!” she told me.

Paisley was grinning as he spoke into the microphone. “Nothing like putting me on the spot, Mister President! Who do I make angry, the lady of the house, or the guy who can order the IRS to investigate me?” I just smiled at that. “I’m going to have to say - the music and the performing. Sorry, sir, my mother would never forgive me if I got a lady angry at me!”

“Hah!” added Marilyn, giving me a superior look.

I wasn’t done, though. I looked back at the band. “Guys? The music or the girls?”

“Girls!” roared out from the band.

Brad was laughing again, and Marilyn punched me in the ribs lightly. “Brad, I think you’ve been outvoted! I think I’ll let you get on with the music now.”

“Good idea, sir, and I’ll let you get on with your divorce!”

Marilyn laughed and hugged me, then went over and kissed him on the cheek, and we sat back down. Even the kids seemed to enjoy the evening after that, and clips ran on most of the comedy and news shows the next day.

I was hopeful that this year I would be able to get some stuff accomplished in Washington. Certainly last year, an election year, was a lost cause. Nothing gets done in D.C. every fourth year. Now, I wanted to head off a housing bubble, even if that caused a recession. A recession is nothing unusual and was often the result of a bubble collapsing. The trick is not to let the bubble get too big. The Great Recession was caused by artificially inflating the bubble to monstrous size, and then suddenly popping it. I wanted some sort of increased banking regulation and to chew on Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, make people look at them more realistically. If we had a mild recession in 2006, which was five years after the last one, then by the time the elections rolled around in 2008, we would be on the rise again, always good for the incumbent party. It’s a cold calculus, but a realistic one. It was still a lot less painful to work with than to keep blowing smoke up everyone’s ass until the wheels came off, and we suffered the worst recession since the Great Depression!

Oh, I also had to keep balancing the budget in the face of some heavy Democratic and Republican opposition! The Republicans were really pushing for a tax cut. I had been putting them off for three years and running budget surpluses and paying down the debt. The Dems wanted to keep taxes where they were and increase entitlements. Everybody wanted to keep the gravy train rolling on biscuit wheels, especially with the gung-ho housing market. I knew what would happen and I desperately wanted to keep things under control.

Worst of all for me, I now had a split Congress. The House was still solidly Republican, but the Democrats had managed to take back the Senate, with 50 Dems and Bernie Sanders as an Independent, versus 49 Republicans. The worst part? Harry Reid was the new Senate Majority Leader, and Harry didn’t like me. We had never really jelled. He was a fair bit more liberal than me, and we disagreed on several items. Even when I had a liberal position, such as being pro-choice, he turned out to be pro-life! I could already feel an itch between my shoulder blades from where I knew the knife would go in!

One agency I really wanted to see get better was FEMA. I had been trying over the past few years to beef it up. It might have been a dumping ground at the top for political operatives in need of a job, but a lot of the people at the lower levels were quite dedicated. I had been pushing since 2001 for realistic and large-scale exercises and disaster training. I remembered back during my first trip, FEMA had been sucked willy-nilly into Homeland Security, and it hadn’t done well there. One thing that Homeland Security had done was imbue everything it touched with antiterrorism. They no longer practiced for routine disasters like tornadoes or floods or earthquakes. Everything became terrorism related disasters, like nuclear drills, chemical attacks, biological attacks, and such. Never mind that none of that ever happened, and that we were hit with natural disasters on a routine basis. FEMA didn’t worry about those.