Chapter 124: A New Job

The rest of 1998 was almost as big a watershed event for the Republicans as 1994 had been. For me, it went well, though parts were expected, and parts weren’t.

On the Friday after I told Chuck Ruff where to head in, Clinton capitulated. The White House press corps was informed at the morning press briefing that the President would make a brief statement, and there would be no questions afterwards. At ten o’clock that morning, the camera began rolling and Bill Clinton appeared behind his desk in the Oval Office. He only spoke about ten minutes and apologized to his family and to the American people, and thanked Congress for the understanding they had shown. He never specifically stated the words impeachment or censure, but it was sufficient for my colleagues and me.

The next thing that happened was that Buckman v. Curren came to an end. This was the Federal court case that had been ongoing since I had attempted to get a gun permit in Maryland under the Defending the Second Amendment Act. Maryland Attorney General Curren had denied the permit, and my attorney, David Boies, had promptly filed suit in Federal court, and gotten me a stay on the denial. That was over two years ago! Since then, it had been to Federal court, where we won, and Maryland had appealed. The Fourth Circuit, which covered Maryland, the Virginias, and the Carolinas, made a technical ruling that did not invalidate the law, but sent the case back to trial, where we won the case again. Back to the appeals process we went, and we won that before the standard three judge panel appeals court, and then when they lost, Maryland appealed it to the full court, en banc. They also lost that, and even worse, they lost the request to stay the order until they could appeal it to the Supreme Court.

Now, at the start of October, the Supreme Court announced the cases they would hear, and they refused to hear Buckman v. Curren, which meant that the lower court’s ruling held, and the state of Maryland was shit out of luck! I did some talk shows about the meaning of the ruling, and how it was a victory for law abiding citizens everywhere in the country.

I did not start wearing a gun. I was perfectly content to let my security people handle that problem for me. If I was just an average asshole, however, I would have worn it. From everything I was hearing from local law enforcement, while there had been an initial rush for permits, most of them were people who had already applied and been turned down, because they didn’t ‘need’ a gun (like I didn’t need one with Hamilton!) It didn’t seem like there was any kind of a rush for half the state to be getting permits. I was hearing the same from my colleagues from other states.

On another front, Jerry Herzinski did not prove to be the world beating candidate the Democratic Party had hoped for. Yes, he was a good small-town mayor, but he could put a tweaking meth addict to sleep. You want to have your supporters more excited at the end of your speech than at the beginning, but it’s supposed to be because you have them worked up, not happy to see you finish! I was not taking him lightly, but everything was pointing towards a major win on November 3 for the Republican candidate for the Maryland Ninth.

For one thing, by now, my constituent services team really had their shit together. If they couldn’t fix a problem themselves, they made no bones about putting me to work. I would be provided with the names of the people to call and lists of bullet points to argue and sent out ‘either with your shield or on it’, as Spartan hoplites were told by their mothers. In other words, get it fixed, or don’t come back to the office! Some of my constituent services people were pretty tough cookies, and I didn’t want to chance that they meant it!

For another thing, never underestimate the power of incumbency. There are the obvious advantages, such as taking credit for using government money to do something your constituents want. “This bridge repair was brought to you by the efforts of Congressman Buckman!” Combined with my penchant for strategic donations by the Buckman Foundation, this was a very winning combination.

Incumbency has another advantage, the advantage of inertia. For years now it had been known and proven that incumbents - regardless of party, regardless of record, regardless of the amount of money spent, regardless of almost anything - have a ninety percent chance of re-election. Eventually the odds would catch up to you and somebody else would push you out (like me with Andy Stewart) or the voters would send a message to the White House by a mass purge in Congress, like in 1994. I was not facing that this year.

I won re-election by twenty-two percent, one of my highest margins ever. It was ... intoxicating!

The effect in the House was interesting, to say the least. Newt had been running several polls all year long, and they were telling him that because of the Clinton sex scandal the Republicans could be expected to pick up between two and three dozen seats in the House. This would more than make up our losses in ‘96 and cement him as a great leader of the House, like Sam Rayburn and Tip O’Neill. He then proceeded to share these polls with all his top buddies.

The actual net result? Zero! We lost four Republican seats to Democratic newcomers and stripped four Democratic seats in return. To what extent the polls were accurate and to what extent Newt was simply finding things he wanted to find wasn’t clear. I can say with a hundred percent certainty that Newt blamed me for the discrepancy, because he reported this in the Washington Post. We had been on track to use the scandal to pick up all those seats in the House, when a rogue Congressman had to muck things up for everybody, derail the impeachment, and make friends with President Clinton.

This sounded great in theory, but a significant number of my fellow Republican representatives were not in agreement. I wasn’t as much of a rogue as Newt was making me out to be, and I had a lot of friends who weren’t buying Newt’s explanation. Among them was John Boehner, the Republican Conference Committee Leader, not quite as critical as the Majority Leader or Whip, but a nice step up the ladder. A revolt was brewing, he told me. Newt Gingrich had worn out his welcome. During the votes for leadership positions after the election, he would be voted out of his Speakership.

Somebody, maybe John, had a big mouth, and it got back to Newt. Newt called a meeting of the House Republican leadership (not including me, go figure!) and forced a response. I heard about it afterwards. Bill Paxon of New York announced he would challenge Newt for the Speakership. Since nobody really wanted Paxon, he was told to sit down and shut up. Newt told the rest of them that he didn’t want to ‘rule over a pack of cannibalistic wolves’ and said he was quitting as Speaker. Was it a bluff? I can’t say, but if it was, it failed. The wolves began arguing about who would take over. Newt’s four years at the helm were not considered successful, and the top people were tainted with him. Bob Livingston was going to be the next Speaker, as Newt’s chosen successor.

Well, maybe not.

There were new scandals brewing in Congress itself. Egged on by Hustler publisher Larry Flynt, everybody and their brother in the House, especially the Republicans, was being investigated for extramarital affairs. Flynt had promised a reward of a million bucks for documented proof, although it was never clear to me what proof you needed to get the million. Charlie even got in on the act, asking his mother to put on a blonde wig and sit on my lap, so that he could get a photo and send it in for his piece of the million. Smartass! I chased him around the kitchen as his mother and sisters laughed, and then gave him a swift kick in the pants!

The results were predictable. You can’t pick 535 random people and find zero who haven’t cheated on their spouse. The likelihood is so vanishingly small as to be meaningless. The first victim was Bob Livingston, one of Newt’s closest henchmen, who was fucking around on Mrs. Livingston. With Livingston out of the running, Dick Armey stepped up. Too bad for Dick that he was too tightly tied to Newt. Nobody wanted him as Speaker either. At that point, Newt simply told us all to fuck off, and resigned his seat representing the Georgia 6^th.

And that was my opportunity. Things had gotten too crazy, too much had been said, too many bad feelings were floating around. There was a significant chance that the Democrats could find a few Republicans disgusted by the entire affair and join with them to vote in a Democratic Speaker in a Republican dominated House. That needed to be shut down and shut down hard! I talked to as many of the more moderate Republicans I could speak to. Interestingly, I also spoke to Tom DeLay, who was equally disgusted by what was going on. So, he and I made a deal.

When the vote for House leadership positions came, Denny Hastert decided to go up against Armey for Speaker. On the third round of voting, Hastert won. That was when DeLay slipped a knife into the back of Armey. Tom got himself nominated for House Leader, which was Dick’s current position, and won the vote. Armey was stunned. The second half of the deal was the quid pro quo. My buddy John Boehner nominated me for Majority Whip, and DeLay seconded the nomination.

I was asked my philosophy of governing by one of the newbies, a fellow from out in the Midwest. I stood up and scratched my head, and then grabbed the microphone. “My philosophy? How about getting something done around here? How about accomplishing something? I’m not from some district that doesn’t have Democrats in it. I’m from the Maryland Ninth, where I am damn near the only Republican in the district. If I can’t work with the people on the other side of the aisle, I don’t come back here. If I don’t try and get something done here, I don’t come back here. If I don’t at least show some level of courtesy to the Democrats, I don’t come back here. So, here’s my philosophy - Do your damn job! Every one of us told the people back home that they could trust us to fix the problems around this joint. So, do it! I am going to ask every person in this room to figure out ways to lower the volume of nonsense we have been spouting, and work together to get some things done. So that’s my philosophy. Do your damn job! And you tell me what I have to do to help you. And that’s my job, to help you!”

I set the mike back in the mount and looked out at the others. Some of the people there had stunned looks on their faces, but others were nodding and whispering to each other. Then we took a vote.

I was the new Majority Whip.

I suspect that when the news got to the White House that for the next two years when they asked to see the Congressional leadership, they would be seeing my smiling face went over like a lead balloon. In fact, a few people asked if I would shake his hand, and suggested I take some hand sanitizer for when I did. I smiled and laughed with them, but that would be ballsy, even for me. I would behave myself, or Marilyn would smack me, I’m sure.

At Christmas, we did the usual and flew up to Marilyn’s family for a few days. Everybody had heard about my promotion, and I spent a fair bit explaining to my brothers- and sisters-in-law what the job was, or at least what I thought it was. Everything went well, but there was a somewhat uncomfortable conversation on Christmas day. It wasn’t about the truly dreadful meal, which Marilyn’s mother cooked - Marilyn got her abysmal kitchen skills honestly - but the question asked over dinner. Harriet looked across the table at Charlie and asked, “So, Charlie, where do you plan to go to school next year?”

I kept any expression off my face as I turned to face my son. I had been pushing him on this same question for almost a year now, and not gotten much in the way of an answer. Marilyn had argued through his junior year that I didn’t need to push him, but even she was starting to worry. He only had one more semester until graduation. So far, he had only told us that he just didn’t seem to like the idea of going to college. I told him that he could enroll at one of the community colleges, go there for a couple of years and figure out what he wanted to do, and then transfer to a four-year school. Essex or Hagerstown were certainly close enough if he wanted to live at home, or he could live on campus anywhere in the state.

There had been a time when Charlie was younger, just hitting his teens, when his growth spurt seemed like it wasn’t going to end. He had been talking about football a lot, and when he hit Hereford High and got picked for JV football, he was still growing. Then his spurt came to an end, as they all do, and Charlie peaked at 5’10” and 195, all solid muscle. Charlie was a linebacker. When I asked him once what his qualifications for the job were, he laughed and said, “Coach says I’m fast enough to catch them and big enough to eat them!” For a normal guy, he was on the large side, and certainly in excellent shape. For a football player, he wouldn’t even make it to Division III ball. College and professional football were now nothing but the Land of the Giants. He wasn’t going to college on a football scholarship, or with his grades, any other type of scholarship. Not that we needed one, but it would be nice to see him get an education.

He had hemmed and hawed at all of these ideas, so I put it to him differently. “So where do you plan to work?”

“Huh?”

“Charlie, you need to figure out what you are doing with your life. If you think you can just live here, think again. Once you are out of high school, the free ride is over. We’ll put you through college, but you need to get a job and start paying room and board. If all you have is a high school diploma, the only jobs you are going to get will involve your saying the words ‘Would you like fries with that?’ Or do you plan on going pro with the motocross racing?” Charlie had decided to drop from Scouting several years ago and had concentrated on football and motocross. For the last year, since he had turned sixteen, he had gotten his pro ticket from the AMA. Going pro, however, would necessitate a lot of travel and expense.

Charlie got a little more animated at that. “I’ve been thinking about that. I talked to Bucky and Uncle Tusker, and they are interested in sponsoring me, but Bucky is still in college. He won’t be much help.”

“Well, then, you’d better decide on the Army or the Navy, because you ain’t hanging around here for the rest of your life.”

At that our son nodded and stood up and headed towards his room.

Marilyn was sitting in the living room at the house when we had this conversation and had remained silent throughout. After Charlie took off, she told me, “We are not charging our son room and board.”

I smiled at her. “I know that, and you know that, but he doesn’t know that. He needs a swift kick in the ass at times.”

She glanced towards the hall where the bedrooms are, and then looked back at me and smiled. “Very true.”

That conversation had been during the fall, and I just couldn’t get him to commit to anything. Now, with his grandmother asking, he shrugged and said, “I think I’m going into the service.”

I sighed and nodded at the answer, since it seemed to me that Charlie was doing this just because he couldn’t come up with any better idea. Marilyn pursed her lips and looked unhappy but didn’t argue with him. That task was immediately taken up by the entire remainder of Marilyn’s family. They were still as big a bunch of draft dodgers as they had been when I started dating Marilyn. The difference now was that when they met me, I was already committed to serve. Charlie was still talking about it and wasn’t signed up yet.

Harriet had the general gist of the family’s argument. “Have you lost your mind? Why in the world would you want to do something that stupid?” I kept my mouth shut but gave her a rather dry look at that. They even offered him a job after he graduated, working for Lefleur Homes.

Charlie jumbled out a bunch of reasons before Marilyn had the decency to shut her family down. Afterwards, I tapped him on the shoulder and led him into the den. “So, what’s going on? Why are you doing this? I know it’s not the money. Your mom will never actually let me throw you out into the snow, you know.”

He laughed at that. “Mom told me that. I didn’t think you actually would. I just don’t want to keep going to school. I think I’ll go crazy if I have to keep doing that!”

“Yeah, well let me tell you, you join up, you’ll still be going to school. Don’t you dare think otherwise! This isn’t the days when they handed you a musket and lined you up and told you to bang away at each other! The training is constant, and some of the fields are more technical than anything you will find at a community college,” I told him. (You want technical training? Join the Navy!)

He nodded, but replied, “Even so, it’d still be different.”

“Then let me tell you something else. This is still something more than just avoiding school. I don’t care whether you join the Army or the Navy, or even the Coast Guard, but you damn well better have a reason more than not having anything better to do.”

“So why did you join up?” he returned. “I’ve read your bios. You had other scholarships, and you had a lot of money, even then. You didn’t need to join the Army to go to school, did you?”

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you!”

“Are we? I’ve talked to Aunt Suzie, too.”

That stopped me. “What does my sister have to do with this?”

“She told me about the family history. She told me that she got the photos from your father that were in their house before they sold it. The photos of you and your father and grandfather in uniform. And I’ve seen that picture of you getting your medal. Mom’s real proud of that one. She says you’re her own personal hero.”

I gaped at that and sat down heavily in an armchair. “Oh, Charlie, those are the worst possible reasons! If you think you need to join because of some family destiny, you are so very, very wrong. And believe me, I’m no hero.”

“But the medal...”

I looked at him sadly. “Charlie, that medal and two bucks buys you a cup of coffee. Men died that day. I’d rather just have the cup of coffee, and I don’t drink coffee.” I looked out the window, not really seeing the view. “You want a medal, Charlie? Hell, I’ll give you the damn thing!”

“Dad, you told Mom once that it was your turn to do your duty. That’s what she told me once, anyway. Maybe it’s my turn now.”

“Shit!” I muttered to myself. Then I looked at him. “Do me a favor and get an office job. If anything happens to you, your mother will never forgive me. The Army is always looking for truck drivers and clerks.”

My son laughed at that and left the room. Moments later Marilyn came in, to find me still sitting there and staring out the window. She came over and sat down on my lap. “I heard what you told him. He’s simply too much like you.”

“I had been hoping for something better,” I told her.

She put her arms around my neck, and I put mine around her waist. “You’re always too hard on yourself. He’s a good boy, and some day he’ll be a good man, like his father.”

“Just remember, I tried to talk him out of it.”

She hugged me and answered, “I know. I heard it all. You’re still my hero, no matter what you say.”

“You could have done so much better than me.”

“Nonsense!” Marilyn kissed me. “Enough of this.” She stood up and led me back to the rest of the family.

Later that day I told Charlie that he needed our approval to do this. None of the services would even touch him until he graduated from high school, and until he turned 18, he needed our signatures. He was to bring the recruiting sergeant to the house some night after we got home.

That occurred two weeks later, on a Wednesday night. I was under orders to make sure I was home in time for dinner. We were to meet Sergeant Rodriguez at 7:30. The girls were more curious than anything else, Marilyn and I were rather resigned, and Charlie was very nervous. He was pacing back and forth and looking out the windows, and Marilyn and I were looking at each other and simply shaking our heads and rolling our eyes.

A few minutes before the appointed time, I went down the hall to my bathroom. Of course, that was when the doorbell rang. Well, there were plenty of other people to handle the matter. Then I heard Dum-Dum bark and smiled to myself. Definitely, somebody else could handle the problem!

I took a piss and then washed up. As I started heading back out of the room, I heard Marilyn comment, “Oh, dear!” That made me wonder what the problem was.

I quickly found out. Marilyn was standing there in the living room, holding Dum-Dum in her arms. Dum-Dum was now at least fifteen years old, and she was an old dog. She had a bit of a limp these days (well, so did I), and her face had a lot of white hair, and she wasn’t moving too fast anymore, but she was still excited to see people. She was squirming in Marilyn’s arms and was licking the sergeant who had bent down to allow this. Charlie was standing there holding the sergeant’s coat. I came closer and then the sergeant stood upright and turned to face me. That was when I realized why Marilyn had said, “Oh, dear!”

Sergeant Rodriguez was a member of the United States Marine Corps!

I couldn’t help myself! I swear to Christ, I couldn’t help myself! I turned to Charlie and said, “The Marines? Are you kidding me? The Marines?”

Marilyn laughed and set down the dog, who scampered around a bit before jumping on the couch. “You behave!” she told me. To Sergeant Rodriguez, she said, “Don’t mind him. He used to be an Army paratrooper.”

The sergeant smiled and nodded in understanding. “Yes, ma’am. Army paratroopers are just guys who wanted to be Marines and didn’t make the cut.”

Marilyn laughed heartily at that. “Carl, I think we have found your match!”

I gave a wry smile and shook the sergeant’s hand. “Nothing personal, Sergeant, but my understanding was that the Marines were the guys who found jump school too hard. Welcome.” I turned my head to my grinning son, “If this is a joke, you will spend the rest of your very short life digging your grave out back!”

He laughed and said, “It would almost be worth it.”

I snorted and turned back to the sergeant. “Well, I can always kill him later. Come on in. I’m sure my wife has coffee on.”

Sergeant Rodriguez was perfectly charming and made a fine case for Charlie to join the Marines. Despite my many jokes over the years about recruiting sergeants, the days are long past when they could lie about everything and not give a damn about the consequences. At Lefleur Homes I had hired several recruiting sergeants since they made excellent salespeople. Ever since the advent of the all-volunteer force, military recruitment has taken on an almost professional air, with recruits signing contracts, and the military having to honor the contract in most cases (assuming nobody is shooting at you at the moment.) It was also obvious that the sergeant had done his homework. He knew who I was, as in I wasn’t some routine schlub sending his kid out. I had a fair amount of juice.

I listened to the sergeant and watched Charlie’s face. It was obvious to me that my son wasn’t doing this just because he couldn’t think of anything else. He had obviously swallowed the Kool Aid.

They don’t just let any old asshole in the Marine Corps. It’s not like the old days where you could just sign up, or be sentenced in some cases, and be sent off as cannon fodder. Charlie would have to take both the ASVAB, a military SAT type test to see if he was smart enough, as well as a pre-ASVAB to even get that far. There would be a couple of physicals, including drug testing. I wasn’t too worried about that, since I hadn’t seen any indications of it, but the parents are always the last to know.

At the end of the spiel, I looked over at Marilyn, who gave a resigned shrug of her shoulders. That was probably about as much of a positive sendoff as a Lefleur was going to give. I nodded back to her, and then turned to face the sergeant.

“Okay, I think it’s my turn to speak, for both me and Charlie’s mother. First and foremost, Charlie is not leaving here until after he graduates from high school, and he is going to graduate, and he is going to graduation. There will be no exceptions on that. Is that understood, Mister?” I asked our son.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I gave him a hard look, and he swallowed and said, “Yes, sir!”

“Good. Remember that phrase.”

Sergeant Rodriguez snorted at that. “Fine by us, Congressman. We don’t want him if he doesn’t graduate.”

I nodded. “Where are you out of, Sergeant? Towson or Reisterstown?”

“Towson, sir.”

“Do you have some form of physical conditioning program? Something to toughen these kids up before they report in?”

I received a smile in return. “Yes, sir, we do. We will be expecting Recruit Buckman to attend, too.”

“I’m in shape!” protested Charlie.

I gave him a disgusted look. “You think you’re in shape. You are soft and weak. You couldn’t pass the Marine standards right now, let alone Army standards. You will cooperate with the sergeant or find another job. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

I nodded. In reality, Charlie was in perfectly fine shape to join up, but he could use the discipline and structure involved.

I looked back at Rodriguez. “Okay, a question for you. You can’t have him until graduation, which is in June. He turns 18 in October, and you don’t need our permission then. That makes me think you will be sending him to boot camp in between.” I made the last sentence into a question.

“In August, sir.”

“Parris Island?”

“Yes, sir.”

I shrugged. South Carolina in the summer. It should be delightful! From what the Sergeant had told us, boot camp would run thirteen weeks, so he would be tied up with them until sometime in November. He would get a week’s leave at that point, and then off to the School of Infantry for another couple of months of combat training at some place near Camp Lejeune. That would probably keep him busy through Thanksgiving and Christmas. He’d probably get another leave after that, and then find his ass shipped off to his duty station. At that point he’d be assigned to a battalion and follow them wherever they were sent. He would have a four-year commitment, followed by another four years in the inactive reserves.

“Okay. We’ll go along with this, but we won’t sign the papers until after graduation. Then you can take him and be welcome to him! I do want to ask a favor, though.”

“Yes, sir?”

I sighed. “Sergeant, you know who I am. I’m a U.S. Congressman, and I am well known. I can’t require you to do this, but I can ask, as the father of a young man. I know how the services work. When you put through his paperwork, I want to see a mistake. Don’t enlist him as Charles R. Buckman. I want you to enlist him as Robert C. Buckman. And I don’t want you to use his address here. We can use the address in Washington.”

Sergeant Rodriguez’ eyes widened at that, and both Marilyn and Charlie started protesting and asking what I was up to. Even Dum-Dum looked up from where she was sleeping. I kept my eyes on the sergeant, however. “Sir, that would be very unusual. Why would I do that? Charlie will have to provide his birth certificate,” he replied.

“I am aware of that, Sergeant, and I am also aware that clerical errors get made.” I then looked at my son and gave the rest of the answer. “Charlie, I am a rich and powerful man. Most of the kids you have grown up with, most of the girls you have dated, you first met them when I wasn’t anywhere near as rich or powerful. But out there, out in the rest of the world, the people you meet will only know you as the son of a rich and powerful man. Bobby Buckman of Washington, however, nobody has ever heard of. The friends you make, you’ll know they’re your friends because of you, not because somebody wants something from me. The same goes for your duty assignments. There will be people who will want you to do things in the Marines because they think they will be able to get stuff from me.”

“Huh?”

“It happens, Charlie. Maybe you get assigned somewhere nearby, or maybe you want to have one type of duty and somebody in the Pentagon sees your name and decides you should do something different. Hey, it happens,” I told him.

I looked back at the sergeant. “So, there it is. I can’t expect it of you, and I can’t even really ask it of you, but for his sake, not for mine, change his name. If he wants to do this, let him, but let him just be a regular guy.”

Sergeant Rodriguez wouldn’t commit himself, but simply promised to think about it. I couldn’t ask more than that. After a bit more, we let him leave, and told both him and Charlie we wouldn’t stand in his way. After he left, though, I tapped Charlie on the shoulder and pointed back to the living room. “Why the Marines?”

“Because it’s not the Army,” he said. I was quite hurt at that, and it must have shown. Charlie said, “Dad, I need to do something different. I know you were in the Army, and I can’t go through life being compared to you. I have to do something different.”