Chapter 10: Politics

The screaming woke Marilyn up. She looked around at the craziness and then looked over at me. “We won?” she asked.

“We won,” I answered, smiling back at her.

I pointed a finger towards our son, who had Megan in his arms off the floor and was twirling her around. He saw his aged and decrepit parents and dropped his wife down, and then sprang over to us. Marilyn was a trace faster getting to her feet, and he picked her up and gave her a big hug. “Sorry, Mom, but the Democrats lost!” he teased.

She hugged him back and then punched his arm lightly. “You’re as big a rat as your father!” She hugged him a second time. “Congratulations, honey! I hope you like it.”

Charlie let go of Marilyn and turned to me. I gave him a big hug as well, and said, “God help you now, you dumb bastard!”

“You’re just a grumpy old man, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“No, I’m a curmudgeon. Big difference.”

“Screw you, too, Dad. What now?”

Brewster answered that, getting a hug as well. “Now we wait to confirm it. You don’t say anything outside this room until I tell you to. We wait for Barb Mikulski to call and concede, and then you can go speak. You stay straight, you hear me! You’re going to get calls from Hillary Clinton and Jeb Bush and half the leadership in Congress. You be polite and say thank you. Tomorrow, you do more of the same. This isn’t over until I say it’s over, you got it?”

“Bossy bastard!”

“You ain’t seen shit yet!” replied Brewster. He had a major shit eating grin on his face. “Damn it, boy! Congratulations!” They had an arm around each other’s shoulders. Brewster had handled this campaign personally, like he had my first campaign. “This has been the most fun I’ve had in years! Damn! We beat Barb Mikulski! Jesus!”

Brewster broke off and told one of the campaign workers to go out to the room and tell people, including the press, that we were waiting on a call from Mikulski headquarters. There were already reports showing up on the networks about the election. Brian Williams was reporting, “In a stunning upset, Republican Charlie Buckman, the young son of former President Carl Buckman, in his first run for any political office, has beaten the Democratic incumbent, Barbara Mikulski, in the race for Senator from Maryland. The last time a Republican was elected to the Senate from Maryland was in 1980, 36 years ago! Mikulski was elected or re-elected five times and was one of the longest serving and most powerful people in the Senate. Her opponent wasn’t even born the last time a Republican was elected Senator from Maryland and had never even run for dogcatcher before. Over $50 million dollars was spent in this race. No word yet on whether Senator Mikulski has called Senator-Elect Buckman to concede.”

Barb called about fifteen minutes later, long enough, we all figured, for her team to independently confirm the precinct results being reported. Charlie said that she was polite, but sounded a bit stunned, which didn’t surprise me. It was a quick phone call, but I recalled that it was still more of a courtesy than Andy Stewart had given me when I won my first election. After that, Brewster gave Charlie the green light to make a triumphant entry into the Grand Ballroom. It was late, but not too late to be broadcast on national television. Charlie and Megan led the way, followed by Brewster and the other campaign staff. Marilyn and I followed; it was our son’s night, not ours. Molly, Bucky, and Holly followed us.

Charlie came in through a deafening roar of cheers and applause, all the while waving and shaking hands. As a long-time professional politician, I had to smile. Charlie had all the moves down pat. My son, the master of reinvention, had done it again. He gave a masterful acceptance speech, as good as any I had ever given, thanking the voters, the volunteers, his staff, and then Megan and his children. Finally, he smiled and yelled out, “Mom, Dad! Come on up here!” He began waving us forward, and the crowd was cheering for us to go up to the podium.

I shook my head and smiled and looked over at Marilyn. “I think we have to go up there.”

“This is Charlie’s night, don’t you think?”

I shrugged, and the yelling for us to go forward got louder. “I don’t think we have a choice. Come on, let’s go up there. Smile and wave.”

She snorted and said, “I’ve been around you long enough to know how to smile and wave, Carl!” She raised her right hand and began to wave and smile, and with her left hand grabbed mine and began pulling me forward. I laughed and followed her, also smiling and waving. Holly and Molly were pushing us from behind, exhorting us to get up front.

We made our way up through the crowd to the podium, and Charlie pulled us front and center, with me on his right side and Marilyn on his left, and an arm around each of us. “Now, I already said the person I most want to thank is my wife, Megan, and I could have never done this without her. However, I also have to thank my folks. You all know them as the former President and First Lady, but to me they’re just Dad and Mom. Now, I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. All my life they have been telling me to go to college and get an honest job. Guess what guys? I screwed up again!” The place broke up in laughter at that, and I gave him a good-natured smack to the back of the head.

After that, the reporters descended like vultures, and both Charlie and I gave interviews. Eventually that got old, so we called it quits, enjoyed the party, and then shut it down and went upstairs to our rooms. Both Marilyn and I told Charlie he had to call his godmother the next day and tell her. Suzie would be very proud of him.

Wednesday we all went back to our homes, but I told Charlie he was back at work for a few days. He had to do more than just say thank you to people at the party, he had to call half the Republican powers across the country and thank them. I had already warned him of this ahead of time, but I don’t think it sank in any more than it did with me in 1990. After that, I promised Charlie and Megan a long weekend at Hougomont, and Marilyn and I would take care of the girls in Hereford. Marilyn was practically giddy with the idea. Me, less so, because grumpy old men don’t do diapers. I called Bucky and asked him if he needed some help around the office, and he laughed and hung up on me.

My potential problem was solved, at least for a day, by the end of the week. I got a call from Jeb Bush asking me to meet him at the Hay-Adams Friday morning. The kids drove their minivan up from Laurel and would leave it with us, and then fly out on the 650 from Westminster. I took the helicopter down to Reagan National and went into the city from there. Hamid had promised to help with the kids as soon as he got home; Marilyn thanked him, and I laughed, since I suspected the help a six-year-old would provide wasn’t going to be helpful at all.

Now that Jeb and Rand were the official President and Vice President Elects, they had Secret Service protection. I didn’t, since I was still using the private service I had hired (and which I preferred, truth be told.) Regardless, there was an agent in the lobby of the Hay-Adams when I entered, and he greeted me and whisked me straight upstairs. The transition team had an office somewhere over on K Street, but both Jeb and Rand had office suites at the Hay-Adams.

I was ushered inside and found both Jeb and Rand sitting in armchairs in a conversation area. Both men stood up as I entered, and Jeb came to the door to greet me and shake my hand, and then he showed me over to a chair of my own. Rand stood to shake my hand as well. “Let me congratulate you both, Governor, Senator, on a well fought campaign. Well done, gentlemen, well done!” I said.

“Thank you very much, Mister President. That means a lot to me. I was talking to my father the day after the election, and he stressed to me to make sure I thank you personally for all the help you provided. I told him I was planning to do that anyway,” replied Jeb.

“I appreciate that, Governor. By the way, call me Carl. I think the three of us can all appreciate what it took to get to this point.” There were chuckles around the coffee table at that. I asked, “How is your father? I don’t think I’ve talked to him since the convention.”

Jeb made a bit of a wry face and shrugged. “His mind is still sharp, but his health isn’t good. He’s 92 now, and the years have taken their toll on him.”

I nodded in understanding. “When you talk to him next, make sure you give him my best wishes and regards. If there is anything I can do for him, all he needs to do is ask. Your mother as well. She was always most gracious with Marilyn and me.” I turned to the Vice president Elect and asked, “Rand, how about your parents? How is Ron doing? I haven’t talked to him in even a longer time.”

“He’s doing fine, sir. I just talked to him yesterday.”

“Well, give him and your mother our regards also. I can’t say I always agreed with your father’s answers, but by God, he used to raise some interesting questions!” I said with a smile. Both Rand and Jeb chuckled at that.

Enough small talk. It was time to get down to business, why I had been asked to come down. I turned back to Jeb and asked, “How can I help you, Jeb?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

I nodded. “I wondered if that was the case. Before I say yes or no, I would like to know what you had in mind. What are you doing with your Cabinet?”

“Don’t have one yet. I have a lot of the minor Cabinet slots figured out, but I haven’t figured out State or Defense. Any thoughts?”

I scratched my head. “The usual suspects, I suppose. For State, any of the decent primary candidates would probably do, the intelligent ones, at least. Jon Huntsman is a good choice. He has diplomatic experience and being moderate and a Mormon won’t hurt him. He’ll never run for your job again, but he’s not stupid. Who do you have in mind for Treasury?”

We batted around the Cabinet choices for a bit. Huntsman had been on Jeb’s list as well. Treasury would go to somebody at Goldman Sachs or JP Morgan, which I thought unfortunate, but that was the way the wind was blowing. Justice would go to a tough-on-crime federal judge, and several were being looked at. None of these choices were going to be controversial. When Rand asked me about Defense, I said, “You won’t be expecting this, but I am going to propose a general for you.”

“Really?” Jeb asked.

“Don’t knock generals. We’ve had several good ones in State or Defense. Colin Powell worked well for your brother and me. George Marshall did well, too. If I could have stayed in the Army, I’d have ended up a general. Think about it though. Neither of you two have any military experience. You need a Secretary of Defense with that experience, and with experience dealing with the Pentagon. Neither Bill nor Hillary had that, and it affected them. That place is a world unto its own over there! Get yourselves a serious military expert. There’s a guy named McMaster; he’s a Lieutenant General. He had an armored cavalry troop in the Gulf War and commanded the 2^nd Stryker Cav in the Kurdish War. That’s when I met him. He’s an intellectual, too, with a doctorate in something or other, and has written very well-received books on military policy and history. He’s probably peaking in his career, and I don’t see him making Chief of Staff, but he’s impressive as hell!”

“I’ll have to give that some thought. I mean that, too. No matter what I do, I will consider your ideas. Now, though, I asked you here to discuss your future employment. The last four years have been a disaster, and there is no way to sugar coat it. We will need to rebuild relationships around the world, and unfortunately, I won’t have the time to do it myself. Domestic policy has been a nightmare, and I need to fix things back home even more.”