The Prodigal Daughter (61 page)

An enterprising
photographer who had slept under a seat in the convention hall all night began
taking photographs of her before he was smartly ushered out of the hall by the
Secret Service. Florentyna smiled as she looked toward the ceiling where twenty
thousand red, white and blue balloons waited to cascade down on the victor. She
had read somewhere that it had taken fifty college students, using bicycle
pumps, one week to fill them with air.

“Okay for testing,
Senator Kane?” said an impersonal voice from she could not tell where.

“My fellow
Americans, this is the greatest moment in-my life and I intend to-2’

“That’s fine,
Senator. Loud and clear,” said the chief electfician as he walked up through
the empty seats. Pete Parkin was scheduled to go through the same routine at
seven o’clock.

Florentyna was
driven back to her hotel, where she had breakfast with her closest staff,
who
were all nervous and laughed at each other’s jokes,
however feeble, but fell silent whenever she spoke. They watched Pete Parkin
doing his usual morning jog for the television crews; it made them all
hysterical when someone in an NBC windbreaker holding a mini-camera accelerated
past a breathless Vice President three times to get a better picture.

The roll call
vote was due to start at nine that evening. Edward had set up fifty phone lines
direct to every state chairman on the convention floor so that he could be in
constant touch if something unexpected happened. Florentyna was seated behind a
desk with only two phones, but at the single touch of a button she had access
to any of the fifty lines.

While the hall
was beginning to fill they tested each line and Edward pronounced that they
were ready for anything, that now all they could do was use every minute left
to contact more delegates. By five-thirty that evening, Florentyna had spoken
by phone or in person to 392 of them in four days.

By seven o’clock
the Joe Louis Arena was almost packed, although there was still a full hour to
go until the names were placed in nomination.

No one who had
traveled to Detroit wanted to miss one minute of the unfolding drama.

At seven-thirty
Florentyna watched the party officals begin to take their seats on the stage
and she remembered her days as a page at the Chicago convention when she had
first met John Kennedy. She knew then that they had all been told to arrive at
cerl ain times; the later you were asked, the more senior you were. Forty years
had passed, and she was hoping to be asked last.

The biggest
cheer of the evening was reserved for Senator Bill Bradley, who had already
announced he would address the convention if there was a deadlock after the
first ballot. At seven forty-five, the Speaker of the House of Representatives,
Marty Lynch, rose and tried to bring the convention to order, but he could
scarcely make himself heard above the klaxons, whistles, drums, bugles and
cries of “Kane” and “Parkin” from supporters trying to outscream one another.
Florentyna sat watching the scene but showed no sign of emotion. When finally
there was a semblance of order, the chairman introduced Mrs. Bess Gardner, who
had been chosen to record the votes, although everyone in the hall knew that
the results would flash up onto the vast videA) screen above her head before
she even had a chance to confirm them.

At eight o’clock
the chairman brought his gavel down; some saw the little wooden harnmer hit the
base, but no one heard it. For another twenty minutes the noise continued as
the chairman still made no impression on the delegates. Eventually at eight
twenty-three Marty Lynch could be heard asking Rich Daley, the mayor of
Chicago, to place the name of Senator Kane in nomination; ten more minutes of
noise before the mayor was able to deliver his eulogy. Florentyna and her staff
sat in silence through a speech that described her public record in the most
glowing terms. She also listened attentively when Senator Ralph Brooks
nominated Pete Parkin. The reception of both proposals by the delegates would
have made a full symphony orchestra sound like a tin whistle. Nominations for
Bill Bradley and the usual handful of predictable favorite sons followed in
quick succession.

At nine
o’.--Iock, the chairman looked down into the body of the hall and called upon
Alabama to cast its vote. Florentyna sat staring at the screen like a prisoner
about to face trial by jury-wanting to know the verdict even before she had
heard the evidence. The perspiring chairman of the Alabama delegation picked up
his microphone and shouted, “The great state of Alabama, the heart of the
South, casts 28 votes for Vice President Parkin and 17 votes for Senator Kane.”
Although everyone had known how Alabama was going to vote since March 11, over
four months before, this didn’t stop Parkin posters from being waved
frantically, and it was another twelve minutes before the chairman was able to
call on Alaska.

“Ala,4ka, the
forty-ninth state to join the Union, casts 7 of its votes for Senator Kane, the
forty-second President of the United States, 3 for Pete Parkin and one for
Senator Bradley.” It was the turn of Florentyna’s followers to unloose a
prolonged uproar in support of their candidate, but Parkin led the field for
the first half hour until California declared 214 for Senator Kane, 92 for
Parkin.

“God bless
Bella,” said Florentyna, but had to watch the Vice President go back into the
lead with the help of Florida, Georgia and Idaho. When they reached the state
of Illinois the convention nearly came to a halt.

Mrs. Kalamich,
who had welcomed Florentyna that first night in Chicago nearly twenty years
before, had been chosen as vice-chairman of the Illinois Democratic Party in
the convention year to deliver the verdict of her delegates.

“Mr. Cha)rman,
this is the greatest moment of my life’~-Florentyna smiled as Mrs. Kalamich
continued-”to say to you that the great state of Illinois is proud to cast
every one of its 179 votes for its favorite daughter and the first woman
President of the United States, Senator Florentyna Kane.” The Kane supporters
went berserk as she took the lead for the second time, but Florentyna knew her
rival would create the same effect when the moment came for Texas to declare
its allegiance, and in fact Parkin went ahead for a second time with 1,440
delegates to Florentyna’s 1,371 after his home state had given its verdict.
Bill Bradley had picked up 97 delegates along the way and now looked certain to
gather enough votes to preclude an outright winner on the first round.

As the chain-nan
pressed forward with each state-Utah, Vermont, Virginia-the network computers
were already flashing up on the screen that there would be no winner on the
first ballot, but it was ten forty-seven before Tom Brokaw pronounced the first
round verdict: 1,522 for Senator Kane, 1,480 for Vice President Parkin, 189 for
Senator Bradley and 140 for favorite sons.

The chairman
told the delegates that Senator Bradley would now addresi them. Another eleven
minutes passed before he could speak. Florentyria had talked to him on the
phone every day of the convention and steadfastly avoided asking him to join
her ticket as Vice President, because she felt such an offer would smack of
bribery rather than a conscientious choice of him because she felt he was the
right man to succeed her. Although Ralph Brooks was the favorite for the post
in the Parkin camp, Florentyna couldn’t help wondering if Pete Parkin had
already offered Bradley the chance to join him.

At last the
senior senator from New Jersey was able to address the convention. “My fellow
members of the Democratic Party,” he began. I thank you for the support you
have given me during this election year, but the time has come for me to
withdraw from this Presidential race and release my delegates to vote the way
their conscience guides them.” The hall fell almost silent. Bradley spoke for
several minutes about the sort of person he wanted to see in the White House
but did not openly supp
)rt
either candidate. He closed
with the words: I pray you will select the right person to lead our country”
and was cheered for several minutes after he had returned to his seat.

By this time,
most people in Suite 2400 of the Baron had no nails left~ only Florentyna
remained outwardly calm, although Edward noticed that her fist was clenched. He
quickly returned to work on the green section of his master printout, which
showed only the Bradley delegates, but there wasn’t much he could do while they
were all on the floor except phone the chairman of each state committee and
keep them working. The phones came ringing back; it seemed that the Bradley
delegates were also split down the middle. Some of them would even continue to
vote for Bradley in the second round in case the convention became deadlocked
and had to turn to him in the end.

I
The
second roll call vote started at eleven twenty-one with
Alabama, Alaska and Arizona showing no changes. The bal-

Dw Future:
1982-1995 375 loting dragged on from state to state until the Wyoming decision
wits recorded at twelve twenty-three. At the end of the second round, the
convention was still undecided, with the only important change being that Pete
Parkin had taken a slight lead 1,629 to 1,604-while 98 delegates had remained
uncommitted or faithful to Senator Bradley.

At twelve
thirty-seven the chairman said, “Enough is enough. We’ll start the roll call
again tomorrow evening at seven o’clock.”

“Why not first
thing tomorrow morning?” asked one of Florentyna’s sleepless young aides as he
was leaving the arena.

“As the Boss
pointed out,” said Janet, “elections are now run for the benefit of the
networks, and tomorrow morning just isn’t prime time.”

“Are the
networks going to be responsible for which candidate we choose?” the aide
asked.

They both
laughed. The sleepless aide repeated the same comment twenty-four hours
later-when neither of them laughed.

The exhausted
delegates slumped off to their rooms, aware that on a third ballot most states
freed their delegates from their original pledres, which meant that they could
now vote any way they pleased. Edward and his team didn’t know where to start,
but they picked up the printouts and went through each delegate fron~ Alabama
to Wyoming for a third time that night, hoping they would have a plan for every
state by eight o’clock the next morning.

Florentyna
hardly slept that night, and at ten past six she walked back into the living
room of her suite in a robe to find Edward still poring over the lists.

“I need you at
eight,” he said, not looking up at her.

“Good morning,”
she said, and kissed him on the forehead.

“Good morning.”

Florentyna
stretched and yawned. “What happens at eight?”

“We speak to
thirty Bradley and undeclared delegates an hour all through the day. I want you
to have spoken to at least two hundred and fifty by five this afternoon. We’ll
have all six phones manned every minute of that time so that there will never
be less than two people waiting to speak to you.”

“Won’t eight be
a little early?” asked Florentyna.

“No,” said
Edward. “Because of the time zone difference, the East Coast delegates will wake
early as usual and I won’t bother the West Coast delegates until after lunch.”

Florentyna
returned to her room realizing yet again how thought Edward had put into her
whole campaign and she remembered Richard saying how lucky she was to have two
men who adored her.

At eight
o’clock, she started work with a large glass of -orange juice by her side. As
the morning proceeded, the team became more convinced that the first roll call
that evening would give the majority to their candidate. The feeling in that room
was turning to one of victory. At ten-forty Bill Bradley rang to say that if
his delegates caused a deadlock again he was going to recommend that they vote
for Florentyna.

At eleven I
wenty-seven Edward passed Florentyna the phone again. This time it wasn’t a
well-wisher.

“It’s Pete
Parkin here. I think we ought to get together. Can I come and see you
immediately?”

Florentyna
wanted to say “I’m far too busy” but only said “Yes.

“I’ll be right
over.”

“Whatever can he
want?” said Edward as Florentyna handed him back the phone.

“I have no idea,
but we don’t have long before we find out. “

Pete Parkin
arrived via the freight elevator with two Secret Service agents and his
campaign manager.

After unnatural
pleasantries had been exchanged-the two candidates hadn’t spoken to each other
for the past six monthsand coffee poured, the contenders were left alone. They
sat in comfortable chairs facing each other. They might as well have been
discussing the weather, not which one of them should rule the Western world. The
Texan got straight down to business.

“I am prepared
to make a deal with you, Florentyna.”

“I’m listening.”

“If you withdraw
I’ll offer you the Vice Presidency.”

“You must be-”

“Hear me out, Florentyna,”
said Parkin, putting up his massive hand like a traffic cop. “If you accept my
offer, I’ll only serve one term if elected and then I’ll support you for the
job in 1996 with full White House backing. You’re five years younger than I am
and there is no reason why you shouldn’t complete two full terms.”