The house in the Bahamas we treated differently. That was our vacation home. We had a local maintenance company clean and take care of everything before and after every visit; they would restock the pantry and liquor cabinet as needed. We planned to do the same here in Washington. There was no way that Marilyn could take care of our kids and house in Hereford, and then come down and do the same thing in an even larger home here in D.C., nor could I. We would hire a maintenance and staff company. Fortunately, there are plenty of outfits capable of handling it, and we had already hired one. There was also a lively industry in catering parties and even a 'party consultant' business.
Remember the first Van Wilder movie, the good one? In it, a perpetual student, Van Wilder, played by Ryan Reynolds, gets cut loose by his father and has to survive on his own. He earns money by becoming a 'party liaison', and arranging parties and inviting interesting guests. Well, Van Wilder would have done quite well in Washington! These people actually exist, and we had already been given a couple of names by the interior designer we used.
Marilyn and I went home and sent the sitter home. The kids were sleeping and the house was still standing. Sunday we would head back to Hereford. This was a screwy setup.
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 seemed to be 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 particular 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 30th 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 actually 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 common 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 in the world 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 a 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!"