"It's Richards… Governor Haze Richards. I don't know if I can win. I came here at my own expense to try and say what I believe."
"Governor Richards, Governor Richards, over here," Ken Venable called. He had wedged himself in with the press.
"Yes…" Haze said, looking into the eyes of his own campaign pollster.
"Who are those people you came here with?" Ken asked, throwing Haze the slow, chest-high pitch.
"That's Sarah and Bud Caulfield. They own a farm in Grinnell that is mortgaged to the hilt and about to go back to the bank. I spent the night with them. Bud and Sarah are the reason I'm in this campaign. I'm in it for them and for all the people like them. I want to make America work for people like the Caulfields."
He moved into the convention center.
UBC had parked their sixteen-wheel control room around the side of the auditorium. Nestled in beside it was the satellite news-gathering truck.
Brenton Spencer walked onstage and stood for a moment. He had a lavaliere radio mike hidden behind his bold tie and had pushed the audio receiver into his ear so that the cord ran down the back of his neck and into his shirt collar to a battery transmitter on his belt. Ted Miller, the director, hit the intercom switch.
" 'Evening, Brent. This is Ted in the truck. We're gonna be going live in two-twenty."
"Okay," Brenton said.
"We'll be giving you any political facts you need through your angel," he said, referring to the earpiece. "Whatever," Brenton said.
Ted hit a switch in front of him, cutting Brenton out of the audio loop and turned to his sound man. "Is he okay? He sounds terrible."
The sound man shrugged.
Ted Miller hit the intercom, putting Brenton back on with him. "Brent, anything we can get you? Want any water?" But Brenton had taken the angel out of his ear. It was hanging down the back of his collar. "What the fuck?" Ted said. He leaned forward and spoke into his mike to the stage director. "Tell Brenton his angel is out of his ear. We need to talk to him before air. We're up in ninety seconds."
They could see the stage manager on the camera 2 monitor as he ran to the stage and said something to Brenton, who nodded but didn't replace the earpiece.
"He said okay," the stage manager said in desperation over the headset, "but he didn't stick it back in."
"Seat of the pants TV," Ted said. "We're up in five-four-three-two-take one." And the line monitor showed the wide shot of the stage with five empty chairs and a center podium. "Roll music and cue Bob," Ted said. And they pointed at the announcer through a glass wall in the remote trailer. As the bumper music played loud for a few seconds, then was dropped down, Bob Banks, in his rich, round voice, kicked off the 1996 political season and then went on to make the candidate introductions.
Malcolm Rasher sat with Ryan, Ven and Van in Haze Richards's cramped dressing room. They had the UBC-TV feed hooked into an eighteen-inch monitor. A. J. banged through the door with a slip of paper in his hand. "Just got the last Iowa poll. Came in twenty minutes ago. Skatina is at fifty-five percent. His people are down the hall opening the champagne already. They think in five days they're gonna landslide the election." He looked at the slip in his hand, "Dehaviland is polling ten percent. He's got good internals. They want to like him but they don't get what he's saying. Savage is at fifteen percent, mostly because of young voters. And Gilligan is at fifteen. Good internals but his message is stale. Five percent undecided."
Ryan was adding it up in his head. "That's a hundred percent. Where's that leave us'?"
"We're in the asterisk division. The Jo-Bobs don't even know we're running, but we're about to change that."
Brenton Spencer moved onto the stage. As the light hit him, he seemed to straighten, to come more alive.
"Good evening, I'm Brenton Spencer and I'll be asking the questions tonight. First, let's meet the Democrat from New York City. Two-time U. S. senator, one of the shining lights in the Democratic party… Senator Leo Skatina."
Skatina walked out and took his chair. When he looked up, he started squinting as the blinding follow spot hit him. He tried to shade his eyes, then realized his mistake and lowered his hands.
"What's going on with the follow spot?" Ted Miller said in the control room. "He's burning up."
"We checked the lights this afternoon," the technical direc`or said in a panic. "Jesus, they musta put halogens in there after we set up."
Skatina continued to squint, looking sinister in the TV monitor.
The next three candidates were introduced, and they, too, were blinded by the punishing lights.
"What's with the lighting?" Ryan asked. "These guys are on fire."
A. J. grinned. "Bunch a' shifty-lookin' fucks, if ya ask me."
Then it was time for Haze to make his entrance.
"And from the state of Rhode Island… a two-term governor, who only announced last week, a new name in national politics, Haze Richards."
Haze walked out slowly, completely at ease. Since his follow spot had not been altered he had no need to squint. He looked composed and alert as Brenton began the debate.
"Gentlemen, the agreed-upon rules are.. I'll ask a question and I'll be allowed a follow-up. If any of you wants to make a comment after that, I'll recognize you, but there will be a two-minute time limit on all responses."
Brenton was moving now, prowling the stage, revitalized. A jungle cat in a silk suit and striped tie.
His opening questions were. contentious, his responses argumentative, and the candidates were clearly unprepared for an assault by the moderator.
In the truck, Ted Miller agreed. "He's supposed to be moderating this debate, not joining it." Steve Israel's voice came through the speaker from New York.
"What's Brenton doing?" Steve asked.
"I don't know," Ted said into the mike. "His earpiece is out, we can't talk to him."
On stage, Brenton was striding over to Leo Skatina.
"Senator, you have made a lot of showy promises to women, yet I have the demographics of your own Senate staff. Only twenty percent are females."
"To show my sincerity on this issue, let me make a promise to the American people. If nominated. I intend to choose a woman to be my running mate."
In Haze's cramped dressing room, A. J. Teagarden leaned forward and spoke to the TV screen. "There's your opening, Haze. Go. Jump on it," he said, hoping his candidate would seize the offensive. He'd prepped Haze for that one. He was not disappointed.
"I'd like to address that issue, if I might," Haze said.
"Okay, let's hear from the governor of Rhode Island."
"It's this kind of needless divisiveness that is destroying our country. How many women are on Senator Skatina's staff is not the issue. The issue is, How many intelligent, hardworking staffers has Senator Skatina employed-staffers who will strike at the waste in our government? Our country is being torn apart by this sort of needless conflict… men against women, blacks against whites, rich against poor. It's one thing to have a free exchange of ideas, but another to divide our country by creating needless controversy in pursuit of votes."
"All of which doesn't say much about what you think."
"I think to make a vice presidential choice based on color or gender is the high point of political insincerity. How 'bout we get back to what this country is all about and put the most qualified person in the job, regardless," he said softly.
A. J. leaned back in his chair and shot a fist into the air. "Yes! Pony!"
Brenton moved on to the domestic economy and military spending, with a sidebar on gays in the military.
Again, Haze was prepared and interrupted the discussion. 'The size of the defense budget and gays in the military just aren't the issues that should concern us."