The iCongressman (2 page)

CHELSEA

Now I understand what the view from Palatine Hill in
ancient Rome must have looked like. Although nothing matches the wondrous
beauty of mountains, sweeping
plains,
and great bodies
of water found in nature, sitting on the steps of the Capitol and watching the
sun set over the National Mall comes pretty close.

The last light of the day is glinting off the reflecting
pools, and the sky, only marred by a few wispy clouds, is beginning to take on
orange and pink hues. Tourists and students on their eighth-grade field trip
wander between the grand museums of the Smithsonian that line the avenues
leading toward the Washington Monument. Directly behind the towering obelisk is
the newer World War II Memorial framed against the distinctive architectural
edifice of the Lincoln Memorial. All these marble wonders combine to create a
sight as picturesque as America offers.

I have enjoyed this view countless times over the past ten
months. When Congressman Bennit took his seat a year ago, he hired an advisor
to show him the ropes on a temporary basis. He made it clear he wanted me to be
his chief of staff if I was willing to take the job, a decision that took only
moments to make. I joined him in Washington the day after I graduated from
Millfield High School last June. Dad was not thrilled with the decision to skip
college for a few years, but I promised him I was planning to take classes in
my free time here in Washington. That notion is a joke now, for more reasons
than one.

I don’t know if my expectations were unrealistic, or if we
just had a harder time than most in Washington. I learned the demands on any
congressional chief of staff are ridiculous, making the enrollment in even a
single college course out of the question. It might have been worthwhile if we
had been able to do what we came here to.

Since the day he was sworn in, Congressman Bennit has been
shunned by the entire political body in D.C. In Congress, there are groupings
of members with shared affinities who convene to collectively advocate or vote
on policies. These numerous “caucuses” are among the most influential political
groups in the House, and Congressman Bennit wasn’t invited to participate in
any of them.

To make matters worse, neither the Democrats, who choose
their committee leaders based on seniority, nor the Republicans, who adopted a
selection system using a vote on the Steering Committee, offered the
congressman a committee seat. Most representatives belong to one or two
standing committees, and as many as four subcommittees, each with its own
specialized subject matter and schedule of hearings. The real work of Congress
is done in those meetings, and since we weren’t invited to play in those
sandboxes, we are practically invisible in this building. No committee
memberships equals
no
power or influence.

“I thought I might find you out here,” Vince says, sitting
down next to me on the steps and running his hand through his short black hair.
With handsome Sicilian features and sharp brown eyes, only his age keeps him
from being confused for a politician himself.

I always considered Vince the class clown in school, and
with good reason. When Mister Bennit enlisted us to help the campaign, we all
thought he was crazy to put Vince in charge of media relations. Once we
graduated, each of us had a choice to make. Three of us went to work for
Congressman Bennit on his staff, and our renowned troublemaker, Vincent Antonio
Orsini
, assumed the role of press secretary. People
back home are still trying to figure out how that happened, but I know. He’s
brilliant at his job.

“Yeah, I’m nothing if not predictable. At least until the
Capitol Police let me on the roof. Heard from the boss yet?”

“No, you?”

I glance down at my phone, as if expecting the damn thing to
ring on command, which it doesn’t. “No, but I don’t expect him to make any
progress.”

There are a myriad of issues facing America, and Congressman
Michael Bennit tried to take them all on. Unfortunately, very few members of
Congress take him seriously. He’s an Independent who is primed to be defeated
seven months from now, so neither side is eager to include him in any debate or
discussion. This latest meeting about the looming government shutdown is much
of the same, I’m sure.

“You sound defeated already.”

“History is on my side in reaching that conclusion,” I
reply, despondent. “We’ve been stuck in neutral since the moment we got here. I
don’t think today will be any different.
So much for our
grand plan.”

“I’m sure it’s harder for him. Remember, Chels, the
congressman gave up everything for this. We only gave up frolicking in
college,” Vince reflects, “and spending the prime of our lives with no real
responsibilities. We’d be going to parties, playing video games, hooking up
with hot girls happy to be away from their parents for the first time …” he trails
off, lost in the land of wishful thinking.
We?

“Something tells me you aren’t having a problem picking up
chicks in Georgetown, Vince,” I say, more than a little envious over him having
a personal life. I sure don’t.

“You sound jealous. I didn’t realize you were into girls,
too,” Vince says to me with a smile that implies so much more. Yeah, keep
dreaming, buddy. I don’t think he’s serious about his lesbian fantasy, or at
least one involving me. Over the past year, we’ve become closer than most
siblings are to each other.

“You regret giving school up to do this?”

Vince exhales deeply and smiles, enjoying the view of the
sun setting over the Mall.
“Nah.
I wouldn’t trade this
experience for anything. College will always be an option,” he almost
convincingly expresses.
Easy for him to say.
I gave up
a full ride to Yale, Harvard, or a dozen other schools for this.

“Even if we haven’t accomplished anything in the year we’ve
been here?” I ply, hoping he is as miserable as I am.

“You know better than anyone that most members of Congress
leave office without ever having put their personal imprint on a significant
piece of legislation. Lawmaking isn’t the principal preoccupation of the people
who work in the building behind us—politics is.”

“For a media relations guy, you didn’t bother putting much
spin on that,” I muse.

“Eh. Different audience,” Vince observes. “After having to
deal with two reprimands and a censure over stupid stuff, it’s not hard to draw
my conclusion.”

He’s right. Congressman Bennit has been in office a year and
is already the most oft-disciplined member ever to serve. The reprimands were a
joke, but the censure was more serious. Derived long ago from the need to
punish the behavior of legislators, it’s a formal condemnation Congress can
hand out to the president or their own members. The usual result of a censure
is the forfeit of any committee chairs held, but not a loss of the elected
position itself.

Since the congressman isn’t even on a committee, let alone chairing
one, the gesture was symbolic and meant to hurt us in the next campaign. It was
a purely political move on behalf of the House leadership, but not a completely
unwarranted one. I guess that’s what we get for having a leader who doesn’t
like to play by the rules.

“The Speaker wants him gone,” I state definitively.

“Hell, Chels, everyone wants him gone. He’s a threat to both
parties and the system they established around them.”

The inner workings of Congress are hard to grasp, and even
more difficult to explain. This lack of understanding is a primary source of
angst between politicians and the citizenry that voted them into office. The
House and Senate developed rules and customs to help them to operate, and most
of them are blatantly undemocratic. It took me months to get used to how the
system functions, and I work here full time.

Every two years, newly elected representatives and senators
promise to clean up the mess created by those before them. This time, however,
we weren’t one of them. We never claimed to try to clean up Washington, only to
serve the people of the district and the country the best we could.
Unfortunately, we learned the hard way that the two are not mutually exclusive.
If fulfilling a campaign promise to fix Congress pegs the success needle at
impossible, then our promising to be a better representative for the people
ranks one notch down at next to impossible.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Vince is not one for long pep
talks designed to raise spirits. I feel worse now than I did before I came out
here.

“C’mon, let’s get over to the office,” he says, standing up.
“The boss should be back with Vanessa by now.”

I rise, taking a moment to brush off and straighten my navy
blue pantsuit. I look back out towards the Mall and the orange ball now dipping
below the horizon. I can’t shake the vibe that it’s an omen for things to come.
In November, the sun will likely be setting on our time here as well.

SPEAKER ALBRIGHT

“Are you going to stare out that window all night,
Johnston?” my colleague asks from the other side of the spacious room.

“You’re not going to let me enjoy one of my favorite
trappings of this office, are you, Harv?” I ask the House majority leader
without looking back at him.

My picturesque view overlooks the National Mall to the
Washington Monument. Admiring the sunset from this spot became a tradition of
mine when I took over this job. Office space in the Capitol itself is
restricted to the leadership, and as Speaker of the United States House of
Representatives, I’m awarded a stunning space to entertain and meet with
constituents, allies, and the occasional adversary. This evening, the guest of
honor is House Majority Leader Harvey Stepanik, a longtime friend and
distinguished congressman from Ohio.

“Normally I wouldn’t care, but I have a meeting with the
automotive lobby tonight,” my ally declares, giving his watch an impatient
glance.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from that,” I say with a
gruff laugh. As a representative from Ohio, Harvey’s meeting with the
automotive lobby would take precedence over a meeting with the Almighty
Himself. The industry accounts for over four percent of the state’s gross
domestic product, and Ohio is second only to Michigan in automotive production.
Success in wooing them means fat campaign contributions, and in an election
year, money is everything. “Now that I know this isn’t a social call, what’s on
your mind?”

“Michael Bennit.”

“Jesus, Harv, not again,” I reply, tired of hearing this
character’s name. “Every time this guy even meets with other members you come
running into my office screaming ‘the sky is falling’ louder than Chicken
Little.”

“You underestimate what he’s capable of,” he replies as I
pour us a drink.

“Really?
He’s been here a year now
and do you know what he’s managed to accomplish?
Absolutely
nothing.
He’s on the outside looking in, and that’s never going to
change. Keeping him frozen out of anything important is about the only thing we
agree with the Democrats on these days. We marginalized him to the point where
House clerks exert more political clout than he does, so what are you worried
about?”

Harvey swirls his amber eighteen-year-old Macallan around
the tulip-shaped glass tumbler. I find scotch drinkers tend to be more worldly and
mature, and the forty-four-year-old Harvey Stepanik is about as refined an
individual you will ever see come out of industrial Ohio. He plays the
political game with gusto, savors new challenges, and doesn’t settle for
anything below his standards. That includes both the company he keeps and the
single-malt
scotch
whisky in his glass.

“Bennit has two things most people in this chamber don’t,”
he replies, a serious look in his otherwise soft and appealing green eyes. No
wonder the voters love this guy. With his brown hair, strong features, and
athletic build, he was built for politics in a television age like John F.
Kennedy was. “An enviable social media following measured in millions, not
thousands, and a mandate from the people in his district to be here.” Harvey
actually held up his fingers and counted the two things off on them like I
needed the visual cues to get his point.

“I think you are overestimating the danger of social media
in the political process,” I say, taking a sip from my own glass of scotch.
“Bennit benefited from a ridiculous amount of mass media coverage in his
campaign against Beaumont and still lost. He spent more time on TV than the
Kardashians
during that race, so winning after the
resignation was predictable.”

“And I disagree. I don’t think we are taking it serious
enough. An ‘icandidate’ has won both special elections held since this
beginning of this Congressional session. Bennit broke new ground last spring,
and this farmhand from Texas followed suit last week. How exactly am I
overestimating the threat?”

 
“Yeah, I forgot about
him,” I add, conceding the point. Francisco Reyes is a Texan who won as an
independent on the strength of the growing Latino vote in his district. He
inspired and motivated them, using the same reliance on social media methods
Bennit did. He landed almost seventy percent of the vote while spending almost
no money on his campaign.

 
“Grassroots networks
became an irresistible force of American politics, and we did nothing to stop
it. Social media is now the new means where unqualified, independent candidates
can reach these networks of people and get them engaged in political activity.
If we continue to let this grow unabated, there will come a point where
political parties will be powerless to beat them.”

Damn this guy knows how to plead a case, and being from a
safe district, he can afford to be insistent with his opinions. I still don’t
completely agree with his analysis, but there is no doubt why the party bosses
sitting on the Republican National Committee are pushing for him to be the
Speaker someday. He is wrong about one thing, though; we aren’t letting
anything grow.

“We are forcing him out. I’ve already censured him once and
have reprimanded him twice on the Floor,” I respond defensively. “He’s toast in
the next election.”

“That’s not forcing him out, Johnston. Professional
politicians view those types of rebukes as serious, but he views it like a
five-year-old getting a ‘time-out.’ You can agree or disagree with me, but most
of the Republicans in this chamber are scared as hell of the trend this guy’s
started. I bet if we ask the
Dems
, they would say the
same thing. We need to get rid of him permanently,
before
the election.”

“You think by cutting off the head you’ll kill the snake,” I
conclude, eliciting a nod in agreement. Forcing Bennit out is a risky endeavor.
I worry more about the party being viewed as playground bullies by the public
if we push too hard on him.

Harvey swallows the last of his scotch and places the
tumbler on my desk before rising out of his seat and buttoning his suit jacket.

“I need to get moving. I don’t want to keep the motor heads
waiting. Thanks for your time, Mister Speaker.” He makes it halfway to the door
before I stop him.

“Harvey,” I say, causing him to stop and turn around. “Tell
the members of the caucus that I will do what I can to push Bennit off the
ledge before the campaign season starts.” As much as I think it’s a pointless
exercise, I also recognize the need to keep the Republican membership happy.
Harvey is a friend, but he’s popular and eager to have this office. If I’m not
careful, and don’t play my cards right, he could take over as Speaker next
January even if we remain in the majority.

“I will. Thank you, Johnston.”

“One more thing to remember before you go, Harv. Sometimes
the enemy you vanquish is the one that spells your doom. Just ask Winston
Beaumont.”