Ultimatum (2 page)
He spoke calmly, matter-of-factly.
“We must take care of each other. This has been the spirit of our republic since its founding days. If we have lost a little of this spirit, we must regain it. In the next years, we will face a great migration. Together, we can make this a time of renewal and growth. Here is the promise that I ask you to make with me. Each one of our fellow Americans who must uproot themselves will find a better life among us—not a worse. They will find the warm hand of friendship—not the cold shoulder of hostility. Communities that welcome them—not shun them. Rarely does a country have the opportunity to remake itself for the better. Those who live at such a time are blessed. My friends, we have this opportunity. It isn’t something to be feared, but to be welcomed. It won’t be easy, but I ask you, if any country can do it, surely it’s these United States of America, this republic that has grown, endured, and prospered through more than a quarter millennium in human history, that is the one that can. Today, the American people have given me the responsibility to make sure that we do not miss this opportunity. From this moment, I will do everything in my power to make sure we succeed. Tonight, I ask each one of you—Democrat and Republican, black and white, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist or atheist, gay or straight, anyone and everyone in this great community of our republic—join me.”
The senator stopped speaking. For a moment, his words hung silently in the hall. Then applause began, and it swelled, and soon the room was a thundering chamber of noise.
In network studios, on screens around the world, people saw Joe Benton reach for his wife and put his arm around her. They saw her whisper something into his ear, and he looked down at her and nodded. They saw him look around for his two children, who came closer, and he put his other arm around his daughter. The images zoomed in, and people saw his fine, lean face—-a face they knew would become increasingly familiar to them over the coming four years—and they saw a slight furrowing of the brow, a slight clenching of the jaw, as he contemplated the hall before him, contemplated the responsibility he had just taken upon himself.
Joe Benton leaned toward the microphone. His face cracked in a smile.
“Goodnight,” he said. “God bless you. God bless the United States of America.”
~ * ~
Monday, November 8
Benton Transition Headquarters,
Lafayette Towers, Washington, D.C.
He was going to be nothing if not ambitious. The morning after the election, at a press conference in Phoenix, Joe Benton declared that he would complete his cabinet nominations by Christmas. He also announced that Benjamin D. Hoffman would serve as director of the Transition Board and would come to the White House as his chief of staff.
Ben Hoffman was a forty-three-year-old Bostonian who had served on Benton’s senatorial staff in his first term and had since gone on to hold cabinet posts in successive Massachusetts state administrations. He was a natural conciliator, amiable and attentive, but his mild exterior and chubby frame belied a powerful combination of organizational talent, political insight and fierce commitment to objectives. Hoffman was going to need all these skills from day one. There were eleven weeks until the inauguration and they would be a frenzy of staffing. His first task was to get the transition organization staffed and the process for nominating key White House and government appointments under way.
Hoffman immediately confirmed a number of key people from the campaign for roles on the transition team and brought in other personnel who had been lined up discreetly prior to the election. One of these was Steve Naylor, a well-networked, thirty-eight-year-old Los Angeles lawyer who had served as the California Democratic campaign finance director. Naylor’s role was to oversee the vetting of candidates for key posts. This enormous job involved drawing on a diverse range of sources to gather names, finalize short lists, collate background research and put together briefing notes for the senator and others involved in the appointments. Naylor would soon have his own vetting team of five.
Joe Benton’s first priorities were economic and domestic appointments. He wanted to keep the momentum of his campaign going all the way to the inauguration and into the first hundred days. At a Veterans Day speech that he would be making in Williamsburg later in the week, after paying due homage to the sacrifice of past veterans, he was going to draw an analogy between the collective national effort required in time of war and the collective effort required of the nation now. He was then going to announce that he would be upgrading the post of director of the National Relocation Commission to cabinet level, and that he would be creating a National Relocation Council, along the lines of the National Security and National Economic councils, to coordinate policy among the relevant departments and agencies. He would also announce a Relocation summit of experts and community leaders to be held within a month.
He was back in Washington by the weekend after the election. Monday morning, he was at his campaign headquarters at Lafayette Towers, which had now morphed into the transition headquarters, for his first meeting with Naylor. He arrived at the entrance five minutes before the meeting was due to start and didn’t make it to the meeting room until a half hour later. This was the first time he had been at the headquarters since the election. The mood was elated. Staffers who had given every waking moment of the last six months of their lives to the campaign wanted to shake the senator’s hand. And he wanted to shake theirs. Joe Benton climbed on a chair and made an impromptu speech, interrupted by exuberance and applause. He got down off the chair and kept shaking hands all the way to the meeting room door.
Ben Hoffman and Steve Naylor were waiting for him. Three other people were present as well. Jodie Ames had been the campaign communications director and the senator had already asked her to stay on and come to the White House. John Eales was a big, hard-hitting Chicagoan who was Joe Benton’s closest political advisor and strategist, and he would be coming to the White House as well. And Angela Chavez was the vice president-elect, a two-time governor of New York State who had helped bring the women’s and Latino votes to the Benton ticket. As a New Yorker, she also represented a state that would be both a relocation and reception state as people were moved out of threatened areas around New York City and into upstate reception zones. This would give her credibility in the hard lobbying that was sure to be needed over the coming months to get the legislation required for the Relocation package through Congress. In inviting her onto the ticket, Benton had promised to involve her strongly in the work of the administration, and he had every intention of doing that.
Everyone was in high spirits. It took a little time before they settled down to the business of the day. Naylor talked through the state of play of the vetting operation and then began to walk the senator through the names he had already pulled together. Benton wanted to offer the directorship of the Office of Management and Budget to Jackie Rubin, a Texas congresswoman who served on the House Budget Committee and had impressed him on a number of occasions when they had met. He wanted to hear if Naylor had found any reason to decide otherwise. He hadn’t. Ben Hoffman said he’d set up a meeting.
They went through the other key economic roles, secretary of treasury, labor secretary, commerce secretary, chair of the National Economic Council, chair of the Council of Economic Advisors. Benton was determined to avoid the pitfall of stuffing his cabinet and administration with friends and former colleagues out of the Arizona party machine. Even when he had a preference, he wanted Naylor and his team to give him alternatives so he was sure to get the most competent performer.
“And we’re looking for at least one Republican here,” said John Eales. “Don’t forget that. That’s critical for credibility on the economic team if we’re going to get support for our programs.”
Naylor glanced questioningly at the senator. Benton nodded. Then he grimaced for effect, and there was laughter around the table.
“I guess there must be one Republican out there who doesn’t turn our stomachs,” said Hoffman.
Steve Naylor raised an eyebrow.
They went through the domestic roles. Benton spoke about the position of director of the National Relocation Commission, outlining his vision for the role, and Angela Chavez added some thoughts.
“I want an A-one person in this post,” said Benton. “This is all about delivery. We’re going to put the legislation in place and get a serious budget, and then this person’s job is to take that and go out there and build an organization and get stuff done.”
“And let’s not forget,” added Eales, “we’re going to be trampling on about every special interest group in the country. This person’s going to need to kick butt. This is going to have to be one thick-skinned son of a bitch who eats nails for breakfast.”
The senator glanced at him. “Sounds like we ought to get you doing it, John.”
“If only we could clone me.”
“God help us,” said Ben Hoffman.
The senator laughed.
“Maybe we should think about looking at industry for this one,” said Naylor. “Senator, would you be comfortable for me to do that?”
Benton liked the idea.
“We’re aiming to announce the director of the commission before the Relocation summit, right?” said Jodie Ames.
Eales nodded. “And the economic team too.”
Jodie Ames glanced at Steve Naylor, who made a note.
They went through the state of play on the remainder of the domestic posts and then turned to the security roles. Joe Benton had earmarked Alan Ball, an ex-assistant director of National Intelligence and his closest campaign advisor on security and foreign affairs, for the position of national security advisor. For secretary of state he favored Al Graham, a New York lawyer who had served as undersecretary of state for Latin American affairs in the last administration but one, and had been another source of foreign policy advice during the campaign. John Eales wasn’t sure about Graham and wanted the senator to keep an open mind. Ben Hoffman thought Graham was banking on secretary of state. All the more reason, in Eales’s opinion, to look at other candidates.
“Al might do well at the UN,” said Angela Chavez.
Benton thought about that. “Possibly. Who else is in the picture for State? I’d consider Sandy Murdoch.”
“Henry Gonzalez?” said Hoffman.
“How about Larry Olsen?” said Naylor.
Benton smiled at that.
“No? Thought I’d try something from left field.”
Angela Chavez laughed. “Larry Olsen? That
would
add an interesting complexion to the administration.”
“Steve,” said Benton, “draw up a short list for State. Keep Al Graham on it, please. I’m definitely not ruling him out. And let’s have Sandy Murdoch on it as well.”
John Eales glanced at his handheld. He got up and left the room. When he came back he caught Benton’s eye and tilted his head meaningfully to the door.
“So, we’re done?” said Benton as soon as the last cabinet post was discussed. “Steve? Okay. Good work. Anything you want to clear up, and Ben can’t help you, give me a call.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
“Jodie?”
“We’re fine, Senator,”
“Angela, I’ll catch you later.”
Chavez nodded. She was staying on with Hoffman to talk through details of the Relocation summit.
Benton left the room.
“There’s someone who wants to talk to you,” said Eales when they were in the corridor. “I just got a call.”
Benton glanced at him questioningly.
“Mike Gartner.”
Joe Benton smiled .
“I’m serious.”
Eales took the senator to the small office he used at the headquarters and gave him his handheld.
“Gartner wants to talk to you personally. That’s the number . . . right there.”