As the chairman 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 address them. Another eleven minutes passed before he could speak. Florentyna 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 support 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.
The second roll call vote started at eleven twenty-one with Alabama, Alaska and Arizona showing no changes. The balloting dragged on from state to state until the Wyoming decision was 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 pledges, 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 from 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’ll 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 much 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 twenty-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 months—and 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.”
Over the previous thirty minutes Florentyna had thought of many reasons why her rival might want to see her, but she had not been prepared for this.
“If you don’t accept my offer and I win tonight, I’ll be giving the number two spot to Ralph Brooks, who has already confirmed that he is willing to run.”
“I’ll call you by two this afternoon” was all that Florentyna said.
Once Pete Parkin had left with his aide, Florentyna discussed the offer with Edward and Janet, who both felt that they had come too far to give in now. “Who knows what the situation might be in four years’ time?” Edward pointed out. “You might be like Humphrey trying to recover from Johnson; and in any case, we only need a deadlock at this time and Bradley’s delegates will push us comfortably over the top on the fourth ballot.”
“I wonder if Parkin knows that,” said Janet.
Florentyna sat motionless listening to her different advisors and then asked to be left alone.
Florentyna phoned Pete Parkin at one forty-three and politely declined his offer, explaining she was confident that she was going to win on the first ballot that night. He made no reply.
By two o’clock the press had got hold of the news of the secret meeting, and the phones in Suite 2400 never stopped as they tried to find out what had happened. Edward kept Florentyna concentrating on the del
egates and with each call she was becoming more and more assured that Pete Parkin’s move had been made more out of desperation than confidence. “He’s played his final card,” said Janet, smirking.
At six o’clock everyone in Suite 2400 was back in front of the television: there were no longer any delegates left to speak to; they were all on the convention floor. Edward still had his phone bank linked up to all the state chairmen, and the early reports back from them indicated that the feeling they had picked up votes all through the day was accurate.
Exactly at the point when Florentyna relaxed and felt confident for the first time, the bombshell fell. Edward had just handed her yet another Perrier water when CBS flashed up on the screen “Newsbreak” and a camera went over to Dan Rather, who told a stunned audience only fifteen minutes before the roll call was due to start that he was about to interview Vice President Parkin on the reason for his secret meeting with Senator Kane. The CBS camera panned down on the florid face of the big Texan and to Florentyna’s horror the whole thing was going out live on the vast screen in the convention hall. She remembered that the Rules Committee had decided to allow anything to go up on the screen that might affect the delegates; this was meant to stop rumors spreading around the convention hall about what was really going on outside, to be sure that what had happened between Ford and Reagan in 1980 over the picking of a running mate could never happen again. It was the first time that the delegates in the hall had been unanimously silent.
The camera switched back to the CBS anchorman.
“Mr. Vice President, we know you had a meeting with Senator Kane today. Can you tell me the reason you asked to see her?”
“Certainly, Dan, it was first and foremost because I’m interested in the unity of my party and above all in beating the Republicans.”
Florentyna and her staff were mesmerized. She could see the delegates on the floor hanging on every word and she was helpless to do anything except listen.
“Can I ask what took place at that meeting?”
“I asked Senator Kane if she would be willing to serve as my Vice President and make up a Democratic team that would be unbeatable.”
“How did she reply to your suggestion?”
“She said she wanted to think the offer over. You see, Dan, I believe together we can lick the Republicans.”
“Ask him what my final answer was,” said Florentyna, but it was no use; the cameras were already switching to a half-crazed convention hall ready for the first vote. Edward phoned CBS and demanded equal time for Florentyna. Dan Rather agreed to interview Senator Kane immediately, but Florentyna knew that they were already too late. Once the voting had started the committee had agreed that nothing would go on that screen except the ballot tally. No doubt they would have to revise the rule by the next convention, but all Florentyna could think of was Miss Tredgold’s views on television: “Too many instant decisions will be made that will later be regretted.”
The chairman banged his gavel and called upon Alabama to begin the roll call and the Camellia State showed a two-vote switch to Parkin. When Florentyna lost one delegate from Alaska and two from Arizona she knew her only hope was another deadlock so that she could put her version of the meeting with Parkin on television before the next vote. She sat and watched herself lose one vote here and a couple there but when Illinois held firm she hoped the tide might turn. Edward and the team had been working the phones nonstop.
Then the next blow came.
Edward received a call from one of his campaign managers on the floor to say that Parkin staffers had started a rumor in the hall that Florentyna had accepted his offer. A rumor he knew Florentyna would never be able to trace back directly to Parkin or have time to rebut. Although as each state’s turn came to vote, Edward fought to stem the tide. When they reached West Virginia, Parkin needed only twenty-five more delegates to go over the top. They gave him twenty-one, so he needed four from the penultimate state, Wisconsin. Florentyna was confident that all three delegates from Wyoming, the final state to vote, would remain loyal to her.
“The great state of Wisconsin, mindful of its responsibility tonight”—once again the hall was totally silent—“and believing in the unity of the party above all personal considerations, gives all its eleven votes to the next President of the United States, Pete Parkin.”
The delegates went berserk. In Suite 2400 the result was met with stunned silence.
Florentyna had been beaten by a cheap but brilliant trick. And its true genius was that if she denied everything and gave her version of Parkin’s behavior, the Democrats might well lose the White House to the Republicans and she would be made the scapegoat.
Thirty minutes later Pete Parkin arrived at Joe Louis Arena amid cheers and the strains of “Happy Days Are Here Again.” He spent another twelve minutes waving to the delegates and when at last he managed to bring the hall to silence he said: “I hope to stand on this platform tomorrow night with the greatest lady in America and place before the nation a team that will whip the Republicans so that those elephants will never forget it.”
Once again the delegates roared their approval. During the next hour Florentyna’s staff crept back to their rooms until just Edward was left alone with her.
“Do I accept?”
“You have no choice. If you don’t, and the Democrats lose, the blame will be placed at your door.”
“And if I tell the truth?”
“It will be misunderstood; they will say you’re a bad loser after your opponent had held out the olive branch of reconciliation. And don’t forget, President Ford predicted ten years ago that the first woman President would have to have been the Vice President before the American people would find the idea acceptable.”
“That might be true, but if Richard Nixon were here today,” said Florentyna bitterly, “he would be on the phone to Pete Parkin congratulating him on a trick far superior to any he pulled off against Muskie or Humphrey.” Florentyna yawned. “I’m going to bed, Edward. I will have made a decision by the morning.”
At eight-thirty Pete Parkin sent an emissary to ask if Florentyna had made up her mind. She replied that she wanted to see him again in private.
This time, Parkin arrived with three television companies in tow and as many reporters who could get hold of red press passes. When they were alone, Florentyna found it hard to control her temper even though she had decided not to remonstrate with Parkin but simply asked if he would confirm that he intended to serve one term.”
“Yes,” he said, looking Florentyna straight in the eye.
“And at the next election you’ll give me your full backing?”
“You have my word on that,” he said.
“On those terms I’m willing to serve as Vice President.”
When he had left the room, Edward listened to what had taken place and said, “We know exactly what his word is worth.”
As she entered the convention hall later that night, Florentyna was greeted by a cascade of noise. Pete Parkin held her hand up high and the delegates once more roared their approval. Only Ralph Brooks looked sour.
Florentyna felt her acceptance speech as Vice Presidential candidate was below her best, but they cheered her just the same. However, the biggest cheer of the evening was raised for Pete Parkin when he addressed the delegates; he had been introduced as their new hero, the man who had brought honest unity to the party.
Florentyna flew to Boston and retreated to Cape Cod the next morning after a nauseating press conference with the Democratic Presidential candidate, who kept referring to her as “that great little lady from Illinois.”
When they parted, in full view of the press, he kissed her on the cheek. She felt like a prostitute who had accepted his money and found it was too late to change her mind about going to bed.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Taking advantage of the fact that the campaign did not start until after Labor Day, Florentyna returned to Washington to catch up on her n
eglected senatorial duties. She even found time to visit Chicago.
She spoke to Pete Parkin on the phone every day and certainly he could not have been more friendly and cooperative about fitting in with her arrangements. They agreed to meet at his White House office to discuss the final plan for the campaign. Florentyna tried to fulfill all her other commitments before the meeting so she could devote herself entirely to electioneering during the last nine weeks.
On September 2, accompanied by Edward and Janet, Florentyna arrived at the west wing of the White House to be greeted by Ralph Brooks, who clearly remained a trusted lieutenant of the candidate. She was determined not to be the cause of any friction between herself and Brooks so near the election, especially because she knew that Brooks had expected to be the Vice Presidential candidate himself. Senator Brooks took them from the reception area through to Pete Parkin’s office. It was the first time Florentyna had seen the room she might occupy in a few weeks and she was surprised by the warmth, with its yellow walls and ivory molding. Fresh flowers sat on Parkin’s mahogany desk, and the walls were hung with Remington oil paintings. Parkin’s love of the West, Florentyna thought. The late summer sun flooded in through the south-facing windows.
Pete Parkin jumped up from behind his desk and came over to greet her, just a little too effusively. Then they all sat around a table in the center of the room.
“I think you all know Ralph,” said Pete Parkin with a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “He’s worked out a campaign strategy which I am sure you’ll find most impressive.”
Ralph Brooks unfolded a large map of the United States on the table in front of them. “I feel the main consideration to keep uppermost in our minds is that to capture the White House we must have two hundred and seventy electoral college votes. Although it is obviously important and satisfying to win the popular vote, as we all know it’s still the electoral college which selects the next President. For this reason, I have colored the states black that I feel we have least chance of winning, and white those that are traditionally safe in the Democrat column. That leaves the key swing states, which I’ve marked in red, which between them make up one hundred and seventy-one electoral college votes.
The Prodigal Daughter Page 44
