The Latina President...and the Conspiracy to Destroy Her

by Joe Rothstein

  “But what about L.A. Lights? I just walk out on them? What happens to it?

  It was Hal’s turn.

  “Tenny, you’ve built L.A. Lights into an incredible operation. You’re helping more people than ever. Just as important, you’ve built a real organization. Very talented and committed people. That’s what a great manager does. The simple fact is L.A. Lights will run just fine without you.

  “In fact, if you deliver from Washington and I deliver from city hall, that organization will have way more help to give. Don’t get me wrong, but you’ve outgrown day-to-day management of L.A. Lights. You came here to get real life experience. Few people in government have the understanding and background you have now. It’s time to move on and use everything you’ve learned to get more done. That is, if you’re still interested in this kind of life, helping people. No one would blame you if you moved on to other things. You’ve done so much already.”

  She had no defense against his reason for her leaving L.A. Lights. In fact, she had been mulling future moves herself. More and more asking herself “what’s next?” Going to Washington, D.C., as a member of Congress was far from what she ever considered “next.” To her, that seemed like an admonition spoken in tongues. But the more Hal and Ben wrapped her in their net of logic, the less remote it felt.

  She stared at them both with a mock glare.

  “And what will it cost me to give up a job I love and move to a city I’ve never wanted to live in?”

  “Probably $500,000.”

  “Or put another way, a half million dollars!”

  She turned to Hal with her arms outstretched. Tenny was feigning distaste for the idea, he could see that.

  “Hal, do something. Say something.”

  He moved his straight backed chair even closer to her, their noses nearly touching. Eyes locked tightly on hers. One-time lover to one-time lover, mentor to student:

  “Do it.”

  15

  “Tell me what to do, Ben.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  In a few hours she would officially file as a candidate. People would be asking questions. She didn’t know what to say. In her anxious state of mind Ben’s reply sounded sarcastic. Ben had pushed her into the race. She expected to be handled by this professional political handler.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “A serious answer,” said Ben. “Some candidates need a lot of help. They freeze in front of crowds. Some have no idea why they’re running, except to get elected. Some work well in small groups but not on big stages. Some make no eye contact. Others shake hands grudgingly or walk around with forced smiles. Being a candidate is an unnatural state of being.

  “Most people I’ve worked with are just good people entering a totally foreign and unnatural world. But I’ve seen you in all kinds of situations, Tenny. You’re great with people one-on-one. You know what people of this district need, and you have good ideas. You may be a bit shaky at first, but it won’t matter. Hardly any media will cover you this early. Make your mistakes and learn from them. Pick your topics. Talk from your head and your heart. I’ll come up with a schedule for public appearances. For the first week or so I’ll go to most of them with you. I’ll take notes and we can talk after. My team will manage all the details like organization, media hand-holding, bookkeeping, scheduling, all that. Just be the candidate. I trust you. Trust yourself.”

  During the first days of the campaign Tenny was on the street visiting key community leaders and delivering two or three speeches a day in living rooms and public spaces. At night, she and Ben would meet for dinner for what he called the download, carefully assessing everything about her. He had advice on what she wore, how she walked, where she looked when she shook a hand. He annotated her speeches, making suggestions on how to tighten them up, where to leave room for applause, reordering speech topics to build to more emotional endings.

  By design, during the campaign’s first days Ben scheduled Tenny to be in familiar, comfortable places with encouraging friends. Even then, for Tenny, it was unfamiliar territory, asking for help and support rather than delivering it. She was self-conscious, a bit embarrassed, often unsure of what to say or how to say it. It didn’t matter to those she met. They were her people, ready to hit the pavements for her, offering suggestions and advice. Never before a creature of politics she had no concept of politically correct limits. If it was on her mind, it was on her tongue and expelled with great intensity through her lips. What she said gave voice to the collective thought of tens of thousands of people in her congressional district, messages she understood well after years of working the streets of Los Angeles’ forgotten. Whatever she said, no matter how long it took to say it, her listeners always wanted more. They had never heard it said so well before, if ever. Their hunger to be recognized for who they were was insatiable.

  As campaign weeks bled into months, Tenny evolved into a campaign phenomenon. One of the nation’s richest people campaigning to represent some of the poorest, with large crowds cheering her on. Of all the candidates in all of the Los Angeles area’s congressional races, she was the most quotable. Television cameras were her constant companion, drawn to her because her events were good theater. Her scripts came from her own memory, drawn from realities lived, not position papers read. Her prescriptions for change had been forming through the years. Now, she could visualize them as programs for how things could be. Her campaign was transforming her, and her own self-image, irrevocably, from Isabel to Tenny.

  Meanwhile, in the mayor’s race, ideas that only a few years earlier might have been considered revolutionary were being discussed as mainstream options—so far had Hal moved the debate during his time on the council. His speeches and public appearances were augmented by Ben’s media, setting the campaign agenda for all the candidates. Hal preached a gospel of stronger regional development propelled by better distribution of growth’s rewards. New investments in rapid transit, living wages, publicly supported day care and kindergarten paid for by a fairer balance in the local tax structure. Hal’s was a platform designed to appeal both to those who favored more developmental growth for Los Angeles and to those who had been left behind in sharing the benefits from past area growth. He didn’t assess blame or promote rancor over how the economy became so skewed toward the wealthy in the first place. The pushback from the city’s economic elite against this one-time pro bono street lawyer was more tepid than in past campaigns by insurgent candidates.

  Hal’s primary day victory in municipal elections was not assured until all the votes were counted, and recounted. Two months later, in the congressional primaries, Tenny cruised to victory and became Congresswoman Tenny Tennyson.

  16

  “Just call me Fish, everyone else does.”

  Tenny and Sheila Fishburne bonded immediately. Two high-energy divorced women on similar missions. Fish’s mother was the daughter of a whaling boat captain from Barrow, America’s northernmost community, well north of the Arctic Circle. Her father went to Barrow from Indianapolis to teach English. What he assumed would be a year’s lark lasted a lifetime. Fish, like Tenny, was a product of two worlds.

  Fish was picture-perfect for Alaska tourism brochures. Tall, slim, athletic. The hiker. The hunter. The all-around outdoorswoman. Savvy enough to hold her own with the oil moguls, politically agile enough to get elected as a Democrat in a state that elects mostly Republicans.

  As congressional newbies, Tenny and Fish clung together through the initiation months, finding paths through corridors they’d never before tread, sharing thoughts about fellow members of often indeterminate logic and motive. Their new class was female-centric. Of twenty-six new Democratic members of the House, seventeen were women. Many beat long odds to get here and had no idea how long it would last, certainly not a lifetime. They were in a hurry.

  Fish and Tenny organized “Great Cooks and Tough Cookies,” thirty-three women, a once-a-week lunch group to pool their influence. “After all,�
�� said Fish, “one of the most successful groups like this ever assembled was organized by Richard Nixon as a young congressman, the Marching and Chowder Club. Two members of that group, Nixon and Gerald Ford, became presidents.”

  The women used their weight of numbers plus extraordinary gifts of persuasion to achieve multiple victories. While Fish was burrowing in with good results, securing her seat in Alaska’s politically tough soil, Tenny was carting big wins back to Los Angeles, raising her stature not only in Southern California, but statewide. She staffed her Washington and Los Angeles offices with workers from L.A. Lights, people who knew the district she represented. She knew her district, too, really knew it. Carmie had once pointed out that her view of life was from a first class seat in a jet 30,000 feet above reality. For five years leading to her election Tenny had been schooled in reality, her classrooms were homes, schools, work places, police stations, trial courts, food stamp offices, union halls, and day-care, rape-crisis, and immigration centers. It had been a crash course. Now it was paying off, both retail and wholesale, as Hal had once described this business of helping people in need. Her staff was expert in solving individual problems. She and Hal were the wholesalers, compiling lists of big ticket items to bring back for entire communities. Though there were more senior members representing other Los Angeles area districts, she was Hal’s main conduit. She was vocal, tough, popular with the media, secure from campaign opposition, and, not to be dismissed, the largest political donor and best fund-raiser in the delegation.

  Beyond the bread, butter and bacon issues, Tenny fought fiercely for Latino rights and immigration reform. She enjoyed little success, but to the Latino community she was a champion, much in-demand for her fiery speeches, respected for her heritage. A Tenny speech inevitably had the political faithful on their feet. The promise of such an appearance guaranteed its sponsors a sold-out house.

  And she had one more priority.

  “I’m sort of in awe at how fast you’ve taken to all this,” said Carmie.

  She and Tenny were lunching in the congressional members’ dining room. Many other members of Congress stopped by to greet Tenny and be introduced to Carmie. Tenny had only a short window for lunch. She was a member of the Banking Committee, and was on tap to introduce a piece of legislation at their 1:30 committee meeting.

  “To tell you the truth, so am I. I think it’s all the work I did in wealth management. You know, that’s just sales with higher priced products. That’s what I do here, mostly. Picking targets, selling ideas, wearing people down until they do what I want.”

  “I’m so happy and proud for you, Tenny. I just never dreamed you would be a politician, of all things. Why on earth did you even agree to run?”

  “Well, Hal made a pretty persuasive case that we could work together and get a lot done. But I’ll tell you, Carmie, and only you. It finally occurred to me that in Congress I might be able to do something about Aragon and all the other Mexican companies like them.”

  “Change Aragon, a Mexican company, from the U.S. Congress? Unlikely.”

  “Not as unlikely as you might think. A lot of business goes on between the U.S. and Mexico. Not just trade, but treaties, law enforcement, money changing. I once thought I might be able to work my way up the management ladder at Aragon and recruit allies and change the culture there. Well, now I think I can work my way up the political ladder here and really have an impact on what goes on in Mexico.”

  “You’re still holding a grudge after all these years?”

  “Not a grudge. It’s no different than what I wanted to do from inside the company. Only now I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the human wreckage. I’m going to do my best to change it there and keep it from being imported here.

  “But you are still holding a grudge. I can tell. You’re planning to get even with Javier Carmona, aren’t you?”

  “And the whole rotten, corrupt crowd. I’ve done my research on this one, Carmie. I’m not a rookie anymore.”

  

  While Tenny did not forget or forgive what she had learned about Groupo Aragon, neither did Javier Carmona lose sight of her.

  “In the event you had not noticed, Miguel’s little girl has become a big player in the United States government,” Carmona informed members of the Groupo Aragon board shortly after Tenny’s election to Congress.

  “Many strange people serve in their government,” replied banking director David Colon. “At least now she knows she can buy influence, something she warned was an awful thing for us to do.” The room erupted in laughter.

  Carmona was not smiling. “I don’t like it. This woman did not go quietly. Her ties with us are too personal, too historic. If she continues to gain political power she could be a threat to us.”

  “From the United States? How would that be possible?” asked Colon.

  “How is it possible that a woman, who by blood and bearing is one of us, got elected to the United States Congress at all? It’s extraordinary. And we cannot afford to lose sight of her. We have made her an enemy. She could become a dangerous one.”

  17

  For three congressional terms, six years, Tenny owned her congressional seat. No one dared challenge her. Her popularity, her money, her success serving the district dissuaded anyone, Republican or Democrat, from trying to oust her. It might have lasted forever had it not been for Grant Hamel’s overactive libido.

  Hamel, a Democrat, was serving his fifth year as U.S. senator from California when rumors began circulating about his frequent visits to a pleasure palace near Reno. The rumors became a scandal when the Sacramento Bulletin published photos of Hamel entering and exiting the Beauty Farm, a well-known fee-for-sex establishment. Not just once, but on multiple occasions. What made it worse was that those dates coincided with official committee trips for hearings on nuclear waste disposal and mass transit issues, all paid for at government expense. A Nevada hearing had been cancelled because Hamel reported he was ill—on a day photos showed him at the Beauty Farm.

  Hamel fought back, apologized, offered himself for counseling and embarked on a well-trod trail of apologia. All this might have worked, despite his crashing poll numbers. It might have worked, had not the Los Angeles Courier published copies of the credit card receipts Hamel used to pay for Beauty Farm services. The public could have forgiven yet another married man straying onto a prostitute’s reservation. But paying for it with a credit card? To get mileage points? The balance tipped against him, and Hamel resigned, leaving the Senate seat open for the governor to fill until the next election, just eighteen months distant.

  The governor who would make that appointment was Harold Thompson.

  While Tenny was having success in Congress, Hal had been building his own reputation as mayor of Los Angeles. Power is addictive, and Hal had inhaled it deeply. His public face remained that of a progressive reformer. With much less attention, he was also finding ways to see that oil, agriculture, and other industries with deep financial roots in California came into his debt. Personally engaging as ever, Hal became a fixture on the state’s social A-list circuit. During one spin around that circuit he met and married Sally Pounds, the daughter of L. Irving Pounds, whose media holdings included dozens of California newspapers and broadcast properties.

  Five years after his surprise election as mayor, Hal ran for governor. While progressives were now suspicious, his years of ground-level work for their movement continued to pay residual dividends. Ben was able to build a statewide organization from the base of the original LOLA movement in Los Angeles. Hal tapped into a deep well of campaign money through Tenny and through Irving Pounds and his influence. The state’s oligarchs had learned to trust Hal as mayor. Many were willing to take a chance on him as governor.

  Now, a year into this powerful new role in Sacramento, it was Hal’s lot to appoint a U.S. senator who would fill out Hamel’s term until the next election.

  Ben Sage had no doubt who that should be.

  “Ten
ny, of course. She’s the most popular political figure in California next to you. The Latino community will be thrilled. Women will be grateful. When she needs to run on her own next year, she’ll be a strong contender. San Francisco is reliably Democratic. Tenny won’t have a problem winning the L.A. area vote. No matter who the Republicans nominate, she’ll win. And it doesn’t hurt that she can finance her own campaign.”

  Hal wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ve been getting pushback from the chamber, growers, and just about everybody. Mainly the banks. They’d go nuts. She’s become a wild card. She makes them really nervous, more than anybody else. If I appoint her, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, especially with my own father-in-law.”

  “Well if you name someone those guys want, your own numbers will take a hit. There’s no one else as popular as Tenny or with her name recognition. With the right candidate, the Republicans could take that seat next year.”

  “Does she even want it? I know she likes being in the House. I haven’t heard from her.”

  “Then ask her. If she says no you’re off the hook with all the groups that support her. If she takes it she’s a winner. With her on next year’s ticket she’s probably worth a few more seats in the state legislature, maybe enough for a super majority.”

  Tenny had been ambushed into her first race for the U.S. House. Now that she was here, in Washington, seeing how power and influence was exercised, wielding a bit of it herself, she wasn’t immune to the itch for more. A Senate seat, a national stage. Heavier weapons. All very attractive. Nevertheless, she was not expecting a call from Hal. She knew it was a tough choice for him.

  Their past relationship would be red meat for the opposition. Could she handle it? Could Hal? Tenny had won election to the House on her own. The Senate seat would be a gift from a former lover. If the Republicans ran an effective campaign it could bring them both down. Then there was Hal’s family to think of. Hal’s wife would have to answer the other woman questions through the whole campaign, in public and in private, to all of her friends. Irving Pounds would have to answer for it to everyone he maneuvered into supporting Hal’s campaign for governor. Pounds’ newspapers regularly took Tenny apart in editorials. Pounds would be furious if Hal appointed her. No, she didn’t expect Hal to call.