The New Founders

by Joseph F. Connor

  All the while, the stranger continued to peer at the men with a stern, yet soothing glance. He paced left and right before deciding once again to address his new friends.

  “It is all of your destinies. Do not question why you made the journey because there are forces at work that cannot be explained, even by the most erudite chaps. Accept this invitation unequivocally and without question. You will be rewarded.”

  Hahn exploded to attention and extended his quivering hand. “General Washington, my name is Anthony Hahn. I cannot believe I am meeting you, sir.”

  The colonial gentleman shook the young man’s hand and nodded in approval.

  “Mr. Hahn, I have had my eye on you for quite a while. Your intelligence and understanding of our financial system and others abroad has no bounds. You are only limited by your volatile and unpredictable outbursts. If you learn to temper your emotions, the heavens of opportunity will open wide for you. I had a protégé many years ago that was of brilliant mind and confidence but was only constrained by his tongue. This man was on the precipice of greatness before his words resulted in his demise. I believe you know of whom I speak.”

  Hahn could only nod as he stared at the imposing man. Pointing toward the group once again with a guarded smile, the mystery man addressed the group as a whole.

  “I have before me some of my most trusted colleagues and perhaps my most difficult adversaries, some of whom reside in the same embodiment. We have known one another through our most difficult trials. We have not always agreed on the route to liberty yet we agreed on the destination and took heed of direction from all. My days on Earth have taught me to be intimate with few but to those few I pledge my confidence. You gentlemen are those few.”

  His focus moved from individual to individual as if to enter each man’s mind and heart.

  “Alexander Hamilton, John Adams, Samuel Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Benjamin Franklin. All were outstanding men in their day, brave and forthright who understood the impact of their actions and their place in history. Praiseworthy men, who have come from another age and now stand before me.”

  The man who was the likeness of the first president, bowed to the semi-circle of men and expressed his honor in making their acquaintances.

  The men were taken aback by the humility of this great man and the ease at which he delivered this life altering message, a message confirming their earlier suspicions.

  A simple, “Thank you Mr. President,” was all Josh Anders could muster.

  Anders spoke for the whole group when he said they all needed some time to digest it all.

  “After all, the father of our country died in 1798.”

  “1799, my good friend. I expired in 1799. You were always a brilliant and deep thinker who gazed upon the larger view of history, yet you always left the smaller details to someone else.”

  The General stepped forward, placed his hand on Anders’ shoulder and defined the king of radio as a modern day John Adams.

  “You enlightened many individuals, including me, and were always a great judge of character, exemplified by the company you keep, the woman you asked to be your wife, and the outstanding young adult your son has grown up to be. The trials and tribulations you have encountered throughout your life have only strengthened your resolve immeasurably and allowed you stand up to your adversaries in a reverential manner. Your foes tend to walk away from a quarrel feeling inspired even though he or she may have been belittled. That is a rare gift Mr. Anders, one shared with your predecessor.”

  Turning toward Jenson and Murray, Mr. Washington continued his evaluation of the talent at hand.

  “Mr. Murray, you are a gentleman with a keen intellect. Your grasp of American history and our founding principles is second to none. You work in a profession where you get to pass this great knowledge onto young and impressionable minds. Old Jemmy, you have never let your slight stature influence your ability to make an impression as weaker men may have. And you share abhorrence for excessive democracy and tyranny as do I. Your study of Locke, Hume, and Montesquieu inspired our great Constitution.

  “Mr. Jenson, the Sage of Monticello, you are an interesting sort. You have always been a dreamer yet you strive to follow through on them as exhibited by your many published opinions and ascent as a voice of the people of Virginia, first a representative at the Statehouse then directly to the populous. Although you may not realize it, you are the nation’s foremost expert on the Declaration of Independence. The knowledge and understanding of this great document housed in that brain of yours is unmatched in the modern day.”

  Tim Jenson, looking unsure, breathed a quiet thank you as Jack Murray leaned toward the General as if to study his five o’clock shadow. Murray raised his arm toward the man’s face in an attempt to touch his skin to see if he was real. But Murray’s action was interrupted by Mr. Washington’s sudden focus on the group’s elder statesman, Brian Faulk.

  “Mr. Faulk, such a symbol of what this country is capable of producing, it is only fitting that a gentleman of your stature reside in Philadelphia; an individual who, if directed in a derogatory fashion to go fly a kite, would smile and welcome the suggestion with enthusiasm. Another voice of the people, delivering your political opinions as if it were gospel to a Sunday morning congregation. A pillar of this fine city, your antennae are always pointed toward betterment of this city, state, and country, and if left to your own devices, could possibly create magic out of thin air.”

  Faulk, sitting smugly on the bench with his legs crossed and his right arm hanging over the back rest, cracked a smile as he buried his chin into his chest. Steve Anders, glancing at his wristwatch for the seventieth time, grabbed his bag and saluted the congregation.

  “Guys, it’s been a lot of fun as well as the most bizarre morning of my life. I would love to stay but I have to catch a plane back to bean town. Mr. Washington, it was very nice to meet you and I hope to run into you again real soon, but I needed to go twenty minutes ago. Josh, I’ll talk to you later.”

  Steve in full sprint, hailed a taxi on Chestnut Street. The rest of the men hardly noticed as their gazes stayed fixed on the first president.

  The group may not have realized it, but the calendar read Saturday, July fourth, and the people of Philadelphia went about their business in preparation for the holiday celebration. Local merchants set up their storefronts for the potential surge of tourist traffic expected on the nation’s birthday. The street sweepers went to and fro, cleaning up the city passageways as the sun peaked through the skyscrapers overhead. Employees and volunteers began to arrive for work at Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell museum. A number of these folks made their way through the tree-lined park, adjacent to the Hall.

  As they approached the building, a handful of these men and women took notice of the tall man holding court near the tour entrance. Initially drawn by his presence, they were at once absorbed by the conversation. Within minutes, tourists mulling around the Statehouse joined the volunteers in their curiosity of the George Washington lookalike and the men gathered around him. The tall man’s dialogue was direct and pointed while the men in the immediate foreground seemed to hang on his every word. Mr. Washington paused mid-sentence as he noticed the crowd forming.

  “It looks as though we have company.”

  Anders, also realizing what was happening, drew the group into a football-like huddle and suggested they hop in his waiting limo and seek some privacy back at his hotel suite. Faulk interjected that he lived only two blocks away and they could walk there in a couple of minutes.

  Mr. Washington broke the huddle by lifting his head up stating that Brian’s suggestion was a splendid idea. The group of men as one unit was in motion immediately, parting from the crowd. The new founders were excited and energized as they approached the side street. The tour guide from the previous day, dressed again as Benjamin Franklin, stood on the sidewalk, perplexed at the oncoming General. Washington, stopping in front of the man, eyed him up and down.


  “Very authentic, except for the knickers. Too long. Wouldn’t you say Mr. Faulk?”

  The Franklin impersonator looked down, and in doing so, spilled his morning coffee. Mr. Washington resumed his gait as his twenty-first century cabinet quickly followed with a few chuckles.

  Murray excitedly moved with the group realizing he had not told Dottie where he was going so early in the morning. He made a mental note to text her when they got to Faulk’s home, but didn’t know what he would tell her. What would he say? That he was in a stranger’s house with a bunch of guys he barely knew and an old guy who had convinced them all he was George Washington?

  He would figure out what to tell Dottie later. Right now, he was caught up in an amazing moment and there was no time to explain.

  The walk to Mr. Faulk’s house coincidentally took the group across Sixth Street and through Washington Square Park, to the delight of the General. However, while he liked to see his name adorned on a park and the adjacent street, he did not mention this to the men. Always a humble leader, he appeared uncomfortable bringing attention to himself. This did not mean he was without ego. On the contrary, he had a very large sense of self, yet he led by the military belief that no one individual was superior to the collective unit.

  Mr. Washington’s head might as well have been on a swivel as he turned every degree his neck would allow to gaze at the miracles of the twenty-first century. While he had an idea of what they were, he still gawked in wonderment at each and every automobile that passed his way. He marveled at the sheer height of the structures around him and noted the intricacies of the masonry and architectural design. He stopped to examine a manhole cover in the street and asked what function it served. It took a few minutes to comprehend why one would dig a hole in the street on purpose, but less time to learn the dangers of examining it too closely.

  But the one modern day addition to society that made him take note time and time again was the summertime fashions worn by the women of Philadelphia. He could not get over loose blouses and short skirts worn by the women of today. And he respectfully opined that he wished that attire was available in 1776, which elicited a chorus of laughter by the founders of today. Before long, the General just kept his thoughts on the topic to himself as he approached the Faulk residence.

  Brian Faulk jumped to the head of the group and approached the front door, leaning down to pick up the Saturday editions of The Philadelphia Inquirer and the Philadelphia Daily News, publications of which he had written for earlier in his career. Instead of inserting a key into the door, he punched a numeric code into the keypad on the wall next to the door which unlocked the entranceway. As Faulk opened the door, Mr. Washington paused to inspect the keypad before entering the dwelling.

  The smell of bacon permeated through the house and Faulk yelled to his wife that he was home and that he was accompanied by visitors. His wife Deborah, peering around the corner into the hallway, gave a quizzical look at the assemblage. Faulk walked down the hall ahead of the group to let her know that a number of strange men were about to assemble in the kitchen and dining area.

  “I wish you would have at least called ahead. I look terrible,” Deborah whispered irritably to her husband.

  She looked over his shoulder as the men gathered in the vestibule, aware of the awkward intrusion. Faulk looked back down the hallway and motioned the group to take a seat in the living room. They filtered onto the couches and chairs in the room, which gave Deborah a chance to sneak upstairs to dress and apply makeup without being noticed. Brian turned to finish with the eggs and bacon on the stovetop, then turned the burners off. He opened the refrigerator and gathered more breakfast foods for the group. He left them on the counter to join his team in the next room.

  “Lovely home you have here, Mr. Faulk. Am I correct in assuming your wife is to thank for the cleanliness and order of this room?”

  Brian nodded in agreement, explaining that he was always the disorganized one, with papers and paraphernalia usually strewn about.

  “I have a room in my basement where I write and tinker a bit. It’s the one room my wife avoids because of the mess. She always tells me that she will find me dead under a pile of whatever I am doing at the present moment.”

  The men laughed. Mrs. Faulk, now neatly dressed with her dyed strawberry blonde hair, quickly coiffed, entered the room. At once, General Washington sprung up to introduce himself. The rest of the men followed his lead and rose in unison.

  “This is my wife Deborah. Deb, let me introduce you to the fine gentlemen I told you about last night.”

  Mr. Washington was the first to step forward, shaking her hand while bowing his head. As each man stepped forward to introduce himself, Deb Faulk kept her curious gaze on the first president. Her attention was diverted at once when introduced to Josh Anders.

  “Josh Anders? Wow, we listen to your show all the time. Welcome to our home. Welcome all of you to our house. Make yourselves comfortable. I am making breakfast for all of you, if that’s okay.”

  The men nodded in thanks to the offer while Deb focused her gaze back on the tall man in the colonial outfit. Keeping her gaze on Mr. Washington, she whispered to her husband, “Is that the tour guide you met last night? He certainly is a dead ringer for George Washington. That’s for sure.” Mr. Washington, stepping forward with a concerned look on his face, inquired as to what the meaning of the phrase dead ringer was.

  Hahn chimed that it meant an exact duplicate, allaying Mr. Washington’s fears for the moment. Faulk then explained that there was nothing derogatory or harmful in using that particular description. Mr. Washington mentioned that he understood and took his seat. The group again followed the General’s lead and sat down. Mrs. Faulk left the room to prepare the meal.

  Anders then addressed the men.

  “Guys, as you can see from the clock over the mantelpiece, it is eight-thirty in the morning. I am going to suggest something a little radical, so hear me out. We have with us the one and only father of our country, George Washington. Whether you want to believe it or not, he has come back and has gathered us together here in Philadelphia by some force we cannot explain. But it has happened, and we are here, so I think we should make the most of it.”

  Mr. Washington interjected that he was there for a reason. “Providence heard your plea for assistance and sent me as your servant. Gentlemen, you all know why you asked for my return and I believe you patriotic citizens know how I can help you. I am at your service. Understand only a twenty-first century man knows how to repair the problems of the current day.”

  Anders rudely lit up a cigar to the disgusted looks of the occupants of the room. “That’s what I was getting at, sir. So here is what I would like to do. I would like to take Mr. Washington to the city he helped design, the nation’s capital that bears his name. I have some time off now, so I’d take him later this afternoon.”

  He described how Mr. Washington could walk the mall and check out the monuments that had been erected in his honor as well as other great men. “We’ll show him the monument named for him. What do you think?”

  Mr. Washington surveyed the room before reacting. He agreed. “I believe we will find our inspiration in the city that bears my name. Please gentlemen if I may. I have entered a world that is in some ways very familiar to me; that is being in your presence. But in my few moments so far, I realize I have also entered a most alien environment. I ask that on our journey to the capital, you educate me on the vast changes that have occurred.”

  Anders took a long drag and let out a big puff of smoke. He pointed at the General with an index finger curled around his stogie. “Certainly, Mr. Washington. I have a fair amount of historical knowledge in this brain of mine to accommodate you. I’ll do my best. And, Mr. Washington, you will be relieved to know that while you will see and hear things you could never have imagined, the basic nature of man has not changed; for good or for bad.”

  Murray glanced wide-eyed at Jenson sitting to his righ
t. He noticed some odd facial reactions to Anders’ idea. Murray thought the bigmouth radio personality had imposed himself into the center of the situation and Murray was not pleased with the turn of events.

  For the first time in a long while, he did not think of anybody but himself and knew that if those two were going on a sightseeing tour of the Capital, he had to be a part of it. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one thinking that.

  “Well if you’re going, I’m going too!” said Hahn, looking for collaboration from his fellow founders.

  “I’m on my two week vacation and had nothing planned. I was thinking of flying to Aruba from here. But I’d rather go to Washington, with Washington!”

  Faulk, entering the living room with a tray of coffee cups and saucers, stopped short to see the waft of smoke in the air.

  “C’mon Josh. Don’t light up in here. It’s too early for that crap.”

  Anders, a little startled by Brian’s tone, lifted his hand in apology, went to the front door and threw the cigar onto the sidewalk. He came back in time to hear Faulk answer Hahn by saying he was up for the trip. He set the tray on the coffee table and passed the drinks to his colleagues. He glanced up over his spectacles to see the reactions to his statement. Anders made sure he was clear.

  “I meant all of us when I suggested going to Washington. Just want to make sure you guys know that.”

  Jenson and Murray both reached for their coffee while looking at each other. Jenson mentioned how they would have to change their schedules.

  “While we have an open agenda for the day, we were scheduled to stay over another night before heading back tomorrow morning.”

  As Jenson said this, he looked back at Murray who frowned as if to say there was no debating the decision.

  “But as long as it’s okay with Mr. and Mrs. Murray, I don’t see any reason why we can’t accompany you.”

  While keeping a calm exterior, Murray was alive inside with anticipation. Although he realized the whole situation was more than a little strange to say the least, he felt this Mr. Washington character was who he claimed to be. Murray had to be a part of the plan. He just wondered what Dottie would think of him for up and leaving from a family weekend and heading back toward Virginia. But what was he supposed to do?