The New Founders

by Joseph F. Connor

  “Our planks need to be simple,” said Murray, “and composed only of our God given rights of Life, Liberty, Pursuit of Happiness, Property and Religion. Our planks will be joined as one to create our ship by the American people. Anything is possible in America if government steps aside and allows the people to use these tools for their own betterment.”

  Murray glanced in Mr. Washington’s direction. The father of the country beamed from ear to ear as he realized that the man from Virginia with the pretty wife had finally channeled Mr. Madison.

  After some debate, the new founders agreed on the following tools to connect the planks to the ship:

  • Economy / Tax policy

  • National Security / Foreign Policy

  • Regulation / Health Care mandate

  • Religion

  Anders implored the others that the tools and planks were not enough. He urged that the new founders debate these issues amongst themselves to ensure that each item was fully vetted.

  “Mr. Walters needs to put forth a clear and unambiguous message to each. The economy, the most important issue, has to be first.”

  After two full days of policy and political strategy sessions, the first president had survived his first crash course in building a campaign. George actually did better than survive; he thrived. Even his team marveled at the ease at which he had absorbed the information thrown at him. There was still a week and a half more of this to come. And this morning was finally the time for the first president to meet his identity donor.

  Mr. Washington stood at attention in the foyer looking at his wrist-watch. He studied the shape of the watch and admired the handcrafting that went into building such an elegant timepiece. He thought the name of the company, Tag Heuer, was rather odd. But in his experiences with foreign persons, he learned to not question foreign names.

  However, it wasn’t the model of the wristwatch that concerned Mr. Washington. The time on the watch read 7:05am and he was alone. He was sure the agreed upon time for departure was seven and the first president was perturbed. He simmered as he began to pace, wondering quietly what could delay his travel companions. Hahn, Murray and Pepper all agreed on an early departure at the designated time and now they were late. Mr. Washington prided himself for his strict punctuality and this lapse in timeliness annoyed the General. As he turned to stride back to the front door, he heard footsteps coming down the staircase above.

  “Good morning Mr. President!” exclaimed Hahn, smiling as he glided down the staircase. The smile disappeared as he descended the last step and noticed the glare from his new leader.

  “Mr. Hahn, we did agree on seven o’clock, did we not?”

  Hahn could do nothing but nod in agreement with the look of a scolded child. He realized the goodwill of the previous day’s political conversation was long gone while he tried to explain that the eight minutes of tardiness was no big deal. Pepper and Murray entered from the doorway, already aware of the president’s mood from the sound of Mr. Washington’s impatient voice down the hall. The men were silent as they approached the heated candidate.

  “Gentlemen, this is unacceptable. When we agree on a meeting time, we have to adhere to it. This is not a topic up for discussion or debate.”

  This time, Murray took the brunt of Mr. Washington’s lecture on timeliness and discipline. Murray understood Mr. Washington’s point as it related to a show of respect for those who took the time out of their schedule to meet with you. While being late for a meeting may be bad, it was especially disrespectful in the case of a man generous enough to hand over his identity for the good of his country.

  Mr. Washington turned and opened the front door. The men fell in behind him, entered the limo and headed down the driveway.

  The ride was a quiet one. Neither Pepper, Murray, or Hahn were about to speak after the tongue-lashing they received a few minutes before. They all sipped the coffee that Mr. Washington had brewed and poured into a thermos for their trip. The driver thanked him for the coffee as they met heavy traffic near our nation’s capital. Their destination was Arnold, Maryland, a suburb of Washington, DC, located near the US Naval Academy. Mr. Washington was anxious to see the campus following their visit and informed the driver, who assured him that he would be happy to bring him there.

  The limousine pulled up to the address a few minutes before eight o’clock. The well-to-do neighborhood was still quiet, with a few people departing for work. Not one child was in sight. Mr. Washington exited the car and strode toward the front door of the two story colonial house. As he approached, the front door opened and a young man in his mid-twenties stepped toward him.

  Connor Walters extended his right hand in introduction.

  Mr. Washington greeted the young Connor Walters with his sincere appreciation. He then turned and introduced the members of his team to Connor. After the exchanged pleasantries, Mr. Washington addressed his colleagues.

  “Men, I would like to meet with Mr. Walters alone. I ask that you please allow us approximately two hours. I think you should be able to keep yourself occupied during this timeframe, don’t you agree?”

  After the morning’s scolding, none of the men were about to question the General. They all complied and turned back toward the car. Mr. Washington accompanied Connor into the dwelling and shut the door behind them.

  As he led Mr. Washington down the hallway, Connor explained that they had converted the den into his father’s bedroom since the elder Walters could no longer climb the steps. Mr. Walters lay in a hospital bed near the window of the makeshift bedroom. He held a remote control in his hand as he flipped through the cable television channels. Even though his face was gaunt, he was clean shaven and his hair was combed neatly in anticipation of his historic meeting. He also changed his pajamas and now wore a blue sweat suit and slippers. He was obviously weak, but proud, having exerted much of his strength to present himself in a respectable manner to his houseguest.

  Mr. Walters looked up and saw the first president. Mr. Washington’s frame filled the doorway. He smiled and walked to the bed. As Mr. Washington approached, Walters did his best to sit up. His son hurried around Mr. Washington to raise the back of the bed automatically, allowing his father some more comfort. He now sat erect and introduced himself. He told Mr. Washington it was an honor and pleasure to meet him. Mr. Washington grabbed a chair from the desk and pulled it to Walters’ bedside.

  “Mr. Walters, the pleasure is all mine. I am honored to make your acquaintance and humbled at your generous gesture.”

  Frank shook his head and stated that it was the least he could do. An old business acquaintance had reached out only a couple of days earlier and asked if he would like to meet Bill Pepper. He knew who Pepper was and thought they were soliciting monetary support for the Tea Party. Walters could not believe the fantastic story Pepper told upon his arrival and he agreed to today’s meeting out of curiosity. His son Connor had made the arrangements and continued to tell his father that the men on the phone sounded very serious. Now that the one and only George Washington was before him, he was truly a believer.

  Walters humbly placed his service before the first president, even quoting Nathan Hale when he stated that he regretted that he had but one life to give for his country.

  Mr. Washington, leaned forward in his chair, and put his hands on the donor’s hands.

  “That is right Mr. Walters. Approximately 240 years ago a group of men pushed aside their egos and, for the most part, their identities, for their country. These were men of great character, foresight and patriotic devotion. And they are commonly known as our nation’s founding fathers. You are one of us.”

  With tears in his eyes, Frank reminded the first president that he and his family had been paid handsomely for his patriotic gesture. Mr. Washington waved the statement off and said that the money was inconsequential when looking at the whole picture.

  The conversation turned to personal issues as Mr. Washington asked the donor to tell him about his upbringi
ng and background. As his father began talking, Connor entered the room with two big folders, filled with his dad’s personal records. Mr. Washington took the folders in his arms, snuck a peek inside and placed them at his feet. He knew he had time later to sift through the paperwork enclosed. But at this moment, the General preferred to hear Walters tell his life story face-to-face.

  The next hour was filled with great stories and laughter as the men hit it off. Mr. Washington felt very comfortable with his new friend and the feeling was mutual. Connor came into the room a couple times during the meeting to bring coffee, clean the nightstand and give his father medicine. Frank and George were so engrossed in conversation that they did not even notice him.

  After ninety minutes, Walters was tired. His eyes were glassy and he struggled to keep his focus. He needed rest and Mr. Washington realized this. He stood up and pulled the covers up toward his friend’s upper body. As Mr. Washington leaned over, Walters reached up and cupped his neck with his right hand. He mustered enough energy to pull himself toward the great man.

  “The office of the president today has lost so much respect in the eyes of Americans. Whereas in your day, it was revered and held up to a higher standard. Bring that respect back.”

  Mr. Washington’s eyes were now glassy, not from tiredness but from emotion. The man next to him was imploring him to bring the country back to where it once was. He put his right hand on the nape of Walters’ neck. Mr. Washington said to him, “Remember always that the duty of our leaders was and is to follow the Constitution. The individual in the office of president is less important than the office itself.”

  Walters reached up with both arms and pulled Mr. Washington in for a hug.

  “Mr. Washington, I will treasure this meeting always.”

  Mr. Washington tightened his hug, then pulled back from the embrace and looked the donor squarely in the eye. Mr. Washington spoke firmly. “Please call me Frank. My name is Frank Walters and I am honored to carry your name.”

  He gently helped Walters lie back down on the bed and made sure he was propped up and comfortable. Tears ran down Frank’s cheeks as he let go of his grip on George’s hand. Mr. Washington reached down and picked up the two folders as he backed away from the bed and walked toward the door. Each man gave a nod and a wave as the first president headed down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  Connor sat in the living room as Mr. Washington entered. He stood at attention as George approached. He put his big hand on Connor’s shoulder describing his respect for Connor’s father and his pride in bearing his name.

  The son welled up at this statement. He was visibly in awe of the father of our country standing before him in his own living room. He explained that his father had his doubts at first, but as soon as he realized the seriousness of the plan, he was in one hundred percent. He then asked if he could get the first president another cup of coffee or something to eat, to which Mr. Washington politely declined. He then moved to the credenza which had many framed pictures on top. As he gazed from one to another, he remarked at his uncanny resemblance to Walters.

  “Mr. Pepper and his supporters do their job very well, don’t you think?”

  He turned back to face Connor. The young man was impressive himself, standing nearly six foot three and handsome. He was one person that could address the first president at eye level. Mr. Washington sensed that besides looks, he possessed many of the same character traits as his father. He now placed his hands on both of the young man’s shoulders.

  “Mr. Walters, I have agreed to take your father’s name. In doing so, I now take you as my son. From this point on, I am Frank Walters and you are my son Connor Walters. If we are to accomplish all that we have set out to do, there will be no deviation from that, do you understand?”

  Connor nodded in agreement. Mr. Washington cautioned about the tough road ahead filled with scrutinization in the press and on television. He explained that Providence has brought them together and they had to stay strong. The doorbell interrupted the pep talk. However, Mr. Washington kept his grip.

  “I have always been a good judge of character. I look at you and I see your father, an honorable man. You have my full faith and trust, son.”

  While Connor was slightly taken aback by the “son” comment, he was overcome with a sense of comfort hearing the words. He was at ease and accepting of his new role and Mr. Washington sensed it. He released his hold and turned to open the front door.

  Murray stood at the front door and asked if everything was okay. Mr. Washington looked to his side at Connor.

  “Everything is fine. I’m ready. It would be prudent to get back home. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Connor, we will be in contact with you. Thank you for a most memorable morning.”

  The two men shook hands and embraced. Mr. Washington then walked past Murray and up the walkway to the waiting car. Pepper and Hahn were in the backseat talking amongst themselves. Mr. Washington took a seat, followed by Murray, and the door closed. He put the two folders on the seat next to him.

  The street was almost desolate. Not a single person in sight. Pepper took notice of this and mentioned that he was pleased. He turned to Mr. Washington.

  “Everything go smoothly, Mr. President?”

  The General had been looking back at the house from which he had just emerged and turned his head toward Pepper.

  “My name is now Frank Walters and you will address me as such. Frank Walters, candidate for President of these United States.”

  Hahn looked at his leader’s expression and knew instantly that there was no turning back.

  “Game on, gentlemen.”

  Chapter 18

  Two weeks of platform and campaign preparation went by in a blur. The amount of effort and sweat spent building this campaign for president was well worth it. Even a seasoned veteran like Rader had to admit that these “novices” had put together one hell of a political platform. He felt as confident as he ever had with more experienced politicians. Rader deduced that it was the man himself that caused this effect. There was something special about this man that he could not put his finger on. But there was no doubt that Mr. Walters had that mythical “it” that people spoke about.

  Murray watched as Rader quietly reviewed the updated events calendar. The team went about collecting their belongings and readied themselves for their trips home. The plan devised was to introduce their candidate on a local radio show in Charlottesville and follow it up with Josh Anders’ national show a day later. The plan hinged on positive feedback on the local show, a prospect that gave everybody a hint of worry. Murray noted that the only person that did not seem nervous was Mr. Walters.

  As he eavesdropped on Anders and Hahn’s conversation from the kitchen, he noticed a focused Tim Jenson walk past the doorway and up the staircase toward his bedroom.

  Jenson had just finished packing to go to Charlottesville. Like Murray, he had not been home in the two weeks since the July 4th weekend. Tim couldn’t wait to get back to his familiar bed and day job. Still, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring wistfully at the lush lawn overlooking the Potomac. He realized that the most eventful, incredible fortnight of his life was coming to a close.

  “Fortnight.” Funny, Jenson thought. Now he was even thinking in “George Washington” language. It was very clear to all the men that the candidate, now referred to as Mr. Frank Walters, had rubbed off on them as much as the team had on him. Jenson could not help but notice how his confidence grew over these two short weeks. He realized it was his new mentor who had shown him how to “tell it like it is” and defend his beliefs. As a radio host, he knew how to stick to his guns while talking to strangers on the air. But the master instilled in the team the belief that their constitutional views were exactly right and that they would never need to apologize for their conservative opinions. He would never again back down to anyone in politics.

  Neither would the other new founders. This was a big step for modern conservatives, who always appe
ared to be on the defensive, absurdly apologizing for what was right. Hell, thought Tim, we even had a former president who apologized for conservatism in his official campaign pitch; “Compassionate” Conservative. Those days were over.

  While Murray was heading to Charlottesville with Walters and Jenson, he would not be going home. He hoped to at least see his wife and son while in town but it was not to be. Dottie had texted him that she was going to a tournament in Blacksburg with Todd’s baseball team. Some of the parents rented a few hotel rooms and she thought it would be a good idea to stay with Todd for the few days there. She promised to call from the road.

  Over the previous week, Murray had thrown himself headlong into the campaign with twenty hour days and had not talked much to Dottie or Todd. He felt detached but exhilarated by his new calling and surrogate family. Walters was at times an arrogant and a demanding task master who did not always appreciate Murray’s contributions. But to Murray, the prize was so monumental that he willingly overlooked the thankless long hours and time away from his family, at least for now. He even applied for a leave of absence from school to stay with the campaign if need be.

  He may have alienated his family, but Murray was in for the long haul. Besides, Dottie never had a problem speaking her mind. If she was not pleased, she had not said anything and he was not about to poke that bear.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the dull thumping and a quick shout of a fast approaching horseman.

  Smiling widely, Murray caught the image of a mythical hero on the back of beautiful white horse.

  Murray couldn’t contain his emotions. He choked back tears as General George Washington rode again in a full sprint past the secluded house. Murray looked on in awe as George, now “Frank Walters,” disappeared around the far end of the house.