The Pa-la-ti-'shan

by Neal Goldstein

  Nicky had taken the week off to prepare for the wedding. Her replacement was a temp, who didn’t know me.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Bernie Green, the governor’s expecting me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you mean, am I sure I’m Bernie Green, or am I sure the governor is expecting me?”

  She was obviously flustered by the responsibility of shielding the governor from unwanted intrusions.

  “It’s just that the governor made it clear that he was not to be disturbed. He is expecting a very important visitor, and, well you know.”

  “Believe it or not, I do know. I’m really not very important, but I think the governor will see me anyway. Why don’t you let him know I’m here, it will be all right, I promise.”

  She reluctantly buzzed the governor and told him I had arrived. I could hear him screaming at her through the telephone.

  “Mr. Green, the governor is anxious to see you. Please go right in.”

  I patted her on the shoulder and said. “Don’t worry. That’s just the way he is. He won’t even remember yelling at you. It took him several years before he could remember my name.”

  “Bernie, what the hell took you so long? Did that idiot ask you for ID or something? When the hell is Nicky coming back to work? This is intolerable.”

  The governor was apparently agitated. I had discovered after years of trial and error, that the best way to deal with this was to divert him.

  “Governor, where’s Earl?”

  Sure enough this stopped the governor in mid rant.

  “Earl’s not feeling well.”

  “Too bad,” I said. I didn’t really care one way or another about Samson’s state of health. In fact I was hoping he had something painful like hemorrhoids, or an in-grown toenail to contend with.

  “Do you think so?” the governor asked.

  I had better change the subject or I would be late for my dinner date with the Major. “You said it was something urgent.” Green reminded him.

  “Yes, yes. It’s that Cinaglia matter.”

  I waited, not knowing exactly where this was heading.

  “The FBI has been asking me all kinds of questions about Cinaglia. What the fuck do they expect me to know about that prick? I had nothing to do with him. I’m the governor, for Christ sake.”

  “I’m sure it’s routine.”

  “Do you think so?” he asked.

  “Did you have any dealings with the senator, other than the usual stuff, you know, matters dealing with the Commonwealth?”

  He thought for a moment. “Nothing having to do with that prick was usual.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “Did you ever meet with him privately?”

  He smiled. “No, I would never do that. I mean you’d have to be an idiot to meet with him one on one.”

  I thought back to the time the governor sent me on such an assignment.

  “Did you get a letter from the U.S. Attorney indicating that you were the target, or subject of an investigation?”

  “No, no. No letter.”

  “Did you ask them why they were questioning you?”

  “No, you mean I can do that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Why don’t you call Mike Bollinger. He’ll be able to give you advice on how to handle this.”

  The governor stared out the window and then turned to me. “Why can’t we keep this between the two of us? You passed the bar, you can be my attorney.”

  “That’s a bad idea. You need advice from someone who has experience dealing with the U.S. Attorney. Call Mike Bollinger, he’ll know how to handle this.”

  I arrived at the Capitol Grille two minutes after 7. The Major was sitting at the bar looking at his watch. He looked only slightly annoyed, which come to think of it was his normal demeanor when dealing with me.

  John A. Miller, Major, United States Army, Retired, was in his early sixties. Except for his grey hair, cut close in a military style, he could pass for a man at least twenty years younger. He was handsome, six feet tall, no middle age spread. He looked like he could run a marathon; I seemed to recall Nicky telling me he still did.

  After Miller retired from the army in 1972, he returned to his hometown, Wilkes-Barre Pa, and joined the police force. There must have been some political support behind him and two years later, the Major was appointed Chief of Police. After 15 years he moved on to Chief of Criminal investigations for the Attorney General of the Commonwealth.

  The bartender, who looked like she was at least twenty-five years his junior, was flirting with the Major, as I approached.

  “Major Miller, sorry I’m late. I had to meet with the governor.”

  “Thanks for coming. Can I get you something to drink?”

  I declined. “The Captain is holding our table, why don’t you let him know we’re ready while I settle my tab.”

  As the captain and I walked by I noticed the bartender discreetly passing her telephone number to the Major. When we were seated, he said, “I assume your meeting with the governor was a matter of the utmost importance.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact that’s how the governor characterized it,” I replied.

  “Doesn’t he always,” Miller laughed. “That man is the most self centered son of a gun I have ever met. He truly believes he’s the center of the universe.”

  “Yes, that appears to be the generally held consensus,” I agreed.

  The Major asked me about the wedding plans as we ordered our dinners. Miller was obviously waiting for the right moment to get to the real reason for our meeting. I waited.

  “Congratulations on passing the bar.”

  “Thank you sir.”

  “How is it working out at Brinkley Smoot?”

  I thought it over for a moment, and said,” Honestly, it’s much better than I anticipated. Mike Bollinger has been really great. He assigned me to work with Joel Solomon, a guy I went to high school with. Joel’s a brilliant attorney; you’ll meet him at the wedding. I’m learning a lot.”

  “Mike Bollinger is a good man. I’ve known him for many years. He’s solid and always keeps his word.” Miller replied.

  “I understand you handled Sylvester Johnson’s payroll mess with some aplomb.”

  I nodded. I realized the Major was privy to all kinds of information that had not been publicly released.

  “I also understand you had a hand in the West Haven Detention center fiasco,” he continued. “The nerve of those bastards- they were judges, for goodness sakes,” he shook his head in disgust.

  I waited.

  “I know I’ve been less than enthusiastic about you and Nicky getting married. I want you to understand, my reluctance has nothing to do with you. I mean, you are an impressive young man. It’s just that, since Nicky’s mother passed away, Nicky is all the family I’ve got. I know it’s foolish of me, and I know I’m being overprotective…”

  “I understand. I promise you I will never do anything to hurt Nicky.”

  Miller looked at me and finally said, “I believe you.”

  “I wish Evona had lived to see our daughter get married. Nicky is so much like her.”

  “Nicky showed me pictures of when she was growing up. She looks just like her mother.”

  Miller nodded in agreement.

  “You need to be extremely careful when you take office,” he said changing the subject. “I’m glad you haven’t been part of the legislature during the last term. The AG is about to go public with an investigation into corruption involving use of public funds for political and personal uses. It’s going to get messy.”

  The AG wants to run for governor. I’m not so sure his motives are as pure as he professes them to be,” he continued. “Just remember, you have to keep a careful watch on who you trust.”

  Now it was my turn to risk the détente we had so carefully staked out.

  “Thank you for the advice. Major, there’s
something I want to ask you about.”

  “Sure what is it?”

  “Nicky told me she had a baby, when she was nineteen. And that you helped her through the adoption process.”

  The Major gave me an icy stare.

  “Yes that’s true,” he said finally. “Where are you going with this?” he asked.

  “None of this changes anything between Nicky and me. It’s just that Nicky wants to find out what happened to her daughter. She wants to be sure that the little girl is being properly cared for, that kind of thing. She asked me to help her, and I thought that perhaps you might be able to help us.”

  He sighed. “Listen to me son. Some things are better left in the past. I love my daughter, and I believe you do as well. Leave it alone. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t know sir. I promised Nicky I would help her.”

  “I understand, but think it over. The two of you are just starting your lives together. What is past is best kept in the past.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Mazel Tov

  “Mazel Tov!” The guests cheered as I stomped on the glass, the ending ritual to a traditional Jewish wedding ceremony. After hours of negotiations between my mother and Nicky’s father they had compromised on the respective traditions that would be observed.

  Nicky’s Maid of Honor, Meredith Molloy, her childhood friend gave the reading from Corinthians Chapter 13, verses 4-8 ‘The Ways of Love.’ We were married under a Chuppa, an embroidered cloth affixed to four poles that was held over our heads by my groomsmen, my brother Steve, Joel Solomon, Mike Zeebooker and Bob Gronski. Judge Slattery officiated.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the Judge ruled in my favor.

  Once again the crowd cheered.

  At the party the governor regaled the crowd with the story about how he convinced me to ask Nicky out. He sanitized the tale to a degree, but otherwise his account had been accurate. Both my mother and Bob Gronski took credit for our engagement. Once again, they had both played major roles in pushing me towards my destiny. The Major even called me “son.”

  We danced the night away to the Brazilian beat of Serge Paullo and his trio. You have never heard anything quite as funny as Serge’s funky rendition of Hava Nagella. My mother was, as the Yiddish expression goes, kvelling, it means crying with tears of joy, as Nicky and I danced our first dance as husband and wife.

  The crowd wished us well as we departed for our honeymoon, across Rittenhouse Square. Even Sam, the weekend partner to doorman Dave, greeted us warmly when we walked hand in hand through the entrance. Life was good.

  We actually did get away for a brief Caribbean adventure. I found out that December is still hurricane season in Jamaica. It rained like hell every day. We didn’t care. Love means you never have to say, I’m wet, or something like that.

  Like the old married couple we had become, we picked right up where we left off. Nicky returned to her day job with the governor. Her singing career was also beginning to take off. She was constantly turning down offers to sing in Vegas and on the West Coast. Her agent was trying to land a record deal. He wanted her to try out for American Idol. Thank god the line was too long.

  I juggled my responsibilities at Brinkley Smoot and the 127th. In three weeks I would be sworn in by the Speaker of the House and then, I really didn’t know what. In the meantime I was working on Joel’s team. Joel was the principal defense counsel in a potential class action lawsuit against KDD, an international pharmaceutical manufacturer.

  Several thousand people were claiming one of KDD’s miracle drugs was killing them. In about a half dozen cases, the patients had died. Joel’s mission was to convince a jury that their deaths were merely a coincidence.

  “How can you mount this defense with a straight face? I mean that pill was toxic. KDD’s own memos admit that.” I asked him as we were preparing for the first of what would probably be twenty trials.

  “Yes, that’s all true, but our client wants us to mount a vigorous defense, for the time being,” he responded, apparently not at all concerned about the ethical implications.

  “What does that mean, for the time being?”

  Solomon stared at me with what appeared to be a look of disappointment. “Bernie, we’re lawyers for Christ sake. People pay us to defend them in lawsuits. In this case KDD is paying us a small fortune to fight these claims.”

  “You read the file in this matter,” he continued. “The plaintiff, the late Mr. Schmidt had diabetes, cirrhosis, he was morbidly obese, I mean the man had so many fucking diseases, there’s no way his estate can prove the KDD med killed him. Some of the other cases in the chain are even worse. One of the plaintiff’s attorneys is bringing an action claiming his client died because he was contemplating taking the pill and the report on television frightened him to death.”

  “Yeah, I know some of the cases are from ‘Shysters Are Us’, but Joel, the pills were poison and KDD knew it. Some of these claims are legit.”

  “Here’s the deal. We fight the cases, one by one. We put the plaintiffs’ bar on notice we will pound them with everything we have. We will suck their resources dry. Over time, the responsible plaintiffs’ counsel will weed out the frivolous claims for us. After the statute of limitations runs, we’ll set up a fund and settle.”

  “But that could take years.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Bernie, if you’re looking for justice in this system, that’s just a coincidence. Litigation is all about power and money. Our clients have lots and lots of money. Before they pulled the plug on this drug, KDD made billions of dollars of profits a year. Now they’re going to have to share some of that with us and the victims.

  Don’t give me that puppy dog look. You’re in the big leagues now. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  I hope not, I thought.

  Back at the 127th District Office Carlota and the ladies were preparing me for my swearing in ceremony.

  “We reserved a room for you and Nicky at the Hilton. That’s where all the parties are being held. You’re invited to the Democratic Caucus party, and the Speaker’s party. The Governor invited you to a private dinner at the mansion. I have your itinerary printed out. Patrick from Boyds called. He set up a time for you to be fitted for a tuxedo. He also picked out some additional suits and accessories. I already gave Nicky all the particulars.

  Mike hired a van for all of us and the Gronskis. We’ll come up for the Swearing In ceremony and I made arrangements for the post swearing in party. You invited the Speaker and the Governor and Congressman O’Grady. Bob and Marti will have the media do a story. What?”

  “You know I don’t like all this fuss.”

  “It comes with the territory. It’s one weekend every two years. Get over it.”

  Between Brinkley Smoot and the House of Representatives there was apparently a lot of stuff I would have to get over.

  “What’s wrong honey?” Nicky asked when I walked in the door.

  I told her about the KDD litigation and Joel’s lecture and segued into Carlota’s itinerary and all the other stuff I had to put up with.

  “It’s all a bunch of baloney. I mean I get that the firm’s clients are entitled to a defense. But it’s like some kind of a game. Real people got hurt; some even died from this drug, and the company knew it, and Joel’s playing a waiting game. I mean our Joel.

  And this ceremony at the capitol, Carlota is carrying on like it’s a coronation or something. No one is even talking about what legislation is pending, or how we’re supposed to deal with the budget crisis.”

  She hugged me. “Sometimes you have to go with the flow. Things will work out. Remember what Mike Zeebooker told you when everyone else was giving you crazy suggestions for our engagement?”

  I nodded.

  “You’ll know when the time is right. And you’ll know what to do.”

  God, I hoped Nicky was right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  I Do Solemnly Swear

  In accordance w
ith the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, all 203 members of the House of Representatives are sworn in en mass on the first Tuesday in January, following their election. I anticipated that the ceremony would resemble a Reverend Moon mass wedding spectacle. You know where the good reverend marries several hundred couples that had never previously met and in most cases don’t even speak the same language.

  I was wrong. From the opening procession the ceremony reflected the solemnity of the occasion and the importance with which all of the participants viewed their respective commitments to their constituents and the state. We entered the chamber in seniority order. As one of the dozen or so first term Representatives I was among the last. I looked up and found my wife, I was just beginning to get used to thinking of Nicky that way, looking down from the gallery. Her pride in watching her husband about to assume his elected position was apparent from the smile she beamed down to me. Even Nicky’s father who was standing next to her seemed pleased.

  My personal fan club Mike and Carlota and the ladies, and Bob and Marti Gronski were also in attendance. All of them were smiling. Marti was whispering a full account of the events to her husband as they unfolded.

  The Lieutenant Governor gaveled the proceedings to order. Following the salute to the flag the House Chaplin gave the invocation. The Lieutenant Governor stood and directed the House members to stand and raise their right hands and repeat the oath of office.

  “I do solemnly swear to obey, defend and up hold, the Constitution of the United States, and the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania…”

  When we finished the gallery erupted in cheers and prolonged applause. The newly elected and reelected members of the House congratulated each other. The Speaker shook hands with, and embraced many of his colleagues of long standing as he made his way to the back of the chamber to personally acknowledge the first termers of both parties. My natural cynicism succumbed to the genuineness of the occasion.

  The Lieutenant Governor again gaveled the House to order. He instructed the members to retire to their caucuses to elect their leaders and adjourned the session. With that, the Speaker and the Minority Leader led their respective parties to caucus as instructed. Once again the chamber gallery erupted in prolonged applause until the last member of the House exited.