The sooner the better.
Chapter 99
If this plane goes down it will change the face of television news as America knows it, Eliza thought as she made her way to her seat. The commercial flight from New York to Houston was packed with newspeople and delegates from the tristate area on their way to the national convention. They were easily distinguished. The delegates wore WINGARD FOR PRESIDENT buttons and had the air of people who were on their way to a party. The journalists looked as though they were going to work.
Heading down the aisle of the 737, Eliza recognized Dan Rather sitting in first class. So, CBS was still springing for the expensive seats for their anchor. KEY was not. Eliza felt a little better when she saw that the public television anchor was sitting in coach, too. There were many other familiar faces in the cabin. Several print journalists were sprinkled about the broadcast passengers. Eliza noted ironically that the reason she recognized the newspaper reporters and columnists was that they often appeared as panelists on the television talk shows.
KEY News was heavily represented on the flight from LaGuardia. Range was already in his seat, with a very attentive Louise Kendall sitting beside him. Those two must really have something going for Range to have asked her to accompany him to the convention. The executive producer was known for being all work and no play on a big remote.
Eliza wished Mack was taking this flight but he would be coming down later.
Finding her place, she stowed her canvas shoulder bag underneath the seat in front of her and sat down at the window. She was adjusting her lap belt when Yelena Gregory sat down beside her. The older woman seemed pleased to see Eliza.
“What a nice surprise! You never know who you’re going to get stuck with for three hours.”
Eliza grinned. “I must say, I’m impressed. The president herself sitting in the back with the rest of us. I thought for sure you’d be sitting up front with the big boys.”
“That’s the whole idea, my friend. I’m setting a good example for the troops. We’re all in this together, and all that. They’ll love me for it.”
Eliza recognized the truth in Yelena’s words. The news staff liked the brass and the stars mingling among them. It made the off-camera team feel they were all part of a powerful team. A plane ride like this was a good chance to strengthen morale.
As the jet gathered runway speed and pressure built in the cabin at takeoff, Eliza noted that Yelena held onto the armrests so hard that her knuckles turned white. Funny, she had never envisioned Yelena as the type who would be afraid of flying. Then Eliza recalled a story on a fear-of-flying class that she had worked on. The students were a real cross-section of life. A business executive, a housewife, a doctor, a waiter, two grandmothers and a dress designer were enrolled in the class, united in their terror of flying and in their determination to deal with it. Add the first woman president of a television news division to the list of phobics. It wasn’t until the plane had ascended and the seat belt sign flicked off that Yelena let go of the armrests.
Yelena turned to Eliza, a weak, embarrassed smile on her face. “Not very macho, I’m afraid. It’s not something I’m very proud of, but I’m scared to death of flying.” Yelena changed the subject. “How’s your little girl?”
“Janie’s fine. There were fewer tears this time. I think she’s getting used to my traveling. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.” Eliza’s smile was bittersweet.
Yelena reached out and patted Eliza’s arm. “I can only imagine how hard it is. I have no children. It’s the major regret of my life. I had a hysterectomy back in the early eighties. I envy you your little girl.”
Eliza wasn’t sure how to respond. She nodded. “I know I’m lucky, blessed really, to have Janie.”
The flight attendant brought lunch and the conversation ended. By the time the plastic plates of creamed chicken, rice, and cucumber and tomato salad were cleared away and the tiny tray tables were refastened to the seat backs in front of them, Eliza had decided to bring it up.
“Did Jean White call you the weekend before she died?”
“No,” Yelena lied.
Eliza put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
“God, I wish I’d paid more attention. Something about Bill’s computer notes.”
Yelena didn’t seem very interested.
“Look, we’ll try to figure it all out when we get back to New York. Now, Eliza, you’ve just got to concentrate on your convention assignments. Give those all your attention.”
Yelena excused herself. Taking the opportunity to schmooze along the way, she made her way toward the lavatory at the back of the plane, stopping to chat with every KEY face she recognized. Pete Carlson sat with Mary Cate Ryan, poor Mary Cate looking none too enthusiastic. Range and Louise sat holding hands.
Eliza turned back around in her coach seat and pulled a copy of the current Newsweek from her carry bag. The cover story was Haines Wingard and the convention that was to begin Monday. The latest polls indicated that if the election were held tomorrow, Wingard would probably beat the incumbent President Grayson. Eliza had finished the seven-page article when Yelena returned to her seat.
“Eliza, will you do me a favor and not mention my fear of flying to anyone. It’s not that I think it’s anything to be ashamed of, really, but it doesn’t quite fit the strong image that I would like to project. Let’s face it, we’re still operating in a man’s world and vulnerability is viewed as weakness.”
Eliza felt camaraderie with the large, plain woman. Yelena always appeared completely in control, so strong, so invulnerable. That her boss had another, struggling side made Eliza like her even more.
“Absolutely, Yelena. I understand. Maybe when we get back home from Houston, you’d like to come over for dinner some night with Janie and me.”
“That’s the best invitation I’ve had in quite a while.”
Yelena was feeling increasingly guilty about Eliza Blake.
Chapter 100
The bundled aides, Secret Service agents, and journalists aboard the chartered Wingard jet traveling to Houston watched stunned as their usually reserved candidate aisle-surfed down the middle of the plane. Haines Wingard stood in a little rubber tub, the kind usually reserved for bathing babies, and swooshed down the aisle in a clearly exuberant mood.
Going into the convention, the major polls predicted a very bright future. President Grayson was making one mistake after another. Wingard, on the other hand, could almost do no wrong. His ideas on taxes, health care, crime and gun control, and education were finding a receptive audience in the American electorate. The AIDS Parade had appealed to the national imagination. Americans were rallying around the man who had made the eradication of AIDS a real cause. Haines Wingard had taken on the aura of a hero.
Even the intense Nate Heller had allowed himself to feel the excitement of the day. But he kept it in check, knowing that good generals never let up. He would always be on guard. He did think it was okay, though, for Win to at least appear to lighten up before the troops. The planned aisle-surfing was part of the new exuberance.
Joy also made her way around the plane, radiant with the flush of adrenaline. She continued to be surprised by how much she now enjoyed the campaign. And though she tried not to, more and more she thought about what getting to the White House would actually mean in her life. Not long ago, she had been deeply depressed by her childlessness, the condition of her marriage, the definition of her life as “the wife of Senator Haines Wingard.” Today, it looked most likely that she would be the next first lady of the land.
If nothing went wrong.
Chapter 101
Eliza’s rental car pulled across the acres of white hot parking lots that surrounded the fifteen-story Astrodome. The structure resembled a gigantic gray alien spaceship plopped down in a sea of asphalt. Eliza could picture little figures with antennae and silver space suits disembarking through the dome’s wide metal doors. Huge red, white and blue banners hung
in front of the spaceship and state flags lined the walkway to the main entrance.
The Houston Astros, the Dome’s usual summer occupants, had been banished for nearly a month while it was readied. Bats and balls were replaced with the nuts and bolts required for converting the structure into a convention hall.
Literally nuts and bolts—120,000 of them. Huge grids holding thousands of lights hung from the ceiling and nets constraining 225,000 red, white and blue balloons were fastened to the top of the dome. Any evidence that baseball had been played in the space was banished. The scoreboards, billboards and advertisements that plastered the inside of the stadium were covered. An 88-foot podium had been constructed, with Haines Wingard’s lectern positioned where second base usually rested. Behind the podium, a 570-foot-long blue curtain sealed off about one third of the stadium’s 55,000 seats in an effort to make the massive dome seem more intimate.
The Astrodome transformers had worked their magic well. The backdrop for Senator Wingard’s official nomination and formal acceptance of his party’s candidacy for the nation’s highest post was powerful, patriotic and presidential. Eliza took a deep breath as she entered. It was spectacular! Even the most jaded journalist would have to admit that the convention hall was very impressive indeed.
Most of the 15,000 journalists who were covering the convention were stationed in a workspace set up in the adjacent Astrohall. Five hundred thousand square feet, about fourteen football fields, had been set aside for the broadcast and print reporters, producers, editors, researchers, columnists and managers who poured in from across the country and from around the globe to observe and report on the political spectacle. Time, Newsweek, the Associated Press, Reuters and Knight-Ridder hung out their identifying flags in front of their flimsily partitioned encampments. The Wall Street Journal worked across the way from the Chicago Tribune which abutted the New York Times. The L.A. Times, the Boston Globe and the Baltimore Sun were neighbors. A large area was reserved for foreign broadcasters. KEY shared a hallway and bathrooms with CBS, ABC and CNN. C-Span and NBC occupied their own sizeable portions of the Astrohall maze. The networks, though visible, were far from the only television representation. Local stations from throughout the United States had sent their own reporters and crews to give the convention a hometown perspective.
Wearing her mandatory-for-survival running shoes, the sneakers that would be on her feet all week, Eliza made her way from the Astrodome to the Astrohall and the KEY work area. She couldn’t help but appreciate the logistics and planning that went into the operation of this gargantuan machine called a convention. Once the banners were down and the cables ripped up at the end of the week, the planning would begin for the next convention four years ahead.
Eliza showed her press pass to the security guard at the entrance to the KEY area, realizing that he did not recognize her. Perhaps it was because her face was makeup-less or because she wore khaki walking shorts and a T-shirt. She was not particularly offended. The guard did not look like the type who rose early to watch morning news.
The KEY workspace had been designed as a small-scale broadcast center with areas for special events, finance and senior management. A closed section was marked off as a private office for Yelena. There was a correspondents and producers room, a crew room, and offices for the Evening Headlines and KEY to America. A central news desk had easy access to computers, copiers and fax machines. In the rear of the workspace, six editing rooms had been set up with equipment shipped from KEY in New York. A videotape library, a conference room and food service area completed the self-contained headquarters.
Pete Carlson was the first person Eliza saw. Ugh. She hoped this wasn’t an omen for what the rest of the convention would be like.
“Nice setup, hey, Eliza?”
God, he was so obvious in the way he stared her up and down. Creep.
“It looks that way, Pete,” she answered unsmilingly. “Have you been over to the Dome yet?”
“Sure have. Looks good. I’m on my way over there for a rehearsal right now.” Not wanting to sound tense, he added, “I sure hope they get the air conditioner to work inside the anchor booth.”
“I’m sure they will, Pete.” She couldn’t bring herself to wish him good luck and she was mad at herself for feeling the least bit sympathetic toward the snake. He was prime-time anchoring a national political convention for the first time. Though his ratings had edged up a bit in the last weeks, it was crucial that he deliver this week. The heat was on.
Sap! Don’t feel sorry for Pete Carlson. He’s been happy to screw you any way he could. Eliza considered what made a guy so sneaky and mean. Ambition? Insecurity? Probably both. But Pete had shown his true colors to Eliza when he sabotaged her in the live studio Q and A. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
If Pete Carlson knew about Bill and Joy, he could break a very sensational story and his ratings would be assured. Then it occurred to Eliza that, as anchor and managing editor of the network’s flagship broadcast, Carlson might well have been told by Range or Yelena. And if that was the case, she couldn’t imagine Carlson keeping it to himself. He could make a big splash with the news of the Bill Kendall–Joy Wingard love affair. No, he wouldn’t keep that to himself. Not unless he had something to gain by not reporting it.
Chapter 102
It was getting harder and harder to do what he needed to do. The doorknockers, at least the kind he needed, were becoming increasingly more difficult to find. Were people catching on? Was there a plot to stop attaching his beloved animals to the formidable front doors of Manhattan town-houses? That thought depressed him further.
He didn’t ask for much. He loved his animals, and adding to his menagerie was the only pleasure he got. Besides, he only did what he was told. It had been almost two weeks since he’d found a new pet. Several new knockers had sprung up in the blocks he covered. Rosettes and dogwood blossoms, iron rings and brass ropes, even two sweethearts, their kiss captured forever in metal. But no new animals guarded their masters’ homes.
The man shuffled along slowly, discouraged, pushing his overstuffed cart. It was a hot night. He knew he had too much clothing on for July, but he was always cold. A trash can was up ahead, a chance for something to eat, or some cans and bottles he could trade for some money. He rummaged through. Someone had already been here. These days, there was even competition for garbage.
He glanced at a discarded newspaper. There was a picture of a man and a woman, smiling and waving from the top of a stair leading to an airplane. Underneath the picture, it was proclaimed that Haines and Joy Wingard had arrived in Houston, Texas, for the national political convention. Big deal. It didn’t and wouldn’t affect his life. No matter who became president, he’d still be homeless, wandering the streets.
He continued on his urban safari.
Two blocks later, his heart leapt. A shiny brass longhorn stared defiantly from a green lacquered door! He’d never done a longhorn bull before. The thought of those horns ignited the first pleasure he had felt in a long time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened, his eyes traveled to the small space next to the front stoop.
There was a spanking white wall. A WET PAINT sign was taped to the railing above, with an arrow pointing down.
“Tit for tat. Tit for tat. Spray them a longhorn, this for that.”
The homeless man found his spray-paint can buried deep within his plastic bag, and the video camera hidden in the parked car at the curb recorded as the rodeo art began.
Chapter 103
Only the last four days of the convention got full-scale network coverage. The platform and rules committees had met the preceding week to hash out party specifics. Those dry and grueling sessions were not the stuff of which television news was made. The first session on Monday night at the Astrodome was when America would tune in to watch. From the opening gavel to the delirious demonstration planned to erupt after Haines Wingard’s acceptance speech on Thursday night, th
e convention was very carefully scripted by party planners. Scripted with television in mind.
KEY to America, with Eliza Blake anchoring, was broadcasting every morning from the KEY skybox in the Astrodome. Harry Granger had remained in the New York studio. Monday morning’s show featured pieces on Houston’s preparations for the convention, how the Wingard presidential campaign was coming across in middle America, and how delegates viewed the Wingard ticket.
The last segment from Houston was a live interview Eliza conducted with Joy Wingard. The campaign staff made it clear beforehand that Mrs. Wingard wanted to promote the AIDS Parade for Dollars. One of the planned convention highlights was to be Joy’s speech on the AIDS battle. Eliza noticed that Nate Heller accompanied Joy to the skybox for the interview.
The stage manager, crouched next to the anchor desk in the cramped skybox, signaled for Eliza to begin.
“Mrs. Wingard, how do you think the publicity over Bill Kendall’s donation has helped the AIDS Parade?”
Joy answered the question predictably and smoothly. “The Kendall donation helped our fund-raising effort a great deal because Bill Kendall was a respected and well-liked public figure. People responded to him and trusted him. His support gave the AIDS Parade not only publicity, but credibility as well.”
“Last month, Mrs. Wingard, you toured AIDS facilities in Newark, New Jersey. Did you learn anything that you hadn’t known before?”
Joy looked sharply at Eliza. “I observed, Eliza, that while there are too many people who are HIV-positive or suffering from full-blown AIDS, there are, thank God, many people who are trying to help. They are trying to find cures, they are caring for the afflicted, they are trying to bring comfort to their fellow human beings. My husband has promised that he will do all he can as president to find an answer to this plague.” Joy stared at Eliza. Was there defiance in her look?
Do You Want to Know a Secret? Page 24
