The country cried--BULL SHIT! We’re tired of paying through the nose. Out with the middleman and speculators--the government was elected by the people to protect us from such leeches!
The great judges recoiled in terror and acquiesced. If the entire population wanted it, there was nothing they could do and the Proposal became the law of the land.
With George pushing and pulling in Washington, the transition was made smoothly with a minimum of fuss and expense, something entirely new in government. The U.S. Mercantile Distribution Service became a reality. The middlemen and speculators quit smiling and retired. The people sighed a sigh of relief as prices dropped to sensible level.
George had done it--their George Potter! He was the hero of the day, of the year, of the century! He was still the most popular person on all the polls and they waited anxiously to see what he would do next. Letters poured into his office and he kept tabs on the basic contents of them; the wishes of the people.
During the next three years, George came up with some great ideas. Some were lulus!
He crossed and recrossed the country many times in grass root campaigns for new proposals. Nearly all of them became law. George made a lot of friends, and most certainly a lot of jealous enemies.
Finally, it was the fifth year of George Potter’s senatorhood: The Presidential Election Year! It was no surprise when George Potter’s name was put forward as a possible candidate. The people had been talking about it since the first Potter Proposal for the M.D.S. They had been keeping an eye on George, as they always had. He was not only the greatest entertainer of the decade, he had also become one hell of a statesman.
“Why not good ol’ George for President?” the question was on everyone's lips. And when he received thousands of telegrams, letters and phone calls begging him to run, he didn’t hesitate to announce his candidacy. When the announcement came on nationwide television, many of the hopefuls lost hope and most of them backed out of the race.
Why Bother? ol’ George would most probably walk right into the White House. And, that’s just what he did.
NOTE TO READERS: We’re all aware we are stretching credibility and constitutionality with much of the story. Still, most of the ideas were suggested by researching such thinkers as Eric Hoffer and others. In any case please remember George is an extraordinary being in his own right, pushed along by a wee bit o’ magic. It’s a fantasy and we hope these liberties are really just a part of the far-fetched fun.
TWENTY-NINE
The Oval Office buzzed with soft conversation as the morning light filtered through the window and bathed the six men lounging around the coffee table with its warmth. They talked, joked and sipped their coffee. Only one was silent, the seventh man who sat behind the desk. The President of the United States toyed absent-mindedly with his coffee cup, only half aware of the others in the room. He looked relaxed. Then a smile came to the still young, handsome face. He set his cup down and rose from the chair. The rest of the men in the room fell silent and all eyes turned toward the man who now moved from behind the desk and came around to sit on the edge of it.
He smiled the famous smile and spoke: “Good morning gentlemen. I’m glad you could all make it this A.M. Especially you Grove,” He was referring to Grover Cleveland Brown, the African American Vice-President of the United States. “Grove, you’ve been wanting something big to work on and I’ve been saving this one for you. It’s the biggest! Because today, we are going to take up the subject of Welfare.
The others in the room looked a little puzzled. The Vice-president smiled a little uncertainly and leaned forward in his chair to pay close attention to what George Potter was saying. George had something profound up his sleeve and the V.P. wanted to know more before he started to worry.
“I have become increasingly perplexed about the condition of the unemployed these last few years,’ Potter continued. “The sad truth is, gentlemen, a good percentage of this country is made up of lazy loafers!”
“The dead ass syndrome,” offered Presidential Advisor, Chuck Preston.
“Exactly,” agreed the President. “And we have encouraged it with our permissive welfare system.”
Ivor Gustafson, Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare cringed slightly. Ol’ George saw the reaction and reassured his gray-haired friend. “Not your fault, Ivy. It’s just the nature of the beast. The fact remains, however, this country is becoming a welfare state. That’s what really bothers me. History has shown that a welfare state is a weak state. Look at the Roman Empire. Toward the end of that power’s influence, nearly half its people were on the dole. They became soft and lazy. That’s already happening in this country. It’s time to reverse the process. Get everyone working again. I think, in the long run, they’ll appreciate it. Now here’s my plan.”
The group in the room leaned forward. This ought to be a good one!
“My idea is nothing if not radical and I’m sure some of you are going to suggest I have my head examined. But please, do me a favor . Hear me out. I think it’s the only solution.”
The President began. “Now, there are many out there who are legitimate welfare recipients. There are others, however, who for one lame excuse or another are taking a free ride. I know you’ll agree that it seems unjust for the working tax payers to support these nonproductive drones.” The others in the room nodded to a man.
“Many of them have lost their jobs, have been fired or had to quit because of some minor disability, and refuse to work because they are either over or under qualified for the jobs they’re offered. I’m referring to women as well as men, now”
He paused to pour himself another cup of coffee. Paul Bossman, the Secretary of Labor offered his cup and the President filled it, too.
“I think it’s time we cut off welfare to all those except the most desperate cases and even those should be investigated thoroughly.
“But...” interrupted the Vice-President.
“No Buts,” smiled the President. ”Until I’ve finished.”
The Vice-President began to look worried, but settled back to listen; chastened by the President’s gentle reprimand.
“You’re afraid they’ll starve or rise up against us,” continued the Chief Executive. “I’ve been investigating this plan of mine since my senatorial days, and I know it’ll work.”
“Across this country of ours there are many vacant army camps and other empty government facilities. I propose we hire some practical engineers and decorators. Turn all of these places into habitable quarters for the welfare community.”
“Concentration Camps?!” yelped Martin Treadway, Secretary of Housing and Urban Development.
“No, Marty--Welfare Farms,” corrected the President. “I think nearly all the welfare recipients can be put to work. We can even hire the handicapped. They are taking a heavy toll on the country and it’s time they helped out. Look--first we get all the unemployed carpenters, builders, farmers together to set up the camps. We reclaim the land and make it productive. The men and able women can work the farms. We’ll create small factories to manufacture clothing, small tools and such--make the communities self sustaining. Those who are not so able, can run the nurseries, kitchens and do the laundry, mending, etc.”
Some of the men in the room began to see the value of what the man before them was saying. There were mixed reactions.
“Wow! what a fantastic idea!” exclaimed Rick Puglisi, Secretary of Agriculture.
“They’ll never go for it,” grumbled the black Vice-President, Grover Brown.
“They’ll have no choice. Cut off their life line and they’ll come flocking to our farms.”
“And...this is a big AND! They’ll have an option. We’ll set up employment offices at each facility. As we encourage the expansion of business and industry, those working at the Welfare Farms, will be given the opportunity to take jobs and move back into the main stream.”
T
he President folded his arms and was silent for a few moments as he studied each face. Some were beaming with appreciation over the unorthodox idea. Others looked dubious.
“Grove, I realize the logistics are complicated, but I don’t expect this to take place overnight. I just think it’s high time we got the ball rolling. you’ll have the generous help of these worthy gentlemen, and if you need me, I’ll go with you wherever you want.”
“We’re with you Grove,” said the others, clapping the Vice-President on the back.
Grover Cleveland Brown smiled at them in gratitude and turned to the chef executive.
“Well, you’re the President!” he said with a smile.
“He sure is! One hell of a President!” said the Secretary of Transportation--almost as if he wanted to lead a cheer for the man at the desk. The new Welfare Committee nodded enthusiastically.
”But, I haven’t told you the best part,” added the President. “Not only will the welfare groups become self-sufficient and take a big load off the treasury, I think we can even make a profit.”
Eyes lit up around the room as this sank in.
“Yes, I’m sure we’ll make a surplus from the farms and factories that we can feed back into the treasury. Enough to at least pay the interest on the national debt and even possibly pay back the debt itself in a decade.”
The whole group stood up this time and cheered. They were solidly behind the President’s new program. They clapped George Potter on the back and shook his hand. The President laughed and smiled.
“I think it’s time for a Fireside Chat concluded the President.
THIRTY
The President tapped his glass to bring the cabinet meeting to order. Also present were: Secretary of State, David Woods; Secretary of the Treasury, Larry Bernstein; Secretary of Defense, Frank Madison; Postmistress General, Virginia McCaddon; Secretary of the Interior, Brice Woodward; Secretary of Agriculture, Richard Puglisi; Secretary of Commerce, Joseph Stepanick; Secretary of Labor, Paul Rossman; Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, Dr. Ivor Gustafson; Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Martin Treadway, and John Quincy, Secretary of Transportation. The only one missing was Grover Cleveland Brown, Vice-President. He usually attended the cabinet meetings, Today, however, he was out inspecting the Welfare Farms. They took up all his time these days. Besides, the agenda didn’t require his presence.
“The first item of business concerns the steel industry,” announced the President, turning to the Secretary of Commerce. “Bill, you said in your message to me this morning that Union Steel--the nations numero uno, plans to raise their price fifty dollars a ton and the other mills will follow suit.”
“Righto, George,” answered the Secretary with a frown. “And you know what that means....”
“Yes, it does seem our own monetary system is based more on the steel standard than the gold. Unfortunately, as the industry goes, so goes the nation. I’m sure you’ve all noticed when one allied industry raises prices, the rest overcompensate and double the raise. It’s like a poker game.”
The others nodded as the President continued. We’ve just about had it with such shenanigans. So has the public and we can’t permit it to continue. So, Bill, if you will, send the chairman of the board of Union Steel a personal message from me to the effect we are planning to make a complete audit of his corporate books and hold a full investigation of his profit structure. I’ll sign it,”
“That should do it, Mr. President,” chortled the Secretary of commerce.
“I believe the Secretary of Agriculture is next on the agenda. Brice, if you please?”
Brice Woodard rose from his chair, a worried frown on his face.
“The grain cooperatives are after me again, George. They want to sell seven million tons to Russia again this year. Somehow there was a leak and the public is enraged. This years is going to see a bumper crop and the masses don’t want a repeat of the Butts scandal. I mean, back then they used the old chestnut they must use food stuffs to negotiate leverage with the communist bloc. They can’t use that this time, Mr. President. You’ve already made peace with those countries and they know our problems here at home. I trust they understand.”
“They understand, Mr. Secretary. Go on,” urged the President.
“When Butts had my job, he allowed the growers to do what they wanted. During the 1972-’73 they sold to Russia, created a false wheat shortage and raised the prices sky high. Most Americans wanted to hang Butts. I’m no coward, Mr. President. But I’m too young to die!” concluded the Secretary of Agriculture.
“Of course you are, Brice,” agreed the President as the Secretary resumed his seat.
“Tell you what, Mr. Secretary. Since we have been so generous with our aid and support of the farmers in the past, I think they owe the people more than one. Send out the word that the farmers may sell their surplus, and stress surplus, to whomever they like, but they may not create a false shortage and raise their prices. On second thought, their prices are too high anyway. Have them cut the price a nickel a bushel. I’d like to see a corresponding cut in the price of bread, our staff of life. Inform the bakery channels they will have to follow suit, okay?”
“Okay!” beamed the Secretary of Agriculture.
“Next case gentlemen,” smiled the President as he rapped for order. “...deals with the ongoing problem of petroleum hikes. As you know we are about to put an end to the energy crisis with the methane program. John Quincy will give us his report.” The President leaned back in his chair as the Secretary of Transportation rose to speak.
“I’m sure each of you has read my rather lengthy and informative booklet on the subject,” began the Secretary with a wry and knowing smile. “But for those who don’t know what’s going on the Department of Transportation, here’s a refresher.”
“The supply of accessible petroleum across the world is just about used up, or will be within the next fifty years. Accordingly, the petroleum producing countries have had a field day with the price of the stuff, with resulting price hikes on gasoline and in every other related field. The President and myself made a study of the problem and found an alternate method, which he is enforcing in his usual persuasive manner.”
The cabinet members looked toward the Chief Executive and chuckled.
“Basically what we’ve done is take garbage, grass clippings, and plain old poo-poo...”
“Please Mr. Secretary,” chided the President with a grin. “I’ll have to ask you to watch your language. There’s a lady present and your language may even shock some if the distinguished gentlemen.”
This brought a belly laugh from the distinguished gentlemen.
“Sorry Mr. President, Sorry Ms. McCaddon,” agreed the Secretary of Transportation.
“...Human feces and other animal waste...ah...better, Mr. President?”
“Better, Mr. Secretary,” rejoined the Chief Executive.
Turning back to the fascinated cabinet members; the Secretary went on with his report.
“We blend it all together in a potpourri of glop and let it ferment for a few days. There’s a terrific build up of fumes and the mess gives off a powerful gas.”
“I can well imagine!” retorted one of the members.
The rest laughed in assent.
“And one that is very combustible. We add a few things and filter it a bit to take out some the the stench, the rest burns off completely.
“Thank Heavens!” quipped Virginia McCaddon, the Postmistress General.
“What is the status of the nation’s methane conversion?” asked the President.
“About ten percent of the personal vehicles and nearly seventy percent of the business vehicles and buses have already converted and are using methane from our plants on the Welfare Farms and elsewhere. These percentages escalate daily.”
“Then the tax refund incentive is working?
“Beautifully, Mr. President!” responded the
Secretary and to the rest he continued. “You see, we waive the sales tax on vehicles that are converted to methane and make special allowances to certain groups. Conversion costs are minimal and soon the price of producing the methane will be about one third the cost of a gallon of gasoline. The beautiful thing about methane is that the supply of raw materials is endless. Or should I say the supply of at least one source, human waste, is bottomless!”
The cabinet members roared at this sally and the President remarked through his mirth-produced tears.
“Well put, Mr. Secretary. Well Put!”
“In addition to the methane and natural gas programs, we have contacted the auto manufacturers and urged them to create new vehicle which utilize other alternative fuels. Polution from petroleum has become a world wide issue and it’s time something was done about it.”
I’m surprised this plan of yours wasn’t put into effect long ago, Mr. President, “ offered the Secretary of Commerce.
“Speculators, and Lobbies, Mr. Secretary. Lobbies for the petroleum industry and vote buying...or candidate buying, if you wish. I prefer the system we have now. Lobbies outlawed and government suggestions only by written petition. It’s much more impersonal and less dangerous the the majority.”
THIRTY-ONE
The President hardly noticed the greetings as he walked slowly down the central hall of the White House. “Good morning, Mr. President!” “Hi George!” etc. Each salutation was acknowledged with an amiable grunt. The President was concentrating. He held a sheaf of papers as he studied them carefully. A White House tour almost ran him over.
He smiled absently at the squeals of delight from the ladies from Des Moines before he returned to his studies. He shook his head from time to time and made faint clucking sounds, until he felt someone take his arm.
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