My Honorable Brother

by Bob Weintraub

  Before the end of the week, Scardino circulated a memo about Helen Barone’s decision to retire from Walters, Cassidy & Breen after almost twenty-five years of service. There was no attempt to explain her sudden departure. “We all thank Helen for her many contributions to the firm and wish her well in the new career challenges she’s looking forward to,” the memo concluded.

  Jackson certainly didn’t know that Janice Rossman celebrated her latest promotion in Room 118 of the Econo Motel that night. When she came out of the bathroom and got into bed next to Scardino, he put his arm around her and said, “I never had a blow job from an office manager before. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  She sat up and looked at him lying there before moving down in the bed. “You’re gonna love it, Frankie, but I’m still saving a few tricks until you get me the top job in marketing.”

  * * *

  Now today Jackson had to meet with George Ryder and let him know where he stood. Fiore went over the latest computer printouts with Ed the day before, and called his attention to Ryder’s numbers. The first five months of the year showed 359 billable hours against the firm’s target number of 700 hours. He pointed out that in the prior year Ryder put in 1042 billables, just 61 percent of what was expected from him.

  Fiore fully intended to have Jackson plunge the dagger into Ryder’s heart and force his resignation, but in such a way that Jackson would believe Doug did everything he could to keep Ryder from suffering that fate.

  “At the rate he’s going now, he’ll finish with a max of 860 hours. I may be wrong, Ed, but I don’t think the partners feel we can afford to keep him on board with that kind of production. He got a wake-up call in January when we lowered his percentage share of the profits for this year. Either he doesn’t care, which I doubt, or he’s run dry on work. I know he lost some of his good clients, but that’s not just his problem, it’s the firm’s. The consultants I talk to emphasize that the recession has changed the way most law firms operate today, and that when business is bad you’ve got to take steps to make sure your financial picture stays in good order.”

  Jackson was unaware of Ryder’s low billables. When he scanned the computer printouts, it was usually just to see who the top producers were and to verify that his own billable hours remained among the highest in the firm. His only concern was the bonus he’d receive for the hours he billed. “What should I tell him?” Jackson wanted to know.

  Fiore got up, stuffed his hands in his pockets as he did so often and began pacing around the office as he spoke. “First of all, ask him what’s wrong. But do it in a nice way because he’s probably very depressed right now. See how much you can find out about the clients he’s got left and what work he’s absolutely sure will be coming in the rest of the year. If we think it’s not too late to save him, we just won’t make any recommendation to the Executive Committee about his situation. Tell George you know he’s not the first lawyer at WC&B to have this kind of setback. But be sure not to commit the firm either way in the event his billings force the partners to take some action.”

  “That’s it?” Jackson asked. His voice indicated that he hoped the answer would be “Yes.”

  “Not quite. I’d tell him you feel ridiculous doing it to a senior partner, but that your conversation with him is putting him on notice about his billables and that you’ll have to stick something in his file. You probably ought to make a little speech about the fact that life is different in law firms these days. George knows that many of the older partners don’t want to have to take home less money than what they’re used to. He felt the same way I did when a number of them proposed laying off a bunch of associates right after Christmas so there’d be more money available for bonuses and partner shares this year. We won that fight and kept every associate on the payroll, but we may not win every fight over money. Blame the younger partners too. They’re looking to make more every year and they resent carrying someone with a big salary who doesn’t produce at the same level. We can’t afford not to give them what they should get or we risk losing them to other firms. Make sure you give him the whole picture. At the end, of course, be sure he understands you’ll do everything you can to help.”

  Jackson never heard of any lawyer at the firm being disciplined for low production, but, as usual, he figured that the managing partner knew more about it than he did. “What about Castillo?” Jackson asked. He was aware from his quick scan of the computer sheets that Castillo now ranked among the top six producers for the year. “He’ll be 300 hours over target this year at the rate he’s been going. Is he giving Ryder any work?”

  “He does when he can,” Fiore lied. “I’ve talked to him about it a few times. A lot of his work is litigation oriented, and Ryder’s weak in that area. George told me he’s not confident in a courtroom because someone in the litigation department always handled that for him if the case got that far. Castillo likes to do the trial work himself.”

  Fiore suddenly thought of another way to press the point. An old lie was coming to the aid of a new one. “Also, Paul’s a little afraid of letting Ryder get too close to some of his best clients. He told me he heard talk in the street that George was sending out resumes to other firms. That really disappoints me but it doesn’t surprise me if he thinks he sees the handwriting on the wall here. So I can’t blame Castillo for wanting to protect himself and hold on to what’s his. But he knows I want him to pass along any work he can. Listen, I can’t tell Castillo it’s his fault that Ryder is sitting on his hands all day. I’m sure he’s looking forward to a healthy bonus with the billables he’s putting in.” Fiore knew that Jackson would be very sympathetic to that kind of scenario.

  From the moment he arrived at work that morning, Jackson felt uncomfortable about the pending conversation with Ryder. He sat at his desk, puffing away at his pipe. Dammit, he thought to himself, I’ve known George for thirty years. Being a guy’s partner used to mean something. There was a bond. If somebody got in trouble, the other partners did whatever it took to help him out. The main thing was for everyone to survive, not to leave anyone out in the cold. Even if Fiore’s right, that other big law firms don’t work that way anymore, why do we have to go along with it? To hell with what the goddam consultants say, why can’t we stay the way we’ve always been? He opened his top drawer and pulled out a pouch of tobacco. Before filling his pipe, he dialed his secretary and told her to ask Mr. Ryder to come to his office.

  Dammit, he thought again, and then said it out loud.

  52

  FIORE ABSOLUTELY LOVED THE campaigning. Thus far, approaching the July Fourth holiday, Berman had him out meeting voters most afternoons, three or four nights a week and the better part of both Saturday and Sunday. It was important to establish name recognition as early as possible, Cyril told him. Doug never questioned the scheduling. Their Fountain Street headquarters was located almost directly across the street from the Herald building. One of the volunteers there was charged with notifying the local media in each town of Fiore’s presence in their community whenever the speech he was scheduled to give was not considered closed to “outsiders.”

  Fiore had every message he wanted to deliver down pat, and already dispensed with the 3x5 cards he partially relied on at the start. He felt equally at ease talking to a small group of supporters in someone’s living room, addressing the members of an association in a hotel function room, or telling whoever came to listen to him at a local mall what his plans were for the State of Rhode Island. The excitement that suddenly filled the air when he arrived to make an address buoyed him. He shook hands incessantly when he finished speaking, stopping only when Lester Karp or Russell Walsh warned that they’d be late for their next appointment if they didn’t get going.

  At the beginning, Doug found himself thinking only in terms of contacts. He might lose the primary, he reflected, but when he returned to practicing law there would be a slew of people he could call about giving their work to Walters, Cassidy & Breen. His appearances had
all the trappings of a fight to become governor, but he really saw it as a fantastic opportunity to advertise for himself professionally. And better yet, other people were financing his chance to present his credentials to everyone as a lawyer. All he had to do was show the public how well-spoken he could be, while avoiding an appearance of superficiality and emphasizing the fact that the interests of the State came before his own.

  Of course, the polling numbers in those early days had a lot to do with his attitude. Initially, as Berman predicted, they showed him trailing Richie Cardella by about 65 to 35 percent. It was discouraging at first, but both Berman and Walsh assured him that the polls didn’t mean a thing until they got to September.

  Still, they were quick to fortify his ego when the Herald’s three day poll in early June of almost 500 registered republican voters throughout the State gave him 39 percent of their support. And as they sat around in Berman’s suite one night just two weeks later, Lester Karp insisted on their joining in a toast when the Channel 6 news anchor reported that Cardella’s lead over Fiore was even narrower, sitting at 58 to 42 percent. They agreed that just two months of campaigning produced great progress. At that point in time, Fiore began a pivotal readjustment of his thinking. Making contacts for the future started to become secondary to winning the election. Returning to his office at WC&B seemed less of an attraction than occupying the large corner one at the Statehouse.

  The Fiore campaign got a huge lift from the Providence Herald on Independence Day. About a week earlier, Doug met with Jenna Richardson in one of the law firm’s conference rooms and gave her a long interview. She came well prepared, and sounded him out carefully on all the positions he advocated in his speeches.

  Richardson seemed primarily intent on following up the editorial that appeared in her paper the day after Fiore announced his candidacy. She wanted to know what he would do as governor to rejuvenate Rhode Island’s economy, and why he so strongly opposed the introduction of casino gambling in the State.

  Fiore was fully briefed early on by Cyril Berman as to both issues. He took the time to study some of the reference material Berman cited in his position papers, and practiced his answers several times with his campaign handlers. When discussing the economy, Doug borrowed heavily from the terms of the Greenhouse Compact that was defeated in a Statewide referendum in 1984. It was too large a dose of medicine for the voters to swallow back then. Fiore realized, however, that most of it made sense. Best of all, it sounded like exactly the right message to thousands of people now on unemployment who were becoming desperate to find any kind of work.

  He looked directly at Richardson as he spoke, turning on all the sincerity he could bring to the conversation. “The key to our revival is to bring new industry into Rhode Island. The key to doing that, as the Greenhouse Compact emphasized, is to give favorable tax considerations to the companies that accept our offer. All of the high tech industry on the East Coast used to be located along ten miles of Route 128, outside of Boston. You would have thought it was a crime to try and set up shop somewhere else if you wanted to write software, build computers or manufacture any kind of electronic parts.”

  He began talking a little slower to be sure she could write it all down. “But look at what New Hampshire did. They made land available in the Nashua area for a good price. They advertised tax concessions for technology companies to move in over the border and get away from unfavorable financial conditions in Massachusetts. Now you’ve got the so-called Golden Triangle up there, and that’s what saved the state’s economy in the last few years. They were probably hit harder than we were by the recession, but they’re thankful they attracted all that new technology business before the bottom started falling out of things.

  “That’s what we’ve got to do in Rhode Island right now,” he continued, quickly lowering his fist toward the table but stopping just before it made contact. “There’s plenty of skilled labor here just waiting for jobs to open up. We could create a high tech highway on Interstate 95, from Warwick all the way down to Westerly. The land is there. We’ve just got to make it available at the right price. And we’ve got to let every company that takes the time to listen to our sales pitch know we’ll do everything we can to help them get successfully established. That includes tax breaks for the first five or ten years of operation, depending on how well they do. Over and above that, we could give them a one thousand dollar reward for every high-paying job that gets filled by a Rhode Island resident.

  “I can see technology companies in Silicon Valley setting up their East Coast plants right here. Others would move in from Massachusetts. A lot of the industry in Connecticut, down around Bridgeport and New Haven, could be persuaded to come north, cut their costs and be more competitive. Maybe some of the insurance industry giants in Hartford would like to get out of a crowded city and build new offices along a quiet stretch of 95. If we’re only partly successful in doing all that, we could still have one hell of a building boom going on.”

  “Sounds impressive,” Jenna replied, looking up at him just seconds after he stopped talking. He hoped she was able to get it all into her notebook. “I write fast,” she added, as if reading his thoughts.

  “Rich Cardella says there’s no way we can avoid a tax hike if casino gambling isn’t allowed to become law,” Jenna said. “He says the money the State will pull in from it will help pay for a lot of services. What’s your take on that?”

  Fiore explained all the reasons why he disagreed with his opponent. He probably overstated the size of the new bureaucracy they would need to set up to supervise gambling operations throughout the State. He emphasized the danger it presented to attracting the new industry he just spoke about because of how adversely businessmen viewed the presence of a temptation like gambling for their employees.

  “Tell me, Ms. Richardson, how much industry have you got in the State of Nevada, or even in Atlantic City? Essentially nothing,” Doug said, answering his own question. “And don’t tell me about Connecticut,” he added, “because the Indian reservations where they have gambling are hidden away in the woods.”

  He wrapped up his position on the issue by arguing that gambling on that scale was morally untenable because most of the money the State collected would come from those who could least afford to be throwing it away. “We’ll take their gambling losses and then give it back to them in welfare, Medicaid, food stamps and whatever else we have to do for the homeless.”

  Fiore was pleased at seeing Richardson nod her head up and down as she took notes. “If anyone needs craps or roulette or blackjack so bad,” he continued, “let them go where it’s legal and get it out of their systems. But let’s not take money from the poor people in this State with the idea of providing services for everyone else. That’s just not going to happen.”

  Jenna closed her notebook. “Well, I’m sure the folks on Federal Hill who run their private gambling houses agree with you. You can probably count on their support.”

  Fiore hesitated before answering. He wanted to be sure her remark was made innocently, that she wasn’t throwing out a signal to show she knew or suspected something about his relationship with the Tarantinos. Her smile convinced him that was the case. “I guess I can only hope they’re republicans,” he answered, smiling back.

  Richardson included most of the interview in her holiday column. She succeeded in convincing Dan McMurphy to let it start at the bottom of the front page and continue for more than half of page eight. As if that weren’t enough, the editorial page writer made reference to her column in one of his items that day. Previewing the primary, he encouraged the other candidates to share their best ideas with the electorate, “as Mr. Fiore has done.”

  Berman called Fiore at home at eight o’clock in the morning to give him the good news. He was optimistic that their numbers would continue to rise in the polls as a result of the interview and the editorial. Doug rewarded himself with another half hour in bed. When he finally went downstairs for breakfast and read t
he paper, he was pleased with how far he’d come in just over two months. He was halfway home, he figured, halfway to victory in the primary.

  Some hours later, as he marched down Hope Street in the traditional Independence Day parade through the town of Bristol, Fiore was a picture of confidence. He waved at the crowds, stopped to shake hands with people all along the route and kissed at least three babies in each block. He loved every minute of it.

  53

  IT WAS DEFINITELY FATE, Carol Singer told herself as she lay in bed, annoyed by Bruce’s heavy breathing. She hoped he would soon turn over in his sleep and face the opposite direction. The several hours that just passed were vivid in her memory.

  Carol customarily had a second cup of coffee after dinner, especially when she dined alone in a restaurant. But for some unknown reason that evening she didn’t ask the waiter to refill her cup. Instead, she signed the credit card charge in Stanford’s, on the first floor of the Biltmore, and left the table. As the newsstand in the lobby was still open, she went over and purchased a package of sugarless gum. Turning around, she came face to face with Doug Fiore who saw her standing there as he was leaving the hotel.

  They hadn’t been together since just before the night she learned from Bruce that rumors had Fiore running for governor. Doug didn’t deny it when she called him in the office the next day. The news devastated her, and she reacted like a victim. She convinced herself that he owed her an explanation if their relationship was to have any chance of continuing.