My Honorable Brother

by Bob Weintraub

  “Absolutely, and all the pictures are destroyed. You have my word on that.”

  “If I ever need a good photographer, I’ll know who to call.” Berman turned and headed back toward the Lincoln. He saw Walsh and Karp watching him from the corner of the street. He waved his arm, signaling them to return to the car.

  Ryder watched Berman open the back door and get in. He wasn’t sure whether Fiore was looking his way, but gave him a mock military salute anyway. Then he climbed back into the station wagon, sat there and felt terrific.

  103

  THEY WERE DUE FOR an appearance at the Rhode Island Mall in Warwick at two o’clock. Knowing it would be mobbed on a Saturday afternoon, Berman planned to have Fiore walk around in his shirtsleeves, shaking hands with as many shoppers as possible. Karp headed toward I-95 as soon as they were all in the car.

  “Drive back to the Biltmore, Lester, there’s been a change. Russell, get on the phone and leave a message with one of our coordinators at the mall that Fiore will be detained indefinitely.” Berman saw Walsh begin turning around toward him in his seat. “Don’t ask any questions now,” he said. “I’ll fill you in on what’s going on as soon as I can.”

  In his suite, Berman followed the instructions he was given when first hired to manage the campaign. He dialed a number, identified himself to the man who answered and told him to tell Joe Gaudette where he was and that he wanted to speak to their good friend as soon as possible. “It’s an emergency,” he added.

  Berman didn’t want Fiore in the room when he spoke with Sandy Tarantino. It was a time for the utmost candor. He didn’t want to have to pull any punches in order not to upset his protégé, and planned to ask Fiore to leave when Tarantino returned the call. But it wasn’t necessary. After ten minutes of painful silence between them, Doug got up and said he would join Walsh and Karp in the lounge. The call from Tarantino came about fifteen minutes later, and Berman told him everything that happened that day.

  “Christ, I could kill the sonofabitch,” Sandy said. “How many times did we warn him?” He paused for a moment. “So what do you think, Cyril? Is there any alternative to him announcing his withdrawal?”

  “Yeah, maybe we can convince him to do the same thing Tommy Arena did.” He waited for a chuckle or any sign that Sandy got the humor in his last remark, but there was only silence on the other end of the line. Berman had no reason to suspect the very tender nerve he struck.

  “I’ll have to speak to my father about this. If he agrees there’s nothing else to do, will you be with Fiore at the press conference tomorrow morning?”

  “I don’t think we should wait until then,” Berman said. “The Herald ’s endorsement of Singer will already be out. Doug’s withdrawal afterwards will look like sour grapes to a lot of people, no matter what reason he gives. They’ll figure he knew he didn’t have a chance of winning anyhow.”

  “What are you recommending?”

  “I’m in favor of getting him to a doctor this afternoon, Sandy. It fits in with the fact that he skipped his appearance at the Rhode Island Mall. Let him complain about feeling strong stomach and chest pains. He’ll have to be admitted to the hospital for tests. We’ll leak word that he’s in there, in a lot of distress. I’ll call a press conference tonight and meet with the media late, like at ten or eleven o’clock. That way they won’t have time to write a big story for Sunday’s paper.

  “I’ll tell them there were consultations with Fiore’s doctors about the pain he’s been experiencing for the past several weeks. It’ll sound like three forms of cancer by the time I’m through. I’ll say that when Fiore learned a definitive diagnosis could take as much as ten more days and that his doctor warned the situation could be very serious, he decided it wouldn’t be fair to the voters for him to remain a candidate. He recognized that a major illness could prevent him from doing his job as governor. Then I’ll ask the Herald not to run its endorsement of Singer, under the circumstances. If it’s not too late to change the editorial page, there’s a chance they’ll go along with it.”

  Tarantino listened to everything Berman suggested without interrupting him. “Stay where you are, Cyril. I’ll get back to you.” He called his father at home from the same pay phone and repeated the story. “I think we ought to figure out a place and meet with him right away, Pop.”

  “What good will it do? He’s already dead in the water.”

  “I want to hear exactly what happened and find out who the other woman was. I’d like to be close enough to push my hand in his face, depending on what he tells us. And maybe there’s still something we can do.”

  Sal Tarantino was disgusted. “If I ever get my hands on your friend, Salvy, I’ll have one of the boys put his balls in a vise and turn the handle. But it don’t make no difference who else he had in bed with him. Even if it was Singer’s wife, who Berman told us he was dicking last year, it wouldn’t help. As soon as word got out, everyone in Rhode Island would feel bad for Singer and line up to vote for him. Forget it. I couldn’t have anything to do with that pervert now even if I thought we could figure a way out of this. We’ll just have to take our chances. What the hell is wrong with people these days? Tell Berman to get it over with tonight and unload that piece of shit. That means you and I will have to go in and make some calls from the office tomorrow.”

  After Tarantino called back, Berman dialed the lounge and told the bartender he wanted to speak to Lester Karp. When Karp picked up the phone, Berman asked him to send Fiore upstairs right away.

  “Here’s the scenario, Doug,” Cyril said, and laid it out for him. “Hopefully, your doctor’s not playing golf this afternoon. Tell him your chest and your stomach both hurt like hell, that it’s been happening a lot over the past month, but nothing as bad as this. You can say you’ve been having some dizzy spells too. If he asks questions, make up anything you want, just so it sounds like you’re in a lot of pain. Let him know where you are and say that I think we should call an ambulance.”

  Berman hesitated a few seconds before sliding the telephone to the other side of the coffee table. Doug looked at him with glazed eyes, as if hoping for a miracle to happen before he dialed information to get his doctor’s number. Berman had no sympathy for him—actually despised him completely at that moment—but restrained himself when he spoke. “The campaign for governor is over, Doug. It’s down the drain. All we’re trying to do now is protect your family and keep you from going down as the biggest asshole in the State’s history. If that means anything to you, you’d better do a good acting job. The tests they do and the pictures they take at the hospital won’t show anything wrong with you, but they can’t tell you you’re not hurting if you say you are. My suggestion is that you keep hurting badly, at least through Tuesday.”

  104

  WHEN THE RHODE ISLAND subscribers to the Herald opened their front doors that rainy and windy Sunday morning to pick up their papers, which were encased in a double plastic wrapper to keep them dry, they found two significant election items.

  The first was a headline above the Herald masthead, in the space normally reserved for late Saturday night sports results. It declared in bold two-inch letters, “FIORE HOSPITALIZED, PULLS OUT OF RACE.” It referred the reader to a story on page nine of Section A. There, Jenna Richardson wrote about the late night press conference that took place in an auditorium of the Rhode Island Hospital. She described the scene in which Fiore’s campaign manager, Cyril Berman, was surrounded by the candidate’s wife and other campaign leaders. In a voice cracking with emotion, he told the assembled members of the media that Fiore instructed him from his bed in the intensive care unit to withdraw his name from the contest for governor.

  Berman informed the group that Fiore complained of various ailments, including chest and stomach pains, headaches and nausea on a number of occasions within the past month. He brushed them off initially as merely signs of the stressful campaigning he was doing. The pain became intense in the past several days, however, and the
candidate was concerned that the diagnosis of any serious illness would impede his ability to take on the strenuous tasks of the governorship. In those circumstances, Fiore thought he owed it to the citizens of the State to bow out of the race at this point instead of waiting another day or two and chancing some chaos in the election on the part of those who didn’t know his status.

  “Berman assured everyone,” she wrote, “that Fiore’s personal physician, Dr. J. Carlo Chiarenza, was heading up the team of doctors who were examining him. They were studying the results of various tests, along with X-rays and magnetic resonant imaging photographs taken that day, and discussing other tests they thought would be helpful in reaching a diagnosis.” Berman was uncertain, he said, as to when Chiarenza would be able to make himself available to reporters.

  Several media representatives posed the question, in different ways, as to whether Fiore’s decision was too hasty in light of the fact that his doctor wasn’t able to pinpoint the cause of his painful symptoms. In response to each, Berman patiently stated that Fiore wanted desperately to lead Rhode Island out of its long economic slump, but couldn’t abide the possibility that he would be elected and then be unable to properly serve.

  “‘Let me sum it up this way,’ Berman said. ‘Fiore understands that the people are being asked to choose between Singer and him, not the Republican candidate for lieutenant governor who would move up to the State’s highest office if Fiore wins the election and is then forced to resign because of his health.’”

  Richardson concluded her story by focusing on the double set of bizarre events. “The first one took Richie Cardella out of the race during the primary campaign when he had a fairly significant lead. The second has now given the election to Bruce Singer by default, even though the most recent polls showed the two candidates for governor to be running neck and neck. This has certainly been an election to remember.”

  The other major piece of election coverage was on the editorial page. A short note, signed by the publisher, informed the Herald ’s readers that although Doug Fiore was no longer a candidate for election, the paper’s senior editors still saw fit to run the endorsement of him that was approved just two days earlier. He noted that the decision was reached after an extensive examination of the positions advanced by Singer and Fiore throughout the campaign.

  The publisher wrote that in the Herald ’s view, “the issue of state-sponsored and administered gaming casinos, fiercely opposed by Fiore, is of overriding importance to the State of Rhode Island. We encourage those who are against such legislation to send a message to the State’s lawmakers by pulling the Fiore lever when you vote.”

  The endorsement itself ran just below the publisher’s communication.

  105

  BRUCE SINGER CELEBRATED AT home that Sunday morning by making poached eggs. It was his favorite breakfast, and one of the few things he ever learned to cook well. Carol joined him in time to measure out the right amount of fresh beans for the coffeemaker.

  Word of Fiore’s withdrawal reached Singer and everyone else just after he finished a speech to the High Technology Association of Rhode Island in the packed Capital Room of the Pawtucket Holiday Inn the night before. After that, party leaders converged on the motel and an impromptu victory gathering stretched into the early hours of Sunday. Carol simply whispered “Congratulations” to him when he got into bed just before 3:00 a.m. and said she was too tired to talk about what happened.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, they discussed whether he should continue campaigning for the next two days. She listened to Bruce express his sense of obligation about keeping the commitments he already made, despite the unforeseen events of the previous day. There was no reason to discourage him from doing so.

  “You should also find some time to call Grace Fiore and inquire about Doug,” she said. “Or drop by Rhode Island Hospital and visit with whatever family members are there. I’ll send a ‘get well’ card to Doug from both of us.”

  * * *

  Frankie Scardino’s wife took a message for him late that morning from Mark Reed of the Reed & Reed Detective Agency. He was corroborating the fact that no pictures were taken at the Biltmore Hotel on Friday night. He also said that his photographer carried out the assignment on Saturday night at the appointed time, only to find that there was no one occupying Room 1021 when he arrived. The agency would send out a bill that week, and he hoped they could be of service in the future.

  Scardino didn’t know anything about Fiore’s hospitalization and withdrawal until he was in his car driving home on Sunday afternoon. He and Janice spent Saturday evening watching several porno movies before going to bed, and she didn’t subscribe to any newspaper for home delivery. Scardino explained to his wife that the Reed & Reed Agency photographer was supposed to take a picture of a Fiore family surprise party, but that it had been called off when Doug went to the hospital.

  * * *

  The phones at 241 Atwells Avenue were busy most of Sunday. Sal Tarantino was heartened by the Herald publisher’s encouragement to the voters on the casino gambling issue. That went a long way toward persuading him to spend the money to get as many ballots cast for Fiore as possible. He and Sandy authorized their contacts and operatives throughout the State to hire drivers to get people to the polls and to keep workers on the streets with Fiore signs. They gave instructions to change the signs by writing in the words FOR NO STATE CASINOS under VOTE FIORE.

  Sal was locking up on their way out of the office that afternoon. Sandy was already halfway down the stairs. “Salvy, tell me how much business you think is going to Fiore’s law firm from the different companies we’re invested in.”

  Sandy stopped and turned around to wait for his father. “My guess, Pop, is that it averages at least half a million a year.”

  “Then I’ll tell you something. I’ll be very disappointed if the number doesn’t go down to zero as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  By Sunday evening, Dr. Chiarenza realized that there was nothing seriously wrong with his patient, despite Fiore’s continued complaints of random pain in different parts of his body. However, in discussing his findings with Grace Fiore and Cyril Berman, both of whom arrived in the waiting room about 8:00 a.m. that day, he began to understand the enormous personal consequences for Doug in the event he was declared fit and ready to leave the hospital too soon.

  In those circumstances, Chiarenza wanted no part of a freewheeling exchange with the media. Instead, he agreed to issue a statement to the effect that he was unable to locate any damage to Fiore’s heart thus far, although pain in that area still persisted. The statement included an assurance that his patient was also being diagnosed for other types of infections or disease that could be giving rise to his overall discomfort. Fiore might be able to leave the ICU on Tuesday, the release stated, but made it clear that he would remain in the hospital for an indefinite period until all the necessary tests had been administered and analyzed.

  Privately, Chiarenza told Berman that he thought it all boiled down to stress. “I’m sure Fiore would have felt fine as soon as the election was over. It’s a shame he gave up his chance to be governor. This guy has the balls to do the things that ought to be done in Rhode Island.”

  “You’re right, Doctor,” Berman told him. “The problem is he also has the balls to do what a lot of guys just fantasize about.”

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Berman.”

  “It’s too hard to explain. Let’s just say that what happened to Doug Fiore in the last few days is a fucking tragedy and leave it at that.”

  106

  ON MONDAY AFTERNOON BRUCE Singer phoned Carol at her office. He told her he’d be finished with his final campaign appearance about seven o’clock and wanted to take her to dinner at The Mills Falls in Barrington. “I called over there and the owner said it’s pretty quiet on Monday nights. How about meeting me at home at 7:30 and we’ll go in one car?”

  The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. They sp
oke a lot about their daughters and how mature they had both suddenly become. Bruce was aware of the fact that his being governor would introduce some difficulties for Bonnie and Rachel, especially in their social activities. “Fortunately,” he said, “between college and grad school, they’ll be able to spend most of their time outside Rhode Island. That should help.” Carol was pleased with his sincere concern for the girls’ happiness.

  He told Carol he heard that Fiore was going to be released from intensive care the next day but would stay in the hospital for an additional battery of tests. “Before Saturday,” he said, “I never would have believed that Doug Fiore would put someone else’s interests ahead of his own, especially when there was so much at stake for him personally. It just goes to prove that people can always fool you, no matter how well you think you know them.”

  Carol didn’t want to say anything that might keep Bruce on that subject. She just nodded her head, as if in agreement.

  Bruce knew she would crave at least one bite of some chocolaty dessert with her coffee, and insisted she pick one from the menu. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll finish whatever you leave,” he told her. She gave in to the chocolate suicide cake and they smiled at each other over her decision.

  As Carol put down her coffee cup, Bruce reached over and took her hand. He put it on the table and covered it with his own. “I want to ask you something I’ve been thinking about recently,” he said. “We both know how you felt about my running for governor and how distant it left us over the past six months. But doing this is my life, Carol, and that’s why I couldn’t listen to you when you begged me not to get into the race. I had to hope that eventually you’d begin to see things from my point of view.

  “Since I became a candidate, I’ve tried to figure out what it is that bothers you about the whole political scene. Campaigning is a long and horribly difficult ordeal, but it’s the only way the voters out there can ever get to know enough about the candidates to make them want to pull the lever for someone. Anyway, the one thing I did learn is that I can go through the whole thing without having to disrupt your life as well by having you with me. So I want you to know that if I run for reelection, or anything else, I’ll never ask you to give up your time to support me.