Irrational or not, people were having a field day with the idea of an Amish president, but to everyone’s surprise, most of all Mark’s, this outlandish idea began to gain traction. It seemed to appeal to both parties in a nostalgic, fantastical kind of way. What if an Amish family really did move into the White House? What would that mean for America? Could an Amish man get the country back on track? Back to basics? It didn’t seem to be as ridiculous a notion as anyone originally thought. Could good old-fashioned common sense really be making a comeback?
Mark began to wonder if he should issue a retraction at all. Josiah was the only candidate who could receive Mark’s total and enthusiastic support, so why shouldn’t he stick with this endorsement and wait to see what happened? Josiah might not have any chance of actually being elected, but it was worth a try, wasn’t it?
STORMCLOUD44/BLOG
Has the whole country gone mad? Followers of this blog know I am not a fan of any of the candidates. I am sick and tired of having these people shoved down our throats when we’ve already told them we want someone new. I’m no fan of Stedman either, but I’ll give him this — an Amish man for president. Now that’s original.
“SO WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO SCHEDULE THE PRESS CONFERENCE?” Carl asked. “It’s been a few days. I’d say it’s time. You don’t want this getting too out of hand.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to make a retraction,” Mark said emphatically. There would be no further discussion on the matter. “Josiah’s my pick.”
“Tell me you’re not serious.”
“I know what you’re going to say, Carl, but I’ve made up my mind.”
“You’re endorsing an Amish man for president?”
“Yes, I am very proudly endorsing an Amish man for president. There will be no retraction.”
“You do realize that when the novelty of this wears off, they’ll say you’ve lost your mind?”
“They’re saying that now.”
“Mark, the American people will forgive a slipup, a mistake, but buffoonery? Taking them for a ride? If I may speak plainly, sir, you’re playing with fire.”
“Carl, a wise man once told me that it doesn’t matter if people listen or believe you; it only matters that you say what you believe. And I’m saying it — I believe Josiah is exactly who we need to lead our country right now.”
“I AGREE WITH CARL,” CINDY SAID WHEN MARK SHARED HIS plan with her. “Retract it, Mark, before you can’t pull it back.”
“Why would I do that? All the major networks and cable news shows are calling me for interviews about this. Meet the Press even asked me to appear as a guest this Sunday. Why stop now?”
“They’re saying you’ve had a break from reality. That’s why they want to interview you.”
“The reality that there’s no one on the ballot exciting enough to vote for? Yeah, I’ve had a break from that.”
“Look, whether you decide you want to get out of politics or run again in four years, either way, I’m here for you. Just don’t destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“What would you say if I told you that I’m thinking about leaving the party?”
“I’d say you’d better think it through. Once you close that gate behind you, it will probably lock you out permanently.”
“I know.”
As if on cue, Sam called again. Mark thought about ignoring the call but decided against it and answered on the fourth ring.
“Does your Amish friend even know he’s running?” Sam asked as soon as Mark came on the line.
“I’m going to tell him … eventually.”
“And I’m going to suggest to Congress that they censure you!”
“They can’t. I’m not a member anymore, remember? Look, Sam, why don’t we just let the election run its course? Let the best man or woman win — you know, the way elections are supposed to run.” Mark knew he was sealing his fate regarding any future political aspirations, but he wasn’t going to back down.
“All right, what’s the angle, Mark?” Sam said. “Is this some ploy you’ve cooked up to get yourself back in the limelight?”
“It’s no ploy, Sam. And I’ve never cared that much for the limelight. I’m convinced that a man like Josiah could be our next great president.”
“And I’m convinced you’re delusional!”
“The voters are ready for someone like this, Sam. You’ve seen the polls. Harley’s in the lead, but it’s no landslide by any stretch of the imagination. Could even turn into a brokered convention. There’s no enthusiasm for any of the candidates right now. From either party. You know that.”
“Sour grapes? Is that what this is?”
“Just honest conviction.”
“Well, don’t count on any support from us!”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll be running as an Independent.”
“An Independent! Mark, have you lost your ever-loving mind? What’s the matter with you? You’ll be dividing our party and giving the other side an unfair advantage.”
“Seriously, Sam? After the debate debacle, you’re going to talk to me about fairness? Loyalty? Don’t even go there.”
“Think about what you’re doing, Mark.”
“I have been thinking about it, Sam. I don’t want to leave the party, but if it’s the only way to do this, then so be it.”
The two men continued arguing for a few more minutes, but neither side gave in. Sam was convinced this was nothing more than payback for Mark’s exclusion from the debate. And Mark was beyond convinced that he had come up with the solution for all of America’s woes — the perfect presidential candidate. If Mark Stedman couldn’t be president himself, then Josiah was the next best man for the job. Maybe even the better man, as far as Mark was concerned.
BISHOP MILLER PAID A VISIT TO THE STOLTZFUS HOME. LIKE Josiah, he knew nothing about Mark Stedman’s endorsement of one of his community as a presidential candidate. He simply wanted to invite Josiah and Elizabeth and their children to a barbecue at his house the following Friday afternoon. But even though their buggy was there, no one answered the door. The children would be at their one-room schoolhouse down the road, Bishop Miller figured, but Josiah and Elizabeth should be home.
He tried the stable and found the couple cleaning up the area.
“Brother Josiah and Sister Elizabeth,” he said as he walked in. “So here’s where you are.”
Elizabeth wiped her hands on her apron and reached out to shake the bishop’s hand.
“So nice to see you, Bishop Miller,” she said.
“I just wanted to stop by and personally invite you folks to the barbecue.” The bishop knew how much Josiah loved good fellowship, so there’d be no need to ask him twice.
“I heard about that,” Josiah said. “We’ll be there. Friday, jah?”
Bishop Miller nodded.
“What would you like me to bring?” Elizabeth asked.
“Anything you make will be a delight, Elizabeth,” the bishop said. The bishop had sampled Elizabeth’s cooking on many past occasions, and he was amply convinced of her culinary talents.
Everyone in the bishop’s district loved their community get-togethers. The get-togethers were always great fun, filled with good food (including hand-cranked ice cream) and approved music. Much like a Fourth of July picnic among the English, there was even a little baseball.
“Saw you had some company recently,” Bishop Miller said, more curious than anything.
“Jah,” answered Josiah. “An English fella drove his automobile into the ditch down the road. My horses pulled it out, and then we had to hammer out some of the kinks to get it back on the road. Bent his axle pretty bad. Cracked his radiator too.”
“You’re a man of all trades, Josiah.” The bishop laughed, impressed with Josiah’s ingenuity.
“I did what I could. Sent him over to Jake’s for the rest. He was a gut man, this fella. A politician, he said.”
“Really, now?”
&nbs
p; “Says he ran for president. Mark Stedman’s his name. You heard of him?”
“Sounds a little familiar. What year did he run?”
“This one. He just dropped out of the race.”
“Well, well,” the bishop said. “He must have been interesting to talk to. Not many politicians spend a lot of time in these parts.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“So we’ll see you on Friday, then?”
“We’ll be there.”
CINDY STEPPED INTO THE BEDROOM AND LEANED AGAINST THE doorway. She looked beautiful. Mark preferred seeing her like this — without makeup, her auburn hair hanging loosely past her shoulders instead of pulled back into whatever style was the latest trend. But tonight even Cindy’s natural beauty couldn’t get Mark to change his focus.
He held up a mock-up poster that featured an artist’s drawing of Josiah in full Amish attire standing in front of the American flag. The caption read “Josiah for President.”
“Whaddya think?”
“So this is him?” Cindy said, holding back her true opinion on the whole matter. “Your Amish friend?”
“And the next president of the United States, if I have anything to say about it. The sketch looks remarkably like him.”
“Does he even know about this yet?”
“I’m going to drive back out to Lancaster County and tell him.”
“When?”
Mark hedged. “Soon.”
“He needs to know, don’t you think?”
“I’ll tell him. After he’s showing some promise in the polls. Why bother him if it doesn’t happen?”
“So you spent three days with this man, and you’re convinced he’s our next great leader? Three days. That’s all the time you think you needed to vet him?”
“That’s more than a lot of people spend getting to know the candidates they vote for. The system will vet him. Believe me, before this campaign is over, we’ll know everything there is to know about Josiah. But trust me, you’re going to love him.”
“What’s his last name? Do you even know that?”
“Stoltzfus.”
“Stoltz-what?”
“Stoltzfus. But I’m not releasing that yet. He doesn’t need the media coming down on him before he’s had a chance to digest it all.”
“Stoltzfus, huh? You do realize if it’s a write-in campaign, no one will spell it right.”
“Hey, they managed Dukakis.”
“He lost, remember? And he was on the ballot! Anyway, has a write-in candidate ever won a presidential election before?”
Mark gave a slight shrug with his shoulders and grinned. “Maybe it’s time.”
CHAPTER 12
NATE DEMONT, ONE OF MARK’S CAMPAIGN VOLUNTEERS, WAS at his desk tying up the last loose ends of Mark’s campaign when Mark walked in carrying a box.
“Set it over there on top of the others,” Nate said, pointing to the boxes of now outdated Elect Stedman paraphernalia.
Mark plopped the box down on the desk instead and opened it.
“Look here,” Mark said as he eagerly reached into the box and pulled out a stack of Josiah for President posters and held them up. “Here’s our guy. What do you think?” he said.
“Well, he certainly looks Amish, all right.”
“Would you vote for him?”
“If you say he’s a good man, sir, he’s got my vote.”
Mark reached into the box again and pulled out an Amish hat. He handed it to Nate.
“You’re serious?” Nate asked.
“Go on. Try it on.”
Being a sport, Nate pressed the hat down over his mop of brown hair, clearly wondering what wild new idea his boss was going to come up with next. “Aren’t you long overdue for a decent night’s sleep?”
“It’s a gut fit, jah?” Mark said, ignoring the question as he tried his best to mimic an Amish accent.
Nate looked at his reflection in a glass window. “Jah, sure, I like it,” he played along.
“Good!” Mark said. “Got me one too. Really keeps the sun out of my eyes. Maybe I should get some for the staff.”
Nate looked around the room. “The staff? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sir, but there’s only me and you left.”
“And Carl. And Cindy.”
“She called, by the way. Told me to try to talk you out of this ‘harebrained’ — her word — idea. And she said to tell you she still loves you anyway.”
“Talk me out of it? Are you kidding? I haven’t been this passionate about something since … shoot … since I don’t know when. No, my friend, it’s full speed ahead.”
Nate opened his cell phone, pressed a button, then handed the phone to Mark.
“Then tell her I tried.”
EMILY WATSON WAS A NATIONAL NEWSCASTER WHO OFTEN DID stories of interest on location. It was only natural that she would be the one sent out on the Josiah assignment. This was her kind of story.
She selected the “Welcome to Lancaster, Pennsylvania” sign at the edge of town for her opening image. It would be a good establishing shot, and she could start out off camera and then walk into frame to begin her report.
The cameraman got into position, and the director moved a few strands of hair away from Emily’s face, then signaled that the recording was beginning. With the camera focused on the sign, the news pro took a few steps into the shot, smiled, and began.
“For years politicians have been accused of putting their cart before the horse. Well, now we have a presidential candidate who might have good reason for doing just that. His name is Josiah and he’s Amish. That’s all anyone really knows about him. We don’t even know his last name. But I promise you, all that will change very soon.”
It was an attention-grabbing opening. Never mind the fact that the Amish never put their carts before a horse — they were superb horsemen. Emily was sure she had stirred the interest of her television audience.
AT AN ELECTRONICS STORE IN RENO, NEVADA, CURIOUS AND FASCINATED customers stood in front of a wall of television screens and watched Emily’s broadcast. All of the televisions were programmed to the news show that carried her report, and everyone within earshot stopped their shopping and watched with keen interest. The same scene was being played out in stores and homes all across America — Indiana, California, Florida, New York — people everywhere were fascinated with America’s new mystery candidate.
EMILY CONTINUED HER REPORT. “THIS NEW CAMPAIGN IS THE brainchild of former presidential candidate Mark Stedman, who is speaking to us today from his Wisconsin campaign headquarters, where he is officially launching the ‘Draft Josiah’ movement,” she said.
Mark’s image appeared on the screen.
“Congressman Stedman, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“I certainly am, Emily.”
“Well, then, sir, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish by this most unusual campaign?”
“I’m hoping to elect a great president.”
“And you believe this Josiah can be that president?”
“I know he can.”
IN A SMALL TOWN IN NEBRASKA, MAGGIE BENTON, AN EIGHTY-year-old grandmother, sat with her husband in front of their television, watching the news report. She turned to him and said, “Well, we’ve had Quakers, Catholics, evangelicals, and who knows what else? We might as well have an Amish president!”
THE NEWS MEDIA ONLY HAD THE ARTIST’S SKETCH OF THE NEW candidate to work with, the same artist’s rendering that was featured prominently on the posters. Ever since Mark had made the announcement about Josiah, people had had to take his word that there even was such a man. Mark had promised he would provide additional information at an upcoming press conference — information such as a last name, candidacy papers, proof of citizenship, back story, and so on — but until then, he was determined to hold the press at bay. Emily’s journalistic patience, however, seemed to be wearing thin.
“Congressman, I, or anyone else, could go into this Ami
sh community and find Josiah right now,” she said to Mark on the air. “Is there a reason you’re still protecting his identity?”
They were live, of course. Mark hated it when news reporters did on camera the very thing he asked them not to do before the interview. Some reporters had a well-known habit of turning on politicians like that — gaining their trust in the preinterview and then pulling the rug out from under them once the interview was underway.
“I’ll talk about anything but the recent passing of my mother,” a politician might say off camera to such a reporter prior to an interview. The reporter would agree, but once the camera’s red light came on, indicating the official interview had begun, the lead question would inevitably be about the politician’s mother.
Mark had distinctly requested that the press hold off any interviews until Josiah was ready to officially announce his candidacy. There would be plenty of time for that later. For Josiah to be a write-in candidate, he would need to file a Declaration of Intent in all but two states — Hawaii and South Dakota — that still didn’t allow it. The deadline for these filings was still a good bit away, but the papers still had to be filed.
The veil of secrecy concerning Josiah’s last name and other details was only temporary. Until the official announcement, however, Mark had requested that the press honor Josiah’s privacy and the privacy of those in the Amish community. But now that request was being questioned … and it was being questioned in front of approximately a million viewers.
The reason Mark had granted Emily this interview was because she had proven worthy of his trust in the past — and because she was persistent. So he’d given in. But now she was threatening to override their previously established guidelines. Mark was disappointed to see it happen with someone he’d thought he could trust, had thought of as a friend, but what could he do? The camera was rolling.
“You can go into Lancaster and ask around if you want,” Mark said. “But it won’t be as easy as you think.”
“The name Josiah kind of narrows it down, doesn’t it?” Emily said confidently, apparently determined to be the first national reporter to land this scoop.
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