‘He knows,’ whispered Karen.
‘But even if he has found out, what’s the point’?’
‘Just to remind you he’s omniscient. To keep you and everyone else in line.’
‘I think you’re overreacting, honey. He’s not all that subtle. He was just being social. It was an innocent remark.’
‘Sure. Like the wolf’s in “Little Red Riding Hood”.’
‘Shh. Keep your voice down.’
They had reached the chairs almost directly in front of the large television set, and they both sat down.
Sipping his drink, Collins tried to concentrate on the screen. The distinguished network commentator was saying that several minutes would be given over to recapping the procedure of adding a new amendment to the Constitution and, more specifically, to the laborious passage of the 35th Amendment from its inception to this moment when it was on the brink of ratification.
‘There are two means by which a new amendment to the United States Constitution can be initiated,’ the commentator began.
Collins set down his drink, lit Karen’s cigarette and then his own, and eased back to listen half-attentively.
‘One means of initiating an amendment is to have it proposed in Congress. The other is to have it initiated by a national convention called by Congress at the request of the legislatures of two-thirds of the states. No amendment has ever been started by such a convention. All have begun in Congress in Washington, D.C. Once a resolution proposing a new amendment is made, in either the United States Senate or the House of Representatives, hearings are held on it by the Rules Committees and the Judiciary Committees. After the amendment is approved by these committees, it goes to the floors of the Senate and the House. To be approved, it requires a two-thirds vote of each legislative body. Once approved, it does not need the signature of the President. Instead, copies are sent to the General Services Administration, which in turn distributes the amendment to
the Governors of the fifty states. The Governors merely send the amendment to their state legislatures for debate and vote. If three-fourths of the state legislatures - that means 38 out of 50 states - ratify the amendment, the amendment becomes an official part of the Constitution.’
Collins snuffed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and then reached for his drink, still watching the television screen.
The commentator went on. ‘Since the original ten amendments became part of the Constitution, and since the year 1789, there have been 5,700 resolutions introduced in Congress to amend the Constitution one way or another. There have been suggested amendments of every sort - to replace the Presidency with a three-person ruling council, to get rid of the Vice-Presidency, to change the name of the United States of America to the United States of the Earth, to change the Electoral College vote system, to change the free-enterprise system so that no one individual might possess more than ten million dollars. Of the handful of 5,700 amendments that did not die in Congress, that did get out to the states, only thirty-four have been ratified by the necessary three-fourths of the states. There has usually been no limitation as to the time the states have to ratify or reject. The most quickly approved amendment in our history was the 26th, giving 18-year-olds the vote. Only three months and seven days after it came out of Congress, it was ratified by three-fourths of the fifty states. Which brings us to the latest amendment, the 35th, which we may see killed or made law of the land tonight.’
Collins heard the movement of bodies, the scraping of chairs, and observed the guests who were beginning to crowd around the television set on either side. Then he devoted himself to the television screen once more.
‘The controversial 35th Amendment, designed to supersede the first ten amendments - or the Bill of Rights - under certain emergency circumstances, grew out of a desire by Congressional leaders and President Wadsworth to forge a weapon to impose law and order on the nation if required.’
‘Weapon?’ interrupted the President, who had just sat down near Collins. ‘What does he mean, weapon? If ever I
heard prejudicial language, that’s it. I wish we could pass an amendment to take care of commentators like that.’
‘We’re passing one,’ Director Tynan boomed from his chair on the opposite side. ‘The 35th will take care of those troublemakers.’
Collins caught Karen’s sharp glance, and squirmed uncomfortably toward the television screen again.
‘ … and so after it came out of committee and was introduced as a joint resolution,’ the commentator was continuing, ‘it went to the floors of the Senate and the House for final vote. Despite vocal - but limited - opposition from the liberal blocs, both bodies of Congress gave the 35th Amendment overwhelming approval, far exceeding the two-thirds vote required. Then the new amendment was sent out to the fifty states. That was four months and two days ago. After a relatively easy passage in the first states voting on it, the voyage of the 35th became increasingly stormy, as opposition was organized against it. To date, forty-seven of the fifty states have voted upon it. Eleven have turned it down. Thirty-six have approved it. But since the Amendment needs thirty-eight votes of approval, it is still two states short. As of tonight, there remain three states that have not voted - New York, Ohio, and California. New York and Ohio are concluding their voting this very night - a historic event that will be seen shortly on this network - and California has scheduled its vote a month hence. But will California be needed? If both New York and Ohio turn down the Amendment tonight, it will be dead. If both ratify the Amendment tonight, it will become part of the Constitution immediately, and President Wadsworth will have his arsenal to combat the growing lawlessness and disorder that is slowly strangling the nation. The voting tonight in New York and Ohio may be fateful, may change the course of American history for a century to come. Now, after a brief commercial break, we will take you to the State Assembly in Albany, New York, where the floor debate is just concluding before the final roll-call vote will be taken.’
The commercial for an oil conglomerate, which declared that at least one conglomerate was in business only as a public service to make life happier and easier for the people,
was quickly drowned out by the rising babble of voices in the room.
Collins came to his feet, ready to refill his drink. Karen had covered the top of her glass with her fingers, indicating she’d had enough champagne, so he left her and pushed between the other guests toward the makeshift bar on the Cabinet table. He saw that the President was in the company of his pollster, Steedman, as well as Tynan and McKnight, and he guessed that they were once more reviewing the pollster’s last-minute findings on the sentiment of the New York State Assembly.
When Collins returned to his chair, fresh Scotch in hand, and settled down, he could see that the television coverage had moved to a full shot of the New York Assembly.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked Karen.
‘Just about to begin,’ she said. ‘The floor debate is coming to an end. The last speaker is winding up his speech in favor of the Amendment.’
Collins downed a large portion of his Scotch and watched as the telecast now cut to a close shot of a dignified gentleman, identified as Assemblyman Lyman Smith, concluding his speech. Collins listened.
‘ … and while the United States Constitution as written by our forefathers is a noble instrument of law,’ the speaker was saying, ‘I once again tell you that it is not sacrosanct. It was not meant to be petrified by time. It was meant to be flexible - that is the reason provision was made for its amendment - sufficiently flexible, changeable to meet the needs of each new generation and the challenge of humanity’s progress. Remember this, my friends, this Constitution of ours was written by a group of largely youthful radicals, men who came to its signing in horse-drawn carriages, men who wore wigs, men who used quill pens. These men had never heard of ball-point pens, typewriters, electronic calculators. They never heard of television sets, jet airplanes, atomic bombs, or space satellites. And certa
inly, they never heard of the Saturday-night special. But they built into their Constitution the instrument for adjusting our Federal laws to whatever the future might bring. Now the future is here, the day for change is at hand, and the time
has come to modify our supreme law to suit the needs of our present citizenry. The old Bill of Rights, as set down by those founders in wigs, is too ambiguous, too general, too soft to meet the onrush of events conspiring to destroy the fabric of our society and the structure of our democracy. Only passage of the 35th Amendment can give our leaders a firmer hand. Only the 35th Amendment can save us. Please, dear friends and colleagues, vote for its ratification!’
As the speaker on the screen returned to his seat, the camera roved over the Assembly showing the thunderous applause.
In the Cabinet Room around Collins there was also hearty applause.
‘Bravo!’ the President exclaimed, setting down his Up-mann cigar and clapping. The President searched over his shoulder. ‘McKnight,’ he called out to his chief aide, ‘who’s that New York Assemblyman who just spoke? Somebody-or other Smith? Check him out. We could use a person in the White House who thinks that straight and is eloquent besides.’ His gaze went back to the screen. ‘Everybody, attention. The roll call is about to begin.’
It was already beginning, and Collins could hear the names of the Assemblymen, and their Yeas and Nays. From inside the room, he could hear Director Tynan predict that it was going to be a horse race. From behind him, he could hear Steedman’s clipped voice say it would take a while for the verdict since there were 150 members in the New York State Assembly.
Because it would take a while, because he was tired, Collins allowed his attention to drift from the screen. He fastened on Tynan, who was standing, his bulldog face flushed with anxiety, his eyes hooded, as he followed the voting. He looked over his shoulder at the President, whose countenance was granite, impassive, unmoving, as if he were posing for a carving on Mount Rushmore, as he concentrated on the screen.
Honest, dedicated men, Collins thought. No matter what others said on the outside - carpers like that Ishmael Young, or even doubters like Karen - these men were responsible human beings. At once, he felt comfortable in this circle of
power. He felt he belonged. It was a wonderful feeling. He wished he could thank the person who had put him there - Colonel Baxter, who was missing, who was lying in a coma on a hospital bed in Bethesda.
Collins had believed he owed everything to Colonel Baxter, but actually, examining it now, he saw that it was a series of accidents and mistakes that had elevated him to Attorney General. For one thing, he had been his late father’s son, and Colonel Baxter had been his father’s college roommate at Stanford and his father’s closest friend in their early, struggling years after graduation. Collins’ father, who had wanted to practice law, had turned to business instead and had become a wealthy electronic-parts manufacturer. Collins remembered the great pride his father had taken in his son, the lawyer. His father had always kept Colonel Baxter and other friends apprised of his son’s advancement and growing legal reputation.
Two distinct events, a few years apart, had further brought him to Colonel Baxter’s attention. One was his brief but well-publicized tenure as an American Civil Liberties Union lawyer in San Francisco. He had successfully defended the civil rights of a thoroughly fascist right-wing American organization, because he believed in free expression for all. It had been a matter of highest principle rather than principals. Colonel Baxter, a conservative, had been impressed for the wrong reasons. Shortly after, when serving as the new District Attorney in Oakland, Collins had gained national attention by successfully prosecuting three black killers who had committed particularly horrendous crimes. This had impressed Colonel Baxter even more, showing that he was no bleeding heart meting out more compassionate justice for blacks than for whites. What had never got into print was Collins’ true feelings: that these impoverished, ill-raised, illused blacks had been the real victims, the victims of society. The law, unfortunately, had no mitigating provision for the lucklessness of possessing the wrong genes.
Yes, it was the headline achievements that had impressed Colonel Baxter. The fact that Collins, in private practice in Los Angeles, had also successfully defended the rights and lives of several organizations of blacks and Chicanos, and
saved the necks of dozens of white dissenters had been regarded by Baxter as a youthful aberration or a sop to a rising young attorney’s conscience. Thus, backed by these credentials and his father’s old friendship, Collins had been summoned to Washington to become, eventually, Colonel Baxter’s Deputy Attorney General, and thus by chance, by a flaw in the Colonel’s arteries, he had become Attorney General of the United States and a part of this elite company.
The thoughts in his head seemed unnaturally loud, and then he realized this was because the Cabinet Room had become unnaturally hushed. He started to look around, when suddenly he saw the President leap from his chair, and heard a tremendous cheer go up in unison.
Bewildered, he looked at the screen, then at Karen, who was not cheering, and she whispered, ‘It just passed. The New York State Assembly ratified the 35th Amendment. Can you hear the announcer? He’s saying that means only one more state is needed to put the 35th over. They’ll be switching to Columbus after a station break and a brief sum-up by the network panel.’
Everyone was standing, jubilant, and Collins’ view of the screen was momentarily blocked by Steedman, who was addressing the President. ‘Congratulations, Mr President!’ the pollster was saying. ‘I will admit that was a definite upset, a surprise. Our percentages allowed for it, but there was no clear indication that it would happen the way it did.’
Director Tynan gripped Collins’ shoulder until he winced. ‘Great news, old boy, isn’t it? Great news!’
‘Vernon -‘ It was the President addressing Tynan.
‘Yes, Mr President?’
‘ - you know what did it? You know what swung New York to our side? It was that last speech delivered by that Assemblyman, that Smith fellow. That speech, it was perfect. It was just as if you had written it yourself.’
Director Tynan grinned broadly. ‘Maybe I did write it myself.’
All the others, listening, laughed knowingly, as if enjoying a shared secret. Collins laughed, too, because he didn’t quite understand and wanted to continue to belong.
A shrill voice interrupted. ‘Buffet dinner is ready!’ It was
Miss Ledger, the President’s personal secretary, directing the guests to the far end of the Cabinet table. ‘All prepared specially so you can put your plates on your laps. No knives, just forks. Better get your food before the Ohio vote starts.’
Collins took Karen’s arm, and they came to their feet. He could see the portion of the Cabinet table that had been converted to a hot buffet. He and Karen were almost the last in line, and before they could reach the food the others were rushing back to find their places. Apparently the Ohio vote was about to begin in living color.
Soon, his plate heaped with chicken linguine, cold poached salmon with cucumber sauce, mixed green salad, and fresh fruits - but devoid of bread - he was following Karen back to the semicircle of guests around the television set. He saw that President Wadsworth had taken his old seat, so he guided Karen to two empty chairs in the rear. He peered between the guests in front of him.
From the podium of the Ohio State House of Representatives, someone was reading the resolution. Collins gave up trying to see, and sat back to listen, as he consumed bites of the chicken linguine.
A voice from the television set was droning:
‘Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States providing for domestic security.
‘Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, two-thirds of each House concurring therein, that an amendment is hereby proposed to the Constitution of the United States which shall be valid to all intents and purp
oses as part of the Constitution when ratified by three-fourths of the legislatures of the several states. Said amendment shall be as follows:
‘The 1st to 10th Amendments to the Constitution shall be superseded in time of internal national emergency by the following new Amendment.
‘Section 1. Number 1. No right or liberty guaranteed by the Constitution shall be construed as license to endanger the national security. Number 2. In the event of clear and present danger, a Committee on National Safety, appointed by the President, shall meet in joint session with the National
Security Council. Number 3. Upon determination that national security is at issue, the Committee on National Safety shall declare a state of emergency and assume plenipotentiary power, supplanting Constitutional authority until the established danger has been brought under control and/ or eliminated. Number 4. The chairman of the Committee shall be the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Number 5. The proclamation shall exist only during such time as the emergency is declared to be in effect, and it shall be automatically terminated by formal declaration upon the emergency’s resolution.
‘Section 2. Number 1. During the suspensory period, the remainder of all rights and privileges guaranteed by the Constitution shall be held inviolable. Number 2. All Committee action shall be taken by unanimous vote.’
Collins had read about all this before, several times, but somehow hearing it aloud made it seem harsher, and he sat worried, picking at his food.
‘There’s the call of the House,’ he heard the President say. ‘They’re beginning the roll call. Well, this one’s a cinch. We’re in. The 35th is in the bag. Okay, here they go. The names of the ninety-nine legislators are being called off.’
Collins set down his plate, and was again fully attentive. He could see the close-ups of the various representatives on the Ohio State House floor pushing the buttons at their desks. He could see the votes being registered on one of the two huge boards at either end of the chamber. Ayes and Nays, about even, very close.
(1976) The R Document Page 3
