- Jul 12, 2018
- 10,751
Private
Early 2008
Somewhere in rural New England was a small, private liberal arts college. It was nestled in a town which revolved around the existence of the college itself and had done so for over 150 years. Life went about as normal in the town and the college. Residents went to work and took their children to school; students walked to class and braved the late-winer weather. On the surface, there was nothing unusual or extraordinary going on. However, in one of the old halls of the college, two men gathered for whiskey and cigars in a private back room.
Arnold Murphy, the Chair of the Democratic National Committee, was dressed in a blue suit and light blue dress shirt, and a dark blue tie. He was 55 years old, overweight, balding, and he wasn't very tall. However, what Murphy was losing in looks, he had in confidence. Any time he walked into a room he was in charge. Thanks in part to Murphy, Clinton had been reelected, Gore was elected, and while the Democrat didn't win in the last election, at least the Republican lost.
An old man with white hair and thick reading glasses escorted Murphy and a friend of his past his office and to a back parlor room.
"Professor," said Murphy, "thanks for accommodating us, I won't forget it." He meant it - favors were not a courtesy to Murphy, they were currency. Murphy made a mental note to himself that if the professor ever needed anything in the future, he would reciprocate.
"I'm pleased to be greasing the wheels of the American republic, Mister Murphy. It's my pleasure," the professor said in his English accent.
Jim White was Murphy's friend - he was the Chairman of the Republican National Committee. White was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a dark red tie. He had just turned 40 years old, was in relatively good shape, had a full head of light brown hair, and he was an inch short of being six feet tall. He was conventionally handsome for a man, more so in a 1990s sense. White had been invited to speak at the college, which had come as a shock to him because the area was deep blue. He was going to turn it down, but Murphy offered to set up a private meeting between them "over smokes," which White didn't want to turn down.
The professor closed a door behind him and Murphy and White were alone. The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood, the seats were real leather, and there were no windows. Murphy sat down in a leather chair, so white took a seat on the leather sofa. There was a coffee table between the two men that had a box of cigars, ash trays, matches, and cigar guillotines.
"Real Cubans," Murphy said as he grabbed one of the full-body, large cigars. He brought one up to his nose and smelled along the side of it. "Fantastic."
"Drinks?" White asked. He had known Murphy for over ten years now - he knew that he was going to want a drink.
"Sure, why not?" Murphy said, as if he hadn't been eyeing the assortment of whiskey on a nearby bar until now.
"Let me guess, something Irish?" White asked.
"Yup, if they got it," Murphy replied. They did indeed have Irish whiskey. White poured a triple for Murphy, on the rocks. Then he poured a double of scotch for himself. He took the two crystal glasses back to where they were sitting and set them down on the coffee table.
Both of the men prepared their cigars and got them lit. Murphy held up his glass to White.
"Cheers," Murphy said. The glasses clinked. "To the Grand Old Party," White replied. Both men laughed.
While Murphy had been Chair of the DNC for about 15 years now, White had only been chair for 14 months. The Republicans hadn't won a presidential election since 1989 and the party was slowly going through a transformation. The Neo-Conservatives, often called Neocons by their detractors, were in a pretty dire state. Whether or not it was true, the general mood within the Republican Party was that the Democratic Party had succeeded in embracing patriotism and national spirit, while also appealing to the needs of every-day, working-class Americans. The Republicans had so far found it very difficult to rally against the Democrats on policy matters - except for taxes. White was considered "a bit young" by most of his colleagues, but his selection as the RNC chairman was a strategic one. Desperate times called for desperate measures. It was ultimately up to him to decide if the party just needed a facelift, a restructuring, or if actually systemic policy shifts were needed. These were difficult thing to contemplate, let alone try to convince others. White had an almost impossible job, but he took it.
Murphy, meanwhile, was a fat cat. He was a New England Democrat, from Boston. He was a union man, he had been a bureaucrat, and now he was the party boss. He was 55 years old, he drank heavily, and he smoked. The Democratic Party was wildly popular under Clinton's first term and under both of Gore's terms. The biggest shock for Murphy and for the Republicans was when Sinclair won the presidency; not so much because they didn't think it was possible for him to win, but because of the disruption it caused to the two-party system.
"Listen, Jim. I've only heard rumors about who you guys are putting up this go around, but I think we can agree it can't be another independent.. And not a Libertarian either, those dipshits would self-destruct two weeks into the term," Murphy said, and then puffed his cigar.
White sat back in his leather chair, took a conservative sip of his scotch, and puffed on his cigar. "The rumor I hear is that you guys want to nominate Sinclair for a second term, whether he wants it or not."
"Sinclair doesn't want it, that's a fact. We'd nominate him if he would accept it, but he won't. He wants to live in that damn lighthouse," Murphy remarked in some frustration.
"Well, maybe he'd take our nomination," White said, sarcastically. This made Murphy laugh; then he puffed his cigar again.
"Really, Jim, who are you guys nominating?"
"Buy me dinner first, Arnold."
"Look - I'm not here to spy and find out who we are putting up campaign adds against. I'm just, you know... Whatever," Murphy said, and then downed his tripple. He got up and poured himself form more Irish.
"You know, what? If I lose the election for us again, and the GOP is fucked, then someone else is going to rise up and take our place. We've talked about this."
"Yeah, better the devil you know," Murphy said as he poured himself more whiskey. "That's not my concern, the Republicans don't concern me. What concerns me is that another independent is going to run and kill both of us."
"Who?" White asked. He was intrigued, this wasn't on his radar. Should he be thinking of this?
"Yeah, I don't know.. I don't know. Look, I want us to win, but I'd rather a Republican over another independent. It's not good for the system, it's not good for the country," Murphy said as he took his seat again.
"Well, what are you saying?" White asked
"I just said it. What else do you want from me?"
"I don't know, you called this meeting."
"I just want to drink with my friend, and make sure that the GOP doesn't run an absolute moron this time around. Think you guys can manage that?"
"Yeah, I'll promise you that. When we win this time around, will you invite me to your retirement party?" White asked.
"We'd need to get extra security for you if you come to Boston, the boys up there don't play around," Murphy said with a smile.
"Don't worry, I'll have the Secret Service since, you know, we won."
Both men stayed quiet for a while and puffed their cigars as classical music softly played in the background. The true measure of a friendship is being able to sit quietly with someone and enjoy an experience with some periods of silence.
"Anyway," Murphy said, "who are you guys pushing?"
"Jesus, you're giving me the third degree here," White responded.
"What? I'm asking. Just give me an answer," Murphy said.
"Give me your guy first and I'll give you ours."
"Alright, Kennedy."
"Robert F. Kennedy?"
Murphy almost dropped his cigar as he started laughing his ass off, "Fuck no, Senator John F. Kennedy, Junior."
"Ah, the magazine writer and fashion icon, good luck with that. What about Ann Richards?"
"She loves Texas, I don't think she has it in her heart to run America. That woman will be governor until the day she dies, or she's voted out... So who is your guy?"
"My party is actually democratic, Arnold. So I don't get to hand pick him... But I'm thinking that it'll either be Senator McCain from Arizona, Congressman Mike Pence from Indiana, or Governor Jude LaFleur from Louisiana."
The meeting went on for another two and half hours. Both men smoked two cigars and each killed half a bottle of whiskey. By the time the night was over it was pretty obvious to both men who were the likely contenders for the presidency in 2008.
Arnold Murphy, the Chair of the Democratic National Committee, was dressed in a blue suit and light blue dress shirt, and a dark blue tie. He was 55 years old, overweight, balding, and he wasn't very tall. However, what Murphy was losing in looks, he had in confidence. Any time he walked into a room he was in charge. Thanks in part to Murphy, Clinton had been reelected, Gore was elected, and while the Democrat didn't win in the last election, at least the Republican lost.
An old man with white hair and thick reading glasses escorted Murphy and a friend of his past his office and to a back parlor room.
"Professor," said Murphy, "thanks for accommodating us, I won't forget it." He meant it - favors were not a courtesy to Murphy, they were currency. Murphy made a mental note to himself that if the professor ever needed anything in the future, he would reciprocate.
"I'm pleased to be greasing the wheels of the American republic, Mister Murphy. It's my pleasure," the professor said in his English accent.
Jim White was Murphy's friend - he was the Chairman of the Republican National Committee. White was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a dark red tie. He had just turned 40 years old, was in relatively good shape, had a full head of light brown hair, and he was an inch short of being six feet tall. He was conventionally handsome for a man, more so in a 1990s sense. White had been invited to speak at the college, which had come as a shock to him because the area was deep blue. He was going to turn it down, but Murphy offered to set up a private meeting between them "over smokes," which White didn't want to turn down.
The professor closed a door behind him and Murphy and White were alone. The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood, the seats were real leather, and there were no windows. Murphy sat down in a leather chair, so white took a seat on the leather sofa. There was a coffee table between the two men that had a box of cigars, ash trays, matches, and cigar guillotines.
"Real Cubans," Murphy said as he grabbed one of the full-body, large cigars. He brought one up to his nose and smelled along the side of it. "Fantastic."
"Drinks?" White asked. He had known Murphy for over ten years now - he knew that he was going to want a drink.
"Sure, why not?" Murphy said, as if he hadn't been eyeing the assortment of whiskey on a nearby bar until now.
"Let me guess, something Irish?" White asked.
"Yup, if they got it," Murphy replied. They did indeed have Irish whiskey. White poured a triple for Murphy, on the rocks. Then he poured a double of scotch for himself. He took the two crystal glasses back to where they were sitting and set them down on the coffee table.
Both of the men prepared their cigars and got them lit. Murphy held up his glass to White.
"Cheers," Murphy said. The glasses clinked. "To the Grand Old Party," White replied. Both men laughed.
While Murphy had been Chair of the DNC for about 15 years now, White had only been chair for 14 months. The Republicans hadn't won a presidential election since 1989 and the party was slowly going through a transformation. The Neo-Conservatives, often called Neocons by their detractors, were in a pretty dire state. Whether or not it was true, the general mood within the Republican Party was that the Democratic Party had succeeded in embracing patriotism and national spirit, while also appealing to the needs of every-day, working-class Americans. The Republicans had so far found it very difficult to rally against the Democrats on policy matters - except for taxes. White was considered "a bit young" by most of his colleagues, but his selection as the RNC chairman was a strategic one. Desperate times called for desperate measures. It was ultimately up to him to decide if the party just needed a facelift, a restructuring, or if actually systemic policy shifts were needed. These were difficult thing to contemplate, let alone try to convince others. White had an almost impossible job, but he took it.
Murphy, meanwhile, was a fat cat. He was a New England Democrat, from Boston. He was a union man, he had been a bureaucrat, and now he was the party boss. He was 55 years old, he drank heavily, and he smoked. The Democratic Party was wildly popular under Clinton's first term and under both of Gore's terms. The biggest shock for Murphy and for the Republicans was when Sinclair won the presidency; not so much because they didn't think it was possible for him to win, but because of the disruption it caused to the two-party system.
"Listen, Jim. I've only heard rumors about who you guys are putting up this go around, but I think we can agree it can't be another independent.. And not a Libertarian either, those dipshits would self-destruct two weeks into the term," Murphy said, and then puffed his cigar.
White sat back in his leather chair, took a conservative sip of his scotch, and puffed on his cigar. "The rumor I hear is that you guys want to nominate Sinclair for a second term, whether he wants it or not."
"Sinclair doesn't want it, that's a fact. We'd nominate him if he would accept it, but he won't. He wants to live in that damn lighthouse," Murphy remarked in some frustration.
"Well, maybe he'd take our nomination," White said, sarcastically. This made Murphy laugh; then he puffed his cigar again.
"Really, Jim, who are you guys nominating?"
"Buy me dinner first, Arnold."
"Look - I'm not here to spy and find out who we are putting up campaign adds against. I'm just, you know... Whatever," Murphy said, and then downed his tripple. He got up and poured himself form more Irish.
"You know, what? If I lose the election for us again, and the GOP is fucked, then someone else is going to rise up and take our place. We've talked about this."
"Yeah, better the devil you know," Murphy said as he poured himself more whiskey. "That's not my concern, the Republicans don't concern me. What concerns me is that another independent is going to run and kill both of us."
"Who?" White asked. He was intrigued, this wasn't on his radar. Should he be thinking of this?
"Yeah, I don't know.. I don't know. Look, I want us to win, but I'd rather a Republican over another independent. It's not good for the system, it's not good for the country," Murphy said as he took his seat again.
"Well, what are you saying?" White asked
"I just said it. What else do you want from me?"
"I don't know, you called this meeting."
"I just want to drink with my friend, and make sure that the GOP doesn't run an absolute moron this time around. Think you guys can manage that?"
"Yeah, I'll promise you that. When we win this time around, will you invite me to your retirement party?" White asked.
"We'd need to get extra security for you if you come to Boston, the boys up there don't play around," Murphy said with a smile.
"Don't worry, I'll have the Secret Service since, you know, we won."
Both men stayed quiet for a while and puffed their cigars as classical music softly played in the background. The true measure of a friendship is being able to sit quietly with someone and enjoy an experience with some periods of silence.
"Anyway," Murphy said, "who are you guys pushing?"
"Jesus, you're giving me the third degree here," White responded.
"What? I'm asking. Just give me an answer," Murphy said.
"Give me your guy first and I'll give you ours."
"Alright, Kennedy."
"Robert F. Kennedy?"
Murphy almost dropped his cigar as he started laughing his ass off, "Fuck no, Senator John F. Kennedy, Junior."
"Ah, the magazine writer and fashion icon, good luck with that. What about Ann Richards?"
"She loves Texas, I don't think she has it in her heart to run America. That woman will be governor until the day she dies, or she's voted out... So who is your guy?"
"My party is actually democratic, Arnold. So I don't get to hand pick him... But I'm thinking that it'll either be Senator McCain from Arizona, Congressman Mike Pence from Indiana, or Governor Jude LaFleur from Louisiana."
The meeting went on for another two and half hours. Both men smoked two cigars and each killed half a bottle of whiskey. By the time the night was over it was pretty obvious to both men who were the likely contenders for the presidency in 2008.
