33

THE “ROAD SHOW,” AS Russell Walsh called it, went beautifully. Each morning Fiore parked his car in the Biltmore garage and waited in the hotel lobby until he saw Lester Karp’s light green Lincoln Continental pull up in front. Karp always drove, while Fiore and Walsh shared the back seat.

Doug marveled at the physical contrast between the two men. Karp, who was at least seventy years old, was about an inch taller than Fiore but couldn’t have weighed more than 135 pounds. There was a certain herky-jerkiness to his walk that made his companions tend to hold on to one of his arms when the wind blew, afraid he’d be unable to withstand its force. The sunglasses he wore most of the time hid the deep sockets in which a pair of dark squinty eyes were located. Although freshly shaved each morning, a very noticeable five o’clock shadow would settle in by early afternoon. Almost everything about him seemed to impart a feeling of sadness.

Walsh, on the other hand, stood several inches over six feet and carried about 225 pounds very well. In his early sixties, he still had most of his hair, which was rapidly turning gray and which he wore cut short. There was a constant gleam in his green eyes, as if he was about to spring the punch line of a dirty joke. His square jaw, the envy of any Hollywood leading man, was even more attractive for the small cleft it featured. He moved with the assurance of a man who was an athlete for many years, and knew when he smiled that others couldn’t avoid its infectious quality.

As they went from meeting to meeting, Walsh continuously refreshed Fiore’s recollection about the next one of the “pillars” they were about to visit.

“Remember, Doug, Ted Morris is anti-abortion. He hates John Sacco with a passion because he gave a lot of money to the campaign two years ago but Sacco didn’t find a job for his son-in-law. If he brings it up, tell him you sympathize with his position on ‘right-to-life’ but you may have to support ‘choice’ to get elected. He spent a fortune for the art work in his house, so go ga-ga over every piece you see.”

Back on the road an hour or so later, Walsh’s prepping picked up again.

“Don’t forget, Jane Hoyt had a nephew killed by some kid who was whacked out on cocaine. The drug and crime issues are the only things that really count with her. She’s been on the Portsmouth School Committee for a hundred years. Don’t waste time with her husband, just the formalities. She calls all the shots and she can bring in a lot of votes. She thinks the slot machine parlor on the main drag is the worst thing that ever happened to Newport. Tear into it if she brings it up.”

Whenever Walsh thought Fiore was getting a little nervous about the next person on the schedule, he told war stories from his own years in politics. His tales evoked smoke-filled rooms, last minute deals and money being passed under the table. He had a story to tell about every former politician whose name Karp threw over his shoulder from the front seat. Each one seemed to begin the same way: “Jimmy Dwyer, huh, Lester? Let me tell you a little something about Jimmy Dwyer you never heard before.” Invariably, the anecdotes he recited and the history he chronicled, full of the zaniest of characters, brought on gales of laughter from his companions in the Lincoln. They succeeded each time in putting Fiore in a relaxed frame of mind.

The three men played a game throughout the road show. After each meeting with one of Fiore’s supporters, they would grade his performance in their separate notebooks, from a low of fifty points to a high of one hundred. On the way to their next stop, they compared scores, while dissecting the pros and cons of the meeting itself. Doug never gave himself a mark below ninety.

The lowest grade came from Walsh, who hit him with a seventy-five after one visit during the first week. He was incensed that Doug forgot to discuss his pro-Israel position in a meeting with a wealthy Jewish couple who lived on Providence’s East Side. Walsh was certain the Shapiros were waiting for Fiore to bring it up, but he was afraid it would look phony if he tried to prod Doug into mentioning it. Fiore couldn’t attempt to excuse the lapse by telling Walsh that his mind was wandering during the conversation. He didn’t want to confess that he kept thinking about Pat Hanley who lived just a block away on the same street.

Three of Fiore’s “pillars” were State senators, including the second and third most powerful republicans in that chamber. Five others were State representatives and eleven were either mayors or selectmen in various cities and towns. Fiore noticed that it was his supporters from the political arena who were most vocal about the need to keep State government out of casino gambling. He assumed that the Tarantino family contributed significant financial assistance toward getting them elected to office and ensconced in their positions.

Doug spent the weekend between meetings catching up on his sleep and studying the tape of the thirty-three people he would be seeing in the next five days. The schedule underwent minor alterations by Berman when two of the supporters on the first list had to rule out their availability at the last minute for different reasons.

On Saturday morning, Federal Express delivered an audio cassette to Fiore’s home. On it, Berman let him know that he made a great impression all around. “I’ve followed up every visit you made during the week with a phone call,” he related. “Everyone’s much more enthusiastic about the campaign now that they had the chance to meet you. Lester won’t have any trouble raising funds once all the meetings are over and he turns his attention in that direction.”

Fiore recalled that the last words spoken when they left the homes of his prime supporters were always those in Karp’s high-pitched voice saying, “Thanks for your trust and encouragement. We’ll be back in touch soon.” Berman’s message succeeded in bolstering Doug’s confidence even more. It sent him into the second week of meetings determined to be able to grade himself no lower than a ninety-five at any time.

The first three days flew by. Fiore was exhausted after the last of the supporters they saw each day listened to his views on the issues that concerned him or her the most. Walsh usually fell asleep in the car as soon as they scored Doug on the final performance of the evening, and they made the return to the Biltmore mostly in silence. Fiore preferred to take a room there overnight instead of driving back to East Greenwich, but he didn’t want to upset Grace at this early stage of the campaign.

On Thursday, with all of their appointments in the neighboring towns of Warren and Bristol, Walsh was able to schedule them closer together. Shortly after five o’clock, they left the home of a software manufacturer who lived about half a mile from Roger Williams College. When they returned to the Lincoln, Berman contacted them on the car phone. He told them that the State representative from Bristol, who was scheduled to be their last visit that night, was going to join them instead at their six o’clock meeting in Warren. That was at the home of Don Avila, the general manager of the Raytheon plant located across the Mount Hope Bridge, in Portsmouth.

“It should be okay,” Berman said. “Sousa, the rep, has been trying to get a few jobs from Raytheon for some engineers in his district who have supported him for a long time. He wants the chance to lean on Avila a little tonight. He figures it will be easier to do with you guys there because they’re both in our corner. He may even stick around after you leave. Just don’t let him put you in the middle of his problem.”

Berman finished his message, wished them good luck and cut off. They decided to kill a little time and have another cup of coffee before crossing into Warren and looking for Avila’s house.

Fiore realized that the change in schedule would have him back in Providence by eight o’clock that night. When Karp pulled into the parking lot of the Jade Tree Restaurant on Main Street, Doug went to the pay phone and called Carol in the office. The receptionist said that no one was answering that line but that she would have her paged.

It took a couple of minutes before Carol came on the phone. When she heard his voice, she responded icily, as if the name meant nothing to her.

He picked up on it right away. “Hey, give me a break. I know you’re upset but you can’t believe how busy I’ve been. The last ten days have shot by like a bat out of hell.”

“You could have called.”

“If I could have, I would have. I apologize, but there was just never the time. I’ve missed you very much.”

She melted quickly. “I missed you too.”

That’s what he was waiting for. It was the prelude for the invitation to follow.

“I’ll be through with what I’m doing in a couple of hours. I can be in Providence early enough for us to get together at whatever hotel you work best in.”

“I can’t, Doug. It’s out of the question.” Her voice revealed the regret she felt over having to say it. “I’m in a three million dollar closing with Twentieth Century Windfarm,” she explained. “Spalding Bank is putting up the loan. We were supposed to start at noon but one of the lawyers was tied up in bankruptcy court until three. There are piles and piles of documents on this one. You wouldn’t believe what the large conference room looks like. I think it may take six hours to get through this if everything goes smoothly, and how often does that happen? I’ll be ready to collapse when it’s over.” There was a pause before Carol asked, “Are you going to be back in the office on Monday?”

He said he would, and she told him she’d see him then.

“Is anything new with Bruce and his campaign?”

“We don’t talk about it,” she answered quickly.

When the conversation was over, Carol hurried back to the conference room from the office where she took Fiore’s call. She wondered why he asked her that last question. She couldn’t remember his ever inquiring about Bruce before.

Doug phoned Pat Hanley. He informed her that he was away from the office for two weeks and didn’t speak to George Ryder in that time. “Is anything new on Ocean State?” he asked.

“I’m more worried about it than before, Doug. Is there a time we can get together to talk about it?”

“I’m coming into Providence from Warren tonight to pick up my car. I’ll be there about eight o’clock. If you want to do it then, it’s okay.”

“Yes, let’s. Brad’s in negotiations with the Union today and warned me that he’d probably be home quite late. It’s very nice of you, Doug.”

“My pleasure. Where will we meet?”

“I’ll be waiting for you in Room 606.”

Doug smiled. “Definitely, my pleasure,” he said.