72

ON THE SIX DAYS that followed her meeting with the Tarantinos, Richardson did the job McMurphy laid out for her. She spoke earlier to the press secretaries for each of the candidates and obtained their itineraries for the days she would cover their campaigns. She then made arrangements to travel with each candidate and his or her core group of advisors so she could interview them as they moved from one speaking engagement to the next.

Jenna listened to all the speeches the various office seekers made. The essential message each sought to deliver was referred to as “The Speech” by the TV crews and print media that recorded each event. She was quickly able to separate the core points of their deliveries from the glut of issues they felt obliged to sift through and mention in some way or other before different audiences. She watched everyone and everything very carefully, listened to the banter that took place between a candidate and his “brain trust,” and made notes of all her impressions.

Character traits were important to Jenna. It was the reason she observed how each of the candidates treated staff and the media. She noted whether they reacted calmly or with some degree of panic to poor audiences or unexpected events. Something bizarre occurred often enough, as when a heckler stood up in the middle of a David Whitley speech to a Catholic organization and asked if it was true that Whitley’s daughter had an abortion. Jenna was also curious as to how they spoke about their opponents, both to the voters and in private conversations.

McMurphy warned Jenna that her stories about each of the candidates were only part of the assignment. He said that, later on, when it came time for the Herald to make its endorsements, she would be called in by the senior editors and asked a multitude of questions. They would want to know how the candidates either responded to, or evaded the important issues. She’d be told to rate each of them on aptitude, character and sincerity. And the executives would be especially interested in her impressions of whether the candidates’ egos seemed more important to them than the welfare of the citizens of Rhode Island.

Other than the half day in which she observed Kate Williston, who was running to keep her seat in Congress, Richardson moved in a man’s world during this intense period. Each evening, before going to bed, she assembled the notes she made during the day and used them to draft a rough outline of the stories to be handed in to McMurphy after she returned. At the same time, she reviewed all the background material about each candidate that was contained in the press kit given to her. She was often able to weave pieces of that individual’s personal history into what audiences were promised would get done if he or she was elected.

Jenna regarded her day with the Fiore campaign as the most interesting and enjoyable. When she interviewed him the first time, early in the primary battle, she found him stiff and very defensive. It was what could be expected from someone making his first foray into politics, she thought back then. Now he was quite at ease with himself. His “speech” was fine-tuned, and he made an effort to insert a little humor into every appearance, regardless of the size of his audience. Fiore discovered early on, as he recognized at the Hanleys’ Valentine’s Day party, that those who came to listen to him loved hearing anti-lawyer jokes. They were especially appreciated when coming from a member of that profession, and he alternated the dozen or so he knew as he spoke to the different groups.

Richardson felt that Fiore’s handlers were also more knowledgeable and entertaining than any of the others. Russ Walsh had story upon story, some of them side splitters, to tell about politics in “the good old days.” There was never a long pause in the conversation when she rode in the same car with him.

Cyril Berman had joined Walsh and Karp that day to assess crowd reaction to Fiore’s speeches, and there were some things he didn’t want to talk about while Jenna was present. That definitely included ongoing campaign strategy. He said enough, however, to convince her that he knew how to juggle every piece of their program in his head. A real pro, she told herself, realizing it was a term the impressionable young media people threw around far too often.

“How did you get involved with the Fiore campaign?” she asked him.

Berman stared at her in silence for several seconds before shrugging his shoulders. “I never asked who it was that knew my reputation and suggested using me.”

“Who contacted you about taking on the job?”

“It was one of Fiore’s supporters, a guy I’d never met.”

Of course, as Jenna understood, the recent polling results had a lot to do with the good feeling in the Fiore camp. She didn’t know that Cyril Berman would have been satisfied to see his candidate even with Singer in the polls at this stage of the campaign, or even running two to three percentage points behind. But Fiore jumped out to a 52–48 lead in the first numbers published in the Herald after the primaries. And now, in the second week of October, the name recognition he received as a result of the Cardella tragedy pushed him ten points ahead of Singer, at 53–43, with four percent undecided. Berman knew they would never hold on to that kind of a margin. Still, the election was only twenty-four days away, and he began crossing each day off the calendar before going to bed, telling himself that they were one day closer to victory. He felt confident, but in a shaky sort of way, that if Fiore avoided a major blunder in the time remaining, he’d be the new governor of Rhode Island.

That night, as Jenna familiarized herself with Fiore’s background and career before outlining her story, she noticed that he graduated from Princeton University in 1968. She racked her brain for several minutes in an effort to recall where she saw or heard a reference to Princeton recently. Finally, the image of Sal Tarantino, bragging in his own way that his son was a Princeton alum, came to her. The two men were about the same age, she thought, and wondered if they knew each other during their college days. She made a note to call the registrar’s office at the University the next day and see if she could get any information.

* * *

“Thank you for holding, Ms. Richardson. I have the record for Mr. Tarantino here. That was Salvatore Michael, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And what is it you wish to know?”

“What year did he graduate?”

“Let’s see. Mr. Tarantino graduated in 1968. He entered the University in September of ’64 and matriculated the four years without any interruptions.”

Jenna felt a small surge of excitement. “How about roommates, Mrs. Thompson, do your records show who they were?”

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Richardson. That would be something the Housing Office may be able to help you with. If Mr. Tarantino lived on campus, I believe his card would show the name of anyone else who occupied the same room. If he was off campus, they’d probably have no record of him for that period of time.”

“Well, if he did live off campus, who would have the address? Wouldn’t your office need it to make sure he got his grades?”

“It all depends on where he asked to have them sent. In those days, most of the students’ grades were mailed out to their parents’ home addresses. In fact that was done automatically unless the student submitted a form with different instructions. Today, with the privacy laws, we don’t do that anymore. It goes straight into the student’s mailbox on campus.”

“Is there anything in that file you’re looking at that shows an off-campus address?” Jenna asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. This just contains some essential information. Everything else would be on microfilm. You’re talking twenty-five years ago.”

“How would I be able to get that information?” Jenna was trying to keep her mounting frustration under control.

“Unfortunately, you’d have to come here and look through it yourself. We’re not staffed to do that kind of thing.”

“Do I need an appointment?”

“No, Ms. Richardson, but I’d advise against coming on a Friday.”

“Fine. Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. You’ve been a great help. I’ll see you next week.”