It was well past the nominal quitting time. As he walked across the suite from his own office to the senator’s, Jake saw that the outer workplaces were almost all deserted. Even the senator’s personal executive assistant had left.
Jake had a knotty problem that the senator had to decide on. Stem cell researchers were pushing for clinical trials for using stem cell therapies to repair damaged spinal cords. More conservative medical researchers—and many top echelon bureaucrats in the National Institutes of Health—claimed that it was too soon for human trials. And there were conservative citizens’ groups that were against stem cell work altogether. The issue was going to come before the Senate’s committees on health and science, and Tomlinson had to decide where he stood.
Striding past the executive assistant’s empty desk, Jake tapped on the senator’s door.
“Come on in,” came the senator’s voice.
Opening the door, Jake saw that Tomlinson was at his gleaming broad desk, in his shirtsleeves and fire-engine red suspenders, a cut crystal tumbler of whiskey in one hand. Sitting in front of the desk was Kevin O’Donnell, empty-handed, looking crankier than usual.
“Jake,” Tomlinson said, “Kevin tells me he thinks it’s foolish of me to run for the party’s nomination.”
“I didn’t say foolish,” O’Donnell said.
Tomlinson grinned. “It sounded to me as if you did.”
Jake settled himself in the handsome bottle-green leather chair next to O’Donnell. As diplomatically as he could, he said, “The staff isn’t enthusiastic about the idea.”
Still grinning, the senator leaned back in his padded swivel chair. “I seem to remember that when Abraham Lincoln asked his cabinet to vote on his Emancipation Proclamation they all—each and every one of them—were against it.”
Jake knew what was coming, and a sidelong glance at O’Donnell told him that Kevin knew the tale too.
But Tomlinson plowed ahead. “So Lincoln says, ‘Twelve against, one in favor. The ayes have it.’”
O’Donnell’s expression remained stony.
Jake said, “And we won the Civil War.”
His face going dead serious, Tomlinson said, “Because Lincoln transformed the war from a political battle over states’ rights to a moral crusade about slavery. That’s what won the war.”
“That and Ulysses S. Grant,” O’Donnell muttered.
“Leadership,” said Tomlinson. “Leaders have got to lead, not just follow the safest course of action.”
O’Donnell sighed and allowed himself a minimal smile. “Okay, Frank,” he said as he squirmed unhappily in the chair next to Jake. “You’ve made your point. If you want to run for president, your staff will back you one hundred percent.”
“Thank you, Kevin.”
But the tension in the room was still there; Jake could feel it, like the sullen heat of an August day.
The awkward silence seemed to stretch endlessly. At last Jake said, “We’ve got to work out our position on the stem cell debate that’s coming up.”
O’Donnell seemed to stir himself. “There’s still a lot of religious opposition to stem cell work.”
“But they’re not using fetal cells anymore,” Jake pointed out. “Haven’t been for years.”
“But the religious right is still opposed.”
Tomlinson visibly relaxed also. “The same sort of mind-set that opposed Galileo.”
“The Church apologized for that,” O’Donnell said.
“Four hundred years later,” Tomlinson said, with a mischievous smile.
“There’s still opposition out there to Darwin and evolution,” Jake said. “They’re still trying to rewrite the biology textbooks.”
“Fanatics,” said the senator.
O’Donnell countered, “You’re talking about their basic beliefs, Frank. They have a right to their fundamental beliefs.”
“Yes,” said Jake, feeling the heat rising in him, “but they want to force their beliefs on everybody else.”
“And you want to force your beliefs on them!” O’Donnell insisted.
“Whoa!” Tomlinson raised both hands in a Halt! gesture. “Let’s keep it civil. If you two guys start yelling at each other, you can see how sensitive the subject is.”
Jake realized that the senator was right. Give the other fellow the benefit of the doubt. Don’t demonize the opposition, that just makes everybody dig in their heels and harden their positions.
Still smiling, Senator Tomlinson said, “You know, I had a poly sci professor back at Harvard who told us, ‘Politics is the art of getting free people to work together.’”
Jake nodded and saw that O’Donnell was nodding too.
“Okay,” the staff chief said. “We’ll work out a position statement about stem cell research for you.”
“I’ll draw up the first draft,” said Jake.
“Good,” Tomlinson said. “Now—about my campaign for the nomination.”
“You’ll need a good campaign manager. A damned good one,” said O’Donnell.
“The first thing I’m going to need is money,” Tomlinson said, his smile dwindling. “Can’t run without money.”
“You need to set up a PAC,” Jake realized.
“A super PAC,” O’Donnell corrected. “They can raise more money without legislative restraints.”
Tomlinson nodded.
“Frank,” said O’Donnell, “this will be a national campaign. It’s going to be a lot different from the state campaigns for the Senate, you know.”
“I know. I know.” Turning to Jake again, the senator said, “Jake, it was your energy plan that got me elected to the Senate. Now I need another good idea, something that will get me noticed by the national media and bring in the votes I need.”
“And the money,” O’Donnell added.
“And the money,” Tomlinson agreed. “We’re going to need a lot of money.”