Dawn of the Unthinkable (28 page)

Cunningham felt his heart start to race, and
he took a deep breath to calm down. He was prepared for a lukewarm
reception to the idea but not an outright attack. He had pinned his
hopes on his uncle’s help, and he realized that he really didn’t
have a good alternative plan for continuing. He couldn’t remember a
time when he had been more disappointed. Now it appeared that he
would never make his mark, and a potential solution had gone down
the tubes. He supposed he should try to conclude his visit politely
and leave. He was trying to figure that out when he realized the
Justice was staring at him. He looked up to see why.

“Ah, give up that easy, would you?” the
Justice asked softly. He continued, “You know, when I was involved
in the civil rights cases, I was threatened, scorned, ridiculed,
almost got lynched once. I was scared sometimes, scared for my
family, too. But I persevered, not because I wanted to be a hero,
but because I knew what I was fighting for was right, and that for
whatever reason, the Lord picked me to lead this fight, and that I
had
to persevere. Now, I just gave you a little taste of how
men more powerful than me will come after you, and they’ll have a
weapon I didn’t have at my disposal —hatred. They’ll hate you for
your idea, and they’ll hate you for your color. So, before I get
involved in this, I need to know. Will you persevere?” The Justice
sat back in his huge leather chair and waited for his answer.

Cunningham didn’t know what to say. At
first, he wanted to enjoy that his uncle had removed his absolute
denial of aid. But now a man he would never want to disappoint or
give reason to be ashamed was challenging him for a commitment.
Could he, could
they,
pull this off? He thought about his
and his team’s qualifications. All three were young, aggressive,
and ambitious. He and Ryan had wives and children; Estrada Palma
was single. All were motivated toward helping society but until now
had not had a proper vehicle to be able to affect much. He realized
that he had to be absolutely certain of his own commitment before
he asked for his uncle’s help. He looked back up at the man who had
risked his life for others, and he knew his answer.

“I want this more than anything, Your Honor,
and I will persevere,” he said emphatically.

Justice Marshall smiled and nodded his head.
“Yes, yes, that’s what I thought you’d say. Intolerance for the
status quo is something I’ve always tried to instill in anyone who
cares to listen to me, and I can see that some of that has taken
root in you. All right then, I will do what I can to help, provided
what this young man says makes sense and is defensible morally,
legally, and practically. Now, have you brought the paper this
fellow, what did you say his name was?”

Cunningham fumbled for his bag while
answering, “Yes, sir, his name is Nicholas Ryan, and he’s an adult
student in one of my Poli-Sci classes. He’s a big, good-natured
Irish guy. Would almost remind you of Tip O’Neill. He’s a Federal
government worker with no apparent profit motives driving him, just
a desire to see things work out for everyone, plus a family tragedy
that pushed him to write it. I questioned him for past nefarious
behavior that could be dug up to discredit him and he doesn’t seem
to have anything objectionable. Has a Master’s Degree, and no fear
of public speaking, but then again, he’s never had to face a
hostile press corps before. He’s the spokesman; it’s his plan.” He
handed the justice a copy of Ryan’s paper.

Marshall took it and looked at it
appraisingly. “
A Proposal to Reorder Society
, eh? Could he
have picked a more ambitious title?” he asked with bemusement. He
started to quickly scan the paper, mumbling as he read, “Hmm, no
hunger, crime or need…well, that’s true enough, we shouldn’t have
those things…all men created equal, uh-huh, supposed to be, anyway.
It says here, ‘…this proposal lays out the framework of a new type
of democracy’, wow, that’s something. This guy thinks he can really
came up with something no one has thought of before? Come, nephew,
I’m sure there is nothing in here that hasn’t been considered
before. He might just be putting various pieces together in a new
way. Wait, wait, don’t object, I may still support it. I have to
finish reading it, and it might end up being unique even if he is
borrowing from everyone and their mother. Now let me see, where was
I, oh yes, eliminate money in all forms…why, yes, why not, we can
all go out into the street and trade our belongings to each other.”
He chuckled, and Cunningham had to laugh in spite of himself. The
way the justice was running through the thing was amusing, but he
reminded himself he was a friendly, “home court” type of audience.
The questions thrown with daggers would come soon enough.

Cunningham got up to look out the window
while the justice continued reading. Since he had taken it this far
and committed to his uncle that he would follow through, he felt
inner steel forming within him to defend this idea, which he was
starting to consider somewhat noble. He remembered the struggle of
the Wobblies to put power in the hands of the working class and how
they allowed all members to have a hand in the running of the
union’s affairs. Women and minorities were not discriminated
against and indeed had an important role to play in the union’s
brief history. What was so wrong with that? He had by now met some
other Wobblies and they seemed to be nice, peaceable people who
were genuinely concerned with the welfare of their fellow human
beings. Why, they would even join your cause if you weren’t a
card-holding Wobbly if it was of a humanistic nature. The fact that
one of them, Joe Hill, was executed for union activities blew him
away. How many current day union leaders would have that type of
commitment to ideals? Then he remembered Dr. Martin Luther King and
his sacrifice and wondered whether he would be able to make that
type of sacrifice if the time came. He was afraid of his
answer.

He heard soft snoring behind him and turned
to find Justice Marshall asleep in his chair, the paper sliding out
of his hand. Cunningham smiled and took it from him and put it on
his desk. He gathered up his belongings and prepared to leave. He
quietly left the room and told his aunt what had happened. She
laughed and said he often napped during the afternoon, and she
usually let him go for just an hour, or he couldn’t sleep at night.
He kissed her goodbye and was about to leave when he heard one
sharp word.

“Kennedy,” the Justice barked at him, making
his way stiffly down the hall, “it has to be Ted Kennedy.”
Cunningham opened his eyes wide in surprise and thankfulness, as
that was whom the group had chosen, too, after much thought. He was
delighted that his uncle had finished the paper and connected to
the same man they had so quickly.

His uncle answered his thought instead of
the unasked question. “You need someone with staying power, someone
who knows everybody, and everybody knows him. He’s a wily
legislator and a tough son-of-a-bitch when he wants to be.
Obviously, he can weather most any type of storm, be it personal or
political. I think he might be interested in something like this,
which would allow him to make a mark like his brothers. Whether he
would actually throw his weight behind it, I don’t know. He loves
being a senator, has had a distinguished career, and this could be
political suicide. Plus, he has to deal with his allegiance to
Crane Paper; this won’t go over too big with them. But, I will make
the call to see if he will grant you an audience. After that you
are on your own. I’d recommend coming with a lot of votes in your
pocket.”

Cunningham’s eyes misted up with gratitude.
He thanked genetics again for allowing his aunt to meld this
impressive man onto his life. He had to ask one question, though.
He looked at his uncle and said, “Will you tell him you support
it?”

Thurgood Marshall looked at him
appraisingly, and a slight smile played out over his face.

“I will. Yes, indeed, I will.”

The Justice made the call and expressed his
support. Senator Kennedy graciously agreed to meet with the men.
They hung up after agreeing to get together after the meeting, but
two weeks later, before the meeting, Justice Marshall died.

Summer 1993

Wayne Cunningham came back to report to the
others more fired up than ever. They were impressed with his
connections, and the thought of meeting one of the giants of
legislative history thrilled them beyond words. It also made them
very nervous, as Kennedy was a man who could obviously make the
public aware of their idea very quickly, much more so than just
having a large number of working class people on their side.
American society was such that a celebrity of any type could
command much more attention than a million people lined up behind
an idea. And a Kennedy was as close to royalty as you could get. Of
course, the younger generation would not have much interest in the
aging senator, but they knew well enough that if they could
convince him to float the idea in one of his committees, they would
gain the exposure they were looking for. And whether they received
positive or negative responses, support and interest would almost
inevitably follow. It would then be up to them to make sure it
lasted beyond the proverbial fifteen minutes. They started to
prepare for their meeting with the senator.

It turned out that beyond the qualifications
that Justice Marshall had attributed to him, Kennedy was almost
perfectly oriented in the Senate to propose an idea like theirs. He
was chairman of the Labor and Human Resources Committee and a
member of the Judiciary, Armed Services, and Joint Economic
committees. By luck, he was also the first member of Congress to
have a website, so he was well versed in computers. He was the
Senate’s most consistent supporter of civil rights and had been the
sponsor or cosponsor of much legislation related to that area, as
well as health care, education, labor, and many other issues that
their plan dealt with. So in a way, they would be explaining their
goal to somewhat of a sympathizer at least. But he was also a rich
man, from a rich family, and the divestiture idea would probably
not appeal to him. And, as Justice Marshall had noted, Crane Paper,
the only company that supplied the paper used to make US currency,
was in his home state. He had been a vocal opponent of the move to
replace paper money with coins, which lasted for thirty years
instead of for eighteen months like a bill. But they did not care
too much about what specific pieces he might object to, just that
they were going to get a chance to tell him about it. Of course,
just getting to see him became a very complicated mission.

As one of the most senior members of one of
the world’s most exclusive clubs, his aides parceled out his time
jealously. They knew that the group had been promised a meeting by
the senator as a favor to the late Justice Marshall, but other than
that, they were not too sure of their purpose. They had to be
careful who they actually invited to meetings because just allowing
someone in such an august legislator’s door conferred some amount
of legitimacy to them, and that could have bad results. So one
young aide called Cunningham repeatedly, probing him with the type
of questions he was starting to get used to by now. He answered
them all patiently, submitted a copy of Ryan’s paper and their
newly developed plan for proceeding on an amendment, and even
estimated how much of the senator’s time they felt they would need.
Finally, three months after Justice Marshall called, the meeting
was arranged for a Friday afternoon in Washington, during a short
recess. The staff had decided that this talk was goofy enough that
they didn’t want too much press around to notice their coming and
would have gladly called it off altogether if the senator hadn't
insisted on honoring his commitment to Justice Marshall.

The day of the meeting, they all got dressed
in their best suits and headed for the train. Kathy kissed her
husband goodbye and wished him good luck, squeezing his butt as he
left. She had, of course, informed all her friends and relatives
about the trip while trying to downplay the exact nature of it. She
still wasn’t comfortable with explaining to people what Nick was up
to, but she resolved that if Kennedy offered some support, she
would get behind it too. Not because she expected it to work,
because she still didn’t think it would, but because having a
senator’s approval would certainly legitimize it for her. She knew
enough that things would start to pick up if Kennedy bought it, and
she couldn’t undermine her husband by appearing opposed to him. So
she sent him off with mixed feelings, some excitement at the
prestige of meeting the senator and some fear of the unknown to
follow.

Cunningham’s wife, Charise, had been keeping
this very quiet, due to her fear of the effect it would have on her
husband’s career. While she was a successful attorney and could
support the family if necessary, they were trying to climb the
social ladder to make things better for their two children, Daniel
and Kiesha. So it was with great trepidation that she bid her
husband off, although she was proud of him for being involved in a
worthwhile cause.

Palma, of course, didn’t have to get
anyone’s blessing before he left, as he lived alone in South Philly
near the Italian Market and was not currently in a relationship. He
kind of felt like
Rocky
when he walked (not ran) through the
market just like in the movie. He told his mother, and she gushed
with pride, telling him to get some pictures. He also told the
Wobblies council, and they were pleased, feeling that Kennedy was
in their corner more often than any other legislator. They wanted
to put out a press release, but Palma nixed that, saying it was
premature. He was pleased with their approval, though, and went off
in high spirits.