Dawn of the Unthinkable (29 page)

So it was a happy but nervous group that
boarded the train on a fine summer day to meet with a United States
Senator. They prepped on the way down, deciding that Ryan would do
the introduction of the idea, Cunningham the technical analysis,
and Palma summarizing their progress to date. They all felt
comfortable with their roles, but were anxious presenting it to
someone who they did not know outside of the media. They were
pretty sure they would be granted a somewhat courteous reception
based on the connection that they had, but then again they weren’t
coming to ask support for a routine issue. They were after the
whole
enchilada,
an amendment. They weren’t sure if Kennedy
had ever proposed one before, but here was his big chance walking
in the door.

They found the Senate office building and
once having cleared security took the elevator to his floor. They
went into his office and were greeted by a pleasant receptionist
who ushered them into a conference room. The room held a very nice
mahogany table with comfortable chairs around it. None of them
could sit, however, as there were too many interesting pictures on
the wall to be looked at. Pictures of Kennedy home gatherings, of
Ted with Jack and Bobby, of Ted with every President since he began
his time in the Senate in 1962. Pictures with too many heads of
state to count and then with the many celebrities he had met. It
was a fascinating behind-the-scenes view of a man who led an
extremely public life and apparently thrived on it. While he had
had many personal tragedies, he had overcome them to the point that
even though his brothers were more famous in death than he was in
life. He had probably actually contributed more than they had. They
were so engrossed in their stargazing they were startled to hear
his voice outside the door and scrambled to resume to their seats,
not wanting to get caught acting like fans.

The next thing they knew, he swept into the
room, trailed by the ubiquitous aides. He smiled at all of them,
and said in that unmistakable voice, “Gentlemen, welcome to
Washington.” He went around the table and shook hands with all of
them in turn, stopping when he came to Cunningham to express his
condolences about his uncle. “Your uncle was a great man, Professor
Cunningham. He was very inspirational to me when I tried to
introduce civil rights legislation, and I used to consult with him
over some Constitutional questions. He’ll be missed.” The other two
were a little jealous at Cunningham’s being singled out but had to
push that out of their minds as Kennedy sat down and indicated that
their allotted half hour had started.

He introduced his three aides quickly and
they nodded politely to the group. The brash young questioner of
Cunningham was there, and they made the obligatory remarks about
how it was good to put a name to a face. The other male aide was a
young staffer who appeared to be there to take notes only; he
didn’t say much. The last aide was memorable, though, and occupied
their attention for a while.

Karen Strock was a mid-thirtyish woman with
dark brown hair, a pretty, intelligent face, and a tremendous
figure. It was obvious that she was an important aide, and when
Kennedy introduced her as his chief-of-staff, that view was
confirmed. Due to her obvious attractiveness, there had been many
rumors about his having an affair with her, but in fact they were
friends and nothing more. She was an excellent aide to him, knowing
how to get his agenda moved in the Senate and to make sure the
right spin came out in the press. The men resisted the impulse to
look at her longer, and Kennedy sat amused as he watched the men
try to collect themselves in the presence of such a stunner, and
himself. He had witnessed this scene many times before and still
got a kick out of it.

After a few more pleasantries, he turned to
Ryan and said, “So, young man, you wish to solve the United States’
problems in one shot. I say good luck to you, sir.” He motioned
toward Cunningham, “His uncle, my brothers and I, and countless
others have been nibbling away at the edges of the problem for
years and have made such little progress that frankly I’m amazed to
see you three of different races being together, let alone
cooperating on something.” He looked from one to another, trying to
see how well they dealt with their differences. If he was going to
put a toe in this leaky boat, he wanted to make sure the other
sailors were not out to cut each other’s throats.

Ryan took his cue. “Senator, we might not
have known each other for long, but it turns out that we’ve all had
a lifelong passion for trying to find a big solution, not just a
patchwork attempt. We’ve seen good men like you struggle their
whole lives to move things just a little, and it seems like those
people are resisted, even to the point of death.” Kennedy’s eyes
narrowed a little at this obvious and clumsy allusion to his
brothers. Ryan saw that his intended tribute had been a mistake,
and he hurried on. “What we’ve learned is that we represent three
of the largest races in the United States and that we all have
something valuable to add to this project. Also, for something like
this to succeed, all the races would have to pull together. That’s
where Mr. Estrada-Palma’s contribution becomes so valuable. The
Wobblies already cut across race, age, and gender, and are free of
any obvious political affiliation other than their left-leaning
philosophy. As such, I think we are a natural group for you to be
able to support as we have supported many of the same causes you
have over the years. Now, I would like to explain the idea as we
see it working, have Dr. Cunningham give an analysis of the
amendment possibilities, and then have Mr. Palma describe the
progress we’ve made to date, and then summarize by describing what
role we would ask you to play. Is that acceptable?” Ryan asked this
in a respectful tone, hoping that the senator would agree and not
screw up their presentation.

Fortunately, he said, “You have the floor,”
and settled back into his chair to hear what they had to say. Ryan
took a deep breath and began.

He ran through the usual litany of how the
plan started and what concepts had been drawn on to formulate it.
He admitted some parts would need updating as technology and social
issues advanced but that any such plan would require so many years
to implement and that a beginning should be made soon to cope with
all of the social, political, legal, and moral issues involved. He
said they knew that it would be a long, uphill battle, but they
thought the sooner it was started the better, and that the
technology required was on the verge of being able to support the
massive network that would be required to run this idea. But in
order to do that, they needed government support. And to not get
laughed out of the ballpark from the beginning, they needed a
powerful legislative sponsor.

Kennedy sat mostly still during this
recitation, occasionally taking notes, or leaning forward to
whisper some comments to Strock, whose eyes were locked on Ryan.
She would, of course, as chief-of-staff have much to do with what
the senator’s reaction to this would be, so Ryan tried to make as
much eye contact with her as possible, but her looks were
distracting. He was glad when his part was over, and he turned the
ball over to Cunningham.

Cunningham had done an analysis of all the
Amendments to the Constitution and had a chart as to how they were
passed, what strategies were used, and why many had failed. He
spoke in the easy, confident manner of one who had been teaching
for a long time, but in fact, he was quite nervous at the start. As
he went on, though, he gained confidence and he could see that
Kennedy and his aides were impressed by the amount of research that
he had put into the process. In fact, this was what they did when
they were proposing legislation but not in such a methodical
manner. Cunningham had analyzed the entire Senate and Congress’s
potential votes, done the math, and come up with several different
scenarios for success and defeat. He was realistic enough to
predict that it would get stuck in several committees, that it
would have powerful enemies, and that the senator would have to
call in virtually every marker he had in town to get the job done.
He correctly anticipated that a Republican President would wait to
see which way the wind would blow before he came down on one side
or the other, but that he may not be much of a factor, as he would
probably be out of office by the time this really got rolling. So,
for a non-Beltway type, he did a fairly decent job of mapping out a
moving strategy for this cockamamie idea. His presentation raised
the group’s creditability with both the senator and the aides, and
they waited to see what Palma had to say.

Estrada-Palma prided himself on being able
to read people and adjust his presentation to fit their
personality. He had determined that the woman was the most
important person to sell in the room, and while paying all due
respect to the senator, he should gear his pitch toward her. She
was a complex mix though, tough but feminine, sexy and intelligent.
He really didn’t encounter many women like this in his travels, and
he spent the time while his friends were going through their spiels
studying her. His colleagues thought he was indulging his single
man’s freedom to gawk and lust, but he was doing a dance of casting
glances at her, watching the senator’s reactions and evaluating his
partner’s presentations. By the time Cunningham was wrapping up, he
thought he knew how he was going to approach his part. He stood up
and cleared his throat.

“Senator and Ms. Strock,” he said
confidently, purposely ignoring the other two aides. He thought she
would enjoy being singled out as being on the same level as the
senator and took the calculated risk of alienating the other two.
“I have come to embrace this idea despite my background, which
includes growing up poor and distrusting authority in a
barrio
near San Antonio. The people there have a deep
suspicion of the government, having been harassed for much of their
lives due to the color of their skin and the difference of their
language. But I was raised by a proud strong woman who joined the
Wobblies as her parents had before her. They joined because it was
an organization that first and foremost recognized the value of its
members and would do practically anything to support them. It
didn’t care if you were a minority or a woman, your voice was as
important as any other members. This was a type of democracy that
gave them comfort when the outside world treated them like dirt,
practically enslaved them, and offered no potential to better
themselves.

“Now, I have risen to the top of this
organization, and while the government almost eradicated us back in
the twenties and thirties, we stuck around, helping where we could
and waiting for a day when something came along where we could make
a real difference. Well, the time has come.”

Palma adjusted his tie and gestured to Ryan,
“This man has come up with an idea that embodies our philosophy of
equality for all and that the worker should be honored and
rewarded. The idea requires that we trust the government to run a
system that will distribute assets equally between everyone, and
that is a huge leap of faith for us. But I have proposed this to my
union, and they have accepted it. They have spread the word amongst
other workers who have not yet joined, and convinced them that the
time has come to go beyond what we have now and advance as a
civilization. This will require that we give up some freedom, and
for people that used to ride the rails that is a tough, tough
decision. But they have some wisdom in them, and they have the
words of their executed leader, Joe Hill, ‘Don’t mourn; organize.’.
That is what they are choosing to do with this plan, and now there
are two point five million of them, lined up, ready to do their
part.” With this, he sat down, giving Strock a little smile and
nod. He had made as much eye contact with her as possible and
thought that he might have established some chemistry with her.

Kennedy’s eyebrows went up at the mention of
the figure, and the aides leaned over and whispered to each other.
This was much more than the number he had been told, and he
wondered if the union leader, who was one of a group not noted for
their truthfulness or integrity, was telling the truth. Even if he
was embellishing a bit, the thought that that large block of voters
were lining up behind this strange solution was compelling and was
possibly the type of issue that they would want to be out front on.
He was still a vibrant leader, and could get elected as long as he
wanted in his liberal state. He was just the man to spearhead a
possible amendment, one that would literally turn the world on its
head. He had no doubt that it would have to go worldwide, because
as the United States went economically, the world eventually had to
follow. He mulled it over, especially the part about divestiture.
As a member of a wealthy family, it would be odd to be championing
something like divestiture of that wealth, but the idea of
spreading it out over several successive generations of his family
appealed to him. That way, each new generation would not become
accustomed to excessive wealth and the self-destruction that being
handed your future could bring. On the face of it, the idea had
some merit, and he was anxious to discuss it with his staff. So he
was ready for the group to leave and hoped that they would wrap up
soon. He looked around them to see if anyone had anything else, and
Ryan jumped in.

“Senator, we were directed to you by Justice
Marshall, who fought for many of the issues that you fight for now.
He knew that we would need a powerful sponsor to pull this off,
even if we had a billion Wobblies wobbling toward it. We had
already made up our minds that you were the man we needed to do
this. If you say no, we’ll proposition someone else, but we don’t
feel that there is anyone so well-qualified or uniquely positioned
to do it. Therefore, our group formally asks for your help in
trying to pass an Amendment to enact a new political, economic, and
social system in the United States.”