The Pa-la-ti-'shan Page 7

  “Lisa, good to see you, and you must be Mr. Green,” she greeted us as we entered.

  “Looks like you uncovered quite a mess Mr. Green. Judge DiPasqualli and the Adams family have set up quite a scam.”

  “Well ma’am, actually my colleague Mike Zeebooker made the connection.”

  “Yes, Lisa told me all about it. But, you’re going to be the next District Representative, so you’re the one who’s going to get the credit for this. Don’t worry young man, you’ll get blamed for a lot of things you had nothing to do with. It all evens out over time.”

  Now even the DA had decided I was running for the Legislature, even though I hadn’t made up my mind.

  “Susan, my staff has reviewed our records. During the past six years there were over a thousand kids sentenced to White Haven by DiPasqualli. I have no idea how many were sent up by Judge Adams,” Lisa was still seething.

  “Yeah, I know. There’s going to be a great deal of fall out. I’ve already been in contact with the President Judge and my counterpart in Berks County. Judge Adams is the head judge in Berks County. We’re working with the State Judiciary Board, and the FBI and US Attorney as well. Anyway, both judges are going to be suspended while we sort out who will be responsible for prosecuting these bastards.”

  “Mr. Green, there’s going to be a press conference in my office tomorrow morning at 10 AM. I expect both you and Lisa to be here. Is that all right?”

  “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

  “Mr. Green, not bad for your first day on the job; what do you plan to do tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Everyone Has A Past

  I had never been in Boyds before. It was the classy men’s clothing store in Philadelphia. I couldn’t afford to buy a pair of socks there, let alone a suit. A few years ago Boyds had relocated to the building that had formerly housed the Oliver H. Bair Funeral Home. For at least a century Oliver H. Bair had been the next to final stop for the movers and shakers of Philadelphia society. I was pretty sure the venerable Philadelphians who had been prepared for their final rest by Oliver H. Bair were rolling over in their graves since Boyds took up residence in this hallowed building. Even though I hadn’t decided to run for office, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice suit.

  A salesman approached me the moment I entered the store. “Can I help you?” he asked. I could tell by his tone that the salesman had sized me up the minute I had entered as some idiot who had mistaken Boyd’s for Shirt Corner, or some other schlock house.

  “Is Patrick in?” I asked him.

  He directed me to the second floor. I walked up the marble staircase and gawked at the $1000 suits on display, wondering how I was going to afford the tariff. A gaggle of salesman who had assembled on the landing at the top of the stairs looked down at me. When I finally made it to the second floor they ignored me.

  “Excuse me, are any of you Patrick?”

  A man with a tape measure draped around his neck his glasses pushed up to his forehead stepped forward. “I’m Patrick.”

  “Governor …”

  He cut me off before I could get out the rest.

  “Ah, Mr. Green, I’ve been expecting you. Come with me.” We waded through the salesmen who now all showed a sudden interest in me.

  I followed Patrick to a dressing room. “You’re a 42, right?” He asked as he draped the tape measure around my neck. “Here, try this on. I’ll get some shirts and ties. Aldo, please help Mr. Green. We need to have the alterations completed tonight and the garments delivered to Mr. Green before the press conference tomorrow morning.”

  I looked at the price tag on the suit. It was over a thousand dollars. “Patrick, I can’t afford…”

  “The Governor told me to open a house account for you. We’ll have the garments ready tomorrow morning. You can take the accessories with you. Not to worry. Now let me get some shirts and ties.” He looked me over one more time. “You’ll need shoes and a belt.” He lifted the leg of my trousers, “socks too.”

  Aldo smiled as I walked out of the changing room. “All we need to do is cuff the pants. Try on the jacket,” he spoke in a heavy Italian accent. He smiled again. “Good, just shorten the sleeves. A perfect 42; you like?”

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The grey suit with subtle pin stripes was cut like it had been tailored for me. It felt like nothing I had ever put on before. I could not help smiling.

  I touched the material. “Nice threads,” I said as I admired myself wearing a $1000 suit in the mirror.

  “Si.” Aldo agreed.

  Patrick came in carrying a stack of shirts, ties and other accessories. Patrick and Aldo conversed in Italian as I stood by.

  “Mr. Green, this shirt and tie will go nicely, don’t you agree? Good, now try on the other suit.” All of this before I could utter a word.

  A half hour later I was leaving Boyds with assorted shirts and ties and other stuff. As I left all of the sales staff that had ignored me thirty minutes before now smiled and waved goodbye.

  Patrick told me I was expected at a salon a block away. Salvatore, the Governor’s personal barber was holding the chair. Patrick had already called to give Salvatore precise instructions concerning how to cut my hair.

  I was waiting for Nicky outside the State Office Building at 5 PM.

  She smiled. “Wow, you look great. Who cut your hair?”

  “Ah that would be Salvatore, the governor’s barber. You know Salvatore’s suggested tip was more than it cost me for two haircuts at the Hair Cuttery. And that’s not all.” I pointed to the Boyds bags piled on the backseat of my car. The bags made the car look even shabbier than it had before.

  “I see the governor’s fine hand in all of this,” she said.

  I filled her in on the day’s events and the upcoming press conference and meeting with the Chairman of the Democratic City Committee.

  “And I thought you got a haircut to look respectable for my Dad. Sam the doorman will be impressed with the Boyds bags. What’s wrong?”

  I looked at her. “I don’t know. It’s just that I’m starting to like all this stuff, you know, the attention and the nice clothes. I’m afraid it’s all going to change me, give me a big head, like all the other politicians”

  “You worry too much,” she said and kissed me. “Besides, wait until you meet my father.”

  At precisely 7PM, the doorman called to let us know Major Miller had arrived. Nicky had prepared her father’s favorite dinner. Nicky and I both unconsciously stood at attention as we waited for his arrival.

  “Daddy,” Nicky said as she embraced her father when he stepped into the apartment.

  “Hi honey,” he said as he eyeballed me.

  “Dad, meet Bernie Green.”

  He shook my hand with a vice like grip. I held his gaze and tried not to flinch.

  “Nice to meet you sir.”

  “Mr. Green.”

  “Call me Bernie.”

  “OK Mr. Green. You look different from your pictures on the web. Better haircut.”

  I smiled and Nicky laughed out loud.

  “I say something funny?” Miller asked.

  “No sir,” I replied.

  “Daddy, stop it.” She took his hand and led him to the living room while she told him all about the governor’s makeover of Bernie Green to District Representative Bernard Green. Throughout the explanation and dinner I could feel Nicky’s father’s scrutiny.

  “Why don’t the two of you chat while I clean up,” she said. Nicky must have caught my reaction. “Don’t worry honey, it will be all right. Won’t it Dad?” She said, kissed me and walked to the kitchen leaving me breathless.

  Her father stared at me. I waited.

  “I understand you were wounded in Iraq.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Want to tell me about it.”

  “No sir not really; I don’t like to talk about it, or even think about it.”

  “OK, that’s fair. Nicky tells me you still
keep in touch with some of your men especially one of your Squad Leaders.”

  “Yes sir…he saved my life.”

  Miller looked at me for what seemed to be several minutes. “Son, that’s not the way your commanding officer told me. He said you saved that man’s life and three others as well.”

  “Major Miller, I’d rather not talk about that, if it’s all right with you.”

  “OK, all right. Mr. Green, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

  It was my turn to stare at him. “I love your daughter and I intend to ask her to marry me.” I couldn’t believe I actually said that.

  I heard Nicky exhale, she must have come out of the kitchen and overheard my bold pronouncement. She wiped a tear from her eye and sat down next to me and took my hand in hers.

  I managed to make it through the rest of the evening without further embarrassing myself or pissing off Nicky’s father. After he left Nicky took me in her arms. “Did you mean what you told my father?”

  “With all my heart.”

  Instead of the look of happiness I expected she began to cry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  For the next hour Nicky told me her story. It started out like many countless other tales of young love. Nicky the cheerleader and her high school sweetheart, the captain of the football team, well I knew where this was headed, or at least I thought I did.

  “We were 18 years old, we were kids. We decided we would go to Elkton, Maryland and get married. We planned to go on Senior Week, when all the kids were going to Fort Lauderdale.

  The night before we were going to leave, my parents woke me up. Bobby and his mother were in a terrible crash on the interstate. By the time we got to the hospital they were gone. I told my parents I was pregnant, and what Bobby and I had planned.

  I was so frightened. I didn’t know what to do. My parents suggested that I put the baby up for adoption. At first I rejected the idea. I wanted to have this baby. I loved Bobby and believed our baby would keep him alive for me. My parents told me they would support my decision. But they asked me to think carefully about the responsibility of raising a child without a husband.

  After the funerals I felt so empty. I don’t know; I was so young and scared. I agreed to put the baby up for adoption.

  But I never felt right about it. I don’t even know what happened to the baby. She’s seven years old now. I tried to find out who adopted her. I just want to make sure she’s OK, but all the records are sealed.

  I want you to know who I am. You’ve put me on this pedestal, like I’m some perfect being. I’m not. I’m not strong like you. I let them take my baby.”

  “It was a long time ago. Everyone has a past. Everyone has done something they’re not proud of,” I said.

  “How about you, did you do something when you were young that you’re ashamed of? Something you want to keep secret?” she asked.

  I stared at her for a moment, should I tell her about my past, I sighed and said, “Maybe we shared enough secrets for one night. Stop beating yourself up, you can’t change what happened. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. It will be all right.”

  “Will you help me find my little girl? I just want to know she’s all right.”

  That night as Nicky slept the peaceful sleep of someone who has unburdened herself of a terrible secret, I replayed the conversation over and over through the sleepless night.

  Nicky had been right, I had placed her on a pedestal. I was in love with her. She was beautiful and talented and I wanted her to match my fantasy of perfection. Was I relieved to discover that she was human like the rest of us, or was I disappointed that she had given up her child? Both I guessed. And what about my past; was I ready to share my secret with Nicky, and if I did would she still feel the same about me? I promised to help her find out what had become of the child. I promised her everything would be all right. As the dawn approached, I wasn’t so sure.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  So Now It Was Official

  The suits were delivered at 8 AM as promised. Nicky made sure I cut off all the tags and straightened the half Windsor knot on my new Zenga tie. She pronounced me handsome, as she kissed me goodbye when I dropped her off at the State Office Building. Even Mrs. Washington and the ladies commented on my new look.

  Lisa Scandone was waiting when I arrived for the press conference. She felt the lapel on my suit, “Nice threads,” she said as we entered the District Attorney’s office.

  “That’s what I said, when the salesmen put the jacket on me,” and we both laughed.

  Lisa and I stood behind the District Attorney as she conducted the press conference. Even though we were only the DA’s props, she graciously introduced us and elaborated on our discovery of the conspiracy that had resulted in the outrageous abuse of the juvenile justice system. Mike Zeebooker’s name was never mentioned.

  At the end of the press conference one of the reporters shouted, “Mr. Green, would you comment on the Roscoe Smith matter?”

  The District Attorney gave me a ‘what’s this about’ look.

  “I’m sure the Speaker of the House will have a statement after he has completed his investigation.”

  “Who the hell is Roscoe Smith and what was that about?” the District Attorney asked after the press had left.

  “There appears to be a discrepancy in the late District Representative Johnson’s payroll. I reported it to the Speaker. I’m sure he’ll address it in due course.”

  “Seems like you had quite a busy day; by the way, I bet Patrick at Boyds picked out your suit and accessories.”

  “Yes he did. How’d you know?”

  “He picks out my husband’s clothes. Patrick has impeccable taste. But Mr. Green, my husband doesn’t fill out a suit like you do. Why you’re blushing,” she laughed as I walked out of her office.

  The Democratic City Committee office, an otherwise non descript store front building was located on the 1400 block of Walnut Street, one of the tonist venues in Center City. It was directly across the street from the Bellvue Stratford Hotel and the Palm Restaurant and next door to Mortons. Apparently Democrats like to eat steak.

  I was greeted by a number of ward leaders who were standing in front of the building smoking cigars as they were hanging out and trading gossip, the stuff politicians do. I could hear them talking about my suit as I entered the building. I was ushered into the upstairs office for my private audience with the Honorable Seamus Ryan O’Grady, U.S. Congressman for Pennsylvania’s First Congressional District.

  O’Grady was seated behind a plain metal desk in an otherwise nondescript office, not at all what I had expected. Although the room was barren, the Congressman was one of those larger than life characters whose sheer presence made the place feel important. A former Longshoreman, he had worked his way off the Philadelphia waterfront to become president of the Longshoreman’s Union and then embarked on his political career. O’Grady was now in his mid sixties, but still looked capable of grabbing a hook and tossing cargo off a freighter, or busting a recalcitrant union member’s head.

  He removed the stub of an unlit cigar from his mouth and said, “So you’re the governor’s boy. Take a seat.”

  At least O’Grady hadn’t referred to me as Max Green’s kid. “Yes sir,” I replied as I sat down.

  “My guys tell me you’re OK. You helped them out with their constituents’ problems when you worked for the governor. From what I hear, in the last few days you’ve already done one hell of a lot more than that worthless sack of shit Sylvester Johnson, and you’re not even the Representative yet.” He looked at me as if he was studying a specimen under a microscope. “So do you really want to get into this rat race?”

  “Congressman, to be perfectly honest, I’m not so sure. I mean I do like helping people out. But, from what I’ve seen, with very few exceptions, the politicians I’ve worked with have been…”

  “I
know,” he cut me off. “But not everybody is crooked. It’s the fucking system. You have to constantly raise money to stay in office. The lobbyists are like lice. They’re always trying to push their own agenda.”

  “Do you know what a state representative does?” the Congressman asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Well, that’s more than I knew when I got elected to Congress. I asked my campaign manager and he told me to ask the Speaker what our position was on any pending legislation and I’d be OK. So after I was sworn in I asked to meet with the Speaker, Tip O’Neill, may he rest in peace. Anyway I handed him an envelope. He looked at it; he must have thought it was a bribe.

  He asks ‘what’s in the envelope fella?’ I tell him it’s my letter of resignation. He says son you just got here why are you resigning? I said, no Mr. Speaker that’s in case I ever let you down. He gave the envelope back to me and says I know that won’t happen.”

  “Congressman, are you suggesting I offer a letter of resignation to the Speaker of the State House?”

  “No, that prick would throw you out in a New York minute. But you could offer to always vote the party line. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I don’t know sir.”

  He stared at me. “You got a set of balls on you, I’ll give you that.” He laughed. “Listen son, when you get elected in the fall, and you will, you make sure you keep in touch with me. Hire yourself a smart chief of staff. And watch out for those fucking lobbyists.”

  So now it was official, I was going to be the next Representative for the 127th District. I wondered was this really my decision, or was I just going along with the governor’s plan? Should I stop this now, before it was too late?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It’s A Good News Bad News Thing