Which gets back to the death of the Fairness Doctrine. Once the FCC eliminated the guidelines, single-mindedness was allowed to rush to AM radio. Bullying flourished. In the process, talk show hosts, claiming to offer a forum for everyone’s opinion, typically seek to reinforce their own. Hate found a home on AM radio.
“So what are you going to do?” Strong asked again. He caught the way he gesticulated in his mirror. Effective. Emotional. He loved it. It was as close to inciting a riot as he’d ever gotten and it made for great radio. Strong imagined how cross-country truck drivers, workers on the late shift, and insomniacs must be thrusting their fists in the air in support.
“You want to know what you can do?” It was usually you. “You,” he knew sounded more effective, more personal, “are the government. Not the liberal Congress. Not a president you didn’t elect. Not a vice president you booted out. Not the Supreme Court. You are the government. Do you have any real idea what that means?” He could almost hear his audience shout a collective “What?” “Ever hear of something called an Amendment?” He spelled it. “A-m-e-n-d-m-e-n-t. Do you remember what that is? Look it up. Google it.” He sounded exasperated, as if he was complaining to a specific caller. But it was for all of his listeners. Twenty million letter writers. Twenty million complainers. Twenty million people who Washington hated to hear from.
“What is it?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s the way you can change things.”
The phone lines continued to blink.
“It’s your right! More than that, it’s your responsibility. Let me give you an example. Theodore Roosevelt. The twenty-sixth president of the United States. Courageous. A fighter. A Rough Rider. A leader of a truly strong nation. Here’s what old Teddy Roosevelt said.” He read from a paper.
“‘Patriotism means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the president or any other public official, save exactly to the degree in which he stands by the country.’” He read it a second time for impact. “Again, ‘Patriotism does not mean to stand by the president or any other public official, save exactly to the degree in which he stands by the country.’ Roosevelt told Americans, ‘It is patriotic to support him insofar as he efficiently serves the country. It is — ’ and listen carefully, ‘It is unpatriotic not to oppose him to the exact extent that by inefficiency or otherwise he fails in his duty to stand by the country.’” He repeated a phrase. “‘It is unpatriotic not to oppose…’ Very interesting, but TR wasn’t finished. He proclaimed, ‘In either event, it is unpatriotic not to tell the truth, whether about the president or anyone else.’
“That, my friends, is what you need to do. You. Each and every one of you who feels you’ve had enough. From the grassroots. From your telephone, your computer, your fax machines. Call and write your representatives. Tell them it’s time for real change. If you don’t, this injustice will continue. By the way, they think you won’t do anything. The liberals are counting on it. Roosevelt said it, but he was just adding to what Thomas Jefferson had argued a hundred years earlier. He said, ‘When the government fears the people, there is liberty. When the people fear the government, there is tyranny.’
“This government doesn’t fear you. You fear the government. You fear a president you didn’t elect and a vice president you defeated. When are you going to get that? They’ve taken over the country. It’s executive treason!”
Elliott Strong could feel it. He knew his audience. By now they were leaning closer to their radios at home, or pulling out their pillow speakers and turning up the sound. For those driving, he had a fleeting thought about their safety. He didn’t want to lose a trucker. They were a great audience, even if they didn’t count in the ratings.
He’d absolutely make certain that his calls would remain on topic for the rest of the night. As momentum grew, the idea would spill over to other talk radio shows. More would listen in the West Coast repeats later in the morning. By 9 A.M., at least 100 congressmen, mostly from the heartland, should be inundated with a first wave of e-mails and faxes. Of course, all of their addresses and phone numbers were conveniently posted on the Strong Nation Radio website.
He took a breath and smiled at his image in the mirror before him. “Now are you ready to talk?” He laughed. “I bet you are.” He cued his engineer. “Let’s go to the phones.” The first caller came up. There were fifteen more holding and thousands redialing, trying to get through the busy signal.
“Hello, you’re on Strong Nation.”
The radio was on in the background: a cool jazz FM station playing saxophonist Dave Koz. Roarke was only aware of the soft voice of the woman on the phone. He was in the middle of his goodnight call to Katie Kessler in Boston. A glass of his favorite scotch, a 12-year-old Macallan, was in his hand.
Roarke phoned from his two-bedroom brick apartment in Georgetown, on the 2500 block of Q Street, NW. Katie lived on Grove Street on the north side of Beacon Hill, also in a brick apartment building.
“Come on down,” he begged.
Almost immediately after meeting, Roarke and the sassy brunette had begun a coy dance, which ultimately led to her bedroom. The fact that their relationship was more about romance than sex amazed them both. No matter where Roarke went — whether it was cross-country or aboard an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean, or moments before a late-night assault on a building owned by the dictator of Libya — Roarke thought about Katie.
“No, you move up here,” the 5’6”, 28-year-old answered. Her voice was as playful and as sexy as her look, but the lawyer gave no hint of negotiating.
“I can’t.”
“And what makes you think I can?”
“You can. Besides,” Roarke heard himself saying things he had never admitted to a woman before, “I want you here.”
“Only in Washington?”
“That’s not fair. I want you. But it needs to be here.”
“And my job isn’t important?”
“Of course it is. But you could practice on the Hill. How many job offers did you get after the inauguration?”
“Look, Mr. Roarke, I got a very nice promotion, which I deserved. You’ve got flex hours, and you generally get to fly for free. So from my vantage point, it’s win-win for me. All things considered, why don’t you pop up here and make a girl happy?” Katie said seductively. She examined the rich color of her Kendall Jackson Merlot in the light of her bedroom lamp and took a slow, sensual sip.
The combination of the words, the sound of his voice, and the intent had an immediate effect. She wore only a purple cotton camisole and plaid, drawstring pajama bottoms. Suddenly, the fabric was tickling her nipples, which had become erect. She caught herself squeezing her thighs together to contain her increasing arousal. She bet he was having an equally hard time.
This is how it went almost every night — the conversation and the excitement. She knew he wasn’t going to leave D.C. Eventually, she might move to Washington and pick up one of the jobs that had been offered. But not yet.
“Counselor, you’re taking advantage of me and America’s taxpayers. Hell, I could be the subject of a congressional investigation.”
“Don’t worry. I have friends in high places,” Katie giggled. She was referring to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. But of course, Roarke worked for the new vice president, with special consent that was well beyond the reach of Congress.