“So, Fletcher, you’ve known Carl Buckman the longest of any reporter I know of. What’s he really like?” asked Donaldson.
Fletcher looked like he had bought a new suit for the occasion, and gotten a haircut, to boot. He said, “He’s a very plain person, for one thing. He truly and honestly thinks he’s a really boring guy and lives a really boring life. He’s been married to his college sweetheart for over twenty years. Both he and his wife Marilyn were middle class kids. They live in the same house they built when he left the Army, a rancher out in the outer Baltimore suburbs. His kids go to the local public school. His son went into the Marines. Marilyn spends her time either being a stay-at-home mom or helping out as an intern at the Congressman’s Westminster office. On fall weekends, they make jam…”
“They make jam?” asked an incredulous Donaldson. “As in jam and jelly?”
Fletcher nodded. “I’ve had some. It’s pretty good stuff, too. They always make extras and he takes it down to this office and lets his staff and visitors have some. They also make pies together. Marilyn’s a pretty good baker, but Carl says he’s the better cook. It gives them something to argue about, their son once told me.”
Cokie Roberts butted in at that point and said, “How does he reconcile the difference between being what he thinks is normal and boring with all the other things he is involved in?”
“That one is tougher to explain. I mean, I’ll grant you, his resume is beyond belief. He’s one of the richest men in America. In eight years he rose to the third most powerful position in the Republican Congress. He’s written three books, earned a doctorate in mathematics, and been a decorated soldier. And he’s also one of the most down-to-earth and grounded individuals I’ve ever met. He still thinks of himself as a kid from the suburbs who just got lucky. Really, really lucky!”
“He also killed his own brother,” commented Roberts.
“Ah, yes, and that’s actually Carl’s weak spot. Not his brother, no. That was actually totally legitimate. His brother was insane and broke into their house and tried to kill him. No, Carl’s weak spot is his family.”
“How so?” pressed Sam Donaldson.
“Carl Buckman’s personal family when he was growing up was an absolute disaster. His brother and mother were simply nuts, and his father refused to handle the problem. When Carl was 16 he moved out, into an apartment near where he was going to school and which he had to pay for personally, and he’s been taking care of himself ever since. His parents actually disowned him after he married Marilyn. Maybe it’s overcompensating, but Carl is just incredibly protective of his wife and kids. You want to see some fireworks on this campaign, just wait until somebody starts heckling and insulting Marilyn Buckman or his daughters!”
Fletcher was right in that, and I would have to behave myself, because somebody was going to try it, just to start some fireworks. They continued batting it around until the commercial break, at which point they segued into whatever message the Bush campaign was trying to send with this nomination — which still hadn’t been confirmed. After that, we turned off the television. The LongRanger landed and flew us to Westminster, which wasn’t something the reporters had been expecting. They had been planning on chasing us down the road in their cars, the idiots! From Westminster we flew to a small airport outside of Houston, where a limo was waiting for us. We went direct to the Four Seasons, and then were whisked straight to the suite, without ever checking in.
Karl Rove was waiting for us. He was polite enough, but I could tell he was unhappy. He was a favorite of the Bush family, both father and son, and close to Dick Cheney. He had been in the political game since college, and he liked it, and he liked it dirty. I was a major upset to the apple cart. Still, he was professional enough to go with the flow. He laid out the following program:
Monday, July 10, at noon we would be making the announcement on the Texas. George Bush would speak first, and then I would come onstage, and after that, Marilyn and the girls would be invited out. I think this was the first time they realized that they would be involved. The twins looked excited, Marilyn looked nervous. Tuesday, July 11, through Thursday, July 13, I would be working with the campaign team on a stump speech and a schedule of appearances. Marilyn would get her own staff and schedule, which really made her nervous. Rove either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I suspect it was the latter. Friday, July 14, through Saturday, July 29, I would be touring the country campaigning for the Governor. The details were still being firmed up, but I could expect a variety of appearances through the ‘heartland’ to introduce me, and appearances every Sunday on the talk shows. Sunday, July 30, we would all fly to Philadelphia for the convention, which would start on Monday, July 31. This would run four nights. I would speak the third night and Bush would speak the fourth night. Marilyn would get her own schedule of appearances. In addition, on Wednesday, August 2, she would be one of the first speakers at the convention, and would introduce me. At that point Marilyn turned ghost white and began protesting. She was terrified of speaking publicly! She basically refused to do it! Karl didn’t care. If she wanted me to become the Vice President, she would do what she was told. The kids were the same. They would learn their lines and behave. He wasn’t quite that rude, which would have earned him a punch in the nose, but he came close.
The girls were actually sort of excited by the idea but their mother was on the verge of tears. I took her hand and said, “Don’t worry. Let me handle this.”
“I can’t give a speech! I’ve never given a speech!”
“I know, I know. Calm down. Let me handle this.”
Karl started saying something, “Congressman…”
I turned to him and cut him off. “Zip it, Karl. It’s my turn now. You want to order me around, fine, knock yourself out. You ever talk to my wife or children that way again, and I’ll bounce you out the door and tell the reporters why. You got that?” He babbled something but I just overrode him. “Now, let me explain something very clearly. My wife has never given a speech in her life. I’m the politician in the family, not her. I didn’t marry her because she gave a great speech!” The twins giggled at that, but their mother was clinging to my hand. “Now, I will talk to Marilyn and we’ll get some speechwriters in, and I can probably convince her to give it a shot, but that’s all. If it doesn’t work out, Marilyn won’t be campaigning.”
I turned back to Marilyn and said, “Don’t worry so much. If I can do it, anybody can do it. Hell, look at some of the other idiots you’ve seen speaking! You’re smarter than they are.”
Marilyn had relaxed when I stood up for her (like I wouldn’t?) and some color was returning to her face. “But what if I mess up?! What if I can’t do it or miss my lines or freeze or something? What if…”
I laughed and hugged her. “Well, I’ll just have to divorce you then, won’t I? Now calm down. We’ll figure this out.”
I turned back to Rove, who seemed rather put out by all of this family drama. “What’s next on your list?”