The older of the ex-Presidents was grumbling that if he were frail it was because he had had to rely on his wife’s cooking for the past eight years. “She hasn’t dirtied a frying pan in ages, but she’s improving every day. To make sure, I’ve given her a copy of The New York Times Cookbook; it’s about the only one of their publications that didn’t criticize me.” Florentyna laughed nervously. She wanted to get on with the official proceedings, but she was conscious that the ex-Presidents were enjoying being back in the White House so she pretended to listen attentively, donning a mask that was second nature to her after nearly twenty years in politics.
“Madam President...” Florentyna had to think quickly to prevent anyone noticing her instinctive response to the words. “It’s one minute past midday.” She looked up at her press secretary, rose from her chair, and led the ex-Presidents and their wives to the steps of the White House. The Marine band struck up “Hail to the Chief” for the last time. At one o’clock they would play it again for the first time.
The two former Presidents were escorted to the first car of the motorcade, a black, bubble-topped, bulletproof limousine. The Speaker of the House, Jim Wright, and the Senate Majority Leader, Robert Byrd, representing the Congress, were already seated in the second car. Directly behind the limousine there were two cars filled with Secret Service men. Florentyna and Edward occupied the fifth car in line. Vice President Bradley of New Jersey and his wife rode in the next car.
H. Stuart Knight was going through one more routine check. His fifty men had now grown to a hundred. By noon, counting the local police and the FBI contingent, there would be five hundred. Not forgetting the boys from the CIA, Knight thought ruefully. They certainly didn’t tell him whether they were going to be there or not, and even he could not always spot them in a crowd. He listened to the cheering of the onlookers reaching a crescendo as the presidential limousine pulled out, on its way to the Capitol.
Edward chatted amiably but Florentyna’s thoughts were elsewhere. She waved mechanically at the crowds lining Pennsylvania Avenue, but her mind was once again going over her speech. The renovated Willard Hotel, seven office buildings under construction, the tiered housing units that resembled an Indian cliff-dwelling, the new shops and restaurants and the wide landscaped sidewalks passed by. The J. Edgar Hoover Building, which housed the FBI, still named after its first Director, despite several efforts by certain senators to have the name changed. How this street had been transformed in fifteen years.
They approached the Capitol and Edward interrupted the President’s reverie. “May God be with you, darling.” She smiled and gripped his hand. The six cars came to a stop.
President Kane entered the Capitol on the ground floor. Edward waited behind for a moment as he thanked the chauffeur. Those who stepped out of the other cars were quickly surrounded by Secret Service agents and, waving to the crowd, they made their way separately to their seats on the platform. Meanwhile the chief usher was taking President Kane quietly through the tunnel into the reception area, Marines saluting at every ten paces. There she was greeted by Vice President Bradley. The two of them stood talking of nothing, neither of them taking in the other’s reply.
The two ex-Presidents came through the tunnel smiling. For the first time the older President was looking his age, his hair seemed to have turned gray overnight. Once again, he and Florentyna went through the formality of shaking hands with one another; they were to do it seven times that day. The chief usher guided them through a small reception room on to the platform. For this, as for all Presidential inaugurations, a temporary platform had been erected on the east steps of the Capitol. The crowds rose and cheered for over a minute as the President and the ex-Presidents waved; finally they sat in silence and waited for the ceremony to begin.
“My fellow Americans, as I take office the problems facing the United States across the world are vast and threatening. In South Africa, pitiless civil war rages between black and white; in the Middle East the ravages of last year’s battles are being repaired, but both sides are rebuilding their armaments rather than their schools, their hospitals or their farms. On the borders between China and India, and between Russia and Pakistan, there is the potential for war among four of the most populous nations on earth. South America veers between extreme right and extreme left, but neither extreme seems to be able to improve the living conditions of their peoples. Two of the original signatories of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, France and Italy, are on the verge of withdrawing from that pact.
“In 1949, President Harry S. Truman announced that the United States stood ready with all its might and resources to defend the forces of freedom wherever they might be endangered. Today, some would say that this act of magnanimity has resulted in failure, that America was, and is, too weak to assume the full burden of world leadership. In the face of repeated international crises, any American citizen might well ask why he should care about events so far from home, and why he should feel any responsibility for the defense of freedom outside the United States.
“I do not have to answer these doubts in my own words. ‘No man is an island,’ John Donne wrote more than three and a half centuries ago. ‘Every man is a piece of the continent.’ The United States stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from the Arctic to the Equator. ‘I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.’”
Edward liked that part of the speech. It expressed so well his own feelings. He had wondered, though, whether the audience would respond with the same enthusiasm as they had greeted Florentyna’s flights of rhetoric in the past. The thunderous applause assaulting his ears in wave after wave reassured him. The magic was still working.
“At home, we will create a medical service that will be the envy of the free world. It will allow all citizens an equal opportunity for the finest medical advice and help. No American must be allowed to die because he cannot afford to live.”
Many Democrats had voted against Florentyna Kane because of her attitude toward Medicare. As one hoary old G.P. had said to her, “Americans must learn to stand on their own two feet.” “How can they if they’re already flat on their backs?” retorted Florentyna. “God deliver us from a woman President,” replied the doctor, and voted Republican.
“But the main platform of this administration will be in the field of law and order, and to this end I intend to present to Congress a bill that will make the sale of firearms without a license illegal.”
The applause from the crowd was not quite so spontaneous.
Florentyna raised her head. “And so I say to you, my fellow citizens, let the end of this century be an era in which the United States leads the world in justice as well as in power, in care as well as enterprise, an era in which the United States declares war — war on disease, war on discrimination, and war on poverty.”
The President sat down; in a single motion, the entire audience rose to its feet.
The sixteen-minute speech had been interrupted by applause on ten occasions. But as the nation’s Chief Executive turned from the microphone, now assured that the crowd was with her, her eyes were no longer on the cheering mass. She scanned the dignitaries on the platform for the one person she wanted to see. She walked over to her husband, kissed him on the cheek, and then took his arm before they were accompanied from the platform by the briskly efficient usher.