[h3]Los Angeles[/h3] [b]LA Convention Complex 3:31 PM[/b] "It gives me great pleasure to represent both Pennsylvania and its esteemed governor with this speech. These are times of careful consideration, times of reflection. Times that make us pause and take stock of where our nation has been, and where it shall go. Times like these require a man of vision." From his box above the convention, Lennie Parrish scoffed so loudly that his jowls shook. The ever present cigar clamped in his teeth filled the box with heavy smoke. Russell sat next to him, watching him as much as he watched the speech Pittsburgh mayor Abe Fortson gave. With his ruddy face and gold teeth, Parrish was the latest in a New York City political dynasty. A dynasty not of blood, but of pragmatism. Parrish could trace his lineage back to men like Silent Charlie Murphy and Boss Tweed. Tammany Hall still held a firm grasp on New York state's Democratic party machinery despite over one hundred years of constant political warfare with Republicans abroad, and reformers within. The biggest testament of their power came in 1932, when they beat all odds and managed to get an Irish Catholic both the nomination and elected president. In '32 Russell had been too busy running for Congress to keep an eye on the election, but even back then he knew enough about politics the credit to Al Smith's victory to the massive economic hardships and not Tammany Hall's machination. "Something's brewing, Russell," Parrish's voice came out as a rasp thanks to a life of cigar smoke. "I can feel it in the air. Hallsey is the third straight favorite son candidate whose been nominated. And we still gotta get to Fernandez and the president." "We knew Hallsey was coming," Russell said with a slight sigh. "The California delegation nominating Rick Marshall is a ceremonial gesture, one you had to account for here in LA. He's seventy-four years old. If he's too old to be governor, there is no way he can be the president." "That takes California out of the president's camp," said Parrish. "At least for the first ballot, which is what Fernandez wants." "I'm more worried about Ohio," Russell confessed. "Jerry Ryan is a good senator, but it worries me that the president can't even get his own party in that state to follow him. It doesn't bode well for November." "Especially if Baker gets the Republican nomination," Parrish added, not that he needed to add it. "California, the midwest, Ohio." Russell looked hard at Parrish. "Where does New York stand in all of this?" Parrish made a face, one that showed he didn't appreciate Russell's questions. He had to keep a straight face as Parrish chomped down on his cigar and spoke through his bared teeth like a cartoon character. "We stand with the president." "Remember what we said at the dinner last week, Lennie. Friendship is rewarded and hostility is punished. Do you want to take over as the Postmaster General? Play ball with us." It was quiet, but Russell heard something softly coming from Parrish's mouth. "What was that?" "I said, if the president was worth a flying fuck this wouldn't be an issue!" Russell regarded Parrish with a cold look. "Don't blame me," he roared. "Tell me you can't feel it all around us, Russell? There are a lot of options to vote for out there and Michael Norman ain't one of them. Why the fuck should I throw my support behind a man who is going to get his ass kicked come November?" Now it was Russell's turn to shout. "Because of the party!" "Fuck the party," Parrish spat. "I'm not backing a loser. What can you do for me?" Russell stood, buttoning his suit coat. "The president is not prepared to buy votes." "And that's why he'll lose," Parrish said as Russell started to walk out. "If not this week, then in four months. That's not how politics works, Russ. You know that, better than most!" "I said the president won't buy votes," Russell said softly. "I never said anything about myself." On the floor, Fortson's speech reached its climax. "That is why I nominate Pennsylvania's Governor Hallsey as the Democratic Party's nominee for president!" Parrish smiled, showing off a row of gold teeth. Below them, the convention floor broke out in tepid applause at the end of the mayor's speech. --- [b]6 PM[/b] "Please welcome, Massachusetts Congressman Liam Kane." Big Jim Dwyer made the stations of the cross, the first time in over thirty years that he had done it. He sat in his suite in the hotel across from the convention, listening to it on the radio. He didn't want to be in person to see Liam's speech, especially after watching him snort three lines of cocaine just before leaving for the convention. At least this way, he could turn off the radio the second the boy started into nonsensical ramblings. He wouldn't have to watch both his and Liam's political futures go up in smoke. "Thank you, thank you. I am honored to to give this speech. What do we think of when we hear the word president? Do we think of George Washington's stern portrait? Or do we think of newsreel footage of President Wheeler surveying the ruins of Salt Lake City? Or do we think of fiery Andrew Jackson battling with congress over nullification? Jackson was the first who expressed the idea that the office of president is quite different from the congress. While senators represent their states, and congressmen represent their districts, it is only the president who represents the people as a whole. While Congress has many contrasting voices, overlapping and creating a din, the president has but one that rings clearly and alone. It is a voice that speaks for the people, a voice that channels our hopes and wishes, a voice that embodies America's spirit. Or so we would like. The truth of the matter is that voice has become quite muffled and muddied in the years since the war. The voice has become choked by the special interests that value money over merits, by the political machinery that values patronage over progress, and corruption within our own party that value power over passage of legislation. For so long now, that voice has spoken for the politicians and not the people. That changes tonight. There is a man who speaks for all of America, the rich and poor, the white and negro, the southerners and northerners. He will remind the government that it serves at the pleasure of the people and not the other way around. And when he speaks, Congress shall listen. I hereby nominate Senator Eric Fernandez from the great state of Wisconsin as the Democratic Party's nominee for president. I implore the delegates to use their voice, so that the people can have theirs once more. Thank you!" Big Jim breathed a sigh of relief as the speech ended and applause came out of the radio. Liam got through it all without any trouble. And not only that, it was an okay speech. Not presidential quality... but vice-presidential? Very much so. Jim pulled himself out of his chair and started towards the door. There was only one more speech to give, and after that voting would begin. --- [b]7:13 PM[/b] "Yes, sir, I can hear you." Russell had the phone close to his ear so he could hear the president. Down below, an ex-governor of Colorado was giving the speech that would nominate Norman. Russell couldn't remember his name, but the president held him in high esteem for some reason. Russell wasn't entirely sure why. "Where do we stand, Russell?" "First ballot," Russell quickly replied. "It'll be close." "What about California?" "Jim Sledge is down on the floor right now doing some arm twisting and I've been working on other states. Even if California goes favorite son for the first ballot, we're still gonna get to that two-thirds majority." "Russ... I'm trusting you here." "I understand, sir." "No, I don't think you do..." There was an awkward silence between the two men, a silence that felt as long as the intercontinental physical distance between them. "What do you mean?" "If you want to be vice president for the next four years, you'll get me elected on the first ballot." "Are you threatening me, sir?" Russell said through his teeth. "You ran your mouth to all of Washington about how you got me elected in '56," the president snapped. "If you're such a miracle worker, then get to work. If not, well... I think Congressman Kane gave a hell of a speech a few hours ago, don't you?" The line went dead. Russell tried to speak, even pressing the receiver down again. Finally, the operator came on the line and informed him the call had been ended by the president. He placed the headset back in the cradle and calmly stared at it before he let out a yell and slung the phone halfway across the box. It snapped in the middle of the air as the phone cord drew taunt and fell to the ground with a solid thump. "The nerve... the fucking gall of that son of a bitch." Russell took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. Applause was receding as the ex-governor walked off stage. Clay Foulke, Speaker of the House and Russell's protegee, banged the gavel beside the podium. "The time for nominations has passed," Foulke announced. "Voting will now begin, starting with each state's delegation in alphabetical order." Russell sighed and sagged into a chair facing outwards. That was it. The time for preparations, horse-trading, and threats were all done. He'd done everything he could. Now, it was time to see if luck was truly on his side. "How does Alabama vote?"