is to train you to get elected. I’m sure you understand,” he shouted.
“Yes, sir!” They had been trained at the outset to respond with enthusiasm, and they did it well. Twenty young voices shouted with enthusiasm. Max sat next to an attractive young redhead named Scarlett, and he was enthralled by her genteel demeanor contained in a cheerleader’s body. Between classes, he flirted with the young girl from Charleston, who responded with the appropriate amount of disdain at his every attention. her years of cotillions and Junior League‒induced social contact had created a well-cultured young woman. “Good breeding,” as they say in the South. Scarlett Conroy was a well-bred product of Charleston society, and her close proximity was making his male hormones work overtime.
“here it is,” spoke Postlewaite, dressed in the formal attire of the successful political advisor. “All campaigns start out the same. You must look the part. When people speak your name, everyone must know who they are talking about, and most of all, they must have a favorable opinion of you on a subject that you agree about. Do you understand?”
The shout was louder this time. “Yes, sir!”
Postlewaite was a veteran of political campaigns beginning with the demise of Richard Nixon and throughout the nine presidential campaigns that followed, and he was highly regarded by each politician who had attained public office, whether they had hired him and won or hired his competition and lost.
Luke had been on the losing side of an election only once since the 1980s, when he worked on the campaign of John Anderson during Reagan’s first run for the presidency. Of all the campaigns his candidates had won, that one loss had taught him the most, and now his wisdom was called upon full-time for huge compensation. Today, he was running a camp for baby politicians, and he looked at it as recreation in the interest of job security. Someday, these kids were going to be the people he worked for.
AT RISK OF WINNING
“Elected officials are, first and foremost, narcissists who surround themselves with ‘Yes’ men and women, and by doing so, they isolate themselves from the pulse of the American public. Issues that inflame the voter sometimes fail to reach the level of attention necessary to prompt a politician to action, and when the voice of the voter is not heard and heeded, a certain form of helpless alienation grows.” he scanned the classroom for recognition on their faces. Feeling that he had achieved partial success on that, he continued.
“If it persists, the voter’s interest wanes and apathy sets in. With apathy comes a disconnect that becomes impenetrable for the politician when they run for reelection. If you let this happen, you stand a good chance of losing when it comes time for reelection. This invisible wall of discontent is the barrier between the person in office and the vote that keeps them there.” he knew he was talking over their heads, but he was speaking more for himself than teaching something they would retain and use.
“This isolation gradually leads to widespread discontent among the voters until the alienation is nearly universal. The irony of it all is that the politicians inside the Beltway don’t have a clue. It is only when the voice of the American public becomes louder than the whispers of the lobbyists will the legislators begin to listen. I am counting on you to make a difference.”
Postlewaite was speaking to a group of privileged children, but among them were two types that held his fascination: the children of politicians, and a scattering of those poised and talented offspring of parents of average status, whose presence was made possible by their genius. They had no reason for being there other than their almost cradle-driven ability to bring notice to their talent of working a room and speaking their mind. It was in these prodigies that he privately maintained the most hope.
Out of this class of