The Speechwriter

The Speechwriter by Barton Swaim Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Speechwriter by Barton Swaim Read Free Book Online
Authors: Barton Swaim
hosting them cared. Owners of little stores and repair shops in small towns were happy to have the governor there and didn’t care what he said. But I didn’t have the knack for managing him. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt his conversations with “five minute” warnings, with the result that we left eachstop ten, fifteen, or twenty minutes behind schedule—which enraged him more each time.
    He hadn’t warmed to his talk yet. One of his points had to do with the difference between certain lawmakers’ bold rhetoric on tax reform and their tendency to weaken reform legislation when given the chance. He wanted to say, “So we’ll see if the juice was worth the squeeze,” meaning, I think, we’ll see if it was worth counting on their stated intentions. The expression didn’t precisely fit, and he made it worse by repeatedly reversing “juice” and “squeeze.” “We’ll see if the squeeze was worth the juice.” Everyone listened respectfully, but I thought I saw two machinists exchange looks of perplexity.
    Mitchell was there to talk about transparency in government. He believed, with some evidence, that state lawmakers were using parliamentary measures to hide unnecessary and, in some cases, unethical appropriations. He seemed to enjoy himself. At each stop he would draw a theme from the physical surroundings. The first stop was a warehouse in which the steel frames of small boats were built. “It’s funny we’re here where boats are made,” Mitchell began, with his characteristically warm smile, “because our ship of state is sinking in a sea of red ink.”
    This was around the time when speculation about the governor’s chances on a national ticket began to circulate. For a variety of reasons, most of them negative (he didn’t have the liability of so-and-so; as a state rather than a federal officeholder he had no record on such-and-such), he was among those thought to be attractive vice presidential candidates.“Are you interested in the vice presidency, Governor?” a reporter would ask, knowing he couldn’t answer yes or no. Over the next several months he went through a series of responses. On this occasion he was experimenting with the unhappy analogy of being struck by lightning. “That’s very flattering, but it’s all just surreal,” he would say. “It’s so unlikely. But if lightning does strike, I’d be lying if I said I’d hang up the phone.” Saying yes or no to a lightning strike didn’t sound right. But at first he couldn’t even get the lightning line right. “If that lightning bolt strikes,” he would say, or “If that lightning bolt falls in my direction,” or “If that ball of lightning ever does come my way.”
    We were at the third stop, an establishment that sold high-end cookware, when my phone vibrated.
    â€œHey, it’s Aaron.”
    â€œWe’re in the middle of the event here,” I whispered.
    â€œWhen it’s over, tell the governor Jakie’s calling for an investigation over the NGA thing.” “Jakie” was Jake Knotts, a state senator and a venomous critic of the governor.
    â€œInvestigation?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œInvestigation of what?”
    â€œJust tell him it’s about the NGA thing. He’ll know what you mean.”
    â€œIt’s funny we’re here beside all these cooking pots,” Mitchell was saying, gesturing to a display of Dutch ovens.
    â€œWhat’s ‘the NGA thing’?” I whispered to Aaron.
    â€œJust tell him Jakie’s calling for an investigation over the NGA grant.”
    â€œ. . . this state has been cooking the books for a long time.”
    â€œWhat NGA grant?”
    â€œHe’ll know what you’re talking about. Jakie’s on the floor right now. It’s already on the AP

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