Down in the Blues
-
Lee Atwater, the South Carolina whizkid political operative; now looking for alternative sources of employment-
The White House D.C.
“
It’s all over Lee, get the fuck out.”
“
What!?” Atwater looked up from his desk at his senior, Ed Rollins who had stormed into his office enraged with a large vein throbbing on the side of his head and had started threatening and cursing at Atwater moments before.
“
You’re fired.” Lee Atwater gulped and closed his eyes as he tried to think, then he open them up again and stared back at Rollins who was clearly enjoying every minute of this, despite clearly being furious at Atwater.
“
Excuse me?” Atwater asked, stunned by how Rollins had seemingly sprung this upon him out of the blue and how rude he was being to him. To the man who had saved Reagan’s campaign in 1980 by winning him the South Carolina Primary and practically half of the Gipper’s primaries... the cheek of it!
“
You’re fired, you’re being let off, you’re being let go off - whatever way you want to spin it. Lee you’re fired - pure and simple,” Rollins said, “
the President and the rest of us thank you for your work in 1980 and the years since, but now we believe the time for you to go is now.” Atwater closed his eyes and clenched his fists hard by his sides. In his head many emotions were present - rage, fear, embarrassment, anger - all fighting for dominance in his head.
“
Wait but... but...” Rollins crossed his arms and shook his head.
“
I’m going to be honest with you Lee, we know perfectly well you’re not a PHD candidate or any of the bullshit you claim to be.”
“
But...” Rollins waived his hand to tell Atwater to be quiet and to listen. “
I also have come to know that you’ve been trying to fuck me over for the best part of over a year now - and that won’t do, especially going into a Presidential Election year.”
He continued, “
Look Lee I like you,-.”
Atwater’s face contorted and his left eye twitched at those words, causing Rollins to have a change of approach. “
My suggestion to you know is to not be a bitch about it and simply go and lay low for a bit - there are a fuckload of Congressional races coming up - perhaps Thurmond will have you back?”
Atwater considered this point for a few seconds - he’d first gotten into politics as an intern for the long serving South Carolina Senator back at the start of the seventies. However anything which wasn’t involved with national politics was a step down for Atwater - he couldn’t bear to go back to his native South Carolina - especially considering he’d moved his wife and the kids up here to D.C. only a few years ago.
“
Look Lee what I’m basically saying is fuck off now while you’ve still got some dignity - if you don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to have to haul your ass out and get you the fuck out of here.” Rollins exited with a weak smile, while Atwater stood still with his mouth hanging open in shock; his left eye began to twitch as Rollins closed the door.
“
Shit! Fuck! Fuck!” screamed Atwater several times, jumping up and down on the floor as he hurled a stapler at the door which shuddered with a loud thump when it hit the door. Atwater instantly froze in embarrassment and terror at the though of Rollins or someone else hearing his outburst. Then the rage in his head took over - he didn’t care what Rollins or any of the other bastards in here thought.
He packed up his stuff in the office, all the while muttering profanities under his breath, and walked out of the building; always maintaining sight of his feet - so as not to make eye contact with anyone else in the building.
Outside he plopped the cardboard box that he’d been given by Rollins, which contained all his possessions on the side of the pavement as he sat down on the bench beside it.
‘Think Lee, think!’ the thought to himself - trying desperately to dispel the thoughts of anger and violence from his mind; he would never get anything done in that frame on mind. After a while of sitting there on the bench, keeping a watchful eye over his possessions in the ragged cardboard box; he had an idea.
Standing up he hailed a taxi - he knew exactly what to do.
“
Where to sir?” asked the taxi driver, a neatly dressed middle aged black man who's dark rimmed glasses wouldn't have looked out of place on Donald Rumsfeld's face.
“
The Capitol Mall area, please.” Atwater smirked - he knew exactly who he had to meet.
---
Congressional Foodhall, Washington D.C.
“
So,” continued Senator Strom Thurmond and he chewed on the forkful of steak pie that he had just impaled on the end of his fork, “
I was approached by a former intern of mine... Atwater, Lee Atwater, y’know him?”
“
Don’t tell me...” said Jesse Helms as he taped his finger on the table with increasing ferocity, trying to remember where he had heard the name before, “
...oh... wasn’t he that hack who killed Connally's nomination chances in your neck of the woods’ primary last time?”
“
Yup,” replied the South Carolinian, his mouth full again with another piece of steak pie. “
He had been working for the White House.”
“
Had you say.” Thurmond nodded in acknowledgement of the point as he swallowed the next piece of pie.
“
Yeah, he was fired not long ago.”
“
Fired? Whatever the devil for - don’t they remember he was very useful in winning the primaries last time around?”
“
He said it was something to do with his superior, Hollins, Rollins, or whatever his name is, feeling threatened by the great work he was doing.” Helms grunted something inaudible as he swallowed his a large gulp of water.
“He is an amazing lad; after all I pulled a lot of strings to get Reagan to let him have a job back after the election.”
“
D’you think Reagan had something to do with it?”
“
I doubt it - it’s not really the sort of thing that he’d do - probably by someone lower down who had a vendetta against the poor kid.” Helms once again grunted something, this time it was some roast potato that made it inaudible to Thurmond.
“
What exactly did he want?” asked Senator Jeremiah Denton of Alabama, who had up until now been sitting quietly, listening to the conversation while he ate his lunch.
“
He was looking for a job,” Thurmond took a sip from his cup of white coffee, “
unfortunately, I... didn’t have one to offer him - it’s a real shame.” Helms looked up from his plate a stared at Thurmond, then Denton, then back to Thurmond.
“
Remember I was talking there about McDonald before?” Thurmond paused and looked off as if he was trying to recall what had been discussed at the start of lunch.
“
Yeah,” cut in Denton, trying to take the pressure of Thurmond while he remember about McDonald. “
I think I might have an idea for a job for your Atwater fellow,” Helms began, “
you see, I don’t really think he’s got a team together, at least it wasn’t the message he was sending out to me before. I think he could use someone like Atwater.”
“
I suppose that could work - I mean Lee couldn't really do any worse. Plus McDonald, he’s the good conservative one in the House, right?” Helms nodded in confirmation, “
he could give the liberals a good kick up the arse in the party. Though what if he provides an actual challenge to Reagan?”
“
Nah, he hasn’t got a snowballs chance in Mississippi of getting elected - still I think we should help out a friend and common sense Democrat out the best we can.”
“
True I suppose,” Thurmond conceded, “
I’ll put him in touch with you to see McDonald.” Helms nodded in concurrence.
