Sons of Fortune

Kathy grinned. “It’s his Oedipus complex,” she said. “And how did Miss Johnson translate the part? When my drama teacher saw it as an undergraduate with Dame Edith Evans, she said she played the nurse like a school matron—strict and firm, but loving.”

“No,” said Su Ling, “Celia Johnson portrayed her as slightly dotty, erratic but also loving.”

“What an interesting idea. I must look up the director. Of course I would like to have played Juliet, but I’m just not good-looking enough,” she added matter-of-factly.

“But you’re beautiful,” said Luke.

“You’re hardly a reliable judge on that subject, Luke,” she said, taking his hand. “After all, you’ve been wearing glasses since the age of four.”

Nat smiled, and thought how lucky Luke was to have Kathy as a friend.

“Kathy, would you like to come and spend a few days with us during the summer vacation?” asked Nat.

“Yes, if it’s not going to cause you too much trouble, Mr. Cartwright,” Kathy replied. “Because I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”

“Be in my way?” queried Nat.

“Yes, Luke tells me that you’ll be running for governor.”

Local Banker Runs For Governor ran the banner headline in the Hartford Courant. An inside page was given over to a profile of the brilliant young financier who, twenty-five years earlier, had been awarded the Medal of Honor, bringing his career up to date with the role he’d played in the merger between the small family bank of Russell’s, with its eleven local branches, and Fairchild’s with its one hundred and two establishments spread right across the state. Nat smiled when he recalled the confessional at St. Joseph’s, and the graceful way Murray Goldblatz continued to convey the impression that the original idea had been Nat’s. Nat had continued to learn from Murray, who never lowered his guard or his standards.

The Courant’s editorial suggested that Nat’s decision to run against Ralph Elliot for the Republican nomination had opened up the contest, as both were outstanding candidates at the top of their professions. The editorial did not come out in favor of either man, but promised to report fairly on the duel between the banker and the lawyer, who were known not to like each other. “Mrs. Hunter will also run,” they added in the final paragraph almost as an afterthought, which summed up the Courant’s view on her chances now that Nat had allowed his name to go forward.

Nat felt well satisfied with the press and television coverage that followed his announcement, and even more pleased by the favorable public reaction on the street. Tom had taken a two-month leave of absence from the bank to run Nat’s campaign, and Murray Goldblatz sent a substantial check for the campaign fund.

The first meeting was held at Tom’s home that evening, when Nat’s chief of staff explained to his carefully selected team what they would be up against during the next six weeks.

Rising before the sun each morning, and collapsing in bed after midnight had few compensations, but an unexpected one for Nat was Luke’s fascination with the electoral process. He spent his vacation accompanying his father everywhere, often with Kathy by his side. Nat grew to like her more and more as each day passed.

Nat took a little time getting used to the new routine, and being reminded by Tom that you can’t bark out instructions to volunteers, and you must always thank them, however little they’ve done and however badly they’ve done it. But even with six speeches and a dozen meetings a day, the learning curve proved steep.

It quickly became clear that Elliot had been out on the stump for several weeks, hoping his early groundwork would give him an unassailable advantage. Nat soon realized that although the first caucus in Ipswich would only yield seventeen electoral votes, its importance was disproportionate to the numbers involved, as in New Hampshire at a presidential election. He visited every one of the caucus voters and never left in any doubt that Elliot had been there before him. Although his rival had already locked up several delegates, there remained a few waverers who were undecided or simply didn’t trust the man.

As the days slipped by, Nat discovered that he was always expected to be in two places at once because the primary in Chelsea was only two days after the caucus in Ipswich. Elliot was now spending most of his time in Chelsea, as he considered he’d already wrapped up the Ipswich caucus.

Nat returned to Ipswich on the night of the caucus vote, to hear the local chairman announce that Elliot had captured ten of the votes while he had secured seven. Elliot’s team, while claiming it as a clear-cut victory, were unable to hide their disappointment. As soon as he’d heard the result, Nat ran to his car and Tom had him back in Chelsea by midnight.

To his surprise, the local papers discounted the result in Ipswich, saying that Chelsea, with an electorate of over eleven thousand, would be much more of an indicator as to how the public felt about the two men rather than reading anything into the views of a handful of party apparatchiks. And Nat certainly felt more relaxed out on the streets, in the shopping malls, at the factory gates, and in the schools and clubs than he had been in smoke-filled rooms listening to people who believed it was their “God-given right” to select the candidate.

After a couple of weeks of pressing the flesh, Nat told Tom that he was very encouraged by how many voters were saying they would support him. But was Elliot receiving the same response, he wondered.

“I’ve no idea,” said Tom as they drove off to yet another meeting, “but I can tell you that we are fast running out of money. If we’re soundly beaten tomorrow, we may have to withdraw from the race, having taken part in one of the shortest campaigns in history. We could of course let the world know that Bush is backing you, because that would be sure to swing a few votes.”

“No,” said Nat firmly. “That was a private call, not an endorsement.”

“But Elliot never stops talking about his trip to the White House with his old friend George, as if it was a dinner for two.”

“And how do you feel the rest of the Republican delegation feel about that?”

“That’s far too subtle for the average voter,” suggested Tom.

“Never underes

timate them,” said Nat.

Nat couldn’t recall much about the day of the Chelsea primary, except that he never stopped moving. When it was announced just after midnight that Elliot had won by 6,109 votes to 5,302 for Cartwright, Nat’s only question was, “Can we afford to go on now that Elliot has gained a twenty-seven to ten lead among the delegates?”

“The patient is still breathing,” Tom replied, “but only just, so it’s on to Hartford, and if Elliot wins that one as well, we won’t be able to stop his bandwagon rolling all over us. Just be thankful you have a day job to go back to,” he added with a smile.