the football team are in
love with her.”
“So
why did you wake me?”
“I’ve
decided to run for president, and I don’t need a campaign manager who lies in
bed all morning.”
“Was
it something my father said?”
“Indirectly.” He
paused. “So who do you think will be my main rival?”
“Steve
Rodgers,” said Jimmy without hesitation.
“Why Steve?”
“He’s
a three-letter man, so they’ll try to run him as the popular jock up against
the austere academic. You know, Kennedy against Stevenson.”
“I
had no idea you knew what the word austere meant.”
“No
more jokes, Fletcher,” said Jimmy as he rolled off the
bed. “If you’re going to beat Rodgers, you’ll have to be prepared for anything
and everything they throw at you. I think we ought to begin by having a
breakfast meeting with Dad; he always has breakfast meetings before he starts a
campaign.”
“I
lost my first campaign,” said Senator Gates, when he heard Fletcher’s news, “so
let’s be sure that you don’t make the same mistakes. For a start, who’s your
campaign manager?”
“Jimmy, of course.”
“Never
“of course”; only select someone who you are convinced can do the job, even if
you’re not close friends.”
“I’m
convinced he can do the job,” said Fletcher.
“Good.
Now, Jimmy, you will be of no value to the candidate”- it was the first time
Fletcher thought of himself as the candidate- “unless you’re always open and
frank with Fletcher, however unpleasant it might be.”
Jimmy
nodded. “Who’s your main rival?”
“Steve
Rodgers.”
“What
do we know about him?”
“A
nice enough guy, but not a lot between his ears,” said Jimmy.
“Except
a good-looking face,” said Fletcher.
“And
several touchdowns last season, if I remember correctly,” added the senator.
“So now we know who the enemy is, let’s start working on our friends. First,
you must pick an inner circle-six, eight at most. They only need two qualities,
energy and loyalty- if they’ve got brains as well, that’s a bonus. How long is
the campaign?”
“Just over a week. School reassembles at nine o’clock on Mon-61 day, and the vote takes place on
the Tuesday morning of the following week.”
“Don’t
think week,” said the senator, “think hours, 192 of them, because every hour
will count.”
Jimmy
began making notes.
“So
who’s allowed to vote?” was the senator’s next question.
“Every student.”
“Then
make sure you spend as much time with the boys in the lower grades as with your
contemporaries.
They’ll
be flattered that you’re taking so much interest in them. And, Jimmy, get your
hands on an up-to-date list of the voters, so that you can be certain to make
contact with every one of them before election day .
And don’t forget, new boys will vote for the last person who speaks to them.”
“There
are 380 students,” said Jimmy, unfolding a large sheet of paper on the floor,
“I’ve marked the ones we already know in red, everyone I feel confident will
support Fletcher in blue, new boys in yellow and left the rest blank.”
“And
if you’re in any doubt,” said the senator, “leave them blank, and don’t forget
younger brothers.”
“Younger
brothers?” said Fletcher.
“I’ve
marked them in green,” said Jimmy. “Every one of our supporters who has a brother
in a lower grade will be appointed a rep. Their only job will be signing up
support in their class and reporting back to their brothers.”
Fletcher
looked on with admiration. “I’m not sure it shouldn’t be you who’s running for
president,” he said. “You’re a natural.”
“No,
I’m a natural campaign manager,” said Jimmy, “it’s you who should be
president.”
Although
the senator agreed with his son’s assessment, he didn’t offer an opinion.
“How
do you think it’s going?” asked Fletcher as they
walked around the lake.
“Can’t
be sure,” Jimmy replied. “A lot of the upper-