Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 Read Free Page A

New World Symphony. The presidentelect’s swearing-in was
supposed to start at thirty seconds before noon , timed so that at precisely one second
after noon, the president-elect should be uttering the words “So help me God.”
The swearing-in would be followed by the first playing of “Hail to the Chief”
by the Marine Band, then the President’s inaugural address to the nation,
followed by a reception with the congressional leadership. Supreme Court members,
and other dignitaries and guests in the Presidential Room of the Capitol.
                 Then
there would be the parade down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House—the newly sworn
President and Vice President and their wives were expected to continue the
Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter tradition and walk a good portion of the twelve-block
parade route. Later tonight, there were inaugural balls scheduled all across
Washington—about fifteen in all— and the new President, Vice President, and
their wives were expected at least to put in an appearance and take one turn
around the dance floor at all of them. Everything was being coordinated down to
the second, and there was intense pressure by organizers on everyone—even
Supreme Court justices—to keep on schedule.
                 Thorn
extended his hand to the chief justice of the Supreme Court as the latter
entered the room. “Chief Justice Thompson, good to see you again,” he said.
“Here to do the preliminaries, I presume?”
                “Yes, Governor,” the chief justice
said, a bit impatiently. “We’re a little pressed for time, so we’d better—”
                 “Yes,
I know, I know. The precious schedule,” the president-elect said, his smile
disarming. The room was packed, but everyone was on their absolute best
behavior, sitting quietly without fussing or any sign of nervousness. The
president-elect had five children, all less than eight years of age, but there
was not a peep out of any one of them except for polite whispers—everyone
thought they were the most well behaved children on the planet. “We’re ready
for you now.”
                 The
dark horse had a name, and it was Thomas Nathaniel Thom, the former
boy-governor of Vermont . Tall, boyishly handsome, his wavy hair thinning but still blond—Thom
was only in his mid-forties—with dancing blue eyes and an easy smile, he looked
like anything but the fastest-rising star on the American political scene. As
the founder and leader of the Jeffersonian Party, Thom was the first
alternative-party candidate since Abraham Lincoln and his fledgling Republican
Party to be elected to the presidency.
                 The
vice president-elect, Lester Rawlins Busick, the former six-term senator from
Florida, and his wife, Martha, were inside as well, with their two grown
children. Busick, a former southern “Reagan” Democrat—fiscally conservative but
socially liberal—was an old political pro and very well respected inside the
Beltway. But he had parted ways with his party on several issues, and had soon
come to realize that his message could better be heard from the forum of the
hot new Jeffersonian Party rather than if he were just another veteran senator
shouting against the political hurricane. Despite Busick’s strong reputation
and sheer physical presence, however, he was practically invisible in the
crowded hotel room.
                 The
door was secured, and the onlookers gathered around, with an aide discreetly
snapping pictures. The chief justice shook hands with everyone, then said in a
rather rushed tone of voice, “As you know. Governor Thom, the Twentieth
Amendment to the Constitution of the United States prescribes the actual moment at which you
take office, which is one second after twelve o’clock noon today. Article Two, Section One of the
Constitution also mandates that you take the oath of office before assuming
your responsibilities as president