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Half Empty, Half Full
Violet
The Madison, Washington D.C.
1988
The man with the glass of Glenlivet was watching the room, carefully
observing who was mingling and who was standing aside; who was being pursued
and who was being snubbed. The scene was the same as every Washington
fundraiser he'd ever attended, and, he supposed, every one he ever would.
He glanced at a younger man standing near him, who was drinking Jack Daniels. "Two hundred years," he said.
Jack Daniels furrowed his brow. "What?"
He chuckled. "Two hundred years of politics in America, and these things
haven't changed. Put powdered wigs on everyone in here and the founding
fathers would be right at home."
"You think so?" Jack Daniels said.
"The electric lights would throw them off at first, but they'd adapt." He
extended his free hand. "Leo McGarry."
"Yeah." He shook it. "Toby Ziegler."
"Thought I knew everybody here," Leo said. "I'm not even sure I recognize
your name."
Toby stared moodily at his glass. "No reason you should."
"You're with...?"
"Allen Byers."
"New York, right?" Toby nodded. Leo nodded back. "Right. I know you now.
Weren't you working for Mike Zabriskie two years ago?"
"For a while. Until he fired me."
"Why'd he fire you?"
"I wouldn't cut a paragraph about Teamsters from one of his speeches." Toby
sipped his drink. "I told him he could have the paragraph, or he couldn't
have the speech."
"Did you phrase it like that?"
"I used a little bit of colorful local vernacular."
"So you quit, essentially."
Toby shrugged. "It was his decision."
"Yeah, well, look where it landed him," Leo said. "What's he doing now,
chairing the White Plains city council?"
"Something like that."
"Byers seems more solid."
"Seems that way," Toby agreed. He glanced across the room. The Senatorial
candidate was chatting up a pair of education lobbyists and a pretty
reporter. "Young parents like him. Senior citizens like him. Hell, even
the press likes him."
"Think he'll win it?"
"Sure," Toby said noncommittally.
Leo finished his drink and signaled for a refill. "Be a good thing if he
did. The midterms aren't looking too great right now."
"Are you here for anything in particular?"
"To talk with Stephen Williams."
Toby looked at him with dawning awareness. "He's going to run in two years."
"He's already started." Leo gestured in the direction of a large cluster of
Congressmen and deep-pocketed contributors, surrounding a tall, gray-haired
man.
"Think he'll win it?"
"The climate's right."
"You don't sound enthused."
"I haven't worked up any excitement yet. I'll get there by the end of next year. He's not a bad candidate."
"Not bad," Toby echoed.
"And that makes him about the best we've got these days," Leo said dryly, drinking some of his refreshed Scotch. "Someone's got to go over there and keep him from blurting out every single thing he has planned for the next two years."
"Good luck with that."
"Good luck with yours." Leo took a few steps away and turned back. "Mike
Zabriskie should have listened to you."
"You're telling me."
"If you decide to come down to Washington full-time, give me a call."
"Not just yet," Toby said.
Leo smiled. "Well, you're from New York. People hang on to that place like cats on cushions. Let me know when you're coming down."
"And if I never do?" Toby asked.
"I think you will," Leo answered over his shoulder.
* * *
The Four Seasons, Manhattan
1997
The man with the glass of Jack Daniels was ignoring the room, walling out the
background noise, willing himself not to hear other people's laughter and
chatter. He looked down at the table instead, observing tiny scratches in
the varnish and drumming his fingers aimlessly on the surface.
"A Boston Irish Catholic and a New York Jew walk into a bar," a voice said.
Toby looked up. "I think I've heard that one, Mr. Secretary."
"Variations on a theme." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "And it's Leo,
you know that. How's Andrea?"
Toby drained his glass. "She's good."
"She's been doing some good things in Congress lately."
"I know." He flagged down a waiter. "Could I get a refill, and--"
"I'm fine," Leo said quickly. "So, you split your time between here and Washington now?"
"Pretty much."
"Still hanging on to New York, though."
"Tooth and claw."
"You should have come to work for me seven years ago," Leo admonished him.
"We could've used you in Labor. Hell, we could have used you on the re-election campaign."
"At least you got my vote."
"That's really reassuring, considering we only lost by three million. It
wasn't a good year to be a Democrat."
"Williams beat hell out of what we've got now," Toby agreed. "Why'd you want
to talk to me?"
Leo leaned forward, and his eyes brightened. "I have a guy."
Toby raised his eyebrows as he accepted a fresh drink from the waiter. "Yeah?"
"Governor Josiah Bartlet," Leo told him.
"He's Vermont, right?"
"New Hampshire. And he'd kick your ass if he heard you say that."
"Right."
"Come run for President with us."
Toby studied him for a long moment. "No."
"Don't say no yet."
"No. You're going to run Bartlet against John Hoynes?"
"What's wrong with that?" Leo said innocently.
"Where do I start? Hoynes is the sixty million dollar man."
"Right now he is." Leo shook his head. "Hoynes is a Senator from Texas who thinks he's living a charmed life. He's not going to win the White House."
"And Bartlet's going to."
"I think so. Call me an optimist."
"A New England Governor with no national recognition whatsoever."
"Yeah."
"Isn't he some kind of economics buff?"
"He's smart to the point of being freakish," Leo conceded.
"And we both know how much the American people love that."
"Fair enough. But you haven't seen what this guy can do. I've known Jed
Bartlet for most of my life. He doesn't know what he's got, but I do. And
America's about to find out. Come run with us."
Toby toyed with his drink. "You don't want me to work for you."
"That's funny, I could have sworn I just said--"
"I've never won an election."
"I'm aware of that. I've followed your career, Toby."
"Such as it has been."
Leo folded his hands. "By all reliable accounts, your biggest problem is you keep working for the wrong people. Sametz didn't listen to you last year. Zabriskie didn't listen to you ten years ago. You know, you really ought to stop working for stupid people."
"Al Byers was smart about almost everything."
"Yeah. It was a shame about that girl."
"I think he got caught with her on purpose," Toby muttered. "Just to screw
up my year."
"The point is, those guys did screw you over. Although the word is you also
had a few problems listening to them. Do you have a problem with listening
to me?"
"No."
"All the guys you've worked for -- they're all guys like Hoynes, variations on a theme. None of them were any better than 'not bad'. Toby, I called you to tell you that we can put a good man in the White House. I know the work you do. I want you on board. Come run for President with us."
Toby drank some of his whiskey. "It's a hell of a long shot, Leo."
"It can't hurt your track record," he retorted. "Look, if worst comes to worst, it won't pan out in the primaries, you can bail and go home. New York will still be here in six months."
"Who've you got on board?"
"No one," Leo admitted. "I have a lot of phone calls left to make."
"So the Bartlet Presidential campaign consists of you and Bartlet."
"And a couple guys who helped him run for Governor." Leo looked him in the eye. "And you."
Toby held the stare for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
Leo nodded back. "Come up to New Hampshire next week. He'll be speaking in Manchester. Meet him. Watch him. You won't have to take my word for it."
"You really think--"
"I really do." Leo stood up. "I'll see you, Toby."
"Yeah."
"I told you I'd get you down to Washington eventually," Leo said, as he started to walk away.
"We're not there yet," Toby called.
Leo stopped and grinned back at him. "We will be."
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