State of Rebellion

“If my own staff could only do so well.”

“Well, then. Let’s get down to business,” John Henry said, gesturing for his guests to be seated. “I’ll come straight to the point, Malcolm. Paul, here, tells me that your main opponent this next election has some hot issues on his plate and plenty of financing to fund his campaign. How’s it look to you?”

Franklin seemed to sense that with the right approach-in this case, unlimited campaign financing-the politician in Turner would rise to the surface.

“He’s young, inexperienced, and full of visionary utopia. But,” Turner said, shaking his head, “likely to clean my clock unless I can match, or hopefully exceed, his resources. He’s got quite a war chest, plenty of time to gather more, and an army of young acolytes to spread the word.”

“Malcolm, I’m sure you know that I’ve refrained from getting involved in your previous campaigns. In fact, I’ve generally made it a policy to stay altogether clear of political campaign financing. But don’t let that convince you that I haven’t been in support of what you’ve done for California, and for that matter, the nation. I’ve watched your chairmanship of the senate finance committee with great interest.”

Franklin stood and moved to take a cigar from the humidor on the mantle, then bit off the end, spat it into the fire, and removed a burning stick from the fireplace to light the hand-rolled stogie.

“You were raised in California, weren’t you, Malcolm, and you’re familiar with our Spanish history and Mexican heritage?”

“It’s always been my view that Californians and Mexicans are ‘cousins,’ so to speak. Talking over the backyard fence is something neighbors and relatives do.”

“Exactly!” Franklin said, jabbing the air with his cigar. “I thought you’d see it that way. I’m going to speak boldly, Malcolm, because I know you to be a man of action. You know, of course, from your understanding of your constituency, that western Americans have become increasingly fed up with federally required mandates, lack of funding, and the myriad rules and regulations that tie the hands of the state legislatures. Even the drastic shift to Republican control of Congress back in ’94, and again in 2000, did little to stem the tide of federalism-or the power struggle, for that matter. I know you’ve ruffled some feathers in your own Democratic Party by your support of states’ rights issues. ‘Federal intervention should be the last resort’ is the way you’ve recently put it, if I’m not incorrect.”

Turner’s eyebrows raised slightly. “It seems you have followed my career, John Henry.”

“Certainly have. With pleasure, I might add. I’ve always taken an interest in staying informed about those who support important issues. But let me get back to the point. Are you familiar with the fact that back in 1992, a California assemblyman from Redding proposed dividing California into two separate states?”

“I believe my staff did brief me on that.”

“Good, but are you also aware that since statehood in 1850, similar proposals have been made thirteen times?”

Turner rattled the ice cubes in his glass, glancing at the other men in the room. “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“I see,” Franklin continued. “Back when California became a state, the entire southern half of the territory refused to be part of the statehood movement, citing that the north was economically and culturally advantaged over the south-which at that time was mostly comprised of Mexican ranchers. Against its will, the southern part of the territory was included, and California became a very large state.”

“I guess I was absent from school that day, too,” Turner said, his voice taking on a slight edge.

“I beg your indulgence here, Senator,” Franklin said, again pointing with his cigar. “I don’t presume to teach history, but from those previous attempts and the more recent movement, we can gain an understanding of how Californians feel. In the primaries of ’92, twenty-seven of thirty-one northern counties voted yes to forming a fifty-first state. And now that the immigration issue has become so intense. . well, you understand the nature of that problem, I’m sure.”

“I do recall the ’92 vote. It was an important issue, but numerically, the north is-”

“I know,” Franklin interrupted, “they don’t have the numbers.” He paused again and glanced at Spackman.

“Let’s look at this from an economic perspective, Senator. California is possessed of more natural resources than many of the third world’s sovereign nations. And our production capability staggers the imagination-lacking, perhaps, only the cheap labor force available in other parts of the world. We could correct that by assuring better relations with Mexico. And don’t forget the creative power of Silicon Valley-it’s the envy of the world. Ah, but if we could bring those resources together. Think of the possibilities if our wealth of resources could somehow be paired with controlled labor costs, and the two were linked to the finest air, sea, and land transportation system in the world. It would be an unbeatable combination. The trouble is, Malcolm, California is bankrupt, not from internal economic policies, but from federal political decisions. Our own state politicians haven’t helped. We try to give everything to everyone, and someone has to pay the bill. California has come to the end of that road, Senator. We can’t tolerate it anymore. But the state, the people, deserve more, don’t you think. Senator?”

“California’s like a fine wine, John Henry, well aged and finely presented,” Turner said, laughing. “Under the right leadership and vision, California should be a leader in the world, not a financially inept, struggling state. I have to admit, the federal government has brought us to our knees, financially speaking.”

Jabbing his cigar at Turner, Franklin continued: “Economics is the key. Military might is nothing anymore, except to keep the third world dictators in line. Financial control, Senator-that’s the real world power. With no disrespect to our Mexican guests, Mexico’s national economics have been in shambles for decades and American trade policies have had a lot to do with that. As Chairman of the senate finance committee, I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

“Indeed I do. You’re speaking my language now.”

Franklin paused to puff his cigar and move to the bar to freshen his drink, allowing Turner some time to recoup his thoughts and assimilate the philosophy Franklin had been expounding. Returning to the fireplace, Franklin studied Turner for a few seconds, taking his measure and determining if he was ready for the coup de grace.

“Senator Turner, the Franklin Foundation is prepared to underwrite your campaign-a blank check, in the usual circuitous way, naturally. This support will in no way tie your hands. You’re free to establish your own platform. We have but one point we wish you to vigorously support throughout the election.”

Turner hesitated for a moment, glancing again at the other men in the room, his political antennae vibrating. “John Henry, how may I be of service?”

Franklin smiled and took a long puff of his cigar, then exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Malcolm,” he began, moving closer, “it’s time for California to reach for her destiny. I’m not just talking about splitting into two or three states-I’m talking about a new nation. It’s time for California to take her place among the nations of the world. It’s time for California to become an independent republic.”

Turner had always been good at affecting a poker face that masked his true feelings, but Franklin’s message had left the senator stunned, and he knew Franklin saw it.

“Malcolm. .” Franklin said quietly, but forcefully, moving to stand inches from Turner’s face. “. . we need you in this.” He paused as the clarion call echoed in Turner’s mind. After a few moments, Franklin said, “Your voice is well respected. And in the end, should Washington see their way clear to recognize the message we’re delivering, perhaps we can yet come to some accord. Maybe by rattling their cage, we can get their attention, and yet remain a member state in this grand Union, and still achieve our objectives. That will remain to be seen. In any event, General Valdez assures me that Mexico is ready to recognize our new nation and to support us as we work through the transition. But to get Washington’s attention, we need you to stand for California, Malcolm. Throughout this next campaign, we need you to rattle that rusty, old cage.”

Shortly before midnight, on his helicopter flight back to San Francisco, with the twinkling lights of the city on the horizon, thoughts of the evening’s discussion had swirled around in Malcolm Turner’s head. A refusal to cooperate with Franklin meant more than no campaign funds-in fact, it could well mean additional funding- unlimited funding-to the smart, young whippersnapper who was trying to unseat him. He leaned his head back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes, the drone of the helicopter’s engine relaxing him.

Secession! A new nation! Incredible!