I must confess that politics is in my blood.
As a youngster, I remember my father being the Mayor of Sunnyvale California. One day a kid on the playground pointed to me and then said to another child, “He’s the Mayor’s son.” Frankly, I didn’t know what being a mayor entailed, but I liked the idea of being identified as the Mayor’s son. I do remember that uniformed police would show up at our house and pass over documents to my father. You can imagine how cool a child would think that was. I can also vaguely remember having to attend a few of my father’s speeches. According to my siblings, I didn’t listen very well and was in no way a credit to the family.
I also have some recollection of a hotly contested political campaign. My father was running against a man named Spangler. I saw Spangler posters everywhere, and Spangler bumper stickers. I remember telling my father that I saw a car pass that had a Spangler bumper sticker, and I asked him what I should do if I saw such a thing again. He said, “Throw a rock at the car.” Then he went on to tell me that he was just kidding, and that I shouldn’t do that.
Truth to tell, I think he was only half-kidding. Political passions do run hot.
In that particular election Spangler eked out a very narrow victory, and that’s when we stopped getting visited by police, and my father stopped making his speeches.
My father was not the first in his family to be a politician. My great-grandfather was the first Mayor of Mt. Gilead, Ohio. And my brother Bret, who is doing a family genealogy, has been finding other politicians to whom we are related. So there’s the family secret. I come from a long line of politicians.
The political process has always fascinated me. I guess in part it’s like watching a car crash. It’s hard to tear your eyes away from a collision. When I was working on my college newspaper I covered a number of political events, and after college I assisted in some presidential campaigns. I have handed out a candidate’s literature, and heard the vitriol from those who thought my candidate wouldn’t even make a good dog-catcher.
When I originally envisioned the plot for POLITICAL SUICIDE I thought it would be nice to have a Washington D.C. insider help me with the book. No one can accuse me of thinking small. President Clinton had just left office, so I penned a note to him asking if he would consider being my co-author, and at the same time I dropped him a copy of EXPOSURE. It was just a few days later when I heard from an aide on Clinton’s staff. She explained that President Clinton wouldn’t be able to consider my project, because the contract he had signed for his memoirs precluded him from being involved in any other writing projects. The aide then asked me whether she should return my book. As President Clinton’s fondness for mysteries is well known, I said that there was no need. About two months after that I received a small hand-written note from President Clinton telling me that he had enjoyed the book. He signed the note, “Bill.”
Well, without Bill as a co-author I had to do more research than I would have liked. Still, it was a lot of fun unearthing American political scandals. And since Bill wasn’t around to help me, I decided I could even mention one or two of his own scandals in the novel. He certainly wasn’t alone. Every American presidency has its scandals.
As with all my books, I tossed in autobiographical elements. After leaving the hotel business I worked for years as a “spotter” (also called an auditor, mystery shopper, shopper, hospitality consultant, or by those on the other end of the scrutiny, a “spy”). I went into hotels and bars (and occasionally other venues, including such places as professional football games, horse races, and retail stores) and recorded my impressions. For those who might bring up the “Big Brother” aspect of my work, I can only state that I wish you had joined me on some audits. There were occasions when bartenders would take money from me, and instead of putting it in the till would deposit it directly in their pockets. I witnessed many examples of free food and drinks being dispensed, alcohol and drug abuse on the job, and outright theft. I never felt bad about documenting those experiences.
What I truly enjoyed was extolling a job well done. Those who work in the service industry know how tough it is, and how pats on the back are few. I much preferred giving a carrot to a stick, and expressing my gratitude when given good service.
Over the years I collected a number of stories related to my spotting activities. I decided I wanted my character to have his own hospitality company so as to afford me the opportunity to tell some of those stories.
I also decided my character should have attended one of our nation’s service academies, in this case West Point. I wanted him to come from a military family. It was another “what if” situation for me. I came very close to attending the Naval Academy, but was ultimately dissuaded by all the required math and engineering courses. Even back in high school I knew I wanted to make the written word my life’s ambition. At the age of 17 I was more scared by the idea of those math courses than by the possibility of having to serve in our military and perhaps go to war.
I have always wondered what would have happened though if I had gone to Annapolis. My parents were disappointed when I abruptly stopped by application process to the Naval Academy. The two of them had met in the military. My mother was a naval flight nurse evacuating the wounded from Korea, and my father was second in command of a tug working the waters of Alaska. I grew up saying, “Yes, sir,” and “Yes, ma’am.” They were thrilled by the idea of one of the children pursuing a military career, and even more thrilled by the idea that they wouldn’t have to contribute to my college education. For better or worse, I decided to go to UC San Diego. It was probably a good decision, especially as I usually get seasick when I am on a ship out in the ocean.
POLITICAL SUICIDE was released in December of 2003. I would have thought the publisher would have picked a November date for the book. At any rate, I hope you’ll cast your ballot for it.
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