Tomorrow's Headlines
Mike Mather

NOBODY BEATS A BUD
-3/17 Philadelphia Inquirer


How would you feel if your whole life clicked into place, suddenly your
confidence was total, you would achieve all the dreams of your youth? Bud felt
incredibly alive as he stepped from the detectives car, every breath of freezing air
ratcheting his spirit up another notch. There was simply no doubt. He would become
President of the United States.

He had to laugh at himself as the detectives moved the Buick into guard position.
Sure, he was only District Attorney of Philadelphia, only a candidate for the Republican
nomination for Governor of Pennsylvania, but the signs were all there, everything was
breaking his way. By January hed be Governor, exactly where hed said at twenty-one
hed have to be at fifty to make it to the White House. First President of the United States
of America for the 21st century. He could see it, hear it, smell it and taste it.

And what could be more satisfying than the conviction you had played your cards
perfectly? So perfectly that every setback in your life could now be seen as necessary for
ultimate success of your Master Plan. If he hadnt lost the race for Attorney General, hed
never have become District Attorney of Philadelphia, never nailed Felix, Phillys Coke
King, never made the cover of TIME for prosecutor of the year, never had the shot he had
now. What had Frank Mitchell, The Inquirers Pulitzer prize-winning political reporter
written that morning - "a shoe-in for Governor?" He felt the weight of the newspaper
tucked under the arm of his coat. Someone was looking out for him.

You didnt have to be the son of privilege like Kennedy or Bush, a military man
like Ike and Carter, Mr. Moviestar Charisma like Reagan, or a crook like LBJ. You could
simply be an honest and upright small-town boy who went to Law School, worked hard,
and made good. Nixon had proved it for Rs, Ds were supposed to be men of the people.
Luck and desire were enough for an R to become President. Just like his hero had done it,
he would do it.

He had only confided the Master Plan to Cheryl, before they were married. His
self-confident, boyish idealism had been part of his attraction. Only later had she realized
that their marriage was a key step in the Master Plan, and his desperation to sire the
perfect political son and daughter had nearly split them when she had difficulty
conceiving. But that was long ago. Tad and Julie were nearly finished high school. Today
he had no doubt he could father a child. In fact, he felt like it. Hell, when was the last
time they had done it. Too long ago...as usual.

Step one, become a lawyer, step two a prosecutor. Crime would be a critical
public issue his entire life. Human nature. In 1972, work for Specter, when he loses in
73, work for U.S. Attorneys Office. Always honest and hardworking, make a name for
yourself. He wasnt fired when Griffin Bell canned Marston when the Ds won the White
House. Staying on track. Full speed ahead. Nothing could stop him now.

So absorbed in appreciating his career planning, Bud didnt notice at first the
young man standing on the brick-lined portion of the sidewalk in front of his neighbors
townhouse, even though he was directly under the streetlamp. With his detectives in the
car less than a block away, and the innocent, almost cherubic look on the kids face, Bud
wasnt concerned about the stranger. With Bud Smith as DA, street crime was down 35%
in Philadelphia. Kid probably came to shake his hand and wish him well. Happened all
the time. He had attempted the same thing with Ike in 1958, in their mutual (he liked to
think) hometown of Gettysburg. Not that he got all that close. He envied Clinton for that
shot of JFK shaking his hand. He nodded to the boy as he stepped toward the three
marble steps by the front door of the townhouse they had owned since 79 on Pine Street.

"Hi, Im your new neighbor, Josh Star, one r. Nice to meet you."

Thats a big smile. "Nice to meet you Josh. Bud extended his gloved hand.
Barely old enough to vote...by November.

"Just rentin this house." Curly brown hair, young and innocent, with that
smile...maybe could be campaign volunteer, canvassing votes at Penn, Temple, St. Joes,
LaSalle, CCP, PCA. Lots of college students werent registered and they were perfectly
prepared to vote R, a situation unseen since the fifties. Votes tallied across Buds brain.
"Im new in town...need some help." Bud could refer him to all manner of help, and he
was certainly feeling magnanimous. Besides, a nice little Frank Mitchell column about
"busy DA/candidate but decent human being Bud Smith has time for new neighbor"
couldnt hurt. Bud turned to face the boy directly.

"I want to get fucked." The boys smile was so engaging, the statement so incongruous,
Bud almost laughed, but caught himself and quickly turned stern. What could make a kid
think saying something like that to a perfect stranger was appropriate? What was the
matter with these smart-ass kids today? His disgust turned to concern when he considered
how the bum would be living next door. A bad influence for Tad? With Julies rebellious
attitude, hed undoubtedly have to listen to how "hot" Josh was. He decided on a cutting
Thats your problem but before he got it out, Josh continued in a most sincere and
engaging manner.