The Adored (27 page)

Jonathan Barnes now rose to a lectern as everyone gathered round: the glitterati of the state, the corporate titans, and the financial buzzards with their wives, who to a woman were largely unaware they were married to scoundrels. He began:

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming tonight. And what a beautiful night.” And the gathered applauded.

He continued, “I have reached that age when I understand if we could only be born at seventy and gradually approach eighteen, life would be much more informed and happier.” And the gathered laughed, heartily with Barnes who led the laughter. “Since that is not to be and still concerned about my immortal soul, I made a deal with God some years ago. I am not a politician and shall always try to do right if God will not make me one.” And the laughter erupted again, bringing some to an awareness of a side of Jonathan they had not seen before. Really, a side of Mark Twain they hadn’t seen before.

“Tonight, my friends, I want to share with you a vision I have for our country and for our great state of Connecticut. We are living through one of the great periods in the history of the world, and we live in the greatest country in the history of the world. It is because of America and Americans whose compassion for their fellow man knows no bounds that the world did not slip back into the dark ages. We have been through much in less than 250 years as a nation. We have overcome much. We have helped the world overcome much. And yet here we are, just a decade and a half into the twenty-first century and everything seems to be unraveling.

I want to talk about some of these things that are causing this unraveling, and I do not use the word lightly:

“First, the nation is just emerging from the deepest depression since 1929. Yes, depression. The academy called it a recession, the politicians fearing they may be tainted since it happened on their watch called it a recession, and the housing and financial cabal that help orchestrate it called it a recession.”

At this point a number of bankers in the audience glanced at one another wondering where Barnes was going with this.

“But I’ve talked with Americans, and what I hear them saying is that it was a depression—they’ve lost their jobs that have been outsourced to India and China or their companies have been taken over by private equity firms who stripped their companies bare and put them into bankruptcy and put the profits in their pockets.”

Now Barnes had succeeded in making the hedge fund guys a little queasy, dredging up one of their profitable tactics.

“These Americans, citizens of Connecticut, aren’t asking for the handouts that Wall Street wants; they don’t want to be bailed out, all they want is to work.”

There was some applause at this point from a number of the local politicians who had been watching tax revenues dry up with the drop in private sector jobs. The Mayor of Bridgeport, a stocky Latino, whispered to the Mayor of Hartford standing next to him, “Does this sound like a political speech.” The tall thin, slightly balding but youthful mayor of the state capital replied, “I think his deal with God is coming undone.” And they shared a quiet snicker.

“The engine of enterprise is being led by a greedy group of people who really think they are
earning
all this money they are taking from their firms. They’re not; they’re stealing from the stockholders, the employees and the citizens of our country. How do I know this, because Steven Schwartzman is not worth his pay of one billion dollars in one year; because the financial industry is raping and pillaging the life savings and stock holding of most Americans. The average investor is just trying to do good research in quality companies, make an investment and hope the company invested in does well so that when they retire they’ll have a nice nest egg.” Here Barnes paused, looked out over the audience and roared: “Well, I’ve got news for them. You’re dreaming. Everything is stacked against you. The banks, hedge funds and trading houses are betting against you; they’re shorting your stocks, they’re naked shorting them, they buy for their own accounts before they execute your orders and stocks they recommend to you. Why, these same people are selling them behind your backs. They’re betting against you. So our citizens think it’s them and the company they invested in. It’s not. There’s this giant middle man taking his cut of every penny he can get his hand on.”

The bankers and hedge funds leaders in the room were quite uncomfortable at this point. They were visibly moving in place.

“And the politicians are no better.” And they began squirming wondering what was coming next from Barnes.

“These politicians fill their coffers with special interest money and call focus groups together from the financial industry whenever they’re proposing new legislation to get their input. Not to write good laws and regulations but to ensure they do not make their donors unhappy.” There was an audible sigh arising. “Now,” and he looked into the faces of his banker friends, “I’m just using the financial industry as an example of one of the things wrong with the country. There’s too much money in the system corrupting it. From the owners to the politicians, it is infecting everything we’re doing. It has to stop. Just look at the financial meltdown. The whole food chain—from the individual expecting they could buy a house with no money down, no credit and no way to pay for it, to the mortgage broker or lending banker with little due diligence on the borrower’s ability to repay, to Fanny and Freddie who backed those loans, to the bankers who packaged them and sliced and diced them into derivatives that are worthless, and to the insurance companies that insured the worthless derivatives. And did I hear the head of Goldman Sachs, Lloyd Blankfein, say that he is doing God’s work? I did. It’s corrupt. He’s corrupt if he thinks for one minute we’re buying that. We need to overhaul pay practices, lending and financial regulations, and need better ethical standards.

“This cannot be done by those who created it. We need new leadership in all the too-big-to-fail institutions, whether they’re banks, insurance companies, home builders, or auto companies. If you are part of the problem today, you cannot stay at the top and fix it, you’re too invested in the old ways of doing things. This goes for Washington too. The people in place today, the ones responsible for oversight need to leave. “And this is tough for me to say, but my good friend, Chris Dodd, should have retired a lot sooner than a few years ago.”

Shock, set in. Among politicians there they all knew of the friendship of the two men. The bankers who had been so cozy with Dodd disagreed, their heads shaking “No.”

“Thirty-seven years of public service was pretty good. Chris had done a lot for our state and our country, but it is going to take a new breed of men and women in Congress to bring about the changes needed. Richard Blumenthal may think being a hero is about hosting a children’s toy party; it’s not. And now we have Louis Samuels, some call him ‘son of Blumenthal,’ who closely resembles the same ethical lapses that Richard stands for.

“And speaking of doing a lot for our country, it is the men and women of our Armed Services who are doing a lot for our country. But we now have two wars going at once. President Obama will tell you the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are over. They are not. We began the war in Afghanistan to avenge nine eleven and the murder of thirty-five hundred Americans in those four savage attacks. But we are now at the point between Iraq and Afghanistan that we have lost more American soldiers than we lost citizens on nine eleven, and now ISIS or ISIL. George Bush was wrong when he started the Iraq war. Barrack Obama was wrong when he expanded the Afghanistan war. What will Obama be asking us to ante up to fight ISIS?”

Applause broke out. “What is this all about?” “Where did this large canvas that Jonathan Barnes was painting on come from?” “How will this night end?” These were the thoughts of the guests listening to this stem-winding speech by Barnes.

“Another area as citizens we need to be concerned about are our rights. Our rights,” he bellowed. “Not the rights of terrorists. The current administration, God love them, wants to Mirandize terrorists. Why, so they can’t help us catch their buddies. They want to give them fair trials under American laws and institutions that they only want to destroy. And now this administration, that many of us were so fervent about only a few years ago, now this administration wants to sue Arizona for trying to protect its borders. This administration that was pledged to resolving, fairly, the immigration issue has lost its way. There are millions of mostly Latino families living peacefully in the United States doing meaningful work, and now there is a call in Congress to ship them all back to Mexico, Guatemala or Venezuela. That is definitely not the answer. America is large enough for all of them and more. We have always been a nation of immigrants, it is our life blood, and it is who we are.”

More loud applause. The Mayor of Bridgeport said to the Mayor of Hartford, “I like where this going. I think I have someone to vote for.” The Hartford Mayor, his son serving in Afghanistan, smiled politely, “Maybe.”

“Finally,”

“Thank God,” said Chunk DeLuna, his tux now starting to choke his bulky little body, “what a windbag.”

“Finally, our country, our state, and our cities need to exercise fiscal restraint. We are a nation of debtors. If we do not want to become a nation of paupers, we need to act now. American supremacy is not a given. Greece, Rome, England, Holland, Spain, and France once all led the world. There are many nations with controllable labor costs and balanced budgets that want to supplant the US as world leaders. Most economists say they will. Brazil, India, Russia, and China, the so called BRICs, are all lining up for world leadership. It’s inevitable, they say. Not me. American supremacy is a given, and it’s a given based on the goodness of our nation, its guarantees of freedom, and its love of liberty. But some work needs to be done. And this is why I called us all together tonight.

We need to work together, all of us. I see seven key things that need to be done to keep America and our state great. I put them on this small card being handed out to you now.”

On cue, the waiters and waitresses walked among the gathered and handed the cards out. From one group, a loud burst of applause came. This area was mostly family and friends. As the others turned the cards over, they saw emblazoned the slogan “Barnes or Bust” and beneath it “Vote for Jonathan Y. Barnes for United States Senate.”

And the applause grew wider as the rest of the audience looked up and saw their friend and associate declaring his candidacy for United States Senator from Connecticut.

“Thank you, I thought I would be subtle in declaring my candidacy since the issue is not about me, it’s about getting America going now. And if you help me get elected I promise you two things: One, I won’t stay long; I think it will take just one term to implement the imperatives I mentioned. I am just not willing to stand on the sidelines any longer. We must act now. Two, if we are fortunate to be elected to the United States Senate, I promise you will not have a missing voice in Washington. I will lead.”

Barnes paused here as applause erupted. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

There was more applause, louder now. Even some the bankers in the audience who had been criticized could feel the sincerity in Barnes.

Jonathan Barnes looked out on his audience. In all the talks he had given in his life, none was ever personal, none was never about him. He felt different; he felt his adrenaline pumping. He felt quite young at this moment.

“I need all of you with me; can I count on you?” he asked and they responded. To a person they clapped and hooted loudly for the declaration Jonathan Barnes was making. Barnes made his way down from the slightly raised podium and waded into his friends and associates.

It was a serious speech, narrow in scope, but important in the minds of almost everyone there. Everyone except Senor DeLuna who cynically ran out of the ability to pay attention halfway through and started playing around with the olive skin on the back of Lupe Montserrat.

Later that evening as couples discussed Barnes’ talk and had drinks, a small combo played a mix of jazz and popular Broadway tunes at the rear of the room. Santa Alba and her boss/date, Paulo Cartino, passed by the Brazilian beauty and her friend.

Santa froze as she heard the words, “Hello, Santa Alba, from Coamo.” She kept walking arm in arm with Cartino. To herself she screamed, “Please let it be my imagination.”

The designer stopped, “Santa, he spoke to you. Do you know him?” he asked.

Santa’s heart stopped. She tugged at Cartino’s arm, “I do not, come on.”

But the nightmare was real. She now knew who it was.

He called after her, “Santa, do you not recognize me?”

This time she turned. She looked at him. Oh, how is this possible—Chunk DeLuna.

“It’s me, Chunk,” he said in clear English.

The horror returned in an instant: Chunk crawling on top of her in the night; he put one strong little hand over her mouth as she slept next to his sister, Silvana. His other hand he put under her night gown, moving it up her leg. He was twelve then; she was thirteen. She bit his fingers and screamed. Silvana awoke, and Mr. DeLuna came running into the room.

Santa was young then. She should have kept the incident to herself. But she told people—her parents, her teachers, her friends. Chunk DeLuna became a pariah at twelve. Shortly after, his father took him to Brazil to live. Silvana was left in San Blas to be raised by her aunt. Santa, even at thirteen, by retelling the incident sullied her own reputation. At eighteen she was glad to be moving to New York to attend the Fashion Institute.