Rob Curnock - Dead Man Running
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- Book:Dead Man Running
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Dead Man Running
Rob Curnock
Copyright 2019 by Rob Curnock
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.
Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
832 Park Avenue
Meadville, PA 16335
www.christianfaithpublishing.com
Many names have been changed in Dead Man Running to protect the privacy of non-public individuals appearing in this book. These changes in no way alter the veracity or description of the actual events herein.
Although there are many conversations described in this book, most are not retold to the reader verbatim. However, these conversations are based on the authors (and others) recollections and are written with the intent to convey the truest and most accurate reflection of those verbal interactions and incidents.
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
I want to express my unceasing gratitude to my good friend Steve Toon and my wonderful wife Karen for their incredible help in editing and organizing this literary political true-life adventure.
* * * * *
I also want to thank everyone who played a part in helping make this specific political change described in Dead Man Running . Electoral conflict is not for the faint of heart, but it is the very core of a Representative Republic. Even those who find themselves on opposite sides in the conflict dont necessarily have to lose their humanity in the process...or the aftermath.
I pray thats the case in this political saga.
Introduction
As the train drew closer to my destination of the seat of American political power, the clean, sleek subway car I had settled into grew crowded. More commuters gathered, many government workers making their way to their jobs manning the ranks of the federal bureaucracy. Others were probably tourists, lobbyists, and other assorted citizens. As each station approached, I was struck by the faux familiarity I was experiencing, names of places and areas that I recognized from my history books and news reports: Arlington National Cemetery, Foggy Bottom, The Pentagon. Each stop brought me closer to my eventual goal on so many levelsCapitol Hill.
I had dressed in what has become a quasi-uniform for most congressmen, a dark blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. I figured I could at least look the part for my day on Capitol Hill. My apparel appeal evidently worked.
Periodically, the light disappeared outside of the car as the subway passed into tunnels or underground sections. The windows suddenly became mirrors, and I was acutely aware that most of the people reflected around me were looking intently at me. On several occasions, while facing inward, I inadvertently met the eyes of one. Maybe it was my imagination, but it appeared to me they were trying to discern if I was indeed a denizen of Congress and, if so, did they perhaps recognize me? I assume its not uncommon for regular commuters to spot the occasional elected official heading for their jobs in the Capitol Building. Its amazing what the right suit can do for you.
I had spent the night in my hotel in suburban Washington, D.C., anticipating the gravity of the next days events. This was the first real political action committee that was even willing to hear me out. My candidacy was dismissed out of hand by virtually every other entity involved in donating to congressional campaigns. As an incumbent, Democrat Congressman Chet Edwards financial reports were wall-to-wall with business and organizational donations. Although I had no desire to fund my campaign entirely with professional donors, and I would press on no matter what, this meeting presented an opportunity to establish some sort of credibility with the political donor class.
The train arrived at the Capitol Hill station and I joined hundreds of other commuters converging on the impressive four-story escalators heading to the surface. I emerged into the bright sunlight of a beautiful Washington morning. Still several hours away from my appointed time at the national Republican headquarters, I decided to explore my surroundings and take in the sights at the center of the American political universe.
The Capitol building sits atop a wide hill with federal and political buildings ringing three sides of the property. On the sidewalk in front of the congressional and senatorial offices, I encountered a small group of protesters holding signs for and against various assorted causes and issues. I watched bemusedly as these people desperately looked for some sort of recognition and attention from both the foot and vehicular traffic surrounding the halls of Congress. I found that I actually agreed with more than a few signs.
I walked up the street at one side of the Capitol and quickly recognized the Supreme Court. Pausing for a few moments, I soaked it in and pondered the enormity of what I was seeing. As a history buff, it was sobering to be standing on the ground where so much history had been created over the centuries.
The National Republican Congressional Committee building is adjacent to the Capitol. After passing security and establishing my business for being there, I was buzzed into the interior of the building and directed to where I would have my meeting with my potential supporters.
I sat down and drank in all the sights of the waiting area. This was definitely another world. With plush decor and ornate furnishings surrounding me, I pondered that I wasnt in Waco, Texas, anymore. Suddenly I understood why so many otherwise well-grounded individuals succumb to the mindset of Washington and all its seductive power and prestige. It reinforced in me the thought that if you arent well grounded in your purpose and mission for being in Washington, you could easily lose sight of the real world that sent you there.
Unexpectedly, feelings of doubt soon overwhelmed me. Who am I to be sitting here? Im just little Rob Curnock from Waco. This is the big leagues. These people are important. What am I thinking? I have no business here.
It was a slight and momentary questioning of my entire purpose and what I had been striving to accomplish for the last eight months and, in reality, the past six years.
I determined then and there that no matter what might lie ahead, I must stay focused on my reason for seeking Congress. I had a mission, ideology, and a goal. If I lost sight of any of those, I would betray everything I believed in as a person, a political office holder, and as a Christian, who quietly heeds a higher calling.
Nervously, I went over my thoughts. I wanted to make sure I made the most of this one-time chance to make some allies in our battle to secure a seat for like-minded conservatives. As the stress level rose, I realized this was no good. If I rehearsed, I would come off as contrivedan actor. My passion for redirecting our nations priorities is no act for personal gain.
While I struggled with the human civilized version of the old instinctual biological quandary of fight or flight, a middle-aged woman came toward me from out of the double doors at the end of the hall. She had a smile on her face. Are you Rob? Although we had never met in person, it gave me comfort when I immediately recognized her voice from our phone calls.
Shortly thereafter she ushered me into a large meeting hall, with tables ringing the entire room. Thirty or so men and women sat around the tables. Some ate; others glanced at papers. A few made eye contact and nodded. My hostess warmly introduced me and turned me loose to tell my story.
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