Rolling Stone: Tracking The Pretty Effect, A Fick/Seaborn Phenomenon
Title: Rolling Stone: Tracking The Pretty Effect, A Fick/Seaborn Phenomenon
Author: melliyna
Fandom: Generation Kill, Band of Brothers, West Wing
Pairing: Colbert/Fick, Nixon/Winters, Sam/Ainsley, Henry and Donna
Rating R
Word Count: 4,100
Disclaimer: Not affiliated with any real political campaign, election or event and except in my happy daydreams, none of this is real or ever happened. The Aaron Sorkin characters belong and are the creation of Aaron Sorkin, the Generation Kill and Band of Brothers characters are based on the TV show depictions, not the real men and there is absolutely no disrespect meant.
Warnings/Timelines/Spoilers: Big Damn AU of Doom verse general warning *g*
A/N: This is dedicated to m_buggie whom I adore but also because well, without her none of this would exist.
Josh Lyman has a flow chart and he is not afraid to use it - tracking numbers, permanent markers and color coding included. Of course it is merely a prop, set against his greatest achievement The White Board. It has been given it's own title because in short, this is the epicentre of the campaign for Josh Lyman. And he will (and does) make the interns cry if they touch it, go near it, defile it or otherwise try to steal this monument to the organisational power that has propelled the Fick/Seaborn campaign as far as it has come. Improbably far, perhaps but then Josh Lyman does a good line in improbable. Once upon a time, he had a job with the presumptive Democratic Presidential nominee John Hoynes, And then, as he tells it - "Leo McGarry asked me to do him a favour, the kind that sons do for old friends of their fathers. So I went to New Hampshire. Because there was chicken, there was a promise and yeah, also I promised Sam Seaborn." That famous vow, that each of them would inform the other if they found "the real thing" in a candidate, has become a byword in the story of the Bartlet Administration, as has the fact that Sam Seaborn walked out of a meeting and not incidentally, a prestigious New York law firm, in the rain because Josh Lyman walked in the door and gave him that look.
Josh has told this story many times perhaps, but it never fails to animate him, to make those hand gestures that much more passionate. The decibel level also tends to get raised and lowered in altenate amounts, but it is not this part of the story that I angle for. What I want to know, I tell Josh, is the why - what drives his idealism, what drove him, as a strategist and a professional political operative (who has been described by some in Washington as being "born an attack dog") to walk away from a political certainty to drive himself in to the ground, on the nebulous promise to an old family friend and a college boy vow. He only looks at me, in a practiced glance of contempt. "Because, we are better than this. Because I always did want to be a superhero. Because I love myself a challenge that validates the Lyman ego." What he does not say is telling indeed.
Josh Lyman is an idealist, wrapped up in a political hardman, with a tragic story. When he was a child, his older sister was killed in a house fire that he ran out of. His father died on the night that Jed Bartlet clinched the party nomination. He nearly died himself as a result of gunfire, was then controversially diagnosed with PTSD and not fired and then, another father figure was killed when Leo McGarry died on the eve of another election. He has seen friends suffer heartbreak, family die and through all of it, there is the sense that he blames himself for every moment of it. There is a rumour, around Washington DC that his dark sense of humour extends to himself - "It's true, I have Midas touch, except for the fact that everything I touch turns to death. I really should be like the boy in the bubble and sequester myself away, but keep my cell phone." I ask him about this comment and he just shrugs, charmingly.
"I really do need to make an honest woman of my cell phone one day soon. She knows she's the true love of my life though. Even if Henry and Donna here once tragically and cruelly tried to part us. "
I put the question to Josh, did it really get that bad, in answer to which he gives me an expression that could almost be called pouting. "It wasn't necessary to throw it out the window."
"No Joshua, it really was necessary. For the continued sanity and well being of everyone involved. Besides, it adds to the national pastime that is Mocking Joshua Lyman."
"We really need to seek out formal sponsorship arrangements for the Mocking Josh Lyman League, my dear Donna."
Donna Moss has arrived, briefly, alongside Henry Jones IV and she gives an affectionate look at her old boss, who just gives her a Look that has absolutely no affect. But then Donna Moss has had a lot of time to get used it. She's worked for Josh Lyman ever since she walked in to the first Bartlet campaign as a volunteer, ended up pretending to be his assistant in order to get a job. "What's incredible," Donna tells me later with a graceful laugh, juggling a pile of strategy memos with her own mug of coffee, "is that Josh gave me the job. It was either that or the fact that I talked myself in to being able to do it."
He is currently showing Evan the PowerPoint presentation, in point of fact. Henry is covering his ears and humming "Over The Hills And Far Away" in an attempt to erase the trauma of the images that Josh is putting forward regarding his friend. Though you get the feeling that this more out of a sense of habit than anything else. It's true that Henry Jones has perhaps passed the point of being entirely unshakable.
"Yay for pretty - it's the unofficial slogan of the Fick/Seaborn campaign. We also do very well in the 'shirtless hunks 08' department. Though, don't tell Sam, but all the girls want to go for Senator Fick now. He is no longer, in fact, the man, a fact that I as his best friend must of course inform him of at every possible opportunity.
"In fact, if and Brad just appeared naked, I swear to god, we'd win in a landslide" Lyman pauses a moment, then goes on, amending his statement slightly. "At least among a certain voter demographic that I like to call the Swooning Voter"
They also had the 'kittens and god-daughter' effect, the 'public displays of affection' flow chart. Again, it is colour coded, every sub category meticulously included. Some of those that Lyman was willing to share with me included the 'Shirtless Spouse" demographic, the "more than vaguely pornographic candidate and spouse sexing' effect. He does have photographic evidence, including a paparazzi shot of an almost naked Colbert and Fick, embracing on a beach in a pose that is almost classic romance novel in its framing. "Well yes, that is, in fact, why I selected it. It's a prime example of why Tracking The Pretty works and indeed, why I am so very much The Man. In all respects."
"Josh, you surf dark corners of the internet hunting down fantasies about the candidate you work for, printing them out and attempting to use them for campaign strategy." Donna is grinning, as she says this. "You're mostly just really scary, I'm afraid to say."
When I ask if this is true, all three burst out laughing and then eventually, answer in the affirmative. One of the offshoots of a young, attractive candidate and the information age has been the explosion of the so called 'Fickdom' that has sprung up on message boards, social networking sites and even the mainstream blog sphere. There is an official 'Nate Fick Friday' in which the best pictures of the candidate, his husband and family are posted, swooned and yes, fantasised over. It includes an official Facebook group (at last count, there were at least 500 groups on the popular social networking site, including 'I Want To Take Ella Nixon-Winters Home And Awww At The Cute Forever (But Brad Colbert Would End Me)' 'I Ship Colbert/Fick,' 'Civic Duty For Nate Fick, Leave Off The Damn Shirt,' 'Best First Family Ever' 'Fick/Seaborn is my secret OTP' and strangely, 'We Ship Colbert/Fick/Nixon/Winters'), a Cafe Press store and yes, a certain amount of screaming groupies. All of this has raised hackles and doubts among the media and political establishment, especially as to Fick's seriousness as a candidate, rather than simply a poster child for the diversity of the Democratic Party. What is interesting, is the way in which to a point, Josh Lyman has chosen to embrace his rock star status as a campaign asset.
"Who says we can't win, be right and remain sexy while doing so." He delivers this remark, while bouncing on the balls of his feet, white board marker in hand as he waits for Donna and Henry to return from an expedition to collect the rest of the campaign staff needed for a briefing. "My thinking is, this is Senator Fick, this is Senator Seaborn." A pause then, while he shares a particular smile, one that is reserved for his own best friend, the man who agreed to become the VP candidate. "Though don't tell Sam, I've got him convinced that he is completely over the hill. That he is the brunette to Fick's blonde and really, everyone likes the blonde. So, need to let him know that people think he is sexy and spoil my amusement, yes?" Another bounce on the balls of his heels. "But my point is, they are serious candidates, with a vision, who can lift stadiums, who have the potential to inspire this country in an entirely new way, who will engage with the issues. But who says they have to do it with their shirts on."
"Joshua Lyman, didn't we have this talk about not traumatising the interns on the first day."
You could almost say that Lyman pouts at Donna Moss, if you weren't looking at the political head kicker of the Bartlet Administration and now, the Fick/Seaborn campaign. Months ago I might have been surprised that Donna can be so assertive with a boss infamous for his temper and low tolerance for his wishes not being granted but one thing you learn very quickly, watching Josh Lyman and Donna Moss up close that it is Donna who keeps him anchored in some degree of sanity. And yes, she did throw that cell phone out the window, but in truth, the underlying feeling is that it was as much for Josh as it was for those who had to work with him. It is this role, part sister, part friend, part assistant par excellence that has made Donna Moss so valuable, but there is something else about her, something that I ask Henry Jones IV about, as he returns, laden down with boxes of sandwiches for volunteers and staff alike.
"Donna is incredible. She cares and that's not something you see often, a genius for politics, a genuine way with people but above all, an affection and concern for her fellow humans. And you can't fake that." He picks up a sandwich with a grin, toys with it and then decides to go for the Reeses Pieces sitting in a bowl on the desk beside him (after carefully checking that Donna is distracted, of course). Henry Jones IV, who is both best friend and campaign strategist, a role that has echoes of the one in which Leo McGarry played for Jed Bartlet. The observation of this dynamic has obviously given Henry an insight in to how to negotiate the difficult dynamic between best friend and boss, between campaign strategy and personal feelings. While much of his inner thoughts on the issue are not something that Jones is willing to be drawn on, he does say that he will always, above all be the best friend and Chief of Staff to Nate Fick that he can. The underlying subtext is that the difficulty will be understanding when and how the boundaries between what a best friend would do and what a Chief of Staff needs to do, for the President and for the best interests of the country, is still something that needs to be drawn, to be worked out for both Candidate Fick and his Chief Strategist.
Henry Jones IV is, like Nate Fick, a young man given great authority. The only child of a wealthy East Coast family of old money and even older pedigree, he and Fick connected as freshman room-mates at Dartmouth University in the summer of 2001, after what was apparently an "entertaining in retrospect farce,much of which consisted of my face turning interesting shades of beetroot." And connect they did, by all accounts. Classmates recall their friendship as an "odd couple, that wasn't so odd." Nate Fick was sociable, well liked in high school, athletic and extensively involved in debate and the Dartmouth ROTC. Both were Valedictorian of their high school graduating class, both had a mutual love of history, politics, academia and entertainingly bad science fiction films, preferably involving either robots or dinosaurs. "Henry and his dinosaurs," recalls one hall mate of the best friends with a grin. "It was ridiculous and I mean, the guy could be entirely ridiculous - he tried to hard to be cool and then he opened his mouth and ruined it all, but you know, he was a nice guy." And unlike the rumours floated about by elements of the media, in particular the blog 'The Kaseem Chronicle' he was never, at least according to those I spoke too, considered "creepy" or "pushy" regarding friendship or otherwise. "Yeah, Henry was all kinds of socially awkward but fuck, dude, he wasn't a stalker if you know what I mean. If anyone was creepy on that floor, it was goddamn Dave McGraw. That guy gave me the motherfucking creeps, always lurking around, clinging on to you. Took Henry's portable hard drive once, among other things. He used to steal my icecream all the time too."
And then, in September 2004, Henry Jones had his moment of zen. It has been well documented that he and Fick discussed politics, involvement and direction thereof almost from the start. In a 2020 interview with Vanity Fair, Fick spoke of an "Early dialogue, between us right from the beginning. We'd have all night conversations about these things, in the way that idealistic ivy leaguers often do, in between the ones about which was worse - Plan Nine From Outer Space or Battlefield Earth and the merits of dinning hall food. But we talked about politics, about the process of it, of policy and ideas." Not such unusual subjects for a pair of smart college boys, but what was unusual for Henry Jones IV was the way he followed through. In high school, he had largely shied away from organized activities so the fact that he put his hand up for an internship position at the Bartlet White House surprised even him (Henry remembers sitting, staring at the Internship Office for "least twenty minutes" before he even managed to hand in his application). What was more surprising, he says, was that he landed it. And thus, was a socially awkward, self described "geek" of a young man landed in a position that is inherently about people skills, networking and knowing what to say.
"You know, I am still continually astonished that I was not, in fact firmly told to please please pack up my desk and go back to Dartmouth."
"Henry, they didn't tell you to leave because they saw your potential."
And Senator Fick, surprisingly free of any entourage, now he is in the protective bubble of the campaign office has arrived back in to the game. Busy with campaign events across the country, as well as a much needed vacation (and a celebration of his god-daughters birthday, an event that this time was able to be conducted away from the prying eyes of the media), he has not been in the main New York campaign office for a time and indeed, he and Henry have been communicating mainly in phone calls these last few weeks. He himself says later that he's almost forgotten what his house looks like, so much as this campaign picked him up and ensured a travel schedule that is mind boggling, even for a Presidential candidate. But then, not many Presidential candidates have People magazine naming them among it's sexiest people of the year. Not many have a campaign manager who grins back, as only an old friend can.
"Thank you for flattering me Saint Nathaniel, but I still think it was a matter of pure chance."
Nate Fick sits down beside his friend, turns to me with the kind of intense look that speaks to his charisma. "Evan, don't let Henry get away with not big noting himself. Because he's my guy, be assured. Anything like this, any decision to seek political office, you need someone you can trust with your life, you can trust to be able to keep the conversation going, to give you the advice you need. And that's Henry, to me. He's got a genius for politics, for the ground game of a campaign."
How much of that famed ground game skills - in organisation, in volunteer and voter mobilization and message direction, did Henry find within himself and how much was it learnt, does he think.
In answering that question, Henry Jones and Nate Fick sit side by side. Nate gives him an encouraging look, makes a remark about how Henry always had a knack for helping him prepare for debates from the beginning. The potential Best Friend of the President simply mutters something about a language fascination, particularly with the more archaic aspects of the debaters art, not any inherent people skills. He does however, firmly believe that what that semester interning in the White House taught him was, put simply, that he had people skills that he never knew he possessed. "I learnt, I believe how to listen. How to talk in a work setting, when I have my Henry The Advisor suit on. Though I wouldn't say I find people any easier when I take off aforementioned suit." He laughs, but Nate Fick smiles, knowingly. Henry Jones IV has once again, talked down his accomplishments.
Of course, it has always been his job to deflect the attention, the focus back on to his friend, his candidate and this is something that Henry Jones IV does very well. He shies away from talking about his family, his closeness to the Fick family and his reputedly rocky (on both sides) relationship with Brad Colbert, his best friends husband. He has described his own orientation as "tragically heterosexual." admits his parents would have "most certainly rather I became something sensible, safe and academic" and every day, worries about his best friend. While some media coverage has painted him as a calculating Machiavelli, happy to push his best friend in to a dangerous job, there is nothing of the Machiavelli and much of the idealist in Mr Jones. Later he will say that he "reads every death threat and then some [that Fick does not know about]." Later still, while fetching coffee (both he and Nate generally do their own drink fetching when possible), he remarks sadly that he "thinks, almost every moment about whether my belief, my feeling that a President Fick would be a wonderful, incredible thing for this country means that I did the right thing in agreeing to this. In persuading my best friend to expose himself to the slings, arrows and bullets of a Presidential Campaign." Of course this campaign has had more pain than many, another subtext that haunts the campaign office - both as a vow to never, ever be cowed but also as a scar - physical and otherwise that will remain with all who have worked upon it, all who have been touched by Nathaniel Fick.
~
It is later in the year, towards in fact, the end of his time writing this piece and Evan Wright sits in a corner of a bar, eavesdropping on a conversation.
"For, lo, an angel appeared unto some Shepherds and said to them 'You will buy crap and you will love it. Then you will fight with your family, consume inedible Turkey and badger others in to the ritual. Oh and by the way, this Jewish mom spawned a kid who wants to talk to you about peace and love.'"
"Christofascist season, wrapped up in a bow of inbred goatfuckers brawling over which one fornicated with each other, who expect you to forget your own religious traditions and embrace the poultry fornication ritual."
"Brad Colbert, you are a man of great and wonderful sentiments."
"I own a menorah. My sentiments and dreams are fucking spectacular. And religiously and historically aware."
"Do you ever think if the world actually found out that Jesus was not born in December, was a Jewish man of Middle Eastern appearance who hung around with a bunch of men with beards civilisation would crumble?"
"Indubitably, my dear Mr Ziegler. An event that I would buy tickets to, just to watch the exploding of heads of tight arsed cunts who get themselves in to twists over their own personal wet dream of a world. I'll take my family, friends and Nate, grab some popcorn, give my little Lady Eleanor a pony, an elephant and probably a giraffe and then watch Darwin in action. Booze will be involved."
"You know, I'm so glad to have found someone who understands my dislike for the vast majority of humanity in the specific."
Both men chuckled. Brad Colbert refilled his drink and Toby Ziegler shifted his chair in to a more comfortable position. The two men had bonded over their mutual annoyances at the holiday season, humanity in general, the annoyances of fundamentalists, of idiots and yes, of those who insisted on trying to 'save them for Jesus' Neither of them wanted this, being in fact, perfectly happy where they were. Choosing brands of cars they would steal, in the event of the rapture and all the fundamentalists disappearing. Thus far, Brad was complaining that no fundamentalist has a decent taste in cars and Toby, Toby was just contribuing a cynical remark here and there and they were both enjoying the opportunity to talk to someone who was both as cynical and adept at language as they were. (Toby, had early on, opined that he still "spends too much time around Seaborn, who is perennially, a sunny side up man.")
Evan Wright watches, as he finishes his article. Wondering, once again how he ever got drawn in to this narrative as a partisan for Nate Fick, even as he sees the paragraphs taking shape in front of him, the shape of an article that he knows is nowhere near objectivity. Yet somehow, he can see it is perhaps his best work and still Evan Wright does not know whether to cheer or curse, that the best of his writing is the least impartial and that his definitions of his own journalism, his own conception of himself is slowly crumbling away with every word he writes, as he watches a prospective Presidential spouse and a former Presidents speech writer spin out words, across a half deserted bar, in the middle of a campaign. And cannot help but wonder, how this seeming destiny has tracked him, through his words.
Author: melliyna
Fandom: Generation Kill, Band of Brothers, West Wing
Pairing: Colbert/Fick, Nixon/Winters, Sam/Ainsley, Henry and Donna
Rating R
Word Count: 4,100
Disclaimer: Not affiliated with any real political campaign, election or event and except in my happy daydreams, none of this is real or ever happened. The Aaron Sorkin characters belong and are the creation of Aaron Sorkin, the Generation Kill and Band of Brothers characters are based on the TV show depictions, not the real men and there is absolutely no disrespect meant.
Warnings/Timelines/Spoilers: Big Damn AU of Doom verse general warning *g*
A/N: This is dedicated to m_buggie whom I adore but also because well, without her none of this would exist.
Josh Lyman has a flow chart and he is not afraid to use it - tracking numbers, permanent markers and color coding included. Of course it is merely a prop, set against his greatest achievement The White Board. It has been given it's own title because in short, this is the epicentre of the campaign for Josh Lyman. And he will (and does) make the interns cry if they touch it, go near it, defile it or otherwise try to steal this monument to the organisational power that has propelled the Fick/Seaborn campaign as far as it has come. Improbably far, perhaps but then Josh Lyman does a good line in improbable. Once upon a time, he had a job with the presumptive Democratic Presidential nominee John Hoynes, And then, as he tells it - "Leo McGarry asked me to do him a favour, the kind that sons do for old friends of their fathers. So I went to New Hampshire. Because there was chicken, there was a promise and yeah, also I promised Sam Seaborn." That famous vow, that each of them would inform the other if they found "the real thing" in a candidate, has become a byword in the story of the Bartlet Administration, as has the fact that Sam Seaborn walked out of a meeting and not incidentally, a prestigious New York law firm, in the rain because Josh Lyman walked in the door and gave him that look.
Josh has told this story many times perhaps, but it never fails to animate him, to make those hand gestures that much more passionate. The decibel level also tends to get raised and lowered in altenate amounts, but it is not this part of the story that I angle for. What I want to know, I tell Josh, is the why - what drives his idealism, what drove him, as a strategist and a professional political operative (who has been described by some in Washington as being "born an attack dog") to walk away from a political certainty to drive himself in to the ground, on the nebulous promise to an old family friend and a college boy vow. He only looks at me, in a practiced glance of contempt. "Because, we are better than this. Because I always did want to be a superhero. Because I love myself a challenge that validates the Lyman ego." What he does not say is telling indeed.
Josh Lyman is an idealist, wrapped up in a political hardman, with a tragic story. When he was a child, his older sister was killed in a house fire that he ran out of. His father died on the night that Jed Bartlet clinched the party nomination. He nearly died himself as a result of gunfire, was then controversially diagnosed with PTSD and not fired and then, another father figure was killed when Leo McGarry died on the eve of another election. He has seen friends suffer heartbreak, family die and through all of it, there is the sense that he blames himself for every moment of it. There is a rumour, around Washington DC that his dark sense of humour extends to himself - "It's true, I have Midas touch, except for the fact that everything I touch turns to death. I really should be like the boy in the bubble and sequester myself away, but keep my cell phone." I ask him about this comment and he just shrugs, charmingly.
"I really do need to make an honest woman of my cell phone one day soon. She knows she's the true love of my life though. Even if Henry and Donna here once tragically and cruelly tried to part us. "
I put the question to Josh, did it really get that bad, in answer to which he gives me an expression that could almost be called pouting. "It wasn't necessary to throw it out the window."
"No Joshua, it really was necessary. For the continued sanity and well being of everyone involved. Besides, it adds to the national pastime that is Mocking Joshua Lyman."
"We really need to seek out formal sponsorship arrangements for the Mocking Josh Lyman League, my dear Donna."
Donna Moss has arrived, briefly, alongside Henry Jones IV and she gives an affectionate look at her old boss, who just gives her a Look that has absolutely no affect. But then Donna Moss has had a lot of time to get used it. She's worked for Josh Lyman ever since she walked in to the first Bartlet campaign as a volunteer, ended up pretending to be his assistant in order to get a job. "What's incredible," Donna tells me later with a graceful laugh, juggling a pile of strategy memos with her own mug of coffee, "is that Josh gave me the job. It was either that or the fact that I talked myself in to being able to do it."
He is currently showing Evan the PowerPoint presentation, in point of fact. Henry is covering his ears and humming "Over The Hills And Far Away" in an attempt to erase the trauma of the images that Josh is putting forward regarding his friend. Though you get the feeling that this more out of a sense of habit than anything else. It's true that Henry Jones has perhaps passed the point of being entirely unshakable.
"Yay for pretty - it's the unofficial slogan of the Fick/Seaborn campaign. We also do very well in the 'shirtless hunks 08' department. Though, don't tell Sam, but all the girls want to go for Senator Fick now. He is no longer, in fact, the man, a fact that I as his best friend must of course inform him of at every possible opportunity.
"In fact, if and Brad just appeared naked, I swear to god, we'd win in a landslide" Lyman pauses a moment, then goes on, amending his statement slightly. "At least among a certain voter demographic that I like to call the Swooning Voter"
They also had the 'kittens and god-daughter' effect, the 'public displays of affection' flow chart. Again, it is colour coded, every sub category meticulously included. Some of those that Lyman was willing to share with me included the 'Shirtless Spouse" demographic, the "more than vaguely pornographic candidate and spouse sexing' effect. He does have photographic evidence, including a paparazzi shot of an almost naked Colbert and Fick, embracing on a beach in a pose that is almost classic romance novel in its framing. "Well yes, that is, in fact, why I selected it. It's a prime example of why Tracking The Pretty works and indeed, why I am so very much The Man. In all respects."
"Josh, you surf dark corners of the internet hunting down fantasies about the candidate you work for, printing them out and attempting to use them for campaign strategy." Donna is grinning, as she says this. "You're mostly just really scary, I'm afraid to say."
When I ask if this is true, all three burst out laughing and then eventually, answer in the affirmative. One of the offshoots of a young, attractive candidate and the information age has been the explosion of the so called 'Fickdom' that has sprung up on message boards, social networking sites and even the mainstream blog sphere. There is an official 'Nate Fick Friday' in which the best pictures of the candidate, his husband and family are posted, swooned and yes, fantasised over. It includes an official Facebook group (at last count, there were at least 500 groups on the popular social networking site, including 'I Want To Take Ella Nixon-Winters Home And Awww At The Cute Forever (But Brad Colbert Would End Me)' 'I Ship Colbert/Fick,' 'Civic Duty For Nate Fick, Leave Off The Damn Shirt,' 'Best First Family Ever' 'Fick/Seaborn is my secret OTP' and strangely, 'We Ship Colbert/Fick/Nixon/Winters'), a Cafe Press store and yes, a certain amount of screaming groupies. All of this has raised hackles and doubts among the media and political establishment, especially as to Fick's seriousness as a candidate, rather than simply a poster child for the diversity of the Democratic Party. What is interesting, is the way in which to a point, Josh Lyman has chosen to embrace his rock star status as a campaign asset.
"Who says we can't win, be right and remain sexy while doing so." He delivers this remark, while bouncing on the balls of his feet, white board marker in hand as he waits for Donna and Henry to return from an expedition to collect the rest of the campaign staff needed for a briefing. "My thinking is, this is Senator Fick, this is Senator Seaborn." A pause then, while he shares a particular smile, one that is reserved for his own best friend, the man who agreed to become the VP candidate. "Though don't tell Sam, I've got him convinced that he is completely over the hill. That he is the brunette to Fick's blonde and really, everyone likes the blonde. So, need to let him know that people think he is sexy and spoil my amusement, yes?" Another bounce on the balls of his heels. "But my point is, they are serious candidates, with a vision, who can lift stadiums, who have the potential to inspire this country in an entirely new way, who will engage with the issues. But who says they have to do it with their shirts on."
"Joshua Lyman, didn't we have this talk about not traumatising the interns on the first day."
You could almost say that Lyman pouts at Donna Moss, if you weren't looking at the political head kicker of the Bartlet Administration and now, the Fick/Seaborn campaign. Months ago I might have been surprised that Donna can be so assertive with a boss infamous for his temper and low tolerance for his wishes not being granted but one thing you learn very quickly, watching Josh Lyman and Donna Moss up close that it is Donna who keeps him anchored in some degree of sanity. And yes, she did throw that cell phone out the window, but in truth, the underlying feeling is that it was as much for Josh as it was for those who had to work with him. It is this role, part sister, part friend, part assistant par excellence that has made Donna Moss so valuable, but there is something else about her, something that I ask Henry Jones IV about, as he returns, laden down with boxes of sandwiches for volunteers and staff alike.
"Donna is incredible. She cares and that's not something you see often, a genius for politics, a genuine way with people but above all, an affection and concern for her fellow humans. And you can't fake that." He picks up a sandwich with a grin, toys with it and then decides to go for the Reeses Pieces sitting in a bowl on the desk beside him (after carefully checking that Donna is distracted, of course). Henry Jones IV, who is both best friend and campaign strategist, a role that has echoes of the one in which Leo McGarry played for Jed Bartlet. The observation of this dynamic has obviously given Henry an insight in to how to negotiate the difficult dynamic between best friend and boss, between campaign strategy and personal feelings. While much of his inner thoughts on the issue are not something that Jones is willing to be drawn on, he does say that he will always, above all be the best friend and Chief of Staff to Nate Fick that he can. The underlying subtext is that the difficulty will be understanding when and how the boundaries between what a best friend would do and what a Chief of Staff needs to do, for the President and for the best interests of the country, is still something that needs to be drawn, to be worked out for both Candidate Fick and his Chief Strategist.
Henry Jones IV is, like Nate Fick, a young man given great authority. The only child of a wealthy East Coast family of old money and even older pedigree, he and Fick connected as freshman room-mates at Dartmouth University in the summer of 2001, after what was apparently an "entertaining in retrospect farce,much of which consisted of my face turning interesting shades of beetroot." And connect they did, by all accounts. Classmates recall their friendship as an "odd couple, that wasn't so odd." Nate Fick was sociable, well liked in high school, athletic and extensively involved in debate and the Dartmouth ROTC. Both were Valedictorian of their high school graduating class, both had a mutual love of history, politics, academia and entertainingly bad science fiction films, preferably involving either robots or dinosaurs. "Henry and his dinosaurs," recalls one hall mate of the best friends with a grin. "It was ridiculous and I mean, the guy could be entirely ridiculous - he tried to hard to be cool and then he opened his mouth and ruined it all, but you know, he was a nice guy." And unlike the rumours floated about by elements of the media, in particular the blog 'The Kaseem Chronicle' he was never, at least according to those I spoke too, considered "creepy" or "pushy" regarding friendship or otherwise. "Yeah, Henry was all kinds of socially awkward but fuck, dude, he wasn't a stalker if you know what I mean. If anyone was creepy on that floor, it was goddamn Dave McGraw. That guy gave me the motherfucking creeps, always lurking around, clinging on to you. Took Henry's portable hard drive once, among other things. He used to steal my icecream all the time too."
And then, in September 2004, Henry Jones had his moment of zen. It has been well documented that he and Fick discussed politics, involvement and direction thereof almost from the start. In a 2020 interview with Vanity Fair, Fick spoke of an "Early dialogue, between us right from the beginning. We'd have all night conversations about these things, in the way that idealistic ivy leaguers often do, in between the ones about which was worse - Plan Nine From Outer Space or Battlefield Earth and the merits of dinning hall food. But we talked about politics, about the process of it, of policy and ideas." Not such unusual subjects for a pair of smart college boys, but what was unusual for Henry Jones IV was the way he followed through. In high school, he had largely shied away from organized activities so the fact that he put his hand up for an internship position at the Bartlet White House surprised even him (Henry remembers sitting, staring at the Internship Office for "least twenty minutes" before he even managed to hand in his application). What was more surprising, he says, was that he landed it. And thus, was a socially awkward, self described "geek" of a young man landed in a position that is inherently about people skills, networking and knowing what to say.
"You know, I am still continually astonished that I was not, in fact firmly told to please please pack up my desk and go back to Dartmouth."
"Henry, they didn't tell you to leave because they saw your potential."
And Senator Fick, surprisingly free of any entourage, now he is in the protective bubble of the campaign office has arrived back in to the game. Busy with campaign events across the country, as well as a much needed vacation (and a celebration of his god-daughters birthday, an event that this time was able to be conducted away from the prying eyes of the media), he has not been in the main New York campaign office for a time and indeed, he and Henry have been communicating mainly in phone calls these last few weeks. He himself says later that he's almost forgotten what his house looks like, so much as this campaign picked him up and ensured a travel schedule that is mind boggling, even for a Presidential candidate. But then, not many Presidential candidates have People magazine naming them among it's sexiest people of the year. Not many have a campaign manager who grins back, as only an old friend can.
"Thank you for flattering me Saint Nathaniel, but I still think it was a matter of pure chance."
Nate Fick sits down beside his friend, turns to me with the kind of intense look that speaks to his charisma. "Evan, don't let Henry get away with not big noting himself. Because he's my guy, be assured. Anything like this, any decision to seek political office, you need someone you can trust with your life, you can trust to be able to keep the conversation going, to give you the advice you need. And that's Henry, to me. He's got a genius for politics, for the ground game of a campaign."
How much of that famed ground game skills - in organisation, in volunteer and voter mobilization and message direction, did Henry find within himself and how much was it learnt, does he think.
In answering that question, Henry Jones and Nate Fick sit side by side. Nate gives him an encouraging look, makes a remark about how Henry always had a knack for helping him prepare for debates from the beginning. The potential Best Friend of the President simply mutters something about a language fascination, particularly with the more archaic aspects of the debaters art, not any inherent people skills. He does however, firmly believe that what that semester interning in the White House taught him was, put simply, that he had people skills that he never knew he possessed. "I learnt, I believe how to listen. How to talk in a work setting, when I have my Henry The Advisor suit on. Though I wouldn't say I find people any easier when I take off aforementioned suit." He laughs, but Nate Fick smiles, knowingly. Henry Jones IV has once again, talked down his accomplishments.
Of course, it has always been his job to deflect the attention, the focus back on to his friend, his candidate and this is something that Henry Jones IV does very well. He shies away from talking about his family, his closeness to the Fick family and his reputedly rocky (on both sides) relationship with Brad Colbert, his best friends husband. He has described his own orientation as "tragically heterosexual." admits his parents would have "most certainly rather I became something sensible, safe and academic" and every day, worries about his best friend. While some media coverage has painted him as a calculating Machiavelli, happy to push his best friend in to a dangerous job, there is nothing of the Machiavelli and much of the idealist in Mr Jones. Later he will say that he "reads every death threat and then some [that Fick does not know about]." Later still, while fetching coffee (both he and Nate generally do their own drink fetching when possible), he remarks sadly that he "thinks, almost every moment about whether my belief, my feeling that a President Fick would be a wonderful, incredible thing for this country means that I did the right thing in agreeing to this. In persuading my best friend to expose himself to the slings, arrows and bullets of a Presidential Campaign." Of course this campaign has had more pain than many, another subtext that haunts the campaign office - both as a vow to never, ever be cowed but also as a scar - physical and otherwise that will remain with all who have worked upon it, all who have been touched by Nathaniel Fick.
~
It is later in the year, towards in fact, the end of his time writing this piece and Evan Wright sits in a corner of a bar, eavesdropping on a conversation.
"For, lo, an angel appeared unto some Shepherds and said to them 'You will buy crap and you will love it. Then you will fight with your family, consume inedible Turkey and badger others in to the ritual. Oh and by the way, this Jewish mom spawned a kid who wants to talk to you about peace and love.'"
"Christofascist season, wrapped up in a bow of inbred goatfuckers brawling over which one fornicated with each other, who expect you to forget your own religious traditions and embrace the poultry fornication ritual."
"Brad Colbert, you are a man of great and wonderful sentiments."
"I own a menorah. My sentiments and dreams are fucking spectacular. And religiously and historically aware."
"Do you ever think if the world actually found out that Jesus was not born in December, was a Jewish man of Middle Eastern appearance who hung around with a bunch of men with beards civilisation would crumble?"
"Indubitably, my dear Mr Ziegler. An event that I would buy tickets to, just to watch the exploding of heads of tight arsed cunts who get themselves in to twists over their own personal wet dream of a world. I'll take my family, friends and Nate, grab some popcorn, give my little Lady Eleanor a pony, an elephant and probably a giraffe and then watch Darwin in action. Booze will be involved."
"You know, I'm so glad to have found someone who understands my dislike for the vast majority of humanity in the specific."
Both men chuckled. Brad Colbert refilled his drink and Toby Ziegler shifted his chair in to a more comfortable position. The two men had bonded over their mutual annoyances at the holiday season, humanity in general, the annoyances of fundamentalists, of idiots and yes, of those who insisted on trying to 'save them for Jesus' Neither of them wanted this, being in fact, perfectly happy where they were. Choosing brands of cars they would steal, in the event of the rapture and all the fundamentalists disappearing. Thus far, Brad was complaining that no fundamentalist has a decent taste in cars and Toby, Toby was just contribuing a cynical remark here and there and they were both enjoying the opportunity to talk to someone who was both as cynical and adept at language as they were. (Toby, had early on, opined that he still "spends too much time around Seaborn, who is perennially, a sunny side up man.")
Evan Wright watches, as he finishes his article. Wondering, once again how he ever got drawn in to this narrative as a partisan for Nate Fick, even as he sees the paragraphs taking shape in front of him, the shape of an article that he knows is nowhere near objectivity. Yet somehow, he can see it is perhaps his best work and still Evan Wright does not know whether to cheer or curse, that the best of his writing is the least impartial and that his definitions of his own journalism, his own conception of himself is slowly crumbling away with every word he writes, as he watches a prospective Presidential spouse and a former Presidents speech writer spin out words, across a half deserted bar, in the middle of a campaign. And cannot help but wonder, how this seeming destiny has tracked him, through his words.