Tuesday, November 3, 1998
6 am
Manchester, Bartlet for America HQ
Election Day
The morning dawned crisp and bright, perfect weather for election day get-out-the-vote efforts. The three-way presidential race was close and had tightened over the weekend. Bartlet wasn't even a lock here in New Hampshire. As Donna navigated the now familiar streets of downtown Manchester in her beat up Toyota, balancing a paper coffee cup on her knee and pulling into the campaign parking lot, she had to smile. Win or lose, this was a good day in the history of Donnatella Moss.
Only ten months ago she was waiting tables in a Madison diner, one of several dead end part-time jobs she juggled to make ends meet while her boyfriend finished medical school. One of her regular lunch customers was a state house lobbyist who liked to flirt and talk politics. He didn't mean anything by the flirting - he was a good thirty years older and married and divorced three times. Truth be told, Donna was flattered by the attention - by his assumption that she should know and care as much about legislative maneuverings as he did. Or maybe he just liked to hear himself talk.
His real motivations didn't matter much to Donna on the January day that he sat down at her station with a folded copy of Newsweek. "This guy," he said, jabbing a finger at a photo of the Governor of New Hampshire. "Mark my words, this guy is going to beat John Hoynes for the Democratic nomination. With a little luck, he's going to be the next president of the United States."
Donna picked up the magazine and looked closely at Jed Bartlet's face. He looked serious and honest, she thought. Even kind. Senator Hoynes looked like a used car salesman.
"Go see him in Dubuque Saturday," Donna's customer urged. "He's hitting every coffee shop and grange hall in Iowa before the caucuses. You gotta hear this guy give a speech. Renews your faith."
"In politics," Donna asked. Her faith in politics had never been particularly high.
"In humanity," he replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Bartlet's the real deal. If I didn't have to get the sausage made here in this den of thieves, I'd drop everything to go to work for him."
"Dubuque," Donna repeated. It was only a 90 minute drive southwest.
"5pm Saturday at the Machinists' lodge." He scribbled an address down on her order pad. "Go judge for yourself. What do you have to lose?"
The sound of C.J.'s car pulling in next to hers in the parking lot pulled Donna out of her reverie. She had driven to Dubuque that Saturday and heard Jed Bartlet speak. He had blown her away, and re-ignited a small flame that she could only describe as faith in herself and her own future. By the time Bartlet beat expectations and came in a strong third in Iowa, Donna was ready to drop everything and work for him. She drove to Manchester, found work that needed doing, and the rest was history.
As Donna closed the door to her car and looked at the campaign signs flanking the office front, she thought of Josh's words on that first morning. She could remember them beat for beat.
"Donna," he had said. "This is a campaign for the presidency and there's nothing I take more seriously than that. This can't be a place for people to come to find their confidence and start over."
"Why not?" she had replied. It was instantaneous. She didn't know she was going to say the words until they were half-way out of her mouth. "Why can't it be both."
Her instinct had been right, she thought now. It had been both.
"What a glorious morning," C.J. exclaimed as they reached the front door together. "Are you ready to elect a president?"