I arrived there early this morning after an epic road trip across much of the USA hunted by the dread Secret Service (SS). "There" being Galt's Gulch Colorado. The Rocky Mountains surround the Gulch and only a few know the narrow dangerous gravel road into the mountain fortress. After miles of white knuckle driving threading carefully around hair pin turns the driver comes to the golden dollar sign marking the entrance. The road improves from gravel to a well built four lane road...
I discovered Galt's Gulch by way of a conference with Mr. Big of the vast right wing conspiracy. I should note that Mr. Big really is a large man over six foot tall and three hundred pounds. We met years ago by way of Emails and phone conversations but this was the first time in person. Mr. Big is a man of about 55 years who was once a criminal lawyer and state judge in Colorado. The face reminds one of Sir Winston Churchill in his prime and the love of a good cigar and fine brandy reinforces that opinion.
The location picked by Mr. Big was the restaurant of a ski lodge near Aspen, Colorado. It was instructed to introduce myself to the manager of this establishment and ask to be directed into his presence. This was done and within minutes I was shown to his table in a private room with large picture windows with the Rocky Mountains framed above and the ski slopes below. I don't think I've been in more beautiful or expensive room in my life. I was dressed in my traveling clothes - blue jeans, sweat shirt and boots. Everyone else at this establishment was dressed to the nines, especially the staff who treated me with the respect given to a rich Saudi Prince with a limitless bank account. In marked contrast my bank reserve was down to the last hundred bucks.
I followed the manager, a man that reminded me of a young David Niven complete with an English accent, over to Mr. Big's table (I should note Mr. Big was typing something into a laptop computer and didn't see us enter) and he made the introductions, "Mr. Big, this is your friend, Ronbo. Ronbo, this is Mr. Big, a former state judge, lawyer and real estate baron. Ronbo this is your menu and you can select anything at no charge. I'll be back later to take your order. How about a drink now? This is our wine list. Choose anything. No charge." I said, "This being Colorado, I'll take a Coors beer." The manager said, "An excellent choice, sir! I'll send the waiter with a bottle immediately."
Mr. Big put away the laptop and looked at me across the table and said in an educated Mid Western voice , "Ronbo you look so damn common. You could be most men in this country of your age. I like that." I replied, "Why so?" Mr. Big answered, "Because the people who count in this country want a seasoned citizen as a leader. They would suspect a young man of having personal ambition. A man of years would come across as a leader with only the best interests of the country at heart. You'll do."
"I'll do as what? I'm down to my last hundred bucks and have no job, no home and I'm on the arrest immediately roster. Do you have a job and a false identity in mind. Like you say, I can pretty well fit into any job." Mr. Big looked at me with pale green cat eyes and said, "The job I have in mind for you is the organizer of a revolution to overthrow the federal government. I think you have built the best resume of anyone for the job over the last fifteen years with your difficulties with the Secret Service, prison, parole and surviving on less than nothing has served to train you as the best right wing revolutionist in the country. You have a fire in your belly. I know this from reading your writings and talking to you over the phone. You are like Sam Adams in the First American Revolution, the spark that will light the fire. I have vast wealth from my days as a real estate developer and a circle of friends here in Colorado with millions more but all our wealth and power cannot do the job that needs to be done. We need you. You need us. This meeting can be the start of a Second American Revolution. What say you?"
The waiter appeared with my Coors and Mr. Big went silent. He took the cigar out of his mouth and took a gulp of his brandy. The cigar was returned and he took a deep pull on it and exhaled a cloud of smoke. I took down about half the glass of Coors, my throat suddenly dry. Mr. Big stared deep into my eyes, into my very soul. I said, "I agree. But only on the condition that I am, indeed, the CEO. I don't want find out later that I have to report to some sort of committee or be overruled on any matter. If you agree and provide me with a large budget I can start a revolution, and God help us all."
Mr. Big was silent for a moment and then he began to clap his hands and said, "Bravo! Bravo!" with a big smile. "I like your style. No hesitation. No speech. No demand for a salary and perks. Just a simple acceptance and one key condition. Yes, you will be the man. No one will second guess you; there will be no committee looking over your shoulder. The buck ends on your desk. I only ask that you provide an account for the funds expended. These are considerable funds but not limitless.
TO BE CONTINUED