Federal Hall, Portland
9 February 1925
Inaugeration Day had come and thousands of Cascadians were in front of the East steps to Federal Hall, situated along the Willamette River in the Federal District - a solid expanse of land between the Willamette and Columbia that extended out to the towns of Troutdale, Sandy, Damascus, and Oregon City at its furthest extension. Federal Portland was considered a city of its own under the auspices of the Cascadian federal government with a population of roughly two and three quarters million souls, over half of the 4.9 million people in the Greater Portland Metropolitan Zone on both the Oregon and Olympian side of the Columbias. It was along the banks of the Willamette that most of Cascadia's federal government was situated: the Federal Hall, where the two Houses of Congress met, was on the river front in the Rose Quarter, while just up Williams Ave. was the "Green House", the Presidential Residence, with the Federal Supreme Court to the east of both.
The late winter weather was chilly, albeit being slightly warm (comparitively speaking) at 50 degrees. The sun was briefly peeking through the clouds as the hour came, though within minutes it would undoubtedly be completely overcast again and rainy due to the seasonal weather of the region. As a result of this the East Paviliion of the Federal Hall had been built to permit canvas covering over it for Presidential Inaugurations, its designers remembering the fate of American President WIlliam Harrison in 1841.
Stephen's little ones sat beside Rachel, who was in a fur coat and long dress for warmth with a scarf and gloves. They were holding hands quietly, glancing at each other from time to time between Rachel's glances to keep an eye on the boys. Sophie was on Stephen's lap, bundled tightly so she didn't get sick, and as one might expect for a 3 year old looking highly bewildered as to why she had to sit in the cold, wet weather among all these suited people without being allowed to play. "Daddy, I wanna go home," she finally whined.
"Don't worry, it's almost time," he said, noticing that the Presidential Guard had finished marching into position. This was the cue for the Chief Justice of the Federal Supreme Court to ascend to the podium, Bible and Constitution in hand, for the swearing in.
The man who rose was considerably paler, and older, then Stephen, an octogenerian who had sat on the Supreme Court for almost half a century. Chief Justice Othello Shackleton was a former British jurist who had emigrated to Cascadia as a young man at the dawn of the new nation, rising fast and swiftly through the courts of the day and becoming a Supreme Court Justice in 1877. He had sat on the Court through all of its greatest and most landmark decisions, such as
Olafson v. Idaho that guaranteed the right of women to vote at a Federal level,
Reyes vs. Lower California that confirmed the right of migrant laborers to seek citizenship,
Dole vs. Cascadia that affirmed the legality of the Hawaiian monarchy as the lawful government of an associated state, and the historic
Walker vs. Territory of Cooksland that guaranteed the rights of Australian Aboriginals to property and citizenship. Even at age 84 it was pondered if he might last another decade before illness would force him to step down. Stephen certainly didn't suspect this weather did the living institution much good.
His name was called and Stephen, accepting a short kiss on the cheek from his wife, handed Sophia to Rachel as their lips met briefly. He stood and ascended the steps to the podium, looking out at what looked like a million people filling Federal Plaza (though it was likely less). At Justice Shackleton's instruction he raised his right hand and put his left on the Bible, with a copy of the Cascadian Constitution placed over that book.
A newer innovation was the microphone placed before them that, attached to both a radio transmitter and acoustic devices in the Plaza, allowed his voice to be carried across the Plaza and radio waves to surrounding towns, perhaps even farther with re-transmission of them.
The Chief Justice recited the oath of office and he repeated it. Senator Cadbury of Victoria was next, Stephen standing by as his running mate took his oath as the first Cascadian Vice President to hail from Australia. When this was complete and it was time for Stephen's inauguration address, Stephen returned to the podiuim. He brought out his notes for the speech and placed them on the podium to speak.
"My fellow Cascadians, I am honored to stand before you now as your Chief Executive. You have trusted me with the future of our nation and its progency and that is a responsibility I will not take lightly.
Our nation's prosperity has reached the greatest heights it has known. The bounty of our North American and Australian homelands fuels a mighty industry that sells its wares across the same world that the ships of our Pacific Republic's Navy range at will. The iron of the Pilbara and the copper of Bingham Canyon fuel industries from China to Spain. Our people are supported by a healthy, functioning system of social services that help those who have fallen on hard times rebuild their lives. I will work to ensure our people continue to enjoy all these great and many boons.
We must remember, however, that nothing stays the same. The world is changing around us at a dizzying pace. New technology and devices, new processes and discoveries, promise a future of easier work and healthier living. But they also warn us that even as our lives become easier, it will also become easier for those lives to be destroyed. The great flying machines that have captured our imaginations may one day permit a great armada of these machines to fly over our cities and rain destruction upon them. Our advancements in the fields of chemistry and metallurgy may open the way for deadly gas weapons or supremely powerful explosives that can kill in even greater numbers. The skill of our shipbuilders and the vessels they may now create herald the concept that one day no innocent seafarer may be safe from a predator lurking in silence beneath the ocean surface. The radio now permits hostile ideologies to spread lies and deception to a world ignorant of their ramifications."
"These dangers are many and cannot be ignored. But if we are to keep what our sweat and blood has earned us we must remain steadfast and not lose heart. And to do this we must maintain our faith in the future of our Nation, in our ability to do the right things to preserve ourselves and pass our bounty on to our posterity. When it comes to threats to our people and their security, we must be quick to defend ourselves but cautious to commit to violence, spending our nation's blood and treasure only when the alternative is to be ruined and disgraced. And above all we must not try to remain secluded from a world that the telegraph, radio, and aircraft have made too small for such isolationism."
"It will be the policy of this government that Cascadia will involve itself more thoroughly in the affairs of the world. Our policy will be as it always has been; to keep up the hand of friendship, extended to those nations of the world who respect our territory and our sovereign rights, and to pull our swords only when threatened first. We will strengthen our ties with our neighbors, our friends, and our allies. We must remember our origins and our ties of blood and belief to our cousins in Washington and London just as we remember our ties of friendship to our friends in Peking and Berlin. And we must work to
strengthen those ties and any others offered us in the future."
"Just as much, we must remember the old maxim of Vegetius:
Si vis pacem, para bellum. 'If you wish for peace, prepare for war'. In their haste to reduce the expenditure of our nation prior governments have permitted the forces that protect our nation to wilt. Only our Navy remains second-to-none: our Army is undermanned and overstretched and our fledgling Air Force is being forced to fly outdated aircraft. These things must change; they
will change. The government will restore our armed forces to their proper strength so that they may fulfill their duties completely. If this requires further expenditure from the government, and the increase in government income to match it, then so be it. Our national defense demands this sacrifice and it will be made." For effect he glanced back to his family before continuing. "I have three young children. And like any father in our nation - or, truly, any father in this entire world - I want my children to grow up in a world where they can be unafraid, in a world where they are not only free to worship and to speak as they please, where they are free from deprivation and want, but where they are also free from fear. If keeping these freedoms intact for our children means we must sacrifice of ourselves then that is a price that I am willing to pay and that I know that we, as a people, are willing to pay."
"These are my goals as your President. And we must all do our part, and in turn know that we enjoy the support of our countrymen in these endeavors. I believe, with all my heart, that we will overcome whatever challenges we face and that we will continue to prosper. God bless you and God bless Cascadia. Good day."
There were applause to his speech as he stepped down. His family joined him as they headed to the open automobile that would take them to the Presidential Residence as part of the Inauguration Parade. He was flanked by ceremonial guards as he made his way toward the vehicle, accepting the handshakes of well-wishers along the cordoned off walkway.
A single middle-aged woman, of partial Mexican descent from the look of her, pierced the crowd dressed in a widow's black and her hands clasping a rosary. She moved past the cordon and, before guards could seize her, almost threw herself upon him before sliding down to her knees, crying in Spanish at such a rate that he couldn't understand her. As a pair of Presidential guards pulled her away he held a hand up to them out of curiosity. "Is something wrong?"
"My son. My poor Lorenzo. Please don't kill my son," she pleaded, tears coursing down her eyes.
"Lorenzo who? Wait... Lorenzo Tarrega?"
"
Sí, my Lorenzo. Please, he is innocent..."
The name was one he or anyone in earshot would know quite well. Lorenzo Tarrega had been an office manager in the Naval Department's Office of Propulsion and Engineering Studies who had been tried for espionage and treason, charged with giving detailed - and classified - technical schematics of Cascadia's most advanced engine plants to Brazil and the Low Countries, plants that were expected to propel a new class of "fast battleship" over 30 knots per hour despite the design being heavier than the still-building
Sovereign-class dreadnought-type battleships. The evidence had been fairly sketchy but quite damning when combined with Tarrega's open political ties to the Cascadian Marxist Solidarity Party. It was hotly argued that it was politics more than any evidence of guilt that led to the jury's conviction, although even it had recommended only prison; the judge had, at the request of the Halling Administration, ordered Tarrega executed as a "Communist insurgent and spy".
The last Stephen knew, the matter was still open. The execution was scheduled in a few weeks and the Supreme Court was about to hear his case. It didn't surprise him to see the mother so hysterical but there was an apparent desperation that made him think something was wrong.
"Ma'am, the Supreme Court will hear your son's case before anything is done, I promise you..."
"They're going to kill him tomorrow!", the woman wailed as she was pulled away again. "Please spare my son, I beg you!"
"Mister President, please..." One of the Guard stepped forward and indicated they should continue moving. Given the fates of leaders like Italy's King Umberto and American President McKinley in the past quarter century, Stephen nodded in silent assent and led the procession on.
Presidential Residence
Stephen was settling into the Blue Room - the normal business office of Cascadia's President in the South Wing of the Green House - when his Chief of Staff entered. Reginald Etps, the grandson of German immigrants and a resident of Portland, who had joined the Liberals at the age of 19 while attending the University of Portland, having been introduced to him by Rachel who knew him from school. A former engineering student, "Reggie" had proven quite the administrative genius as well and had been an advisor since Stephen's days as a Congressman. "Stephen, I believe I understand why that poor woman accosted you on the way here," he informed him.
"Ah, Reggie?" Stephen accepted the paper Reginald handed him and immediately had a deep frown. "When did he sign this?"
"Last night. One of the leftover personnel said it was the last thing he did before retiring for the evening."
Stephen's eyes had already noticed the ostentatious script of former President Allan Halling's signature on the order, but his eyes now noticed the content. "I knew Halling was a spiteful bastard, but to sign Tarrega's
death warrant as his last official act? That is disgusting."
"With the death warrant signed the Department of Prisons has begun perparations. Unless the Supreme Court agrees to hear the case he'll be executed at dawn this Thursday."
Having heard this, Stephen put the order down and muttered, "That son of a bitch."
"I'd have to agree, Mister President. Halling is a son of a bitch."
"Oh, it's political, Reggie." Stephen put his hands together on the table in a thoughtful way. "If I don't rescind the warrant, then I'm forcing the Supreme Court to either take a case when its schedule is already full or I'm consigning a potentially innocent man to death. If I rescind the warrant in any way then the Tories will have ammunition for their charge that I and the Liberal Party are Communist sympathizers. Not the best thing given the news from Australia."
"Speaking of that, the Dutch ambassador has an outstanding appointment with the President that you must now fill."
"Flemish," Stephen corrected him.
"Sir?"
"His Excellency the Ambassador Palmkoek is Flemish, not Dutch," the President replied to his subordinate, flashing a sarcastic grin. "Get in touch with the Low Countries' embassy after you find me a few minutes in my busy, eighteen hour work schedule to come."
"Yes, Mister President. And then there is the Indian Ocean business..."
Stephen rubbed at his temples for a moment. "And Halling, of course, was kind enough to not do much since it would prevent him from either accusing me of being a pawn of Berlin or jeopardizing our association with Germany and being too lax on pirates," he remarked sullenly.
There was no love lost between him and his predecessor. Halling had found the renewal of the German-Cascadian Naval Accord a bitter pill when his party had made the retention of Samoa a policy goal, even if Western Samoa had been given up to achieve Cascadian control of New Britain and the Palaus, giving them direct control of bases critical to the defense of Eastern New Guinea. Over this matter Halling had become his bitter political opponent. The former President had tried to ship him off to Berlin as an Ambassador and failed; he'd also tried, in vain, to back a Whig candidate to Stephen's seat from Astoria in 1922.
"The
Mecklemburg was a German-owned vessel with a German captain and crew... but it was a Cascadian ship with a Cascadian flag and Cascadian cargo," Stephen remarked. "I think our response is clear: restitution must be paid and the
Godfrey's commander punished for his act of piracy. That said, we have to be willing to accept arbitration in the issue of punishment by a fair arbitrator. The SAU perhaps, or Peru. The Grand Dominion is a touchy polity, it would be impractical to be hardline and drive them into defiance."
"Governor Halsworth in Palembang radiographed a request to hold off on the embargo. Apparently a lot of finished goods in the Sumatran economy are produced from the Dominion, the Governor is concerned that it would cause problems with the natives if the cheap source of goods was lost."
"Australia's factories are exporting, it wouldn't take long for them to pick up the slack," Stephen remarked. "Given all the resources we ship to the Dominion in varying quantities I think they'd hurt more, even if Manchuria stays out of the embargo. That said.... have someone in the State Department deliver a message to Ambassador de Hauteville that I wish to hear out the Lord Protector's position and, if he satisfies our concerns and requirements sufficiently over the
Mecklemburg Affair and provides sufficient protections for shipping in the immediate Horn of Africa region - and make sure to emphasize in the note that we are willing to not challenge the status of the Arabian Sea, aka the Grand Dominion Gulf, as a war zone where the Grand Dominion has the right of contraband searches - I would be willing to speak with
Reichskanzler Sänger on maintaining trade or at least not beginning the embargo just yet."
"President Halling never officially recognized the claims of either the Grand Dominion or Shepistan relating to the Arabian Sea being a war zone and their ships having Right of Search," Reginald pointed out.
"Nor am I.... yet. There's a difference between simply not challenging their claim and actively accepting it," Stephen pointed. "Anyway."
"Very well. And remember, General Causewell will be by shortly to discuss your plans for army expansion." Etps slipped his notebook into his suit pocket. "But you never told me... are you going to rescind the death warrant on Lorenzo Tarrega."
Stephen gave him an exasperated look. "Of course I am, Reggie," he grumbled.
"Very well, I'll make sure that note is given to the Prisons Department while I send these other notes. Good luck dealing with the Tories, Sir."
"Thank you," Stephen answered. "I take it you're going to be celebrating with Paul tonight?"
"We're going to be seeing a concert," Reginald answered. "And then back to the apartment, I have things that need packing."
"Ah, well, enjoy."
"Thank you, Mister President." Reginald gave a slight smile and nod before stepping out.
Shortly after he did the door opened again. Rafael zipped in, followed closely by Sophie and Tom. They'd removed their heavier warm clothing but were still in their Sunday best, if more wrinkled from playing. Rachel was following them closely, her fur coat off to reveal her short-sleeved blouse that had been worn below the coat. "I don't think this place was built for a family to live in," she remarked with some exasperation. "I'm having to get the biggest bedroom just to fit beds for all three and I've got the Residential director insisting on some smaller beds that are $50 apiece..."
"Fifty
dollars? When their normal beds back home were only eighteen god-damned dollars apiece." At that point he blanched and his children broke out giggling at recognizing their father's reaction.
"Looks like another three dollars for the swear jar," Rachel commented bemusedly.
The "swear jar" was something she had come up with to break Stephen of that Navy habit of coarse language, at least around the children. For every child who heard him swear he had to put an entire dollar in - a whole dollar! Fifty cents should be more than enough! - that they would get to spend at a later date for toys or clothing. That, of course, meant that Rafael and Tom were especially keen to make their father curse in their presence as often as possible.
"I still say fifty cents should suffice," he grumbled as he let Sophie climb into his lap, a smile on her face as she inspected the desk he now worked from.
"You can afford the full dollar. And it's more incentive for you to remember you're not speaking around sailors anymore," she answered with a grin. She walked over and leaned over him. "When you're done with work and I've gotten the children settled into their room, I say we retire to our new bedroom as well and enjoy some of that nice Cooksland port my father gave you this past Christmas. We can use it to christen our new bed." Rachel's hand touched Sophie's head affectionally as she scribbled on a blank paper upon the desk, the touch also serving to block her right ear so that Rachel could, leaning close and speaking softly into his ear, inform him of exactly what she had planned for the port and the precise nature of "christening" their bed, plans he had to admit would make an excellent and refreshingly intimate end to this long, busy, and very public day. She finished by playfully licking his ear lobe, a tease to keep him interested.
"Mom, why do you do that?!", Rafael said, looking somewhat disgusted. "How can you let her lick you like that, Pa?!"
"You'll find out when you're older, Raf," Stephen remarked very delicately.
Summary:
Former Congressman Stephen Garrett, Captain (Retired) of the Republic of Cascadia Navy, is inaugurated as Cascadia's 14th President and is the Liberal Party's second candidate to win the highest office of the Republic.
Convicted Communist spy's execution warrant rescinded in lieu of Supreme Court decision to hear his case.
Cascadian Army to begin expanding (as stated in Construction queue list).
Cascadian note to Lord Protector Fairfax on
Mecklemburg Affair and status of Arabian Sea to be dispatched. Cascadia is pursuing her own approach to the issue, though President Garrett has not rescinded Halling's commitment to the embargo proposal.
Meeting with Low Countries representative over the further Dutch incursion into Cascadian territory in Australia is desired. The slaying of a Cascadian soldier upon Cascadian soil by the armed troops of another nation is, of course, rather unacceptable.
