Remember Watergate? The reported leaned over the envelope and gently tore the craft paper open and discovered what the big lump was, making the big envelope bulge. It was a cassette tape so he looked at the hand written label that simply stated "fathers story". It had been decades since Richard Nixon and the Watergate story but he felt almost the same, an envelope stuffed with typed pages and cassette tapes.
He kind of felt like he should be wearing white gloves or something as he wasn't comfortable about leaving his fingerprints on everything. The receptionist at the World Tribune tossed him the envelope as he passed by her this afternoon, he had been out of town for a week covering the boring Democratic debates, writing columns of articles on his laptop and making sure he got paid on Friday's.
He felt like one of those Watergate reporters with this big thick envelope left for him by a stranger but reading the first note got his attention.
Dear Sam,
"Everybody wants this, you do too!" "These are the college records of Barack Obama, thought you would enjoy writing something, maybe get a prize." "My father worked at the college as an overburdened professor." "Barack was one of his students and Barack talked at length with my father about socialism and the constitution." "They kept in touch for years, through Harvard and Obama days in Chicago all the way to the White House."
"You will find the voice tape very interesting, but it's just the beginning." "I have over thirty cassette tapes and a few thousand pages of notes, reports, outlines, grades and other college stuff." "If you would like the coherent story of President Barack Obama before he was king take a deep breath and find your tape recorder and headphones and get started."
"I will need cash money for the other stuff so as the reels turn remember there's a lot more." "Go talk to the big boys at your paper and tell them three million dollars for the rest." "My fathers name was Doctor Newport and he passed away in 2014, and this is what he left me." "I can tell you now that you'll start having acute fears in the middle of the night."
"Barack Obama isn't who you think!"
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Sam Ledger read the first note a few times as his hand was shaking uncontrollably maybe out of fear or not enough lunch, he wasn't sure. He wanted to run down the hall and talk to the editor but he really didn't like the ass wipe so he just sat there a while.
The editor of the World Tribune had been on the job for about three months and his library called an office was a super sized pine paneled room built about sixty years ago filled with books and award plaques of the new guy.
The World Tribune for decades was owned by Wall-Street and went private about a year ago and the new editor came over from the New York House and Times down the street.
The new editor was like a walking and talking nightmare as he loudly dared us to do our jobs and meet our deadlines while taking a twenty percent cut in pay. He would argue any point and cut any budget and he made it clear "we're not getting married and we're not going to hold hands - go to work."
Sam was very sure the new editor was a vegetarian and also a big time Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton supporter, it was part of being a New Yorker he guessed.
Sam needed to go to the bathroom, not to use the bathroom, but to make a phone call.
He knew a guy that knew a guy that was in the FBI in Washington D.C. or was it in Denver he never could remember. He was starting to ramble in his own head so the first thing he thought about was a cigarette, of course that was against all the new rules.
The rituals and punishments from the new editor flowed effortlessly so maybe Sam would take the time to go have some dinner and skip the bathroom phone booth.
Sam might have struck gold.
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