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Legacy - 16. Homecoming - Kurt DeWitt
“Oh, come in Dr. DeWitt!” the President boomed as his secretary ushered me into his underground office.
“Please sir, call me Kurt,” I invited him. “Everyone else does.”
“For one thing, I’m not everyone else,” he countered, “and for another, you earned your doctorate, even if some of us questioned the appropriateness of awarding a doctorate in Divinity to a gay man.”
“Mr. President, your opinions on homosexuality are well known but I’ll grant you that, except for a few lapses in the previous few days, you have always treated us with the utmost respect.”
“The American people chose David Reynolds to be their President. It was their choice and if they felt comfortable choosing a fa . . . er, gay man as president, who am I to question their judgment? Likewise, If President Reynolds wanted to appoint queers . . . oops, I mean homosexuals to key positions within his administration, that was certainly his right, subject to approval by the Senate.
“I’ve kept all of you on for now because, frankly, you’re very good at what you do and know your way around the administration far better than my own staff does. Whether you’re gay or straight has nothing to do with it and I really do apologize if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. I may not condone the life you’ve chosen to lead, but I respect that it is your life to lead.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied. What could I say? It’s not like I could exactly tell the President of the United States that my ‘choice’ to be gay made about as much sense as his choice to be tall.
“Oh, and another thing Dr. DeWitt,” the President went on, “I really do appreciate your taking action in the meeting yesterday morning. I had no intention of taking the country to war but I felt strongly we needed to be prepared and we mustn’t appear weak. What I wanted to say just wasn’t coming out right. Your approach may have been a bit dramatic but it had the desired effect. You kept me from doing something really, really stupid, and I appreciate it.
“Next time, and I fear there will be a next time, I’d appreciate it if you could find a way for me to save face in the process. Perhaps you could ask for a five-minute recess or something to give me a chance to get my act together with a little of your help. That way we could avoid all the dramatics.”
“I’ll do just that, sir,” I replied.
“Now what I called you in for was to discuss your ‘short list’ of potential candidates to be my V.P. I’ve gone over all of the information . . . the candidate bios, the analyses and so on, and I think you’ve done an admirable job of finding the right people for the job. Two Democrats and two Republicans is probably just the right number as well.
“After reviewing what you’ve given me, I think I can eliminate Senator Udall right away. He may be highly respected and have strong popular support, and he may be seen as a centrist, but he’s just too damn liberal for me. I’m tempted to say the same thing about Jeremy Kimball, but he’s much more of a pragmatist than his husband was and he certainly has the sympathy vote at the moment, so I’ll keep him on the list for now.
“Governor Richards is a particularly good choice and I’d be very tempted to choose her off the bat, but there’s something you don’t know about her that could be a problem. We were, um, involved a few years back and the relationship did not end well. For that reason alone, I don’t think I can have her as my V.P.
“Sammy Austin is very much a mixed bag. His staunch views on abortion are a real plus with the party faithful, but he’s quite liberal otherwise, for a Republican, that is. He’s well-liked by the Democrats, which would be a big plus, but we’d lose another seat in the House, which is something I already rejected when your husband suggested him for Secretary of State. Still, I have to look at the bigger picture and he’d otherwise be an outstanding choice.”
“Would you like me to add some more names?” I asked. “I do have a ‘long list’ from which to draw upon,” I added.
“No,” the President countered, “unless both Kimball and Austin wash out, I think we’ll be fine. They’d both make good vice-presidents, and there’s the added advantage that their closeness to the former president could provide some cover to move the country a little bit more to the right.”
“Neither of them will like that, sir,” I challenged.
“Oh, I expect there’ll be some heated discussion, but as long as they show their loyalty to me in public, that’s all that matters in the end,” the President answered.
“They’ve both given me their word on that,” I agreed, “but Kimball did make it clear he won’t accept unless you agree up front to stay the course on his husband’s reforms.”
“As they say, talk is cheap,” the President stated with a wink. I didn’t like him doing that one bit at all. He all but said he’d lie to Jeremy to get him to accept the position, then use him to help sell the country on a transition to a much more conservative policy, one to which the vice-president couldn’t even voice his own objections in public.
On the other hand, wouldn’t it still be better to have Jeremy on the inside where he could influence policy? Schroeder was the President, regardless. He was going to be the president for close to two years yet and the thought of his conservatism running unchecked was truly terrifying, even to a right-of-center Republican like me.
The one saving grace was that people usually underestimated Jeremy, and I was certain that Schroeder was doing so even now. The President probably thought he could push Jeremy around and get him to do his bidding without his putting up a fight. If that’s what he thought, he’d be proved wrong. Jeremy might have been in David’s shadow much of his life but he was truly the man behind the man. Jeremy was the one with convictions and he was every bit as capable a public speaker and debater as his husband ever was. David had charisma, charm and the ability to think on his feet. Although they were both incredibly smart, Jeremy’s breadth of knowledge was second to none in Washington. It had been Jeremy that had graduated first in his class at Harvard, just ahead of David.
Although I was still going to push Jeremy as the best person for the job, with Sammy as a close second, I’d make sure they both knew the score and were prepared to take Schroeder on if necessary. Schroeder was a mental midget compared to either of them and he’d pay the price if he ever tried to manipulate them into positions they couldn’t support.
“Why don’t you go ahead and set up meetings with each of them for this afternoon?” Schroeder continued. “I’d like to meet with them, one-on-one . . . well, maybe I’d better have you in on the meetings, too. I’ll plan to meet with each of them for two hours. That should give me plenty of time to turn up any red flags.
“Let’s get this done today. Go ahead and set up a news conference for prime time this evening. The sooner we can reassure the public that Reynolds’ policies will continue, the better. Having Kimball or Austin as V.P. will help do that, even if we do end up scrapping the Reynolds Doctrine,” he added with another wink.
I shuddered inside at the thought - the ‘Reynolds Doctrine’, as the press had dubbed it, was the very essence of what David’s Presidency had been about, no thanks to the new President’s actions as Speaker of the House. Schroeder had consistently tried to block every attempt to streamline government and create a level playing field. Unfortunately, he’d succeeded far too often, preventing us from passing legislation that could have and would have greatly reduced the cost of governing.
For all his talk about reducing the size of government and cutting taxes, Schroeder was a crony capitalist of the first order. His policies consistently favored his friends in industry at the cost of the general public. Rather than reducing the size of government, he expanded it, finding every way to use Federal regulations to block any legitimate attempt to regulate big business or even big labor.
David’s philosophy, on the other hand, was quite simple. Create a level playing field and the need for government oversight will be minimal. “Over-regulation is just as dangerous as under-regulation,” he used to say. “Write the rules in such a way that businesses, or labor for that matter, can’t use their size to gain unfair advantage. Then everyone will have a fair chance. A tiny start-up named Google came in and displaced Microsoft as the king of the hill, only to have little Indigo eat their lunch, and none of that happened with any government intervention. The key is to make sure the Googles and Indigos of the world have a fighting chance.”
David was absolutely right. We’d enlisted the help of some of the best economists and business leaders in the world. We had tons of market research, scientific models and hard data to prove the legitimacy of our approach, but Schroeder was very ‘old school’. Application of the ‘Reynolds Doctrine’ drastically cut the costs of doing business, reduced federal bureaucracy and made a significant dent in reducing the deficit. It made it much more difficult to use size to gain undue influence and marginalize competition, which was why big industry was largely opposed to it.
Like many before him, Schroeder favored tax breaks for the rich who didn’t need them; lax oversight for those who had a purported need to skirt the rules, except for those who had a legitimate need, in which case the rules and regulations were even more stringent than before; and he favored having government stay out of people’s lives so long as they followed the right religion. He was dangerous - and now he was President. Yes, as difficult a job as it would be, we needed Jeremy or Sammy in the role of vice-president.
The irony was that the ‘Reynolds Doctrine’ came not from David Reynolds, but from his father-in-law. It was something that they developed early in David’s career, not long after we all returned home from our service in the American Red Cross. Yes, Trevor and I volunteered too, although our role ended up being entirely stateside and wasn’t nearly as exciting as the one David and Jeremy played in Guatemala. The ARC had a pressing need to overhaul their computer security and were more than thrilled to have someone of Trevor’s abilities on-board. As his husband, I ended up providing chaplaincy services to the other volunteers.
Returning home from the East with David and Jeremy, Trevor and I began our own professional careers. Trevor’s dad had had a heart attack the year before and was grateful to have his son come home to assist with running the rapidly growing family business. I hoped to start my career as the assistant pastor at the Hope Evangelical Christian Church - the very church where my father had been the senior minister right up until I came out a dozen years before.
Trevor and I settled into his old bedroom at his parents’ house initially, intending to get our own place once we’d saved some cash. We had equity in the condo we co-owned in Cambridge with David and Jeremy but, with a soft housing market, we decided to rent the condo out rather than sell it for less than we might be able to get for it in a few years. We didn’t exactly have much privacy with Trevor’s parents in the house but, then again, I’d lived with Trevor in the very same house throughout the last half of his senior year in high school. My in-laws were completely accepting of our relationship and never made us feel embarrassed, even when I was sure they must have heard us making love.
We returned home with our friends and built new lives for ourselves as adults in the community where we grew up, but dammed if I didn’t feel nervous as shit when I was interviewed by Janice Winters, the senior pastor at Hope Evangelical. She was the one who took over when my father left town all those years ago . . .
~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Friday, September 18, 2020 - Twenty-three Years Earlier
“Kurt, it’s so good to see you,” Pastor Winters said as she ushered me into her office - the very office that used to be my father’s study. “And look at you,” she continued with her warm smile. “You’re all grown up!”
“It’s nice to see you too, Pastor Winters,” I replied as I shook her hand.
“Please,” she admonished me, “we’re equals now. You’re officially Doctor Curtis DeWitt, so if I can call you Kurt, the least you can do is call me Jan.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” I countered, “but I’ll try, Jan.”
“How’s Peggy doing?” the pastor asked.
I responded “Peggy?” not really knowing who she was talking about.
“Your mother, Kurt,” Jan explained.
“Oh, of course,” I answered. “I’m just so used to calling her ‘Mom’ and to hearing her formal name, that I’m not used to hearing her called by her nickname. She’s doing great, doting over her grandchildren of course.”
“What grandmother wouldn’t?” Jan asked rhetorically, and then continued, “Ben and Jeff have such lovely families, and you’ve certainly made a name for yourself in the world. Peggy must be proud.”
“Any time she introduces me to someone new, she still goes on and on about my Congressional Gold Medal. It’s so embarrassing.”
“But it’s deserved, Kurt, and I think you know that,” Jan countered.
“I think there are others who are at least as deserving,” I challenged, “but it goes a long way in legitimizing the things I’ve done since.”
“I can imagine how true that must be,” she agreed. “And how are Lindsey and Rob?” she went on to ask.
“They’re busy . . . the business has more than tripled in size since Trevor and I left home and, with Rob having his heart attack last year and being forced to cut back, it’s been especially hard on Lindsey. I know they’re glad to have Trevor back. They really need him to keep the business going until Trevor either takes it over completely, or until they decide to retire and sell it.”
“Is that the main reason you moved back here?” she asked.
“It was one of the main reasons,” I acknowledged. “Trevor was recruited heavily by both the NSA and the CIA, but he turned them down. His dad needs him more right now. But even if it weren’t for that, we’d never choose to live anyplace other than where our good friends, David Reynolds and Jeremy Kimball live. They’re like family to us and we’ll always try to live in the same town. David wants to try his hand in politics, so more power to him.”
“That makes a lot more sense, now,” Jan responded. “I wondered why you’d returned home rather than looking for a more liberal congregation back East or on the West Coast. Now the pieces all fit.
“Kurt,” she continued, “a lot of people in the congregation still remember your father leaving town, and a lot of them blame you for it. I know it wasn’t in any way your fault, but a lot of the old-timers still believe you chose this life of yours, and broke your father’s heart in the first place.”
As I started to protest, she held up her hand and said, “Please let me finish, Kurt . . . then you can say your piece.
“It’s not up to me to hire you. My recommendation will carry a lot of weight, but it’s the Board that will make the decision. None of the other candidates have your qualifications, but then you’re probably overqualified in the first place. With your father-in-law being the president of the congregation, however, the rest of the board wouldn’t dare hold your past against you, although the issue of your homosexuality will almost certainly come up.
“If you want the position, chances are very strong you’ll get it but, consider this, the ultimate decision on acceptance rests with the congregation. The Board can hire you, but the members of the congregation can vote with their feet. They can refuse to attend when you preside. They can leave in the middle of your sermons. They can even fire the entire Board. You will almost certainly have an uphill battle if you choose to serve here.
“You must also realize this position is a dead end. Someone with your talents should be the senior pastor of a large congregation. I was very young when your father left, and I’m still only thirty-seven. I’m happy here and I’m not planning to retire for another thirty years or so. Even if you take this job, you’ll have to leave it in a few years. You don’t want to be an assistant pastor the rest of your life.”
Sighing, she concluded, “Kurt, it’s up to you whether or not to pursue this position. Personally, I think you’d be crazy to do so, but it’s up to you. I will support you if you do because you’re the best-qualified candidate by far, and because I know you and know that you are a fine, upstanding and very moral young man. I know you’ll make a fine pastor, but I’m just not sure this is the right place for you. Even in this city, there are congregations that are far more liberal and accepting that would be a better fit.”
It wasn’t that I disagreed with Pastor Winters at all or that I wasn’t listening to her, but succeeding my father at Hope Evangelical had been my dream since I was a little kid. I really had to do this, even if only for a short while.
“Jan,” I responded, “I appreciate what you’re saying, but I am an Evangelical Christian and so long as I live in this city, Hope Evangelical will be my home. It would just feel wrong to preside over services anywhere else. I don’t know what the future will bring . . . perhaps I’ll end up being on the faculty at the seminary if we stay in town . . . but for now, the assistant pastor position is the right one for me and I think I’m the right person for the position. Give me a chance and I’ll win the congregation over.
“I think you take a lot for granted, Kurt, and you assume everyone will listen to you in the first place, which they may not. If you really want to do this, however, I will support you . . .”
“I do,” I interrupted.
“Then I will submit my recommendation to the Board in time for their meeting next week. You should hear back from us by the end of next week.”
“Thanks, Jan,” I said as I got up and shook her hand.
“And good luck, Kurt,” she added, “no matter what happens.”
It felt strange living with Trevor’s parents again, rather than with Jeremy and David as we had for so long in Boston. Our friends, for their part, were living in an apartment over the garage in Jeremy’s parents’ house. Although they could have gotten a job offer from virtually any law firm in the city, David was bound and determined to run for Governor, but he couldn’t do so until he was thirty. The first election in which he could run was still four years away.
Rather than practice law or run for a State Assembly seat, David thought that experience in the business world would be more valuable to him as governor. Tom Kimball was absolutely thrilled to have his son and son-in-law working for him.
As much as we might have liked to buy a house together and live under one roof, we all decided it just wouldn’t be practical. Sharing an apartment made sense during our college years, but sharing a house as adults would only fuel speculation. The last thing we wanted was for the voters to suspect that candidate David Reynolds was participating in gay orgies and the last thing Governor Reynolds would need was a scandal. Perhaps someday, once David was an established politician, we’d buy a house together in Washington.
Trevor was the busiest he’d ever been in his life, including when he was preparing to defend his dissertation. He worked until late at night and often worked weekends as well, taking on the lion’s share of the network security portion of the business, which had grown by leaps and bounds in our absence. They had a well-deserved reputation for honesty and for standing by their clients in times of crisis, and word was spreading far and wide. The private investigation and building security parts of the operation were strictly local but, for the network security portion, they had clients on both coasts.
With all that was going on in our lives, the call from Janice Winters that came at the end of the next week was almost anticlimactic. The contract was signed on Friday afternoon and I was to begin work the following Monday. She asked, however, if I’d like to be introduced to the congregation that Sunday, since word about such things travels fast. As she put it, it might be a good idea to get ahead of the rumors, and I couldn’t have agreed more.
I’d never been so nervous in my life - not even when I met with the junior Senator from our state - as I was sitting up on the podium during the morning service on Sunday. Although I had the moral support of my family and friends, including David, Jeremy, Trevor, and Sammy and Paul and their wives, I felt a negative uneasiness. Everyone seemed to be staring at me. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I felt like I was under a microscope. Finally it was time for what would ordinarily be the sermon. Jan stepped up to the podium and began to speak.
“Instead of giving a sermon today,” she began, “I would like to introduce the congregation to our new assistant pastor. As you know, we interviewed a number of viable candidates but in the end, there was no comparison. The Board voted unanimously to offer the position to one of our own.
“Dr. Curtis DeWitt grew up in this congregation.” The sound of murmuring began almost immediately upon her announcing my name. “His father was the senior pastor here when I was the assistant pastor, and well before then. Dr. DeWitt is the youngest of three children and his mother and two brothers and their families are members of the congregation. He has quite a remarkable history, having caught a pedophile counselor at a church-run camp for disadvantaged youth when he was only fourteen, and having saved a number of the campers’ lives.
“He himself was a victim, but that didn’t stop him from speaking out on behalf of the victims of rape and sexual abuse. He was instrumental in securing funding for counseling for the abused campers and foster home placement for those that were HIV-positive. For his extreme bravery and selfless devotion, he became the youngest recipient of the Congressional Gold Medal in history.
“Young Kurt served as a page in the Senate when he was just fifteen. Recognizing his unique talents and particularly his photographic memory and his advanced knowledge of religious texts, President Obama brought him to the attention of the president of Boston University. He entered college at the age of sixteen, marrying one of our other congregants as he did so . . .”
“DeWitt’s a cock-sucking faggot!” someone in the congregation shouted out, interrupting the pastor’s comments.
“Dr. DeWitt and Dr. Trevor Austin were legally married in Boston just before starting college. They have been together for the better part of a dozen years. There is no doubt that many of us question the morality of homosexuality, myself included. However, Dr. DeWitt has made it clear a number of times on national television that he believes he is living the life God intended for him. The bottom line is that he is extraordinarily qualified for this position. If he keeps his private life private, and we allow him to keep his private life private, there is no reason he shouldn’t be allowed to minister to this congregation.
“After receiving a Bachelors in Sociology from B.U., he went on to complete his Doctor of Divinity there as well at the same time that his husband earned his Ph.D. in Computer Science. Together, they volunteered for the American Red Cross, serving in the organization for a total of two years. They decided to return home because, as many of you know, Rob Austin suffered a heart attack last year and Dr. Austin decided to help his parents run the family business.
“I now present to you Dr. Curtis DeWitt,” she concluded as she began clapping her hands. There was a smattering of applause as I approached the pulpit, and quite a few jeers as well.
“Wow,” I began, “it’s really incredible to be back here. Boston and Washington are amazing cities, but it’s good to be back home in the Midwest . . .”
“Go back East, you cock-sucking faggot!” someone in the congregation shouted, interrupting me.
“You’re an abomination in God’s eyes!” someone else shouted.
“I don’t want you anywhere near our children!” a woman shouted, adding to the fray.
Within moments the whole sanctuary was filled with angry shouts of hatred and the buzz of everyone else gossiping. It was almost enough to bring me to tears, and there was no way I could continue speaking in such a toxic environment. Perhaps Pastor Winters had been right.
Then someone shouted, “SILENCE!” over the din.
All conversation stopped. My heart began to race. I felt myself start to panic as I saw the imposing figure of my father approaching the pulpit.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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