Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Blowin’ In The Wind (January 1968)
As the calendar flipped from 1967 to 1968, the inhabitants of Los Angeles, California were hoping for a better year. An end to the war in Vietnam, a new era in politics, and a better life for everyone. One of the 7.9 million members of the population was about to be handpicked to become the next person to run for the United States Congress.
And the person to do it was just around the corner from realizing it.
38-year-old Josh Lyman was what most people his age would call a “political genius”. He had a law degree from Yale, a Bachelor’s from Harvard, and more political sense than people twice his age. At six years old, he had predicted that Roosevelt would be re-elected and continued to predict the winners of the elections.
He had grown up in 1930s Westport, a haven far away from the terrifying things happening to people like him in Europe. His family was typical: his attorney father, his homemaker mother, him, and his older sister.
Until the fire.
It had been a late winter night in 1938, and his sister Joanie was babysitting him while his parents went to a cocktail party across town. He begged his sister to make popcorn in the fireplace, which Joanie was hesitant to do without adult supervision. But she was his big sister and would do anything for him. So she did.
He ran, and she never came back out of the house.
He would live with the guilt for the rest of his childhood, the rest of his time at Harvard and Yale. And when he was 26, he joined his first political campaign and never looked back.
In 1960, 30-year-old Josh dealt with the shock of his father’s death from cancer by joining the Kennedy campaign. John Kennedy had a different belief system, but he still liked the younger man. Josh was the only campaign aide invited multiple times to the Kennedy compound at Hyannis Port. Maybe it was the way Rose Kennedy could see that Josh desperately needed some sense of family.
But in 1963, tragedy struck yet again. Josh was working on JFK’s re-election campaign, at the Dallas field office, when news came in from the Secret Service that something had happened to the President. He rushed to Parkland Memorial, but it was already too late.
After that, Josh left politics. He just didn’t think he could keep working in an industry that killed the best thing that ever happened to the country. And right about then, Los Angeles seemed big, booming. Full of promise. He got a job as a lawyer in a law firm in LA, quickly making junior partner, and forgot all about politics.
Until January 1968.
It was a cold winter’s day at the law firm of Goldberg, Babish, and Keller, and Josh was busy working on a case file.
“Lyman!”
His boss, Oliver Babish, was yelling for him.
He scrambled out of his office door. “Yes, sir?”
“I want you to be in court on Monday for the Wallace case. And get the Crouch summary on my desk by end of business today.”
Josh nodded. “Yes, sir.” Closing his door, he sat down at his desk and put a fresh sheet of paper into his typewriter. He turned on the portable television at his desk for background noise while he worked and was soon met with a familiar face.
Sam Seaborn was his best friend-had been since his days visiting the Kennedys. Sam was a close friend of Ted Kennedy, a year behind him at school. Sam attended Princeton and Duke Law, rising through his career very early on-becoming a partner of his fledgling law firm by 30. At 33-two years earlier-he had become the youngest person in Los Angeles to be elected District Attorney. And now he was on TV, being interviewed on the KTLA News at 6 by Arnold Vinick. He had sailed through questions about his latest cases, including a couple of murder trials, and was just wrapping up the interview.
“Mr. Seaborn, you have political aspirations, don’t you? That’s why you ran for District Attorney?”
Sam sat up. “Sure I have political aspirations. But not because I want power, or because I want to be President of the United States. What happened to President Kennedy was an enormous tragedy that is enough to scare any sane Democrat away from the White House. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have political aspirations. Congress, or maybe Governor. I want to make the state of California a better place. And if any of the conservatives in this state have a problem with that, they should vote for somebody else.”
Josh sat back and watched, stunned. Here was the “real thing”. The thing he had been waiting for unconsciously ever since he left politics. Sure, there were rumors that Robert Kennedy was plotting a run for the Presidency, but he didn’t want to get anywhere near a Kennedy again. This would be a safe race. Besides, Bob Russell was retiring from his seat to run for Governor. He was kind of a dull guy, and here was Josh’s chance to get someone more than just a stuffed shirt in that seat.
Now all he had to do was convince his friend.
…
District Attorney Sam Seaborn walked into work the next morning with a million things being pressed at him. He had started off the day in a pretty good mood, coming off of a very successful interview on TV the night before. His girlfriend Ainsley said it was one of the best interviews she’d ever seen.
His longtime secretary Ginger approached him as he walked towards his office. “Mr. Seaborn, your phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
“I should imagine so, Ginger. How many of those calls do I have to return right now?”
“All of them can wait.”
“Good.”
“But there’s a Mr. Lyman inside your office who’d like to talk to you a minute. He said he’s an old friend from Hyannis Port?”
Sam’s face lit up. “You bet he is.” He walked into the office to find Josh standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“Josh Lyman!”
Josh grinned. “Sam. How’s life treating you? How’s Ainsley?”
“She’s good. Thanks for asking.”
“Still enjoying nursing?”
“Yeah. But she spends more time at the NOW.”
“The what now?”
“The NOW-The National Organization For Women.”
“She’s a feminist now? The last time I met her, she was just a nice Southern girl.”
“A Southern girl who’s always been a feminist.”
“Okay.”
“CJ sends her regards, by the way.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” CJ Ziegler was a producer at KTLA and a childhood friend of Josh’s. It was she who suggested that Josh come out to Los Angeles after the Kennedy assassination.
Sam crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. “What are you doing here, Josh?”
“Well, funny you should ask.” Josh imitated the gesture. “I saw your interview on KTLA last night.”
“I figured.”
“You want to get into politics?”
“I was thinking about it, yeah.”
“Well, how would you like to be the next member of the United States Congress representing our great state of California?”
Sam’s mouth fell open. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. It was that he wasn’t expecting it to happen now.
Josh was already talking, making plans. “The election’s in eleven months. We’ll need to announce it as soon as possible. But obviously, if you want to talk to Ainsley first, you’re more than welcome to…So what do you think, Sam?”
Sam closed his mouth and looked deep in thought. “Are you sure about this, Josh? I know you’ve been out of politics a long time, and I know I said I have political aspirations, but…you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”
Josh stared him hard in the eyes. “You’re the only one I’m ready to do this with.”
Sam smiled warmly back at him. “Okay, then. I’ll talk it over with Ainsley. But I’m positive she’ll say yes.”
Josh nodded. “Call me as soon as you know for sure.”
“I will.”
Josh walked outside, saying hello to one of the other secretaries of the firm-Zoey Bartlet. He knew more about her from Sam than any other secretary in the office, including Ginger. She worked for attorney Andrea Wyatt, was a college dropout up until a few months ago, was dating a Black Army soldier fighting in Vietnam, and was full into the hippie movement on the weekends. Even now, Zoey was dressed in a pastel-colored suit, her auburn-red hair cut short to fit with the times. She chose to express her individuality however she could, and Sam didn’t mind so long as it didn’t interfere with her duties.
But little did Josh know, Zoey was about to get the worst news of her young life.
…
Zoey arrived home at 5:30, having worked a full day from 9 to 5. She pulled off her jacket and hung it up in the foyer. “Mom? Dad? I’m home!”
“In here, sweetheart,” She heard her mother call.
Zoey walked in to find her mother on the couch with a book in hand, still dressed in her clothes from work. She was a cardiothoracic surgeon at Cedars-Sinai Hospital, the only female surgeon of her kind on the unit. She had an unreadable expression on her face.
“How was work?” Abbey asked her youngest daughter.
“It was…fine, I guess. Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Come sit down.”
Zoey sat down on the couch. “Mom, what is it?”
“Honey…it’s Charlie.”
“Charlie? What’s wrong with Charlie?”
“I was working today, and a young man came in. He’d been airlifted from Vietnam with internal injuries. They didn’t want to operate in-country. Charlie was injured in Vietnam, Zoey. He’s here in California in serious condition.”
Zoey gasped. “Ch-Charlie? Will he die?”
“I don’t know. But if you want to see him, you should see him now. While you still can. I know how much he means to you.”
Zoey nodded. “Can I be excused?”
“Of course. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
Zoey ran up to her room and flipped on her transistor radio. “Somebody To Love” by Jefferson Airplane, her favorite group, blared through the room as she flopped onto her bed and cried.
The next morning, she went up to the Intensive Care Unit, where she quickly asked for Charlie Young’s room. She tiptoed into the room, drawing in a breath when she laid eyes on her boyfriend for the first time in eight months.
He was battered but otherwise looked like he was sleeping. Zoey approached the bed and threw herself over him.
“Oh, Charlie,” Zoey sobbed, caressing his face. “Look what they did to you.”
…
The same night Zoey got the news, Sam arrived home and dialed a familiar number.
“Hello?” said a familiar voice.
“Hey, Ains.” Sam greeted cheerfully.
“I was wondering when you would call, handsome.” Ainsley Hayes said flirtatiously.
“You know I always call before you go to sleep,” Sam grinned. “Are you home by yourself tonight?”
“Ronna’s having dinner with friends, and Margaret has an overnight flight.” Ronna and Margaret were Ainsley’s roommates, Ronna a secretary and Margaret a stewardess.
“So I could come over?”
“I wouldn’t stop you.” She said cryptically.
Sam laughed. “I’ll be over in 10 minutes.”
Sam arrived at Ainsley’s apartment in record time. Ainsley opened the door with a smile on her face. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi.” They kissed, and Ainsley stepped inside to let him in.
“You hungry? I made chicken.”
“Yeah, sure.”
As they ate, Ainsley looked at him with a funny expression. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He paused. “Except…”
“Except?”
“Josh Lyman wants me to run for Congress.”
“Congress?! Is he sure?”
“He thinks I can do it.”
Ainsley smiled. “He does, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, so do I.”
Sam grinned. “You’ve always believed in me, Ains.”
“And I always will. Remember when we met?”
“The park. A year ago. Josh set us up, and I wanted to kill him.”
“But your dog ran right up to me.” Sam smiled, remembering.
“And then I knew I would always be with someone who cared about me.”
Sam smiled. “I think I want to run.”
Ainsley grinned. “Good. I think you should. And win.”
…
Two weeks later, the Seaborn for Congress campaign was officially underway. Sam was working at his new campaign office in downtown LA, while Josh was working down the hall from him.
Josh was wandering down the hall when something made him double back to Sam’s office. Sitting inside was a woman with blonde hair (a very attractive woman, he noted), talking to Sam.
“Um…hi.” He said, stepping inside the office.
“Hi,” The woman said, smiling softly.
“Josh!” Sam exclaimed. “This is Donna Moss, our new in-house reporter.”
Josh cocked his head. “Did we have an old in-house reporter?”
The woman he now knew to be Donna stood up. “Mr. Lyman, I know you must be surprised, but-”
“Take a walk with me,” He said.
“Okay.” She replied.
As soon as Sam was out of earshot, he turned to Donna. “Who are you?”
“I’m Donna Moss. I’m here from KTLA.”
“When did your husband leave you?”
“Excuse me?” Donna repeated in disbelief. “What kind of a thing is that to say?”
“Well, you’re too old for your parents to have kicked you out.”
“I’m a reporter for KTLA, and I’m a college graduate.”
“In what, your MRS?”
“What makes you so sure I’m married?”
“Ring indent on your finger. You took it off recently.”
“...Oh.”
“So where did you actually graduate?”
“When I said I was a college graduate…”
“Uh-huh?”
“I may have been overstating it a little.”
“What?”
“...I was a few credits short. But while I’m here on the campaign, I’m going to finish my degree with correspondence courses.”
“From where?”
“UCLA.”
“Look, Mrs…”
“Moss. Well, technically, my married name’s Calley. I use my maiden name at work.”
“Calley? As in the sportscaster?”
“Yes.”
“You got married young?”
“Mr. Lyman, I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”
“Ma’am, you were just in the office, talking to Sam, and hoping I wouldn’t notice that I never actually hired you. You got married young?”
“Yes.”
“And dropped out?”
“Yes.”
“So why did he leave you?”
“What makes you so sure he left me?”
Josh sat back in disbelief. Who was this woman? Suddenly, he recovered.
“Look, Mrs. Calley-”
“Moss.”
“Whatever. This is a campaign for Congress. And there’s…nothing I take more seriously than that. This can’t be a place for people to get their confidence and start over.”
She looked at him. “Why not?’
“Why not?” He repeated.
“Why can’t it be those things? Is it going to interfere with me talking to the camera?”
“Look-”
“Listen. I’m good at this. I’ve been doing it for three years, and even though I’ve never done a campaign before, I think I can be good at this, too.” She paused. “I think you might find me valuable.”
Josh looked at her, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “We start on official speeches tomorrow in Santa Monica. Bring your cameraman…”
“Otto.”
“Otto, and get set up twenty minutes before we start. I want a 60-second package on the evening news.”
Donna nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“And one more thing. Call me Josh.”
“Josh,” She repeated. “Thank you.”
She started to walk away when Josh yelled after her. “You’ve got spunk, you know that?”
She turned around. “Pardon me?”
“You’ve got spunk. Showing up here like this. I…like it.”
Donna grinned. “Thank you.”
And then she was gone, leaving Josh to stare after her in awe. He had to get to know this woman better.