Introduction

Chicago-style politics is front and center. When a sitting president has his roots in this sullied political heritage, it makes for news and leads to speculation. NOT BLACK AND WHITE is a fictional account of many of the events that led to the meteoric rise of a local charismatic street politician to become America's first African-American President, and the downfall and imprisonment of two consecutive governors of the State of Illinois, along with several of their most trusted advisors and cohorts. This story puts the reader inside the campaign offices and smoke-filled back rooms where political deals are made. It depicts the rise and fall of a Syrian immigrant who made millions by pretending he had billions, while charming his way into the highest halls of wealth and power. The perspective of a local attorney/businessman who found himself in a front row seat to politics-as-usual in The City That Works is reflected throughout the story. The cast of characters may appear familiar to anyone who ever read a headline or watched cable news and talk shows across the country. In 1994, a freak traffic accident occurred, killing a family of six young children when their van burst into flames after being struck by a semi-trailer truck driven by a man unqualified to drive such a vehicle. The truck driver, a victim himself, had bribed an employee of the Illinois secretary of state's office in order to procure his commercial driver's license. The tragic accident and resulting exposé of corruption and scandal that followed changed forever the course of American History. Inspired by true events, NOT BLACK AND WHITE leaves it to the reader to interpret fact from fiction.

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Excerpt

Senator John McKenzie sat at his desk looking over the list of candidates for the US attorney. The list was unsurprising and uninspiring. It was filled with politically active young Republican lawyers, all of whom the senator had met at one fundraiser or another, each hand-picked by the political bosses. They were men, and a couple of women, who would “go along to get along,” as the old saying goes.

McKenzie couldn’t forget how the Parker investigation had been mishandled. He just couldn’t let it go. He was deeply troubled by the image in his mind’s eye of the burning van, the hysterical mother. He was in a unique position to do something, and do something he would. This was the original reason why he’d come to Washington, after all.

As John bounced from one name to another on the list of lawyers before him, he realized he needed a fresh face. Someone who is not involved in Chicago or Illinois politics in any way. Someone from somewhere else. Someone who is not on this list, he thought. Someone who has never heard of Vince Perino.

He picked up the phone, punched a button. “Kate, come see me.”

She bustled into his roomy office. “Sir?” she asked, ever efficient.

“I need a list of prosecutors from other states who are making names for themselves. I need up-and-comers who show promise and who are not politically connected to this or any other particular administration.”

Having anticipated such a request, Kate was quick to respond. “I was recently reading about a young prosecutor in Boston who’s been receiving a lot of ink, getting some recognition as a do-gooder, a straight shooter,” she said. “I remember him specifically because he has your name: Franklin McKenzie. I believe he might be just what the doctor ordered.”

“Boston, huh? I don’t know. Boston is no different from Chicago when it comes to politics, is it?”

Kate knew her boss well, and she knew what he was looking for. “No, no. This guy is different. You should at least check him out, sir. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

“Okay,” John agreed. “Would you please put together a file with everything you can find about him? A full-scale, detailed, research report. I want everything. I want to know about his parents, his grammar school, his high school, college, law school. Everything.”

Kate had already done much of the research concerning this man. She believed him to be a perfect fit. It appeared he had the balls he’d need to shake up the entire political landscape of Chicago and the State of Illinois.

John McKenzie spent several days reading through everything Kate had found on Franklin McKenzie, and he decided she was right. He thanked her profusely for alerting him to this candidate from Boston. In John’s mind, he was perfect. This fellow Irishman had laid waste to corruption and gang crime in his home city with prosecution after prosecution. He bucked the established powers and simply did his job as a prosecutor. Just as a kicker, the sweetest of sweeteners, his last name would be a constant reminder to the good ol’ boys back in Illinois who were putting John out of office. Long after he was gone, they would remember exactly who it was that had royally fucked up their lives.

Franklin McKenzie walked into Senator John McKenzie’s office with an air of subdued inner confidence. He was of medium height, reasonably trim, with his dark brown hair thinning slightly. He exuded the attitude of a bulldog, which impressed John immediately.

“How was your flight?” John asked, as he motioned to Kate to bring in coffee. “How do you take your coffee, Frank? I hope you don’t mind me calling you Frank?”

“No, of course. Please do, Senator.”

Frank looked at Kate and whispered, “Cream and sugar, please.” Then he turned toward John and said politely, “The flight was fine, no complaints. Thanks for asking. And thanks for considering me for this position, Senator McKenzie.”

The senator motioned for Frank to sit in a huge wingback chair right in front of his desk.

“First things first. Please call me John.” He continued, “Your reputation precedes you. You really tore those gangs a new one back there in your town, and I bet that alderman . . . what was his name?”

“Fiochhi?”

“Yes, Fiochhi. I bet the former Alderman Fiochhi won’t soon forget you. How many years did he get?”

“Twelve,” Frank answered humbly.

“Frank, look, I’m not going to be a senator much longer, so let’s just cut to the chase. Are you willing to move your family to Chicago?”

This question completely surprised Frank McKenzie. He’d expected a lot of questions about his background, his experience, his ethics. “Well, sir . . .John . . . my wife and I haven’t discussed it. I just got the inquiry from your staff the other day, and I really didn’t know if this was a serious opportunity.”

The senator eyed his candidate. “It’s serious, Frank. What I want to know is this: will you go after the corruption in Chicago—and Springfield—like you did in Boston?”

There was a slight pause while Frank collected his thoughts. He looked around at the richly paneled walls and all the photos of important people hanging here and there. There were a number of presidents pictured with John, both past and present. Everybody was smiling. And Frank was being offered his dream job, a chance to make history as a prosecutor.

He sat forward in his chair.

“John, I’m a prosecutor. That’s my thing. My calling, so to speak. I hate politicians who think that their shit doesn’t stink. I despise them. I have no problem with honest politicians. I respect public servants. The people who dedicate their lives to public service deserve all the respect that can be given to them. However, there are way too many men and women who see public office as a way to make a score for themselves and their friends. I can’t accept that. It makes me crazy.”

The senator nodded. He liked what he was hearing from this determined young man, who seemed almost like a choirboy in his earnestness, but with just enough edge that John felt confident that Frank wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—get in his way.

“So, Senator McKenzie—uh, John . . . my answer to your question is this: you bet your ass I’ll go after those sons of bitches. If there’s a public servant, a politician out there who is thinking of violating the public trust by committing a crime on my watch, he better think twice.”

John looked long and hard at Frank McKenzie, paused, and asked a question both men would long remember.

“How would you like to go after a sitting governor who might well be responsible for the deaths of six little children?”

Franklin McKenzie looked at Senator John McKenzie with an expression of cold hard steel. “For that,” he said quietly, “I’ll move my wife and kids to Chicago.”

When Frank returned to Boston later that afternoon, he was feeling guilty that he had accepted the position in Chicago without discussing it with his wife, Mary Margaret. After dinner, with their two children put to bed, Frank and Maggie were finishing the last of their bottle of wine. Frank took a deep breath and turned to his wife.

“I want to tell you about my meeting today with Senator McKenzie.”

“Yeah, sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk about it before. So how’d it go?”

“Well, the senator seems like a good man. He wants someone to take over as US attorney in Illinois. The political corruption is rampant, and he’s offered me the job.”

Mary Margaret turned toward Frank and said, “I have no doubt he’s chosen the right man.”

“Thanks for that, Maggie. If you’re willing to move to Chicago, I’d like to take the position.”

“Okay, Frank. How about we go to Chicago next weekend and look for a new home? But tell me this: haven’t you already told the senator you’d take the job?”

Frank just reached out with a grin and gave Maggie a big hug and a pinch on the rear.

The appointment of Franklin McKenzie as US attorney led to wild speculation in all corners of the political spectrum in Illinois. Where had this guy come from? Who knew him? How do we get to him? Can we control him? The pols were agog that the Republican senator, John McKenzie, had gone outside the state and picked a career prosecutor from Boston to be the new US attorney for the Northern District of Illinois. They thought since John and Frank shared the same last name, the senator had appointed a relative. That was something they could at least have understood. But they weren’t related at all! What a maverick this Senator McKenzie was!

McKenzie hit the ground running, launching a relentless investigationinto the Waterston accident, raising eyebrows everywhere. It became his cause célèbre.

Excerpted from "Not Black And White : From The Very Windy City to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue" by G. A. Beller. Copyright © by G. A. Beller. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

How do you think Mars' role as narrator helped to shape the narrative of the novel?

Does the level of corruption described in the book seem like a reflection of real life? Why or why not?

What was your favorite 'fact or fiction' moment from the book?

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