Authors: William Bernhardt
33
R
oush repeatedly assured Ben that they had nothing to worry about from Harvey Gottlieb, but it didn’t make him feel any more at ease. Yes, Gottlieb and Roush knew each other, once upon a time, before he met Ray, but that was long ago and they had parted amicably. Moreover, it was entirely personal, and Ben could pitch a fit if Keyes went after Roush’s personal life, so what was there to worry about?
Answer: Ben didn’t know, but he did know that the opposition forces wouldn’t be calling him unless they thought the man could do their cause some good—and do Roush some damage. When Ben learned that Senator Matera would be handling the questioning, goose pimples coursed across his body. That settled it—this was the one.
“How did you happen to meet Judge Roush?” Matera asked.
Gottlieb was wearing a tailored Brioni blue suit, sitting up straight, looking quite distinguished, even with the reading glasses. “I was working in the D.C. Circuit Court as a clerk.”
“Were you working under Judge Roush?”
“No.” Darn. No sexual harassment action this time.
“But you met Judge Roush in the course of your duties?”
“Yes. I took some documents into his chambers for signature the first week I was there.” Gottlieb was a tall man, dark-eyed, about a decade younger than Roush. He was dressed to the nines, but Ben supposed that wasn’t unusual for someone who was about to appear on national television. He seemed elegant and—well, it had to be acknowledged—a bit effeminate. Playing into stereotype. “I don’t remember now what they were. Doesn’t matter, I suppose. I thought it would take thirty seconds. Imagine my surprise when Judge Roush asked me to sit down and started chatting with me.”
“What did he want to talk about?” Ben braced himself. Matera wouldn’t be asking these questions if she didn’t already know the answer. And like it.
“Well, at first it was just idle pleasantries. You know. Ball game scores. Gossip about the Chief Justice’s wife. But soon, he was asking me if I liked to party.”
Ben felt his gut clenching.
“And within ten minutes,” Gottlieb continued, “he had asked me out on a date.”
A small stir from the gallery. Ben weighed whether to interfere—the conversation wasn’t particularly damaging yet—or to let it proceed. He opted for the middle road: a gentle reminder.
“Mister Chairman,” Ben said. “Point of order. I thought it was understood that we would not be prying into the nominee’s private life.”
“I recall hearing the nominee say he wouldn’t answer any questions about his private life,” Keyes said. “I don’t recall any understanding regarding the sworn testimony of others. And I don’t believe you have the right to decide what other witnesses you do not represent say or don’t say.”
Well, that was effective, wasn’t it? Ben retook his seat, deciding to reserve his moral outrage for a later time when it would be of greater service.
“Getting back to the witness,” Matera said with a harrumphing noise, “did you say that the judge asked you out on a date?”
“Yes. He was trying to pick me up.”
“And were you receptive to this proposition?”
“If you’re asking if I’m gay, yes, I am.”
“And he knew this.”
“I guess his ‘gaydar’ was up and running that day.” Gottlieb smiled slightly. “Mine doesn’t work quite so flawlessly. But I suppose he’s had more experience.”
Matera squirmed, coughed, fingered her collar. Ben recognized these all as visual cues she was sending her constituency to express how supremely uncomfortable she was talking with all these gay people about gay things. Despite her personal misery, like a dutiful warrior she soldiered on.
“So you and the judge…went out?”
“For about six months.”
Matera arched an eyebrow. “Six months. Indeed. Where did you go?”
Gottlieb breathed in deeply, then released it. “Tad was very fond of…gay bars.”
Ben wasn’t sure how to characterize the low threshold sound that blanketed the gallery, but there definitely was one. And it wasn’t a good thing.
“Uh…gay bars?”
“Yes, places where men—well, most of them were just for men—went to meet other men. You know what I mean?”
Matera cleared her throat. “No, I am quite sure I do not.”
“Well, judging from the interior, they’re perfectly ordinary places. Bars. Music. Dancing. Tables. Mediocre food. What’s different is the clientele. Men. Black leather outfits. Chains. Much more chatter about furniture and hair gel.”
“And these were the kinds of places the two of you frequented?”
“Hey, he did the choosing. I’m more of a homebody myself. Tad liked to party.”
“And precisely what did this ‘partying’ entail?”
The time had come. Ben rose. “Mister Chairman, I must object.”
“Mr. Kincaid, this is not—”
“You can call it a point of order, or a point of clarification, or a point of I’m-mad-as-heck-and-I’m-not-going-to-take-it-anymore. This is an unwarranted intrusion into the nominee’s personal life.”
“I disagree. I think we’re uncovering points that relate to the character of the nominee and—”
“What’s worse,” Ben continued, raising himself to full dander, “is that the committee is permitting what is nothing more than blatant prejudice based on sexual preference.”
“You’re out of line, Mr. Kincaid.”
“I don’t think so. If Judge Roush had attended a straight bar, no one would care. If he had dates with a woman who worked for another judge in his office, no one would care. This whole line of inquiry is only of interest because he’s gay. This is a prurient line of questioning designed to exploit anti-gay prejudices and it is beneath the dignity of the Senate!”
“I’m always interested to hear opinions regarding what is appropriate for the Senate from members who have been with us for several weeks,” Keyes said, with a quiet cough, “but based on my thirty-three years of experience here, I believe this question is of value. If your nominee wishes to remain silent with regard to the matters being discussed that is his prerogative, but you do not have the right to silence a witness properly called and sworn by this assemblage.”
Ben knew what that remark was about. Keyes was baiting Roush, hoping he could get him to talk, a move that would likely make him seem defensive and would only open the door to more inquiries into his personal life.
“We will not discuss personal matters,” Ben said firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roush peering up at him. He was not happy. “There will be no exceptions.”
“Then please take your seat so that we may continue our discussion with someone who is willing to talk,” Keyes said. “Someone who has no secrets to hide.”
What could he do? Keyes had him in a corner and he knew it. Ben reluctantly took his seat.
“At first all we did was dance,” Gottlieb explained. “Sometimes normal pop tunes, sometimes campy stuff, old disco, Gloria Gaynor, Village People. Those guys love to boogie. Don’t be fooled by his age—Judge Roush is a zippy little dancer.”
“An important qualification for a Supreme Court justice,” Matera murmured.
“But he wasn’t content with mere dancing. Soon he was asking me if I was willing to experiment.”
“Experiment…how?”
“Well, I’m not going to talk about everything he wanted to do. I feel that would be inappropriate.”
Ben was relieved to hear that the witness had such high standards. He assumed that nothing ever happened that the committee would find particularly titillating. The undescribed horror left to the listener’s imagination played much better than boring revelations.
“But anything that happened in a bar, in a public place—well, that can’t be private, can it?” Matera asked. “I don’t believe anyone can have a reasonable expectation of privacy regarding conduct in a public place. So I ask you again: what kind of experiments took place?”
“Well, some of these bars were…specialty houses. Catered to gay men with particular interests.”
“Such as?”
“Primarily S and M. Bondage.”
Ben didn’t have any problem identifying the murmur that traveled through the courtroom this time. They weren’t happy thoughts.
“And did the judge like these sorts of activities?”
“I don’t think he’d ever engaged in them before. I don’t think he had acknowledged he was gay for very long. But he was curious. So we gave it a try.”
Matera looked up at the sky as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, what she was in fact begging the witness to reveal. “And how did this experiment go?”
“Not so well. I wasn’t comfortable with it. Eventually he got the message and gave it up. We moved on.”
“Moved on to what?”
Gottlieb drew in his breath. “Threesomes. And after that—gay orgies.”
The Caucus Room descended into chaos. Ben didn’t think cameras were even allowed in here, but nonetheless, a flurry of flashes went off throughout the room. Cell phones flipped. The usual whispering became a tumult. Chairman Keyes tried to bring the hearing back to order—although not as hard as he might, Ben thought.
“This is an outrage,” Ben heard Roush mutter under his breath. “A moral outrage. A crime against decency.”
“Did the nominee have a comment?” Keyes asked, above the noise.
“No, he did not!” Ben answered for him. “I renew my objection to this disgraceful, irrelevant line of questioning.”
“I think at this point, Mr. Kincaid, you must be the only person in the room who thinks this is irrelevant. The country has a right to know who—what kind of person—they’re putting on the Supreme Court. His character. His moral fiber.”
“That’s just an excuse.”
“No, Mr. Kincaid. That’s why we’re here.”
Once the room had been restored to some reasonable semblance of its previous calm, Matera continued the questioning.
“Mr. Gottlieb, when you say that Judge Roush engaged in…threesomes,” her lips actually curled as she said the word, “are you talking about…sexual intercourse involving three people, er, three
men
at once?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And did you in fact engage in any of these…threesomes?”
Gottlieb’s head lowered. “Yes, ma’am. I did. We did.”
“And, well, I won’t ask you for the details, obviously. But did these…sodomistic encounters with other men—”
Ben clenched his teeth. Thanks for not going into the details.
“—appear to be something that Judge Roush enjoyed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very much. I think he was actively pursuing some…journey of self-discovery. Which is what led him to move forward to an even greater number of partners. Orgies.”
“Unacceptable,” Roush muttered under his breath. “How much did they have to give this assassin to get him to talk?”
Senator Matera continued. “And when you say orgies, you mean—”
“Many men. Sometimes as many as twenty. All having sex in the same room.”
“And where would these encounters occur?”
“There were certain bars. Private clubs. Bathhouses. They didn’t advertise it, but word got around.”
“And these men would all be…?”
“Gay, obviously. Mostly exhibitionists. Some in costumes, some in drag. Some using…utensils for intercourse.”
“This is inexcusable!” Ben bellowed. He rose to his feet, feeling just as enraged as he sounded. Sexton might criticize him later for being ineffectual, but he wouldn’t criticize him for not being sufficiently angry.
“Are you calling for a point of order?” Keyes asked.
“I’m asking for a moment of decency! You can keep all your parliamentary niceties. This is just wrong and you know it! This is tawdry wallowing in the sex life of a private individual for no purpose other than to indict him for his sexual preference.”
“Mr. Kincaid, your hyperbole does not impress us. Take your seat.”
“No, sir. I will not. This line of inquiry will end now. Or I will withdraw from the room and take the nominee with me.”
“Sir, that would constitute contempt of Congress. I could have you both jailed.”
“At the end of a protracted quasi-criminal trial, yes. But that could take months.” Ben looked at Keyes levelly. “And that would really screw up your timetable, wouldn’t it?”
For the first time since he had met the man, Ben thought he had finally caused him to stop and think for a moment. Maybe it was the polls that showed Americans were suspicious of the Republican insistence on pressing ahead with the confirmation process. Or maybe it was just possible that even Keyes realized they had crossed the line with this witness.
After an eternity—which Ben realized when he watched it later on CNN was actually about ten seconds—Keyes spoke. “As it happens, Mr. Kincaid, I tend to agree that this questioning has gone long enough. I think we all have the general idea. While I do think this is of relevance to the character issue, we have been given sufficient detail on the…sexual issues to reach our own conclusions. Do you have anything else you wish to ask this witness, Senator Matera?”
“Only this. Mr. Gottlieb—how did your relationship with Judge Roush come to an end?”
“I broke it off, eventually. I didn’t like all the constant sexual aberrations. I wanted a loving, committed partner, but I always got the feeling that I was just his young stud. Not someone he loved. More like someone he might pick up on a street corner for a night of fun and revelry.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s—”
“I would like to be heard!”
To Ben’s shock—and horror—he saw that Roush had risen to his feet.
“Judge Roush,” Chairman Keyes said, “you do not have the floor.”
“I don’t care.” His rage was palpable. His shoulders shook as he spoke. “I will not have these things said about me without responding.”
“All in good time.”
“No, sir. I will be heard!”
“I’m sure you will, but only when you are recognized by the chair.”
“Now.”
Keyes adjusted his granny glasses. “I must say, you share your counsel’s difficulty with procedure. Which I for one think would be a problematic quality for a judge.”
Ben tugged on Roush’s sleeve, but was ignored. “You cannot trash a man’s reputation without giving him a chance to defend himself!”
“I assure you I will allow you to speak, sir, at the appropriate time, but as you can see, it is five o’clock, our traditional closing time.”