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my job here. Mitch Price, Chairman of the Country Democratic Party,” he said introducing himself.
    “Mitch, it’s a great to meet you. I’ve heard great things. I have no doubt that you’ll deliver.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    There was another blast from the fire department fog horn. Price stepped aside and waved goodbye. The Mayor was ready to go. He looked in his rear view mirror and asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be safe sitting like that?”
    “You driving, Mayor?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you’re a Democrat?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Then I’m going to be in good hands.”
    The exchanged guaranteed two things. A smooth ride up his hill and another vote on Tuesday.
    Brenner started his lead car, and everyone assembled into the positions that Price had assigned. Then Brenner blasted his siren three times indicating they were rolling. The teenage drum major of the Hudson High School Bluehawks marching band shouted out his commands and the players eventually found their first note to Sousa’s 1889 “Washington Post March.”
    Sidney McAlister thought he heard the cymbals all the way from Front Street through the open window of his St. Charles room.
     
    The Hudson Register Star would report that it appeared as if all of Hudson was out, either lining the street or assembled at the park for the congressman’s speech. Grandparents, adults, children. They were all there and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect. As the parade advanced, the firetrucks’ sirens blared. The Catskill High band segued into their rendition of “Star Wars,” and citizens waved their Lodge for President signs in absolute adoration.
    Jenny leaned across the seat and kissed Teddy. The photo op wasn’t missed by an AP photographer running alongside. Jenny wore a white linen dress with black piping and sling back high heels. Hand-crafted silver hoop earrings sparkled as they caught the early afternoon sun. The picture would be a vision of love and support.
    Chuck Wheaton got it on tape, too. The freelancer for WRGB-TV in Schenectady, shot “run-and-gun” style on his lightweight digital pro cam. He was the only paid videographer shooting the event. Everyone else had home video cameras. And there were a lot. Wheaton hoped for a few good sound bites from the congressman and another payday from the station. It helped supplement his income as an English teacher at Hudson High.
    Wheaton had staked out a head-on position in the park twenty feet back from the podium. He planted his tripod in place and paid one of his students twenty dollars to watch it. In the meantime, he ran along the parade route getting some good B-roll for the story that he’d uplink directly from his home edit bay in neighboring Claverack.
    Nine-tenths of a mile ahead—about twenty-five minutes up the parade route, Newman checked the seats to make sure the line of sight would be perfect. Six folding chairs were slightly arced around a podium microphone attached to a gooseneck extension. Sitting from left to right: Police Chief Carl Marelli, next to him Mayor Kenton, then Congressman Lodge, who would rise from the center seat and walk forward to speak. Mrs. Lodge would be to his left so he could easily address her, and Mrs. Kenton. Filling in the last chair would be Fire Commissioner Banks.
    “Are the seats all right?” Chief Marelli asked Newman.
    “The spacing is a little off,” he answered as he slipped the last two chairs to the left a bit. “It’s all about clean camera angles for the press. The background needs to drop off for the close-ups, the wide shots have to have people in the them.”
    “And where do you want me?”
    “Over here, Chief. First chair.” He sat Marelli down and shifted his chair a little more to angle into the crowd, with his back to the corner of Warren and Park Place. “This will keep you focused right on the crowd. I always like having an extra set of trained eyes watching,” Newman said.
    “I understand. We’ll have my