Cult 45

By Tracilyn George

Emerson Montgomery, noted political reporter, recounts his personal views of Martin Wagner, the 45th President of the United States. He compares Wagner to other world leaders and notes the similarities with them. Emerson adds personal anecdotes from experience dealing with the president as well as those of his family and colleagues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clydesdale Books
• Release date: Sep 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201851521

Book preview

History of Me and My Connection to Martin Wagner

Before I start my book, I suppose I should introduce myself.  My name is Emerson Montgomery.  Pretty good name for a reporter, don’t you think?  

Anyway, I am the second of three sons born to Paul and Rose Montgomery.  We lived in a modest bungalow in Brooklyn, NY.  My father worked as a foreign correspondent for ABC News while my mother had her hands full with my brothers and me.  

I thought my dad had the greatest job in the world; traveling to different locales every few days.  He was the inspiration for my becoming a journalist.  Watching him report from far-away places had me hooked from day one.  

Don’t let the exotic-looking locations fool you, son, he advised.  "I’m not there to take in the sights.  It’s my job to cover breaking news stories; most of them far from pleasant.  

Did you know I almost shit my pants the first time I covered an armed conflict?  If you really want to be a journalist, you need to suck it up, put on your big boy pants, and pretend your surroundings don’t bother you."  

While I’m certain he was trying to dissuade me from following in his footsteps; to my twelve-year-old ears, it sounded as if my father was encouraging me.  Neither of my parents believed in discouraging us kids from going after our dreams, even if we wanted to join the circus; which my younger brother wanted to do.  Who knew I’d be in the middle of a circus on a daily basis?  

As a political reporter, I faced the comedic drama, it seemed, every moment of the day.  But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Covering politics had fewer chances of injury or death than covering wars overseas.  

My father never admitted it, but my mother confided in me one day how often my father feared he wouldn’t come home in one piece, if at all.  We realized after every trip, a part of my father had died or had become permanently damaged.  

He became more and more reclusive; finding solace in drink.  He had transformed from a loving, gentle person to a cantankerous, bitter old man.  

After my own experience reporting from armed conflicted regions, I understand why my father succumbed to a heart attack at fifty.  I believed he lost the will to fight for his life, which was the reason I swore to not continue as a war correspondent.  My wife and kids needed me fully engaged and not a shell of a man.  

I had the wonderful fortune to work with a news outlet that understood and put me into the political sphere.  They realized my genuine passion belonged to the political beat.  

When Martin Wagner emerged as a prominent figure in the mid-1980s, my gut told me there was more to the real estate mogul than met the eye.  I found Wagner pompous, arrogant, and outright full of himself.  He came from money and had no qualms in flaunting it.

You must think I’m a snob for thinking this way.  Or maybe I’m envious?  Maybe, but not exactly.  If a person gains wealth through hard work and determination, I don’t have a problem with that.   I’ve met many of these self-made people and they are the kindest, most generous individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.  

I find some children of wealthy families—note; I said some—are more arrogant and self-righteous.  With Martin Wagner, it’s an accurate description.  I dislike him from the moment I met him.  I found him overbearing, rude, and not as smart as he claimed.  

We met at a charity auction and dinner for the New York Children’s Center.  Wagner refused to shake hands with any of the men, but fawned all over the female attendees.  I could tell by the expressions on their faces how uncomfortable they were to be near him.  

After he approached the fourth or fifth lady, I finally had enough and confronted him regarding his behavior.  Knock it off, Martin, I demanded.  He feigned ignorance, but he knew exactly what I was telling him.  

What are you talking about, Mr. Montgomery?  I stood nose to nose with him, showing no intimidation.  

You know exactly what I’m talking about.  You’re making the female guests here very uncomfortable and none of them want your advancements.  It stops right now.  

Wagner backed off and I swear, I thought I could see fear and rage in his eyes.  I have four daughters and I would want someone to defend them if I wasn’t around.  

The last thing I’d want for my girls is to have a creep like Wagner anywhere near them.  Fortunately, their mother and I have raised them to have self-respect and to avoid anyone who acted the way Martin Wagner did.  

A year or so after the charity event, my station asked me to do a one-on-one interview with Wagner.  I was hesitant to do it because I was uncertain if he would remember the incident or not.  

My higher-ups informed me I needed to put aside my own animosity, be a professional, and do my job.  So, I made the call to Wagner’s assistant and set up the meeting.  

When he failed to cancel the interview, I thought he had forgotten about the confrontation.  But I then remembered how full of himself he was and wouldn’t forego an opportunity to brag about his accomplishments.

When I arrived at the Wagner High Rise, Martin fumed as he stomped around the conference room.  He refused to do the interview, claiming they duped him into agreeing to an expose with an incompetent reporter.  

"We did no such thing and you know it.  You’re the one who wanted this interview and you requested the best to do it.  You’re simply pissed off because the person they sent refuses to cower down to you.  

That incident at the charity event should have told you, I’m not one you can bully into submission.  I didn’t then and I won’t