Oliver Benjamin
looked after the needs of Native Americans, particularly those stuck
in dead-end Indian reservations that offered little work, opportunity,
advancement, education, or hope. He wanted to help those who, like
his mother, father and brothers, had no buttons to press, other than
a big red one marked “self-destruct.” He had managed to make
tremendous strides in passing legislation that soothed the plight of
what he referred to as “The nigger America forgot.”
In typical storybook fashion, Dennis married his childhood
friend from the reservation, a beautiful and intelligent Apache
named Sara who had also escaped the reservation and was working
as a social worker. They fell deeply in love, became married after a
year, and expected a baby sometime in September—unfortunately,
the busiest month for a political lobbyist. Dennis had three crucial
bills on the table that year and his effort was essential for the success
of those legislations. A week before the first bill was to be voted on,
and while in a rush to get to an appointment, Dennis received a call
summoning him to the hospital. That night, his wife gave birth to a
lovely, healthy baby girl. But there was no passing of cigars. In the
course of the childbirth, Dennis’ beautiful wife Sara had died.
One month later, all three of Dennis Guzman’s bills were
passed. It was a historic effort, but when the newspapers asked him
how he managed in the shadow of his wife’s death he said merely,
“Even a tiny light can destroy a giant shadow. My daughter is that
light.”
In his home state of Idaho he had often struggled with the
conservative white politicians who seemingly didn’t want to allow an
inch of his sometimes excessive demands. There was one
assemblywoman, hard as nails, named Lila Cole who represented one
of the richest areas of the state. She came from a rich family and
despite the fact that her grandfather had been a state senator, prided
herself on the fact that he played no part in her getting elected to her
post. After all, Graham Cole had been a miserable failure as a
politician and was forced to resign during his first term.
Lila Cole’s constituents didn’t want state money being used to
help fund those poor Indian bastards to sleep all day. There was an
intense rivalry between her and Dennis, and they each made a point
of regularly lambasting each other in public. Theirs was frequently
referred to by the local media as the “Samson and Delilah War.”
Then, a strange thing happened. Lila Cole called Dennis’ offices
one day to set up an important meeting, to iron out some stubborn
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