Chapter 12
We all Meet Pirate Jack
On Sunday, Susie said good bye to us all – especially Huck – and went back home to Montana with Eloise and her volunteers. Max was now officially back on the bus. On Monday, we had a fine send-off from our RV friends. The proprietress told us to come back after L.A. saying, “Skip the east coast for sure – all those parks out there are lousy.” A good number of the park’s denizens waved good-bye as we pulled out; several saying they would follow our adventures on our newly created blog, “Follow the Rumpkins!”
As we headed out on Hwy. 101, Sally suggested we stop in Palo Alto even though it was only a few miles down the road. “Why?” We asked, “It’s not on the list.”
“Well, this Pirate Jack – his name for himself – is a big-time venture capital owner having made a lot of money with a Silicon Valley start-up. His thing with the Pirates is they have this ‘hacker ethic’ – everything on the internet should be free, transparent and available to all. I think this guy fits in with the Portland crowd you ran into, this rump organizing we seem to find ourselves doing,” spoken ominously – and then cautiously she continued, “and yes, well . . .
… ummm … errrr. yah, Jack and I ended up doing some kissing – so come on let’s stop!”
“Sure!” we all said, Patty having told most of us what this fishing trip was really about for Sally. It was unanimous for a Palo Alto detour.
Skip added that he had been back in touch with Jesse up in Portland about Jesse’s idea for doing “rump organizing” on the internet, and mentioned, “Sally has even re-designed our blog, after talking with Pirate Jack about it.”
Pirate Jack met us at his “office” – the patio deck in front of the Hewlett-Packard building. A dashing man, slim, short, probably in his mid-50s, he was more dapper than “pirate.” But with black hair combed back, thick eyebrows and a broad mustache – but for a hook, you had a dashing pirate. Another sunny 70-degree, early October day, just a few stray clouds. We all pulled up chairs to a large round table and Jack came out with a thermos of coffee. “Great to see you all again so soon, that hoot was really fun,” he said, giving Sally a big smile. “Sally, your friends are on to something. It’s like what I’ve been helping the Pirate Party set up, a quasi-legislative body or debate society, inviting the whole world to participate. Am I right?”
“Well not the whole world, or at least not yet,” Skip responded. “But yes, the basic idea is to say this is what we would do if we were in charge, create some excitement, and get a whole lot of people participating. Can we really have meetings on line orderly enough to get something done? What if eventually we have hundreds of people trying to message all at once? You know I love your slogan, Jack – ‘harnessing the spirit of imagination.’ Are you willing to help make this work?”
Jack said he didn’t have all the answers but we could experiment breaking into smaller groups – still on line – and figure out a way to elect representatives from the smaller groups to a higher up tier.
“Now you’re talking!” Rocky exclaims sarcastically. “I can’t wait to cast a hundred votes under a hundred different aliases. This idea will never work.”
“No, give this a chance,” Sally said un-skeptically. “These guys really think we can set up a whole legislative apparatus, have elections, and vote ideas up or down, on line using computers, without ever having to meet in person.”
Rocky retorted, “There’s no way I’ll trust that system. I like the centuries-old Rump-way gathering at a tavern, having a beer or two, and looking each other in the eye.”
“Well, who cares,” Sally was back with, “it could be fun trying, and Jack, I know already – from staying up with you until sunrise the other night – how passionate you are about using technology to broaden democracy, to achieve public participation on an unprecedented scale. How you dare to imagine a Pirate, or somebody Pirate-like, actually running for President capturing the imaginations of the Zoomers, plus . . . plus, I just like the idea of you being part of . . . of us.”
Whereupon, Jack invited Sally upstairs to see his “other office” and suggested a pub down the road for the rest of us.
Closing the office door, showing her the view from his fifth-floor window, they started kissing. She gently pushed him onto the couch. Embracing with their clothes on, they both got a good feel for what could happen next. “They’re going to be missing you,” Jack whispered in her ear. “Let them,” Sally whispered back. “I want another lingering kiss. Next time promise me we won’t have to race through such a sweet place.”
Meanwhile, at the pub we were directed to, Rocky – doing his mid-morning “what is fun thing,” – ordered everybody in the bar “Flaming Tennis Shoes,” a concoction where schnapps (using the bottom side of a spoon) is floated – gently – over brandy, and when lit with a match, only the schnapps flames up, so you can toss the brandy straight down while the flames go straight up. Patty was video-graphing for our blog and caught the guy who yelped trying to sip the drink rather than tossing it straight down.