My Kind of Town
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Machiavelli Wang first took note of young Donovan Matsuda when he was elected to the school board. Fresh out of UH with a degree in education, a minor in poly-sci, he was bright, good-looking, well-spoken if he had it written down on a piece of paper in front of him. Machiavelli could work with that. He made a point of chatting up the young board member at a Waihee fund-raiser back in 1992. Machiavelli saw nothing but upside and a week later invited Donovan for lunch at the Pacific Club. There, over curry chicken salad, Machiavelli blew so much smoke up Donovan's okole, it's a wonder both of them didn't get cancer.
Although, looked at in another way, maybe they did.
In any event, over haupia ice cream Machiavelli suggested that Donovan ought to consider running for a particular seat in the House of Representatives where the incumbent was perceived as old and unresponsive to the people, conveniently failing to mention that the incumbent had angered Machiavelli by voting against a North Shore hotel proposal.
Donovan said he was flattered, but he didn't have the money or the backers to mount such a campaign.
Yes, Machiavelli said, you do. He even offered his services as unofficial campaign manager, gratis.
"Stick with me, kid, sky's the limit," he actually said.
Donovan believed him, and gladly bent himself to Machiavelli's will.
It was Machiavelli who suggested Donovan add his mother's maiden name to his surname, and he was easily elected to the House as Donovan Matsuda-Yee.
Looking ahead to a run for the senate in two years -- and looking even beyond that to an eventual statewide campaign -- Machiavelli knew that Donovan would need more than Japanese and Chinese voters. And he insisted that Donovan also honor grandparents on both sides. Thus, because grandparents on both sides happened to be named Yee, he became Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka. A man of many constituencies, he was elected to the state senate on his first try.
And now that the governorship was within their grasp -- and maybe Washington after that -- Machiavelli would be damned if he'd let it slip away. The senator was passed out in the back seat of Machiavelli's Volvo, having finally crashed after being up for two days. In 13 hours, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes would be coming for the senator, forcing him to go to a rehab clinic on the mainland. It was that or get arrested. Neither of which was an option.
Gomes had to be stopped. Machiavelli reached for his cell phone. It was time to call a professional. It was time call Salvatore Innuendo, another man who owed him everything.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com