A Skeptical Journalist Interviews Frank Calloway, Part 1
A Cynical Setup Devolves into a Rather Contentious Debate
NOTE: Several previous articles about Frank Calloway and his extended family were published here on “Rambling Notes from a 21st-Century Geezer”; if interested, you can find and read them, or click the image of the book's cover at the bottom of this post.My name is Shoogie Buffel. I’m an investigative reporter for the Kansas City Star. I was assigned to interview Frank Calloway, an interesting character who had architected a rather meteoric rise for himself, career-wise, until he suddenly and unexpectedly — just when he seemed poised to go on to even bigger and better things — turned his back on it all and became, so it seemed, something of a religious fanatic.
I wanted to know why. What was his game? There must be something lurking below the surface that he’s angling for.
Calloway had gone from high school football coach to teacher to attorney to Mayor of his hometown (Fort Bragg, California) to Governor of the State of California. Then, rather than run for another term as Governor — or even run for President, the office which many were assuming was his ultimate goal — he simply walked away from it all, even though, as the ultra-popular incumbent Governor, he was a shoo-in to remain in the Governor’s mansion.
There had to be more to this story than that he was disillusioned with politics and had become a Bible thumper.
I arranged to meet him at a coffee shop near his home in Fort Bragg. He was somewhat reluctant to be interviewed, but acquiesced after I told him that I wanted to give him an opportunity to explain what drove him to disappear so suddenly and completely from the public eye. Really, though, I wanted to expose him as a con man once I got to the bottom of whatever shenanigans, machinations, or subterfuge he was up to.
When I entered the establishment, Calloway was already there, waiting for me, drinking his coffee. I joined him after placing my order and, before I could even open a line of inquiry, he commandeered the conversation by saying that he had already explained his reasons for leaving politics; that it was a matter of public record; that he had made a formal statement at his final press conference. I could look it up, he told me. He started saying that he would expect a reporter to be able to find that information easily enough when I put up my hand and said, “But I don’t believe it, Mr. Calloway. There has to be another reason you stepped away. Are you planning on making a surprise comeback by throwing your hat into the ring for the presidency, perhaps as the candidate from a new party you and some of your cronies are planning on forming?”
“Here, too, I must call into question your reportorial acumen, Mr. Buffel,” he said, sounding like the attorney he used to be (or still is, I guess: once an attorney, always an attorney, at least in spirit). “If you were to research my reputation and examine my record,” he went on, “you would see that I am untainted. I have always been a straight shooter and have only ever tried to do the right thing in every situation and circumstance, even if doing so meant that I suffered a personal loss of some sort. As to getting back into politics, I guarantee you that’s not going to happen. In fact, I’ll say this, through you, to everyone: If I ever run for office again, don’t vote for me, because I will have proven myself a liar by running after saying that I wouldn’t.”
“All right, then, what are your plans? Do you really expect my readers to believe that after the heady experience of being an extremely popular Governor of one of the most important States in the main superpower of the world, you will be content to sit in a rocker on your porch studying religious tracts?”
Calloway scoff-chuckled at that image. “Well, that’s not all I do, Mr. Buffel.”
I told him to call me Shoogie or Shoog. He said, “Okay, Shoogie, I will; feel free to call me Frank. I will warn you, though, that the name fits me.”
“That’s fine, Frank,” I said. “I’ve had enough of politicians who talk around an issue, speaking in platitudes and euphemisms, expounding on what they want to talk about rather than answering the questions I pose to them.”
“I was never that way — not even when I was a politician.”
“Let me test you on that, then: I’ve heard that you became one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, and that your conversion is what informed your decision to leave public life. If true, how did that come about?”
“It’s true, Shoogie; Simply put, I agreed to listen to what Jehovah’s Witnesses had to say when they called at my door, and to my surprise found that what they showed me from the Bible was compelling.”
The Bible was not something I knew much about, nor was I much interested in it. After all, wasn’t it written during a less advanced period of human history than we now find ourselves in? Giving the Bible credence seemed regressive and backward to me. Why would a supposedly sophisticated man like Calloway gravitate toward such a repressive set of writings compiled by crude bronze- and iron-age farmers and shepherds and such?
“What did you find compelling about their message, Frank?”
“Many things, Shoogie; first of all, the Bible’s fulfilled prophecies.”
“Oh, like Nostradamus, huh, Frank?” I replied, somewhat snidely, I must admit.
“Nothing like Nostradamus, Shoogie, whose prophecies were vague and cryptic. The Bible’s prophecies are specific and the events prophesied unexpected.”
“For example?”
“Well, just to name a couple, one was that the then-world power Babylon would be destroyed by the Medes and the Persians — also precisely when it would happen, by whom, and how. There are also many Messianic prophecies, one of which was that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, a tiny, remote, insignificant village. It would be like predicting — accurately — that the next president of the United States will be someone born in Railroad Flat.”
“Where?”
“Exactly — Bethlehem was such a place, as was Nazareth, where Jesus grew up. A man who became a disciple of Jesus (Nathanael) even at first responded to the claim that the Great Teacher was a certain Jesus from there with the challenge, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ And those two prophecies — about Babylon’s shocking fall and the obscure place of Jesus’ birth — just scratch the surface: There are dozens of other fulfilled Bible prophecies, including some that have seen their fulfillment in the fairly recent past, and others that are currently in the process of being fulfilled — plus others that will be fulfilled in the near future.”
“How could you possibly know that, Frank? A prophecy is just somebody’s prediction until it either comes true or doesn’t, and the so-called prophet is revealed as a charlatan — or simply lucky.”
“You’re in your thirties, right, Shoogie?”
This seemed like a non-sequitur to me. “Yes, why?” I responded.
“Do you think the sun will rise tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you think that, Shoogie?”
“Why?!? Because it always has. Why wouldn’t it?”
“That’s my point. You have seen the sun rise (or at least indirectly observed that it rose) more than 10,000 times in your life. Since it always has, you have faith that it will tomorrow, too. And that’s why I know the Bible’s as-yet-unfulfilled prophecies will also come true — the previous ones always have, even though they foretold unexpected things — unlike, for example, predicting the outcome of a sporting event or series, which will have either one winner or the other, the result of which can’t truly shock anybody, even when the underdog comes off victorious.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, Frank. After all, the Bible is so old-fashioned in its teachings and laws. I don’t know much about it, but I know that it’s not scientific.”
“Not scientific? Why do you say that, Shoogie?”
“Oh, come on! Everybody knows that, Frank! Take, for instance, the teaching that God created everything in a few days’ time, when we know that it took millions of years for everything to evolve.”
“Is that so? Are you sure of that?”
“Sure I’m sure. Ask any scientist.”
“I’ll grant you that many scientists believe in evolution. But not all. Not Isaac Newton, for one; and there are many others besides him, too. The popularity — or unpopularity — of a belief is not really the point, though, is it? What’s key, on this subject, are the answer to these questions: What actually do people mean when they use the word ‘evolution’? What is really true? Why do those who espouse evolution do so? What is their motive?”
“I could ask the same questions of those who believe in creation, Frank.”
— To be continued
