King Cole Read online

  “You bet,” said Sullavan, suddenly waking from his stupor. “This State is American. Of course, we got our radicals but we’re sound. What we need is two more years of Read Cole.”

  Baylor laughed, but said nothing.

  The Major smiled blandly and getting up, bowed facetiously in Read’s direction.

  “Governor, will you take the floor?”

  Read smiled slightly and rubbed his chin; then he began to talk. He explained to these rich men the condition that the State was in. The farmers, owing principally to the South County business, had lost confidence in the present administration and wanted a change. The radical element, which was growing—all the very poor, the dispossessed, the restless—wanted Old Eagle Beak because he promised them the moon and they saw visions of a paradise where there were no rich men, no social distinctions, nobody working and the State Government paying the bill, God knows with what! The party Democrats, of course, wanted their own man in and would move heaven and earth to beat Read Cole. Some of the liberal element in the Republican party was wavering.

  “In short, gentlemen,” said Read, “we’re in very hot water. Two weeks ago I began to get worried. The straw vote, which you’ve all seen, convinced me that I had been right to worry. If we don’t get the farmers we’re sunk.”

  “Yes?” said Baylor. “Are you going to get them?”

  “I am,” said Read, and then he explained how. The rich men sat hardly moving. They were afraid.

  They heard the tumbrils distantly rolling. They sat flushed and intensely absorbed while Read talked. When he had finished, Baylor got up.

  “Read Cole, let me shake your hand. You’ve got guts. You may be only a practical politician, as they say, but you’ve got what it takes. Good luck. I hope you don’t get shot. I wouldn’t vouch for your safety in some parts of Cleveland when you cut loose.” He paused and turned to the others. “And now, gentlemen, much as I hate to say it, I believe it’s time for us to take the strings off our money bags and kick in. Mr. Sullavan, let’s talk turkey.”

  It was nearly eleven o’clock when the conference showed signs of breaking up. Sullavan, discussing money matters with the rich men, and meanwhile taking three or four pretty stiff drinks, had regained his poise and was sorry now that it was time to go. He wanted to sit for a while longer with guys like Lamont Jones and Yardley Meadows listening to him talk. Boy, was he getting some place! Wouldn’t he lay it on when he got home! “Why, they just sat there with their mouths open, men like that,” he’d say to his wife and son; “I surely told them a few things they didn’t know before. They’re not the only smart guys in this town.” Sighing, Sullavan got up. Read was already shaking hands all around and smiling in that quiet, self-possessed way of his.

  “Governor,” said John Baylor, reloading his foul old pipe for the tenth time, “I’m glad I came down here today. Tell you the truth, I didn’t think this would amount to much. I’ve changed my mind. You’re all right.” He paused and grinned cordially. ”If they beat you, Governor, come up to Cleveland and see me. I’ll give you twice what you’re getting now just to sit in with this bunch of gorillas I’m associated with. Maybe I wouldn’t get my pocket picked so often if I had you around.”

  The others looked on in silent disapproval. Baylor simply would not play the game! Always coming in with some unconventional suggestion or remark. Lord knows what the outsiders thought of him.

  Baylor shook hands with Sullavan.

  “If you’re ever up in Cleveland drop round to the Lake Erie Club. We have nice little games there of an evening and you don’t have to worry about the little fellow.” Baylor laughed and lit his pipe.

  The Major followed them out into the hall. A servant was waiting with their hats and coats.

  “Many, many thanks for coming, Governor,” said the Major. “You’ve got our wholehearted support. I’ll start the State Income Tax row tomorrow. Gregg will handle it nicely. What we want to do is scare the middle class. Make them think the wealth will move out if Eagle Beak gets in and starts riding us. It may, too. Who knows?”

  Sullavan shook hands cordially and even managed a little bow. Read smiled.

  “I’m scheduled to talk at the Steelton Armory tomorrow night. You’ll have a front-page story for Sunday morning. I promise.”

  The Major rubbed his chin.

  “You didn’t pick out a very good locale, Governor.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I think it’s the very place to start a row.”

  “I see. Well, have plenty of bodyguards. You may need them. My best to you, Governor.”

  The Major smiled and went back into his den. Read walked down the long, elaborate hallway with Sullavan, glancing at the big oil paintings, the gilt, the enormous staircase. What a house! Was it really possible to feel at ease in such surroundings? Did a man really learn to take sumptuousness for granted? He glanced at Sullavan, who was also looking around him with awe. Their eyes met. Sullavan seemed to read his thoughts.

  “Some dump,” said Sullavan. “I’d just as lief live in the Union Station. How do they heat this place?”

  “It makes the Mansion look small,” said Read. The servant opened the front door for them. Read stopped and stared. Eileen, in evening clothes, was coming up the steps with Vincent Riquetti. They were walking arm in arm, very much absorbed in each other, or so Read thought. Read and Sullavan stood aside to let them enter. Coming in the door, Eileen glanced up and saw Read. Her smile faded.

  Riquetti took off his top hat and bowed in Read’s direction.

  “Good evening, Your Excellency!”

  The Italian’s ironic politeness, his deliberately satiric use of a foreign mode of address, his lean, dark, foreign face, all irritated Read almost unbearably. He got a little pale; his gray eyes had a glint to them.

  Eileen said:

  “Oh, hello, Read. Is the conference over? Vince and I went to hear Sokoloff. It was a nice concert. Vince slept through the Beethoven. He wants Puccini or nothing.”

  “Please,” said Riquetti, laughing a little.

  They had been drinking: Read caught a faint odor of alcohol; Eileen’s eyes were too bright.

  “We stopped at the Massey for a cocktail on our way home,” said Eileen. “Music always makes me thirsty. I want another drink, don’t you, Vince?”

  “Of course. Always another drink.”

  “Stop for a drink, Read?”

  Read’s lips were tight; he could hardly open them to speak.

  “No, thanks. I’m tired. Eileen, this is my campaign manager, Ed Sullavan.”

  Sullavan didn’t know whether to offer his hand or not; suddenly he was all thumbs again. This handsome, elegant woman with her top-hatted, remotely smiling Italian dismayed him. Sullavan’s hand stopped halfway; he dropped his hat.

  “How do you do, Mr. Sullavan.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Sullavan, bending down to get his hat. When he straightened up his face was an apoplectic red. Riquetti looked at him a little uneasily as if he thought Sullavan was going to explode.

  “Read, you’re surely going to stop a minute,” said Eileen.

  “Sorry. It’s getting late. I’ve got work to do.”

  “I envy you,” said Riquetti, with a sigh.

  Read glanced at him, then bowed slightly and started out. Sullavan turned awkwardly:

  “I’m sure I’m glad I…” He went out.

  Eileen called:

  “Read, won’t you stop for even one little drink?”

  “Sorry.”

  The servant shut the door. Sullavan puffed a little, keeping step with Read.

  “Pretty girl, Eileen Bradley,” he said, trying to sound as if he was in the habit of meeting Eileen Bradleys every day.

  Read said nothing. He was terribly upset. Just to see her with that European lounge lizard made him

  tremble with rage and jealousy. And, by the way, what was she doing with him?

  Barney held the door open. Read got in without a word; then S
ullavan followed.

  “Excuse me, Governor,” said Barney; “there was a young guy hanging around here all evening. He was trying to pump me. Newspaper guy, I guess.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, I thought…”

  Barney shrugged, got into his seat, and drove off. He could tell by the tone of Read’s voice that something was up.

  They rode in silence for a while, then Sullavan said:

  “That was the biggest deal of your life, Governor.”

  Read spoke with an effort.

  “Yes, I guess it was.”

  “You don’t seem very cheerful about it.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Well,” said Sullavan, “you’ve sure got a right to be tired. But don’t let it get you. Anyway, it’ll soon be over.”

  Read dropped Sullavan at his old-fashioned brick house in an East End suburb, then he spoke to Barney:

  “Let’s go home.”

  It was nearly midnight. Read felt very tired and put his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes. There was so much to do. He still had his Saturday night speech to finish; and it was time he started thinking about the speech he was to deliver at Memorial Hall the night before the election. He racked his brain for an opening paragraph but he hadn’t an idea in his head. He felt stale. Suddenly he wanted to see Gregg.

  “Barney, I’ve changed my mind. Mayflower Arms.”

  “Yes, Governor.”

  Good old Gregg; what would he do without him! They bickered incessantly, always had; but when Gregg was your friend he was your friend. Wait! Hadn’t Gregg said something about a shindig? Read hesitated, then shrugged. No matter; anyway, a shindig, lots of talk, however silly, might pep him up a little.

  IV

  As Read approached the door of Gregg’s apartment, he heard the noise. There was a radio going loudly inside; people were laughing and talking and shuffling about to the music. Read hesitated, nearly withdrew; then, shrugging, he rang the bell. A little fun might be good for him; he was getting to be quite a stick-in-the-mud!

  The door opened at once. A woman with shining blond hair thrust her head out and cried: “Surprise!” Then she started, recognizing Read, and said: ”Oh, excuse me, Governor. Won’t you come in? I thought it was Gregg.”

  “Gregg! Isn’t he here?”

  “No, he isn’t. But he’ll be right back.”

  This woman was pretty. Read began to thaw. “That’s a funny way to give a party.”

  “Oh, Governor, it’s a long story. Please come in. Let me take your hat and coat. Gregg’s Jap boy is so busy dragging in drinks he…”

  “Thank you.”

  He went in. She closed the door, then took his hat and coat and put them on a chair in the little hallway. Beyond, Read saw the usual bunch milling about to the radio music, laughing, singing, gesticulating.

  “Governor, I don’t believe you remember me.”

  “Now wait. Don’t tell me,” said Read, smiling, very friendly.

  “No, really. I only met you once. Gregg took me to lunch at Louis’s and we saw you there.”

  “Of course,” said Read, not remembering at all. “Shall we dance?”

  “Yes.”

  Read was really a very good dancer and was rather proud of this social accomplishment, but dancing was almost out of the question in that small, noisy, brilliantly lighted, smoke-filled living-room. Gregg’s Old-Timers waved at Read and smiled and told him they were all going to vote for him and asked him where he had been keeping himself. It was a mixed group, representing about all there was of Upper Bohemia in Midland City. There was Lou Edwards, associate editor of the Examiner, dancing with Vivian Paul, who had a little money and messed with wet clay, calling herself a sculptress, but not taking it very seriously. There was Bob Crail, who wrote dramatic and music criticism for the Independent, dancing with Alice Tod, who was somebody’s secretary at Meadows, Hannum and Company and was trying to get started as a writer. There was Pat Garrison, former Ohio State football player, now assistant director of the State Highway Department, dancing with Georgia Carter, a professional beauty, who had been Miss Ohio ten years ago, and was now a rich widow with literary leanings. And finally, there was Ace McCord, a rather disreputable rich young man who played polo and piloted airplanes and thought he could sing, dancing with Charlotte Blair, a distant relative of the Meadows family, who had married the wrong man, divorced him, and was now slowly descending the social scale.

  Read smiled and nodded and tried to guide his partner through this frolicking bunch without collisions. But finally he had to give it up.

  “This isn’t a dance,” he said; “this is a riot. Let’s sit down.”

  Just then Gregg’s Jap boy, Bobby, came in with a tray of drinks. Darting away from Read, the blond woman took two glasses from the tray, then came back. She and Read sat down on a big red lounge. She gave him one of the glasses and he began to sip a very strong gin drink.

  “I don’t take any chances,” she said. “I got left out last time. Funny, but I’ll bet you don’t even know my name.”

  “I can’t quite…”

  “Oh, stop pretending, Governor. I’m Ina Dodson. Pleased to meet you and all that sort of thing. I’m surely glad you came. We’re short a man. Imagine the Governor walking in at the psychological moment, or something. Gregg’s terribly drunk.”

  “Really?”

  “I never saw him worse. He walks all right and he looks all right. But, my; he wants to argue with everybody about everything.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Well, it’s a long story…”

  Pat Garrison came over to shake hands, bringing Georgia Carter with him. She was very good-looking, but tried to appear too young. So far as she was concerned, she was still Miss Ohio at thirty-three. She smiled a practiced, seductive smile at Read.

  “Hello, Governor,” said Pat. “Gregg will be back in a minute. We got to arguing and he…”

  Ina shooed them away.

  “Go dance. I want to tell about Gregg.”

  They danced off, laughing. Then Ina said:

  “Well, we all got to arguing about women. You know. Pat said Georgia was the best-looking woman he’d ever seen. Naturally, she didn’t disagree with him. But a lot of people did. They were just tight enough. Lou said his idea of heaven was to be married to Dolores Del Rio. Only that isn’t what he said, exactly. And so it went, as it says in the storybook. Gregg got pretty offensive, but for a long time we didn’t know what he was talking about. So finally he says: ‘All right. You don’t believe me. I’ll go get her.’ It seems there is a very lovely lady some place in Midland City. Gregg’s gone after her.”

  Read laughed.

  “What a man!” He lifted his glass to drink from it, then suddenly he paused, struck by a premonition. Could it be? No, that was silly. It was getting to be an obsession with him! “Is it somebody we know?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Well,” said Read, trying to be funny, “I can hardly wait.”

  An hour passed. Everybody but Read began to get pretty tight. Ina was getting more and more confidential and intimate, making big eyes at “the Governor”; and when they danced out into the little hallway she would put her cheek against his and get up very close and make little cooing noises in her throat. Read observed to himself: “Why not? It might do me good. I put too much restraint on myself.” But there was something a little vulgar about Ina that slightly repelled him. Eileen Bradley had spoiled him for these one-night affairs, though he wasn’t entirely conscious of the fact.

  “Lord,” said Ina, “but it’s getting hot and stuffy in here. I can hardly stand it.”

  “Shall I open a window?”

  “Well, you might. But I’ll bet it would be nicer down in my apartment.”

  She looked up; Read avoided her eyes.

  “You live here?”

  “Floor below.”

  They danced silently for a moment. Read g
lanced at the others. No, it wouldn’t do. Too many to talk about it later. And what about Gregg?

  “Didn’t you come with Gregg?”

  She caught on at once. Looking up, she smiled innocently.

  “No; I didn’t. I was supposed to come with Ray Muller from the Examiner but at the last minute he couldn’t get away. I just came, anyway. Gregg said it didn’t matter.”

  Read hesitated. Then they heard laughter in the outside hall. A key rattled against the lock; a man cursed. A woman’s voice said:

  “Let me try, silly.”

  Read glanced at Ina. Her face was red with annoyance.

  The door opened. Gregg came in with a shout, dragging a girl by the arm. The girl was round-eyed and bewildered and extremely pretty. Read started. It was the check-girl.

  “Oh, gee!” she cried when she saw Read. “He made me come. I didn’t want to. He kicked up a terrible fuss. I was afraid people would think…”

  Ina glanced at Read.

  “Oh, a friend of yours.”

  “No, I’m not,” said the girl. “But I’ve seen Governor Cole at the hotel where I work. Well, anyway; I don’t need to worry now. If you’re here, this party must be all right.”

  “A very brilliant deduction,” cried Gregg, slamming the door. “Read, what are you doing here? I thought you said… well, never mind. Come in, Kitten. Meet the bunch.”

  Somebody turned off the radio. The people in the living-room stood in a group, staring at the check-girl.

  “Take off your hat and fix your hair, Kitten. Don’t make a liar out of me,” said Gregg.

  “It’s not my fault,” said the girl, addressing the group in the living-room. “I still don’t know what it’s all about.” Then she went over to a mirror and taking off her hat, began to comb her lustrous, curly, dark-brown hair. Once she turned and smiled at Read, who stood with a red face, staring. Finally she took off her coat. She had on a plain dark-blue dress with a big white frill at the collar; her dress clung tightly to her plump body. Lou Edwards whistled and said:

  “Where have you been all my life?”

  “I heard that one before,” said the girl, coming over and standing beside Read. “What’s this all about, Governor?”