Jump City: Apprentice

by MK Alexander

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” Durbin laughed. “How are you getting along with those two clowns?” he asked and nodded over at Higgins and Woods.

  “Really well… I just bought them lunch.”

  “Big spender, ain’t you, Mr Jardel? And how’s the little bombshell?”

  “You mean Elsie?”

  “No, I mean her sister.” He laughed at my expression, then paused… “Say, never found your hat, huh?” Durbin glanced at the top of my head.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, the gang of four is meeting tonight and we’d like you to come along— if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “You should be,” Higgins said walking up from behind. “We don’t let just anyone into our little club.”

  Carter laughed. I started to wonder who else was a member of the gang of four.

  “See you tonight, gentlemen…” Durbin sputtered off, laughing, and leaving a trail of noxious fumes.

  Along the sidewalk I saw a young woman weaving towards us, unsteadily. She walked right by in a tattered dress and didn’t even bother to look up. It was Lucinda… from my old present. I was dumbfounded. Carter finally shook me by the sleeve. “Patrick, are you alright? Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “That’s a distinct possibility,” I muttered a reply, then asked, “Do you know her?”

  “Who?”

  I pointed down the sidewalk. Both men chuckled slightly.

  “Oh, Lucinda…” Carter said. “Everyone knows her… she’s just a little loopy… let out of the hospital a day too early, I’d guess.”

  * * *

  chapter twenty-five

  politics

  The gang of four met almost nightly at Valmont Park, Sunset Park to me. The rhododendrons were thriving and there was a good stiff breeze, more than one, as the wind shifted constantly and unpredictably, sometimes from the bay and sometimes from the ocean. Apparently that kept the bugs guessing. There were no flies or mosquitos at all. It was well past sunset; the only lights were a few dim twinkles from the village and the regular sweep from the Sentinel… eventually, a small bit of moon rose over the bluffs. The fourth member turned out to be Percy Smith, and on the agenda as always, politics. I arrived a bit late and found them sitting on packing crates, Durbin, Smith, Woods and Higgins; passing around a bottle, laughing and talking.

  “There he is, the fifth wheel,” someone called as I approached. While I appreciated the humor, the remark was also pointed. The four of them were already drunk to varying degrees and I was thrust into their ongoing conversation.

  “We got you your very own cup,” Durbin said and greeted me with a handshake and a tin mug. He poured some whiskey into it, raised his own and said, “Welcome.”

  “Cheers.”

  “You never really know a person till you get drunk with them,” Durbin said and led me over to the gang of four. I had my very own crate to sit on as well. They all gave me a hearty greeting and a toast. I sat back and sipped, deciding it would be best just to listen for now. Higgins and Carter did most of the talking. Percy would interrupt with random comments and Durbin barely said a word.

  “...Things change, what can you say?” I heard Higgins first. “We did pretty well during prohibition, rum-runners, bootleggers. That’s all coming to an end now…”

  Durbin looked only slightly guilty. “Lucky for me it wasn’t in my jurisdiction.” He laughed.

  “Both of you drink to much,” Carter admonished.

  “Well, we’re better off than most places. We should be thankful— Cheers!” Higgins raised his cup. “We’ve got a pretty good deal going… There’s work at the quarry if you want it… and food from the sea, so long as you like fish. That’s plenty better than most other places.” Higgins paused. “We’ve survived worse… and we’ll survive martial law.”

  “Martial law?” I asked, completely astonished.

  “That’s right, any day now, I’d say… especially with MacArthur in the picture,” Higgins explained.

  “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Is that the New Deal?”

  Carter chuckled first. “Good one, Patrick.” The cups clanked and everyone took a drink. Durbin shot me an uncomfortable glance.

  “So, what do you think Garner is going to say tomorrow?” Percy asked.

  “He means the radio address,” Higgins explained.

  “Another stupid presidential announcement, probably,” Carter said.

  “Still, Cactus Jack has to do something. You can’t just let half-a-million men camp out on your doorstep. Ha, it didn’t work out so well for Hoover last summer…”

  “What happened last summer?” I asked.

  “What, are you living under a rock?”

  “He’s been in a coma… amnesia, Doc Valenti says,” Durbin cut in, almost sticking up for me.

  “Oh. Sorry then, I didn’t know.” Higgins looked me up and down again. “The legionnaires, the veterans army… that Smedley guy.”

  “What Smedley guy?” I asked.

  “Major General Smedley Butler, only the most famous military hero in America.” Higgins paused. “A hard as nails marine and the champion of every veteran in the country. I don’t see him working for the Wall Street tycoons.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I guess it all started last year with the Bonus Army occupying Washington. Hoover sent in the troops, MacArthur, Eisenhower, Patton— a real mess,” Higgins explained.

  “None of those guys are loved by the veterans,” Carter commented.

  “Yes, and here we are a year later, and they’re back,” Percy said with some rancor.

  “I wonder what FDR would’ve done if he wasn’t killed…” Carter mused.

  “Send Eleanor to talk to them,” I said.

  He stared at me incredulously and then burst out laughing. “You know what, Patrick, you’re probably right…” He clinked cups and took a drink.

  “Smedley Butler practically led the Veterans’ march last year,” Higgins persisted.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Carter cautioned. “Besides, I think the man is a patriot.”

  “Seems to me, he gets along with Cactus Jack pretty well,” Durbin said quietly.

  “You mean as a pick for vice president? Congress didn’t much like the last two,” Percy joined in. “What, you think he’s going to announce that tomorrow night?”

  “Be a waste of radio waves.” Higgins took a drink alone and glanced over at Carter. “Besides, I heard MacArthur is in the running.”

  “Never happen.”

  “I’m just telling you what I read in the paper.”

  “Which paper?” Carter asked.

  “The Times…”

  “It just doesn’t make any sense for Garner to name MacArthur as his vice president… he’s the most dangerous man in America, if you ask me,” Carter said.

  “No one is asking you…”

  “I still say it all stinks to high heaven.”

  “You worry too much. What vice president ever held any real power?” Higgins asked.

  “Maybe that’s old Cactus Jack’s cunning plan… keep your enemies closer sort of thing,” Percy offered.

  “I wish that was the case.”

  “You can bet your bottom dollar, congress would approve him by a wide majority just as soon as they’re back in session.”

  “Smedley is a better fit for Garner, deep south kind of guy,” Higgins said.

  “Isn’t he from Pennsylvania?” Percy asked.

  “Hmm, maybe.”

  “I’d hardly call that the deep south,” Percy pointed out. “And how would he deal with this Bonus Army?”

  “Not very effectively, I think,” Carter said.

  “At the start of Prohibition, Smedley was in charge of cleaning up Philadelphia… Public Safety Director… under Coolidge… He was pretty damn harsh.” Higgins looked at everyone.

  “He�
��s always been a foul-mouthed bastard…”

  “Maybe so, but he’s honest and plain spoken,” Durbin spoke up.

  “He was no friend to Hoover,” Percy complained.

  “That might be a good thing.”

  “It’s a constitutional crisis, if you ask me.”

  “Just another distraction, Carter. Like I said, what vice president ever had any real power?”

  “What if Cactus Jack were to up and die? Then his choice for a vice president might be important.”

  “Ha, he’s got you there, Higgins,” Percy said and raised his cup. Everyone took another swallow.

  “Well, who else has he got in mind then?” Higgins asked.

  “Some cronies from Texas… and some guy named Huey Long,” Carter replied.

  “I’ve heard of him, I think, but nothing good… corrupt politician, if I remember right.”

  “Name one that isn’t.”

  “I don’t think the man is old enough to be president,” Percy said.

  “There’s Bankhead too… he’s up for consideration.”

  “Oh yeah, and his crazy daughter, Tallulah… isn’t she in pictures?”

  “Daughter? I thought she was his niece…”

  “I think he should make Smedley Butler the VP,” Higgins said emphatically. “It would certainly satisfy the veterans… they’d probably call off the whole march.”

  “I have to admit that would be a very shrewd move politically.”

  “What about this whole OPS thing?” Carter asked at large.

  “Rumors, that’s all.”

  “OPS?” I asked.

  “The Office of Public Safety… a new cabinet position or some such thing.”

  “I hear it’s going to be part of the New Deal.”

  “New Deal,” Carter spat the words out. I’m sick to death hearing about it. Nothing but empty campaign promises, It’s a myth, if you ask me.”

  Durbin shifted uncomfortably and hid his expression behind his cup.

  “How can you say that? I heard it’s some special emergency powers granted to the president, like a wartime proclamation.”

  “Well, whoop-de-do. Garner’s had special powers for six months now, and hasn’t done a damn thing…”

  “What special powers?”

  “It’s called being president, Percy.”

  “Just another distraction…. Like trying to break Texas into five separate states… that’s a crazy scheme.”

  “Is it? Think how that would change congress, the senate. Eight more southern votes?”

  “It’s just another way to annoy the east coast bankers.”

  “I’m surprised Cactus Jack decided to go off the gold standard at all. He’s a very conservative fellow at heart.”

  “You would say that, Percy… doesn’t mean you’re right though.”

  “Well, it sure did rile the bankers. I can’t think of anyone he hates more.”

  “All I know is that the Union Bank is the only one still open, and it’s all the way in Fairhaven,” Percy complained. “Mears has promised to open a bank here in town.”

  “Mears be damned,” Carter said with disgust. “I don’t trust that guy as far as I can chuck him.”

  “Well, we don’t want to end up like Fairhaven anyhow… They have gangsters there. We don’t, and I’d like to keep it that way,” Durbin said.

  “Hoodlums!” Percy agreed.

  “Not to mention the riots last month… or that god-awful shanty town…”

  ***

  My thoughts were drifting elsewhere when I felt Carter Woods nudge me on the shoulder. I had probably drunk too much already. “What’s your view of it, Patrick?”

  “Me?” I took another sip of whiskey. I was only half listening to the conversation. “Sounds like a bunch of extremists.”

  “Extremists— now there’s a funny word… What exactly do you mean by that, Patrick?”

  “Doesn’t matter what system is in place, if it’s run by extremists, things will go south.”

  “Okay, so tell me what does an extreme democrat look like?”

  “I don’t know, someone that takes the constitution as a holy, infallible document…”

  “Still, that’s gotta be a whole lot better than fascism or communism.”

  “Or socialism,” Percy added.

  “Socialism? Ha. I’m not going to touch that one… too many flavors.”

  “Or a military take-over,” Durbin added almost in a whisper.

  I’m not sure anyone else heard that comment but me. “They all sound pretty good on paper,” I continued. “But, it depends if you’re talking in a practical sense or an ideal sense. ”

  “We’re all feeling practical tonight,” Higgins said with a chuckle.

  “Well, even democracy is flawed then: corruption, money and influence… and it doesn’t work if people stop voting.”

  “And why would they do that?”

  “Apathy? Cynicism?”

  “Like that’s ever going to happen,” Carter said.

  “Godless Bolsheviks,” Percy spat out. “It’s all their fault.”

  “Seems like everybody is afraid of communism, but I think fascism is the real danger.”

  “Like in Italy or Germany… or even Japan?” Higgins asked rhetorically. “At least it keeps capitalism intact. There’s not much I like about communism, it seems more like an economic system than a political one.”

  “So, communism versus unbridled capitalism then?”

  “You might say that.”

  “If we invite fascism in, it’s the end of democracy,” Carter spoke up.

  “I agree, but communism has the exact same danger.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Different sides of the same coin, I’d say.”

  “What coin would that be?”

  “Totalitarianism.”

  “Not sure I ever heard that word before, but I do take your meaning, Mr Jardel.” Carter raised his glass and we all took a swallow.

  “Centralized control over everyone— service to the state… I think that’s a democracy-killer. Besides, it goes against human nature.”

  “What, greed?” Carter asked, not expecting a reply.

  “Well, there’s that, and initiative. Some people are more ambitious than others.”

  “Score another one for Patrick,” Carter said and raised his cup again.

  “Fascism seems to thrive on human nature, the very worst parts of it.”

  “Which parts?”

  “Fear, ignorance, and false hope.”

  “You’re a regular philosopher, Mr Jardel.”

  “Like Doctor Valenti,” Percy said rather abruptly. “Nice enough for an Italian though.”

  “Italian?” I asked. “He’s an American.”

  “With a name like Valenti? No friend of Benito, he keeps telling me.”

  “Mussolini, you mean?”

  “Yes… though I rather admire the man. Did great things for his country.”

  “Are you kidding, Percy? He’s a brutal fascist,” Carter shot back.

  “Criticizing Il Duce doesn’t get you very far these days,” Higgins observed. “Just like Smedley… almost got a court-martial for that a couple of years ago.”

  “These times call for a strong leader, whether you like it or not,” Percy said from behind his cup.

  “You’re just sore that Hoover didn’t win the election,” Carter said.

  “FDR might have done good things… but I’m not so sure Cactus Jack is the kind of fellow who will rise to the occasion,” Percy concluded.

  “He’s worse than Hoover… wouldn’t spend a dime to help anyone.”

  “Are you actually defending Hoover?”

  “No, that would be Percy’s job.”

  “I will admit he did too little, too late… but we don’t need some cripple running the country.”

  “A cripple?”

  “Alright, not a cripple, a drunk then.”

  ***

  “We’re
all crowded around the wireless tonight,” Elsie said with some excitement.

  “Wireless?” I asked.

  “The radio, you silly thing.”

  “Oh right…” I remembered spending some evenings in the Lovely’s parlor listening to the occasional soap opera, or radio show, like Buck Rogers, Jack Armstrong, the Lone Ranger and Tom Mix. Once, we picked up a far off baseball game, the Washington Senators. Lefty Gomez was the opposing pitcher... There was usually an odd smell in the parlor and I realized it was sort of like burning plastic, but sweeter. I recalled something about vacuum tubes and how hot they could get.

  “Why tonight?” I asked.

  “Some special announcement from Washington, or so I hear… Come and visit us… at seven o’clock.”

  We have nothing to fear but the false promise of tomorrow’s inevitable...

  President John Garner did not have the best voice for radio. It was a bit too high, and he had trouble holding back his Texas drawl. But as soon as I heard those words crackling through the speaker, I was overwhelmed by a heavy feeling of deja vu, almost like a headache.

  Today, I have signed executive order 6079, establishing the new Office of Public Safety… an agency organized to ensure the welfare of every American. Chief of Staff of the United States Army, General Douglas MacArthur has graciously accepted…”

  “Are you alright, Patrick?” Elsie asked and took my hand. I knew that Sheriff Durbin would knock on the door in just a few seconds.

  “I will ask the seventy-third congress of these United States to act swiftly on these proposals…”

  “Did you hear the news?” Someone asked Durbin as he entered the parlor.

  “Yeah, I heard… Listen, Mr Jardel, you’re going to have to come with me.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yup.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Train station.”

  “Uh-oh,”

  “What?”

  “Are you running me out of town again?”

  “No.” Durbin laughed. “Evening train coming in…” He reached into his vest pocket to consult a watch. “If you listen hard enough, you should hear it any second.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “All I know is I got a cable from some guy named Fynn, and he wants you at the train station, pronto.”