by Brown,Dick
“Gramps,” Cass said, “we have a campaign problem. Earl is going to fire his campaign organization because of their association with the Black Panther organization.”
“I expressed my concerns about them to Rod at the luncheon. After I left the club, I came directly back to my office and made some phone calls. The information I received on DeAndre Gilbert and Lamarque Washington was that they come from a radical organization and have police records. If Earl gets smeared in the press and loses, Bubba McGee will be our congressman because the Republicans don’t even have a candidate in the race.”
“What if I told you Earl doesn’t like them any better than we do? He wants out.”
“He can’t do that and hand that idiot Bubba the vacant seat.”
“Exactly. Earl was at our house last night with the same concern if he dropped out. He’s really committed to his campaign promises and doesn’t want anything to do with the Black Panthers, but if he fires them, he will have no campaign money or organization. Earl asked Rod to take over his campaign so he could distance himself from DeAndre and Lamarque and the Panthers.
“Rod volunteered to run his campaign,” she said with fingers crossed behind her back. “But Black Panther money was funding ninety percent of the campaign. They’d insisted Earl begin working their black-power philosophy into his campaign speeches. He refused but doesn’t have the financing to continue alone. Would you and some of your business friends be willing to form a PAC to help finance the rest of his campaign?”
Randolph rubbed his chin. “Let me think about that.”
“Gramps, there’s no time to think about it. The primary is only a few months away. Rod is going to start an employee PAC at the company,” she said convincingly, with fingers still crossed behind her back.
“This isn’t something you rush into, young lady. This is a serious decision with a great deal of responsibility involved. I am willing to talk to some of my friends and business associates, but I can’t make any promises. You do understand my position, don’t you? As leader of this community I can’t make rash decisions that aren’t thought through in great depth and agreed upon by those I ask to help.”
“Then you’ll do it,” Cass exclaimed. “I knew you would!” Cass pushed her chair back from the table and hurried to give Gramps a kiss on the cheek and almost squeezed the breath out of him before he could say no.
“Hold on, little lady, I will have to get one hundred percent agreement from my circle of friends before I will commit to do this.”
“I know they will follow your lead. Earl is coming back this evening at six. Thank you, Gramps, you’re the best grandpa anyone could have.”
Not to be outdone and tired of always being in the background, Cass’s father, John C. Worthington, stood and told his daughter. “You have a father, too, you know,” he said. “I will pledge time and money right now to Earl. Whether you believe it or not, I do have a brain. I have contributed as much to the success of the family bank as your grandfather. I work in the trenches and he takes the glory. Just because he can sit around and get money from his business cronies for his personal pet projects doesn’t mean I can’t do the same. I am a damn good bank manager and will be a proactive member of the campaign for the good of this district. I seek no favors or rewards, just honest representation. I think Earl can give us that. But I warn you, we will have a real fight on our hands. Running a black man for the first time in Fourth District history against a well-financed and well-established bigoted white man is going to be difficult. There, I’ve said my piece. I have to get back to work to keep the bank running smoothly and profitably. As always, I enjoyed your visit.”
He came face-to-face with his shocked daughter and gave her a warm fatherly hug and kiss on her forehead before he left for work.
Everyone was stunned into silence at John’s bold statement. “I think my son has found his backbone.” Randolph laughed out loud. “I didn’t believe he had it in him. I may have to give him a promotion. I’m getting old and need to know he will carry on after I’m gone.”
“Don’t talk like that, Gramps, you’re not going anywhere,” Cass said, and gave him another hug.
“I’m sorry, Randolph,” Margaret said. I apologize for John’s disrespect to you. He had no right to say what he did.”
“Apologize? Hell, woman, I’ve been waiting thirty years for him to stand up to me, and he finally did it today over a political campaign. He spoke out about something he believed in, and I’m so proud of him. In fact, when I get back to work, I’m calling him into my office and congratulating him for what he did. I’ll give him a fatherly hug. It’s been a long time coming and I’ve been a fool for treating him more like a stepson than my own flesh and blood.”
“Cass, you tell Earl this evening that we will fully back his campaign. He can fire those thugs and come home to run a campaign he believes in. This has been a most amazing day. It makes me feel young again. Ladies, I bid you all a good afternoon. I’m skipping my nap so I can join my son at the bank.” Randolph rose from the table and left the dining room with new energy in his step.
“Essie, what did you put in that tea? I’ve never seen those two behave like this before.”
“Mom, don’t you think it’s time you let Dad wear the pants in the family from now on? After what I heard just now, I don’t believe you’re going to have a choice. I think a sleeping giant just woke up.”
“Yes, and I don’t know if I can stand it.”
“Mom, you know you love him. Let him be his own person. You might even like it. I have to run and let Rod know what just happened. Thank you for a wonderful lunch and I hope we can count on your support, Mom. You, too, Essie. We’ll need every vote we can get. Bubba may be a redneck, but there are a lot of rednecks in this district, and they’ll all vote for him.” A quick hug, and she was gone.
Chapter 75
The race is on
Cass threw her suitcase-size purse on the couch as she moved quickly to the kitchen. She dropped her car keys on the counter by the wall phone and dialed Rod’s private number. As his phone rang, the excitement got the baby moving too and suddenly she made a beeline to the bathroom. Cass stretched the long cord to the half bath in the hallway behind the kitchen. She wrestled down her slacks with one hand while holding the phone in the other, waiting for Rod to pick up.
“Hello, this is Rod,” the voice on the other end of the line said, but heard no response. “Hello, is anyone there?”
“It’s me. I’m having a hard time holding the phone. Don’t ask. Have I got good news for you! Gramps and Dad are both on board. Can you believe that?”
“What’s that noise?”
“Never mind the noise. Did you hear what I said? Gramps and Dad are working together on something outside the bank for the first time ever. It was amazing, Dad stood up to Gramps and Gramps was actually excited about it. He said he’d been waiting for years for Dad to do that. Is Jack on board with you running the campaign?”
“He agreed Earl needed to get rid of that crew of thugs, but he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of me running the campaign full time.”
“Maybe you won’t have to. Dad stepped up and will help with the organization and running of the campaign. You can contribute as a consultant part-time. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great. I think Jack will be happy with that and he’s all for a company PAC as long as it contributes to candidates requested by employees. He, of course, thinks Earl is a deserving candidate.” A loud whoosh sound echoed off the walls of the powder room when Cass flushed the toilet. “Where are you? I keep hearing strange noises.”
“My bladder couldn’t wait another second after I dialed your number, okay?”
Rod chuckled. “Spare me the details. I’ll be home by five.”
“I’m so excited about giving Earl the good news. I can hardly wait unt
il he gets here at six.”
“Good job. I’ll see you in a little while. What’s for dinner? Never mind, I think I can guess. I love you.” Cass’s phone went silent.
Campaign boiler room
Cass had cleared the dining room table and had a stack of yellow legal pads with plenty of pens handy. A commercial-size coffee pot was perking and a large pizza was in the oven by the time Earl arrived.
“Welcome to our campaign boiler room,” Cass greeted Earl as Rod led him into the dining room.
“I think you have already taken ownership of my campaign, Cass. This looks great, complete with a white board. You can’t know what a relief you guys are. I told DeAndre and Lamarque they were off the campaign and I had a complete new staff ready to go. They were really pissed. I wasn’t sure I was going to get out of there alive. They threatened to sabotage the campaign and smear me in the press and on TV. They even said I was a fool if I thought a bunch of rich white people would help elect a nigger to Congress. That did it. When I shoved DeAndre out of my way, Lamarque pulled his gun and drew down on me. I just kept walking and here I am. That coffee smells good. And is that pizza I smell?”
“Yeah, thought we would need a little something to keep us going. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Sounds great, but first I need something stronger than coffee after that little dust-up in Dallas this afternoon.”
“What’s your flavor?” Cass asked.
“Bourbon and water, easy on the water,” he said.
“Coming up.”
Rod and Earl sat on either side of the long table. Cass delivered Earl’s drink and coffee for her and Rod. The large pizza sat within easy reach of everyone in the middle of the table. Cass settled down at the head of the table, establishing her as a fully vested member of the campaign effort. She and Rod gave Earl the good news about how the day’s events had gone.
“Dad’s right, Earl, we’re in for a fight. Bubba’s as redneck as they come and through dumb luck, the family farm he inherited was sitting on top of one of the biggest oil finds in this area. Needless to say, he can outspend us. But you have great name recognition, actually better than Bubba in the other counties in the district. Our best bet to beat him is to build a grass-roots network in the three-county district.”
“Agreed, but how?” Earl asked. “All TV comes from the big three Dallas stations, which is expensive. And you know he’s going turn the campaign into a race issue.”
“We have to take the high road. We don’t want to turn this into a black-against-white race. Radio ads are cheap and we can run them often. Yard signs and bumper stickers are good, but one of your best resources will be through the churches. I think we can count on the black and Hispanic community vote, don’t you?” Cass paused, reflecting on what she just said. “I guess we can’t avoid the race issue, can we?”
“I’m sure I can carry their vote—I can even speak a little Spanish. Don’t worry about it, Cass, I’ve dealt with it all my life,” Earl said with a smile.
“Then the next thing we have to do is make sure they vote. We have to organize carpools to take people who don’t have transportation to the polls. The district is about evenly split between whites, blacks, and Hispanics. I’ve already recruited some of my Junior League friends and they are really good at organizing projects and volunteering their services. Organizing a carpool on Election Day will be no sweat for them. Gramps and Dad have contacts with banks and businesses in our county and the parts of Sabine and Green Counties that are in our district. Rod, what do you have for us?”
Rod shrugged. “Outside of the company PAC, that’s about it. I think you’ve already got a good handle on the grass-roots effort, Cass.”
“Earl, besides the Black Panther money, where have your contributions come from?” Cass asked.
“I was never privy to that information, but what I know about was mostly mine and from players on the Rams and other NFL teams.”
“Do you think your team members will go for a PAC and have a fundraiser?”
“I don’t know about that, I’ll have to check with the NFL Players Association. I’m not sure if it’s legal, but I know I can count on a lot of guys in the league for contributions.”
The meeting went on into the middle of the night, but when it ended, they had worked out an organization plan on the white board. Fundraising events were tentatively planned. An aggressive grass-roots door-to-door campaign complete with literature and bumper stickers and yard signs was mapped out. All they needed now was money.
“Earl, I think we’re looking at your new campaign chairman, and it isn’t me,” Rod said, looking at Cass. “You’ve done a hell of a job tonight. There’s enough information here to get your dad and granddad moving. I’m proud of you, but what if you have the baby in the middle of the campaign?”
Cass gave him her I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look. “I’m having a baby, not a heart transplant. Dad can handle things for a few days, and I’ll be back in the saddle in no time. Let me worry about that. You get the company PAC cranked up and bringing in money. I’ll handle the rest. And the first thing I have to do is send a disclaimer press release to the Dallas Herald. We have to make sure the voters understand you were unaware of your campaign team’s association with the Black Panther organization, and that you immediately fired them and no longer have anything to do with their organization.”
“Sounds good. I don’t know what to say. You guys are lifesavers. How can I ever thank you enough?”
A sleepy-eyed Rod, who had to get up and be at work in a few hours, suggested, “You can start by adjourning this meeting. Sorry, guys, I’ve got to get to bed. We have a program staff meeting first thing in the morning, which is only five hours away.”
Everyone stood and stretched the kinks out their cramped muscles. Thanks and hugs went all around, and the night was over. Now the fun would begin in a race that had already attracted statewide attention—and notice from the politicians in Austin.
Chapter 76
The primary election
After the Black Panther story appeared in the Dallas Herald, TV media coverage flocked to Bois D’Arc to cover the volatile Fourth Congressional District campaign circuit. Bubba McGee gave lavish rallies with free barbecue for his followers while he slammed his opponent as a rookie in government affairs who didn’t know the political party line from the twenty-yard line.
Earl’s campaign rallies were less grand but drew large crowds. The grass-roots door-to-door visits were getting results as Earl pressed flesh with constituents and explained his goals if elected. The campaign was coming down to the wire. Poll numbers showed the race almost a dead heat, with Bubba holding a slight edge.
Earl took advantage of Rod’s knowledge of world affairs and foreign policy as Rod tutored him from his broad experience as a POW and vice president of an international company. But his pride and joy was his Kidbackers of America program to help the underprivileged to a better education and better life through self-help programs run by volunteers in an effort to cut government spending. Earl hammered away at Bubba’s proposed tax increase and was getting through to the voters as the campaign headed into the final days.
In addition to his personal attacks on Earl, Bubba ran a negative campaign on the current administration’s failures. He offered no substantive new programs or incentives to help boost the economy other than to raise taxes to pay for the deficit left by the former administration. The social programs he proposed to counter Earl’s volunteer program were supported as part of the large umbrella-tax package he proposed. The voters were wary and weren’t buying into it.
Election Day finally arrived with a flurry of activity at all the district polling places. The culmination of months of hard work by candidates and volunteers was finally over. All that remained was the long wait for the courthouse staff to count the
ballots coming in from the outlying precincts of the two adjacent counties. The heavy voter turnout caught the polling centers unprepared without enough ballots. More were printed and poling times were extended, which prompted the election judge to predict a late announcement of the winner.
“We’ve done everything we can do,” Earl said to his campaign volunteers gathered at Cass and Rod’s house. “I want to thank all of you who had faith in me, especially in light of the situation with the Black Panther issue and the short timeframe you had to pull off a miracle.”
While Earl went around the room, thanking each person individually for their contribution to the campaign, Cass reached over and tugged Rod’s arm.
“I hate to say it, but I think it’s time. My water just broke.”
“Your timing is incredible,” Rod said. “We can slip into the bedroom and get your suitcase and go out the back door without disrupting things here.”
Cass and Rod were sitting at the bar in the kitchen behind the den full of volunteers. They thought they could slip out unnoticed. But the minute they tried to leave, Earl caught their movement in the corner of his eye.
“Where are you two going? I was coming to you next.”
“Save it. We have an appointment with the stork,” Rod said.
“Congratulations! Call us as soon as it arrives. We’ll probably be here all night.”
Midnight came and went. The stork hadn’t arrived and neither had the election results. The unprecedented voter turnout was further delayed because the extra ballots had to be hand-counted.
Cass’s contractions had stopped and she was miserable.
Dr. McCombs was called into the delivery room. “It looks like your little one isn’t in any hurry to get here,” he said. “I’m concerned about the reduced amount of activity. I think we need to give your baby a little nudge.”