(1964) The Man

by Irving Wallace

“Positively sure of it.”

  “Did you discuss any other aspects of your new office with her?”

  “Yes. I spoke to her of my worries about having been elevated to such an office. I feared that T. C.’s advisers, the legislators, the military, the Party, in fact, the majority of the public, were not prepared to accept a Negro as President, and that they would resent me and cause me difficulty. I wondered, as all men do when they accidentally have a great responsibility thrust upon them, if I could adequately fill the office and please the electors. But most of all, I told Miss Gibson about my misgivings—my feelings that racial prejudice against me would hamper my freedom to serve my country as a President of all men.”

  “That was the extent of it? You never discussed with Miss Gibson, let slip to her, any government information of a confidential nature?”

  “Not once, sir, not once. I was always mindful of the responsibility of my office.”

  “Mr. President, did you know, at any time during the last two years while Miss Gibson was in the service of Vaduz Exporters, that she was being employed by a Communist Front organization?”

  “I did not know that. Miss Gibson has testified she did not know that either. The FBI did not know that. I first heard about it on the very day Miss Gibson suspected what was going on, and the FBI informed me of it, the day the director of the Vaduz organization fled. The company was closed down the next morning.”

  “Then you do deny the entire substance of Article I, that with knowledge beforehand or through unintentional indiscretion, you passed on national secrets to a Soviet organization through Miss Gibson?”

  “I emphatically deny it, sir. If it were possible to use stronger language, I would deny it in that language. I have never been a party to treason, and neither has Miss Gibson. The House charge is base fiction.”

  “So much for Article I, and a portion of III. Let us dispose of the remainder of the charges in Article III. Were you at any time in your past life, or in recent years, addicted to drinking alcohol?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Were you ever in your life treated for alcoholism by a member of the medical profession?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Were you ever committed, or did you ever commit yourself, to an institution for alcoholics because of such a habit or disability?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Let us proceed with the only serious specification in Article III. You have read the indictment presented by the House, and elaborated upon by Miss Sally Watson this afternoon, that you attempted to seduce Miss Watson and did commit bodily harm upon her when she resisted?”

  “I have read the indictment. I have seen and heard Miss Watson’s testimony on television.”

  “On the night in question, did you order Miss Watson to meet you in your bedroom to confer with you on pending social engagements?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “But she did visit your bedroom?”

  “She did. After the dinner for the Joint Chiefs, I joined them for a documentary film showing. Miss Watson took me aside to say she was intoxicated, and desired to forgo the showing. I advised her to return home. She said she was too drunk and would prefer to lie down first. I told her to do what she thought best. When I came back from the showing, I discovered Miss Watson lying upon my bed in a disheveled and drunken condition. I awakened her and told her I would arrange to have her escorted home. When she tried to get off the bed, her purse fell on the floor and the contents spilled out. I picked up these contents, and saw that among them were numerous index cards. The cards carried notes taken from a CIA document that was in my personal briefcase near the bed.”

  “Was the CIA document confidential, Mr. President?”

  “It was stamped “Top Secret’ and ‘Eyes Only.’ Miss Watson could not have been unaware of that.”

  “What transpired afterward? Did you discuss her motivation in trying to acquire this information?

  “We did.”

  “Could you repeat your conversation at that time?”

  “I would prefer not to.”

  “Was anything else, besides her motivation, discussed?”

  “Yes. It has no pertinence to this trial.”

  “And then?”

  “I told Miss Watson to leave. I told her she was fired. After some vituperation—”

  “Can you be more explicit?”

  “The usual thing, references to my race, and a few threats. Then she departed. It was a sad scene. I can only say here I bear her no animosity. She was, at the time, neither sober nor balanced. Emotional circumstances had driven her to this incredible act. I am sorry for her, but I cannot despise her.”

  “You did not, then, in any conceivable way, make improper overtures to Miss Watson, or attempt to detain her forcibly, or do her bodily harm?”

  “I did not.”

  “Have you anything more to say about this charge, Mr. President?”

  “It is untrue, every word of it. It is sheer fantasy, conceived by a fantastic mind and nurtured by other vindictive minds who have chosen to be deceived.”

  “Finally, Article IV of the impeachment. You did dismiss Arthur Eaton from your Cabinet and from his position as your Secretary of State?”

  “I did, sir,”

  “You attempted to replace him with another highly qualified appointee, did you not?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “You dismissed the Secretary of State without seeking the two-thirds approval of the Senate?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Were you aware that there existed a special law, the New Succession Act, passed by both Houses of Congress since you became President, forbidding you to fire a Cabinet member without Senate approval?”

  “I was aware of the law. I had believed from the outset, and was supported by some of the best legal authorities in the field, that the law was unconstitutional, and would be so proved when it met its first challenge before the Supreme Court. I remembered that Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes once remarked, ‘We live under a Constitution, but the Constitution is what the judges say it is.’ From my knowledge of precedent, I was certain the Supreme Court judges would say that the New Succession Act was and is a political measure entirely at odds with the Constitution. It was a measure rushed through merely to protect the old Administration from anticipated removals and appointments by a new Negro President. This law encroached upon the Constitution, which gives the Senate the right to advise and consent on a Presidential appointment, but gives the President himself the sole power to remove his appointees from office. I fired Eaton summarily, because I felt it necessary to do so, because I believed I had the legal right to do so, because I believed Congress had no right to dictate to the executive branch or freeze into its Cabinet posts the choices of a deceased President, and because I wanted a disgraceful and illegitimate piece of legislation put to constitutional test.”

  “And so you found it necessary to dismiss Arthur Eaton? Why, Mr. President? Why, specifically, did you remove this veteran public servant from office?”

  “Because I was determined to preserve our government’s system of checks and balances, which requires that our three branches—the executive, the legislative, and the judicial—remain separate and strong. I learned, and had proof of the fact, that the Secretary of State, with the approval of the legislative branch of our government, was attempting to usurp the powers of the Presidency and conduct the business of the White House from the offices of the Department of State. To save the Presidency, I had no choice but to get rid of him. I fired him. In retaliation, I presume, he and his associates impeached me.”

  “Mr. President, since the memorable moment you took the oath of office, do you believe you have performed your tasks diligently, soberly, honestly, without prejudice, with consideration for the rights of all men and a sincere concern for the welfare of the United States, and have you attempted to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution and this democracy?”

  “This I beli
eve—I have tried. To the best of my ability I have tried, Mr. Manager.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  Douglass Dilman’s grip on the chair relaxed. He thought that he detected the slightest smile on Nat Abrahams’ face as Abrahams nodded at the bench, then turned and went back to the defense table.

  Dilman had so concentrated on his friend’s questions that he had been unable to observe or evaluate the reaction to his replies in the silent, alert Senate Chamber.

  But now the Chamber seemed to come alive, and then the Chief Justice’s gavel fell.

  “The senators will be attentive. The counsel for the House of Representatives will proceed with his cross-examination.”

  For the first time since assuming the Presidency, since his travail and then trial had begun, Douglass Dilman found himself face to face with the custodian of all the hatred that had been directed toward him.

  Zeke Miller’s mocking gray eyes boldly met his own unblinking gaze. Miller’s veiny nostrils were dilated, and his mouth fixed in a crooked line. He hooked his thumbs into his lapel buttonholes, assumed his favorite spread-legged stance, and appeared to be inspecting his quarry with a huntsman’s pleasure.

  Dilman’s shoulder and chest muscles involuntarily contracted, as if preparing for a blow. Warily, he waited.

  “We-ll, Mr. President of the United States of America, I did not expect to see you come down among us. This is a surprise and a privilege for us, an historic occasion, and we welcome you, heartily welcome you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Manager.”

  “However, at the risk of seeming downright inhospitable after your taking this trouble to ride to the Hill, I am afraid I must pose some questions that may give you discomfort, questions that your friend and counsel overlooked asking, in his blindfolded search for the truth about your behavior and competence. I hope you will be as tolerant of Zeke Miller’s questions, the questions the House has requested me to propound, as you were of your friend Nathan Abrahams’ questions.”

  “I will do my best to be tolerant of your questions, Mr. Manager.”

  “Well, now, I guess it would be fitting to take up the matters under review in the order your own friend and counsel arranged them. Would that be suitable to you, Mr. President of the United States?”

  “As you wish, Mr. Manager.”

  “Like perhaps starting with the youngest in your official family, and then reading from left to right. This boy of yours, Julian, who pledged himself with his blood to a terrorist program of violence against the elected government and who pledged himself to extract from all of us white people an eye for an eye—has he ever engaged in similar violence before?”

  “No, not before, and not now either.”

  “Well, I am not saying he did any grave violence, like his boss Hurley, I am only saying he pledged himself to do it, but didn’t get time to carry out his pledge because the able Attorney General of this country stamped out—despite your interference—these extremists, before your boy could march with them. You knew all along that your son Julian was a member of that subversive gang, didn’t you, Mr. Witness?”

  “I have already denied, under oath, that I knew he was a member.”

  “Forgive me, a slip. I didn’t mean to say that you ‘knew,’ only that you had ‘heard’ he was a member—I meant you knew because you’d heard. Who’d you hear that from?” A Turnerite?”

  “Yes. From someone I later learned was a Turnerite.”

  “Want to tell us who your informant was, Mr. Witness?”

  “I see no point in that now. The Turnerites are disbanded. Their leader has been executed.”

  “Am I to understand you won’t reveal to us the name of your Turnerite friend informant who tipped you off about Julian?”

  “It would serve no useful purpose.”

  “Okay. You keep your little secrets. Not important. Well, so you heard Julian was a Turnerite and you confronted him with the fact?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, the first time Attorney General Kemmler demanded that you outlaw that vicious Group, you refused. You refused, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, against the advice of the Attorney General, you got your Nigra lobbyist and tenant rent payer, Reverend Spinger, to talk privately with those kidnaper-murderers, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You had no tricky self-serving, family-protecting deals in mind, did you? Just acting on your own for the good of the country, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, Mr. President, what we have is this—you heard your son was a Turnerite, true? You heard the Turnerites were a Communist, anti-Christian violence society, true? You tried to delay their being banned, true? You sent a Nigra personal friend to call them up and negotiate something in privacy, true? Is all of that true?”

  “That much of it, yes, that much is true.”

  “Then I say to you, Mr. President of the United States, I say Article II of the House impeachment—charging you with the high crime of violating the laws of the land by hindering justice against a subversive society—I say Article II is true.”

  “I say it is not, Mr. Manager.”

  “Then let the august Senate in its wisdom here on earth, and the Lord of all of us in Heaven, judge which of us speaks truth and which of us speaks falsehood. Let us proceed, as your friend and counsel has done, with Articles I and III. What have we here? Ah, Miss Wanda Gibson. Yes, we have heard Miss Gibson’s little tale on this stand today. You have a great and good friend in her, Mr. President. You won’t find many women so loyally ready to go to any ends or take any risk, ready to say anything, to protect someone who is not legally their own mate. Well, now, you’ve known our Miss Gibson intimately for five years?”

  “I have known Miss Gibson for five years.”

  “You have held her hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have embraced her?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have kissed her?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have done all of this for five years, sixty months, more than 240 weeks, but you have never illicitly touched her? Is that right, Mr. President?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet, could I describe your relationship with her as a close one, a warm one?”

  “You might. I think so.”

  “Sure enough, we know you couldn’t keep away from her person very long. The first day you were moved out from under the same roof with her, to be President, you came hurrying back that night, thinking you’d given everyone the slip. You did run back to see Wanda Gibson the first night after you moved into the White House?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You tried to get her into the White House, too, didn’t you? You invited your lady friend to come to the State Dinner for President Amboko of Baraza, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Sounds like a close enough relationship to me. And the two of you, when you were together, you had your long chatty talks, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Seeing her after you became President, talking to her on the telephone, you told her what it was like to be President, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And she, working for the Communist Front Vaduz Exporters, she talked about her boss and her work sometimes, too, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you two, holding hands, hugging and kissing, you two talked about your jobs. You talked about what it was like being President with all the problems of that office, and she, she talked about what it was like being at work for a spying company fronting for the Soviet Union, but despite all the talk and talk, and emotional involvement, you kept your lips sealed when it came to what was top-secret that you knew about as President. True?”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “And I say, and the House says, untrue—un-true! No human on earth can be so long intimate with a single lady, being single himself
, and being close to her flesh, and whispering and baring every emotion, and still control and shut off certain things while saying others, as any psychologist on earth will tell you. I’m not saying you set out with your mind determined on committing treason. I’m saying you are a frail human, and a frail human person, be he Nigra or white, suffers from his flesh being weak, and I’m saying from the evidence on hand that you committed inadvertent treason, but serious, real treason nevertheless, against the flag and the country. But you alone will not admit to your flesh being weak. You will not admit your sin.”

  “There is nothing to admit to, Mr. Manager. The charge is rigged up from hearsay, deductions, suppositions, wishes, an effort to make two and two add up to five, but it is unsubstantiated by factual evidence. Because no such evidence exists.”

  “There is evidence enough, Mr. Witness, and none of this protesting too much will pull the wool over the eyes of the able, learned, honorable members of the Senate. There is evidence for Article I as there is evidence for Article III. Let’s take the charge of your proved record of habitual intoxication. You deny it. Your lady friend denies it. Two impartial sources like you two deny it. But the documents, Mr. President, the exhibit documents attest and affirm to the truth of it. Were you or were you not, in Springfield, Illinois, once a registered occupant in a sanitarium for alcoholics?”

  “I was, yes.”

  “Along with your poor deceased wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were a patient there?”

  “No, I was not. My wife was a patient. I was a guest. I checked in there to live with her, be beside her, help her. I was not a patient. I was a resident guest.”

  “The photostatic evidence introduced as exhibits show clearly, irrefutably, you were a registered ‘patient,’ meaning, by definition, one who was under treatment or care by a physician, in this case for alcoholism.”

  “I don’t care how I was registered. I know why I was there.”

  “Mr. President, I assure you the public cares and the Senate cares how you were registered. There is no disgrace in having been registered for alcoholic cure, once the cure has been successful and a person’s health, good sense, and dignity restored. But when a person has attempted to be cured, and not succeeded, has continued to be the servant of this debilitating master, and raged through the President’s House of this glorious nation in a condition such as Senator Watson’s daughter has described, I say the public must care and the Senate must care, and the addict must be curbed and quarantined, if not for his own sake, then for the survival of the nation entrusted to his leadership. Enough! It is time we discuss a charge no less evil, and far more shocking. . . . Mr. President, the House of Representatives has charged you with improper assault upon the person of your helpless young social secretary, Miss Watson. The lady has confirmed, under oath, your misbehavior. Miss Watson, the only daughter of a great and senior Senator whose adherence to truth is a byword in the land, Miss Watson was raised up to gracious ladyhood under the guidance of this noble Senator. Miss Watson, I repeat, confirms the charge of your scandalous behavior. You deny it. Whom are we to believe? What are we to believe? . . . Mr. President—answer this, sir—can we believe that you and Miss Watson were alone together in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House on the night in question? Is that so?”