by Allen Drury
Instantly the parade of Washington ambition, the endless game of boxes-within-boxes, began as he had known it would.
“Why,” George Wattersill said, stumbling over his words in his surprise, cupidity, concern and confusion, “Governor—Mr. President—I—I could not be more—words cannot express—I am honored—overwhelmed—I should be proud and happy—I accept, Mr. President! I accept!”
“With my condition?” Governor Jason asked softly, and on the other side of the circle the junior Senator from Wyoming stirred.
“And with my opposition to your confirmation in the Senate, if you do?” he asked with an equal softness.
Boxes-within-boxes began to tumble around in George Harrison Watersill, as they all could see. Ted decided to help.
“I doubt very much that your opposition weighs very heavily with the Senate nowadays, Senator. Ever since your censure following Brigham Anderson’s death, I don’t think your colleagues have paid too much attention.”
“Ah, but I can make trouble,” Fred said, the vicious note that his colleagues knew and feared coming suddenly into his voice. “I can make trouble, Governor. And not only for Georgie, here—for many things. Many things.”
“I repeat, George,” Governor Jason said calmly. “Do you accept with my condition?”
“Well,” George Wattersill said hastily. “Well—I—this catches me quite unprepared, you understand, Mr. President—quite unprepared—”
“I know,” Ted agreed. “I thought a state of unpreparedness might elicit a candid answer. I can always withdraw the offer. Nothing’s firm until I send it to the Senate, after all.”
“Don’t—don’t act hastily,” George Wattersill said. “It takes a moment of thought, I submit. This is a profound question you raise here, Mr. President.”
Ted nodded.
“On a profound issue,” he agreed. “The most profound, perhaps, that I may have to resolve. At least domestically. Maybe in the foreign area, too. So don’t accept.”
“Oh, now, Mr. President,” George Wattersill cried, and for once the daring young battler for the downtrodden, the anti-establishment, the finger-in-the-face-of-society crowd, he who was the Right Thinkers’ hero and the media’s darling, sounded genuinely dismayed. “Now, Mr. President—”
“Mr. President,” Roger P. Croy said in a respectful but urgent tone, “if I may be permitted a thought, just for a moment—not that I have much to contribute, but perhaps as a relatively objective observer, so to speak—aren’t you, perhaps, forcing too much of an issue here? Aren’t you possibly being just a trifle—in the heat of the moment, only, but still—just a trifle unfair to both George and our friends of NAWAC? Is it quite fair to force them to confront one another so bitterly, when they have so recently been comrades in arms in the great cause of peace? Is it possible for him to prosecute them, Mr. President? Wherein lies their crime? Is it opposition to war, Mr. President? Then if so—what was your platform, in the great victory just won?”
There was a silence while Ted studied him thoughtfully.
“My platform,” he said at last, “was not the violent suppression of those who disagreed with me. It was not brutalizing my opposition and attempting to drive them under with threats and fear.”
“But also, Mr. President,” Roger Croy said softly, while his colleagues watched intently and far away the sea roared on, “it was not opposition to peaceable assembly, was it? It was not denial of any American’s right to dissent, was it? If we were to allow for a moment, for the sake of argument only, that there may be grounds for concern in some of the more robust activities of NAWAC—” Ted smiled wryly, but his running mate continued, quite imperturbable “—then, on what ground would you have the Attorney General proceed against them? In recent decades the courts, as you know, have handed down such broad interpretations that nowadays ‘peaceable assembly’ means almost anything except outright murder, does it not? Where in the laws as the courts now interpret them do you find the warrant for any such vendetta as you would require of our good friend George against our good friends of NAWAC?”
Again Ted studied him with great care, as though seeing him for the first time, as perhaps he was.
“You are very fluent, Governor,” he said at last. “And as far as the courts are concerned, you are right: the protections of the average citizen against the violence of the mob, providing the mob can put a thin claim of reason on its initial motivation, are virtually gone. Possibly I’m approaching it the wrong way. Possibly I should work to reestablish those protections.”
“We have a proposed law,” Senator Van Ackerman said dreamily, “which I filibustered to death in the last session of Congress, which would establish a Federal Riot Control Board to approve the use of ‘any facilities within one mile of any Federal building or installation’ for gatherings of three or more people, and would define as illegal any such gathering of three or more ‘if there is obvious intent to create civil disturbance and/or riot.’ Maybe we’re all approaching this the wrong way. Maybe that’s the way to handle your opposition from now on, not with the help of crude old NAWAC, but with the help of the law. Maybe I should change my position on that bill. Maybe all liberals should. Maybe we should get behind it and push it through in the next session.… What do you think of that, Mr. President?”
Ted shook his head, hard, as if to clear it of fogs and frights and fearful things.
“You open abysses beyond abysses,” he said quietly. “You enter areas where not I, nor any American President, should ever be prepared to go.”
“Bill Abbott was willing to enter those areas a couple of months ago,” Fred said with a vicious anger, “when it was us he wanted to get. What’s so wrong,” he asked softly, “with turning it back on him and all the rest who will be working against you when you make your moves for peace?”
“Abysses beyond abysses,” Ted repeated harshly. “I forbid you to think of it.”
“You can’t forbid anything,” Senator Van Ackerman told him with an unimpressed contempt. “You can only do what the law allows, and as Roger says, it doesn’t allow very much … unless we get a new one.… I’m not afraid of abysses,” he said, still softly. “How about you, ’Gage, and Rufus?”
LeGage shrugged.
“Law or no law,” he said, “isn’t anybody should be permitted to get in the way of peace.”
“To end these monstrous interventions in foreign wars,” Rufus Kleinfert said in his flat, unemotional voice, “nothing, in the judgment of KEEP, can be too severe.”
“That is not true,” the President-elect said in a brooding almost-whisper. “That is not true.”
“Well, Mr. President,” Roger Croy said smoothly, “it is obvious that there is something of an impasse here, and it seems to me that by far the better way to handle it is not by forcing Mr. Wattersill to initiate actions he could not win, in the courts as now constituted, against his comrades of your campaign; nor by passing extreme legislation whose dangers you yourself, Senator Van Ackerman, so brilliantly and exhaustively explained during your recent filibuster; nor by threatening, on any side, to do anything. Rather, it seems to me, it is by working out an informal agreement here, in the privacy of these old walls that mean so much to you, Mr. President, as our homes mean to us, which will bring us all back together to work in harmony for the great cause for which you and I have just been elected.
“I am sure George would, of his own volition, do his best to control unnecessary and unworthy acts of violence on the part of NAWAC or, indeed, of any American of whatever political persuasion. By the same token, I am sure our friends of NAWAC will soon perceive that there is no need for them to indulge in any such actions against anyone as they perhaps, in their less thoughtful moments, may have been contemplating. I don’t think there will be any need for a commitment to prosecution, because I don’t think there is any need for a commitment to violence.
“I would remind our friends, Mr. President—and indeed, I would remind you—that you, after a
ll, have just been elected overwhelmingly on a simple, forthright and unequivocal platform. Not five hours ago you stated it yourself with crystalline clarity: ‘To end all wars and the threat of wars is my first priority.’ Very well. We are agreed. And so is the country. That is what they expect you to do. That is what they want you to do. You are now the only man who can lead a complete and speedy reversal of past policies. It is your clear mandate to do so. Very few, if any, will dare protest too vigorously against it. So there will be no need for anyone to organize to stop that protest. The protest won’t exist—the need to stop it won’t exist. So where is the argument?”
And looking satisfied with himself, for he had stated a middle ground and in his estimation stated it very well, Roger P. Croy sat back with a firm nod of his distinguished white head and looked about him blandly.
“I do think, Mr. President,” George Wattersill ventured presently, “that Governor Croy—the Vice President-elect—is right. There really is no need to force the issue. I shall be vigilant—I am sure our friends of NAWAC will be moderate—for the very reason the Vice President-elect so succinctly states: there will simply be no cause for trouble. Isn’t that so, gentlemen?”
“Why, of course,” Fred Van Ackerman agreed with a blandness close to mockery. “Everybody’s going to be good boys.” He shifted in his chair and leaned forward. “Just remember, though: if there is trouble, we’re ready for it.”
“There will be no trouble,” Roger Croy said comfortably, “and all we need be ready for is a new era of good will and friendliness in the nation and the world as this great mandate is exercised by our President. Isn’t that so, Mr. President?”
Thoughtfully, again, Governor Jason studied them, face by face, with a curiously distant manner that made even Fred begin to feel uncomfortable. Then he appeared to come out of whatever private world he was in and spoke with what appeared an adequate firmness.
“I have your word, then,” he said. “COMFORT’s word, DEFY’s word, KEEP’s word, NAWAC’s word—that there will be no more violence, no more disruption, no more interfering with the legitimate right of others to protest, even if they should protest against the policies I intend to put into effect. I have your personal word, and your word as head of your respective organization. Is that right, Senator?”
“You have my word,” Fred Van Ackerman said solemnly.
“Mr. Shelby?”
LeGage shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Mr. Kleinfert?”
“Certainly,” Rufus Kleinfert said.
“I hope I do,” Ted told them quietly, “because if I don’t and if you betray my trust in your cooperation, I shall spare no expense and no effort on the part of the government to bring you to book and destroy your organizations. Is that clear to you?”
“Couldn’t be clearer,” Fred Van Ackerman agreed. “Can we go now?”
“When I tell you!” Ted snapped, and for a moment Fred looked at him with an expression so genuinely startled that it was ludicrous. In a second, however, it became deliberately ludicrous, and when he responded it was with the usual mocking edge.
“Well, well,” he said softly. “Yes, sir. May we go now?”
“I don’t think the President has made a decision yet on Mr. Wattersill, has he?” Roger Croy suggested smoothly. “Perhaps he would like to let us know what he—?”
“I will let Mr. Wattersill know in due course,” Ted said. Abruptly he stood up. “It is very late and we are all very tired. There’s no reason for any of you to drive back. The servants will show you to your rooms and you can leave in the morning.”
“Do you wish to see any of us then?” Roger Croy inquired. “If so, I am sure we can all arrange—”
“No, thank you. I expect to get as much sleep as I can, myself, and then leave directly for Washington and my conference with the President on Thursday. I expect I’ll be in Washington pretty much straight on through to inauguration. If any of you wishes to see me there, I believe the White House switchboard is going to take calls for me. So good night, gentlemen. Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t let that old man talk you ’round” ’Gage said with a sudden harshness. “He’s a mighty smooth one and hard to overcome.”
“Not,” Ted said with a bitterness so dry and unexpected that it stunned them momentarily, “a weakling like me, is that it? All right, ’Gage, I’ll be careful. And now I really must suggest we go along to bed. It is past one, and I for one am exhausted.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. President,” Roger Croy said, gesturing them vigorously out as Maria and Tomas appeared at the door to take them to their rooms. “A good trip to Washington, good luck with the President, and we will see you soon.”
After they had gone he turned to the silent room and studied it for a long moment: these old familiar walls, books, chairs, lamps, tables, sofas, Persian rugs, ancestral portraits, a hundred years of Montoya-Jason living. Doña Valuela hung in her usual honored place beside the fireplace, Ceil in hers on the other side. Two months from now they would be in the great hall of the White House, the first two portraits the visitor would see as he entered from the North Portico. The honor would have pleased Doña Valuela’s independent and indomitable spirit, though Ceil might have been more modest and content with a lesser place.
He sighed, a lonely and vulnerable little sound. Grandmother and wife: would it be comfort or judgment they would give him now, could they only be here?… For he knew he had not succeeded in doing what he had intended to do, and the knowledge brought a deep foreboding.
He walked again to the open window, stood listening again for a moment to the somber sea before he closed the panes against the now sharply chilly night. Unchanging and unchangeable, the Pacific advanced … withdrew … advanced … withdrew … advanced again, in the eternal, inexorable attack that always takes from the shore and adds to the sea—but does not always, or of necessity, take from the sea and add to the shore.
PRESIDENT NAMES JASON “INFORMAL CO-PRESIDENT” DURING TRANSITION PERIOD. GOVERNOR TO OCCUPY ADJOINING WHITE HOUSE OFFICE IN EXTRAORDINARY GESTURE OF AMITY BY OUTGOING PRESIDENT. TWO EXECUTIVES PLEDGE COOPERATION IN “GRADUAL RESTRUCTURING” OF U.S. POLICIES DURING TRANSITION AND NEW ADMINISTRATION. JASON ANNOUNCES FIRST CABINET APPOINTMENT: WATTERSILL TO BE ATTORNEY GENERAL. CONGRESSIONAL DISCONTENT INDICATES PRESIDENT ABBOTT MAY FACE STRONG OPPOSITION TO HOPE OF REGAINING SPEAKERSHIP. NAWAC PLEDGES “VIGILANT AND CONTINUING SUPPORT” OF JASON PEACE PLANS. SENATOR VAN ACKERMAN WARNS OF “POSSIBLE VIOLENT RIGHT-WING REACTIONS WHEN PRESIDENT JASON REALLY TRIES TO MAKE PEACE.” SUGGESTS LIBERALS “RESTUDY” RIOT CONTROL BILL “IN LIGHT OF DEVELOPMENTS THAT MAY UNFOLD.”
“We are pleased,” The Greatest Publication announced next morning to all those, and they were many, whom years of faithful reading had conditioned to be pleased when the G.P. was pleased, “with President-elect Jason’s nomination of the distinguished attorney George Harrison Wattersill to be Attorney General of the United States. If this first appointment is indicative of the stature of those to follow, the Jason Cabinet will be scintillating indeed.
“The career of George Harrison Wattersill, only thirty-seven years old as he moves to the top judicial administrative post in the nation, is one that will stand in the annals of these times as a perfect example of enlightened public service in the legal profession. From his first appearance on the national scene—his brilliantly successful defense of the so-called ‘Statue of Liberty Bombers’ eleven years ago—his life has been dedicated to the protection of democratic freedoms and all those who challenge the sometimes frightening ways in which the American democracy has twisted and perverted them.
“When he succeeded in destroying the government’s case against the ‘Statue Bombers’ (their ‘crime’ not really a crime at all in the sense most understand the term, but only the destruction of the torch in the statue’s hand as a means of protesting what they believed to be inequities in the American system), he was projected immediately into th
e national spotlight as the youngest, most dynamic and most effective legal defender of the loyal dissident in the country and perhaps in the world.
“He has never looked back. Having set foot on that courageous and sometimes lonely path, he has trod it with a fervor and dedication which have made his name a byword wherever true friends of freedom congregate. Many an alleged draft-card burner, bomber, rioter, radical and ‘pornographer’ walks the streets a free man today because of the brilliant defense provided him by George Harrison Wattersill. Many a threatened miscarriage of American ‘justice’ has been thwarted by his shrewd mind, dedicated perseverance and sure-footed mastery of his profession. He is in the great tradition of those sons of democracy who believe that the cure to its ills is more liberty to do more things, not less liberty to do fewer things. He has helped to open American doors and free the American spirit. We think he will continue to do so. We think he will be like a breath of fresh air as he presides over the administration of those laws that remain on the books. We are sure he will continue to seek their steady relaxation to permit more and more citizens to have more and more liberty to do more and more things.
“Having said that we are pleased with Mr. Wattersill, we must, in all honesty, now inject a couple of less jovial notes into these thoughts on the opening days of what will soon be the Jason Administration. Two things concern us, and quite deeply.
“The first is the surprising, disturbing and indeed, in our estimation, quite ominous statement by Wyoming’s Senator Fred Van Ackerman that he thinks liberals should ‘restudy’ the anti-riot bill which he himself filibustered to death in the last Congress scarcely two months ago.
“And the second is the continuing failure of President-elect Jason, now that the election is safely won, to repudiate and seek a permanent disbanding of the hodgepodge National Anti-War Activities Congress whose violence and intolerance brought so many untoward incidents across the country during the recent campaign.