King Cole (12 page)

“Yes, yes,” cried a man in the back of the hall.

Read went on, speaking firmly, slowly but heatedly. The Steelton politicians were not nodding in agreement now; they were as horrified as the professionals, who had begun to look nervously for a way out. From time to time Senator Greeley mopped his forehead with a big white silk handkerchief.

There was a steady uproar in the Armory now. Men from the steel plant stood up and shook their fists at Read Cole, their former champion. Suddenly Colonel Putnam got up and went out.

Read was getting ready to conclude.

“Just a minute! Just a minute!” he cried above the uproar. “There are only a few days left till election day. We all want a fair election. We want the people’s choice in office. That’s what Democracy means. Well, you’re going to get a fair election. If the strikes aren’t settled by Monday midnight; if there are the slightest signs of rioting and disorder; if the radicals hold disorderly mass meetings; if, in short, things are not as they should be, I, as Governor of the Sovereign State of Ohio, am going to declare a public emergency. I’m going to declare State-wide martial law. There’ll be troops at the polls, friends.” Read rose on his tiptoes and shouted above the uproar: “I want all radicals to hear me: We don’t want you here… get out… this is a solemn warning, Enemies of the State…”

He was completely drowned out. Fights started all over the Armory. There was the tearing crash of breaking furniture. The politicians dashed for the nearest exit. Read was instantly surrounded by plainclothes men. Below, the huge place was a mass of screaming, tangled humanity. Suddenly, there was a bugle call, loud and shrill. The big doors at the back burst open and a platoon of Militia marched in, headed by Colonel Putnam.

The uproar subsided almost immediately. There was the dead silence of fear over the Armory, then people began quietly to file out.

All the newspapermen had disappeared, running for the nearest telephone. Spencer of the
Independent
had fallen down the stone steps, breaking his arm, and had been trampled. Women had fainted all over the hall. Outside, sirens were going.

Senator Greeley got shakily to his feet, still mopping his brow. He looked at Read for a long time, then said:

“New times, new methods.”

Gregg went home with Read that night and they sat in the library talking and smoking.

“I was ashamed of myself all the time it was going on,” said Read. “I almost didn’t do it.”

“It’s done now.”

“Yes, it’s done.”

It was a bright, cold morning. read was sitting
in the big sunny library in a dressing gown, reading the local papers. Outside, the bare trees on the bare lawn surrounding the Mansion snapped with frost. Inside, it was warm and comfortable and a wood fire was leaping in the fireplace. From time to time, Read smiled. The story of the Steelton Armory speech and riot was so big that it had crowded Ohio’s 10-to-0 surprise victory over Wisconsin off the front pages. There were pictures of Read and Colonel Putnam and Old Eagle Beak. Column after column was filled with accounts of Read’s life and his record as Governor, and the whole editorial section of the
Examiner,
thanks to Gregg, was devoted to him. He was hailed as a savior; as a strong man indispensable owing to the present economic crisis. The
Independent,
however, sang a different tune.

To the
Independent
he was a turncoat, an impudent opportunist, a would-be dictator. In the account of the riot, the
Independent
said in part:

… this was worthy of a Central American General. Strong evidence points to the fact that the “Riot” was prearranged. The Governor had his own claque in the auditorium; a claque with reverse English. Governor Cole deliberately incited the innocent members of the audience to violence by making a red-baiting speech worthy of Hitler or Mussolini. Then his own claque got to work and there was a prolonged disturbance … several witnesses claim that Colonel Putnam left the stage BEFORE there was the slightest indication of violence or even disagreement … but at the psychological moment, there is a bugle call, very martial, then the doors burst open and in comes Colonel Putnam with a platoon of State Militia … if it weren’t so serious, if it weren’t such a portent of things to come, it would be ridiculous … Why the bugle call? Pure showmanship on the part of Governor Cole, or his manager, Mr. Edward Sullavan … Colonel Putnam defends himself by saying that the platoon of Militia was acting as honorary bodyguard to the Governor … since when do our Governors have to go around followed by a flying column of soldiers armed to the teeth? … There were many casualties. Martin Becker, well-known printer and South-Side politician, died of a heart attack while the riot was at its height … twenty-two people, men, women and children, were treated for a variety of injuries, including cuts, bruises, broken or dislocated limbs … Alonzo Spencer of the 
Independent
suffered a broken arm and internal injuries due to falling and being trampled and is in serious condition … Mr. Theodore Austeen, of N.P.’s New York office, is carrying his arm in a sling; he fell during the scuffling and his right hand was stepped on, breaking two fingers … No, Governor Cole, this won’t do … this is not South America, or Chicago, or Russia; this is Ohio; and while we take our elections seriously, we don’t resort to bloodshed…

Read shrugged and picked up the
Examiner.
In it he was extolled for his bravery and presence of mind. According to the
Examiner,
he and Colonel Putnam were the heroes of the hour and deserved a place in Ohio’s Hall of Fame.

… this is all the result of irresponsible radicalism. The ordinarily sensible and docile public has been inflamed by the incendiary utterances of Asa Fielding till there is no holding it … the Governor threatened Fielding with arrest as an enemy of the State … we hope this threat is carried out … Women and children were trampled underfoot by a mob of drunken, brawling, irresponsible loafers and troublemakers; the very sort now howling so loudly for Asa Fielding … an honorary bodyguard, headed by calm and courageous Colonel Putnam, was actually called upon to quell the disturbance which was getting seriously out of hand; so seriously out of hand that Governor Cole’s life was actually in danger and friendly members of the audience jumped from their seats and threw a protective cordon around him … We can all imagine Asa Fielding’s delight … people of Ohio, you in the farming districts, you of the conservative and 100% American Agrarian party, you workers, who have benefited by the progressive legislation Read Cole has fathered during the last five years, is Asa Fielding your idea of a man fitted to be the Chief Executive? …

Read dropped the paper to the floor and sat meditating. His plan had worked. He had thrown a scare into the ordinary voter. He had a chance to be elected now; a very good chance. Ohioans in general were a conservative lot; a radical to them meant a long-haired foreigner. But they had gradually come to accept Asa Fielding in spite of his radical utterances. Fielding’s family had been in Midland City for four generations. Old Eagle Beak himself was a familiar figure, striding along, seedy and eccentric, through the city streets. For years he had been a well-known lawyer and politician. He was a landmark and not considered dangerous. Now things would be different. Read had tarred him with the true radical stick. The farmers would hem and haw and spit, but they’d probably go to the polls now and vote the straight Republican ticket as their fathers and their grandfathers had done before them.

Boyle came in and stood waiting for the Governor to look up.

“Yes?”

“Phone call for you, Governor. Massey Hotel. It was the operator. I couldn’t make out who was calling. Will you take it?”

“I’ll take it in the den. Jean go out?”

“Yes sir. Miss Jean went to church. Said she was going horseback riding if it warmed up.”

Read went into the den and took up the receiver. “Yes?”

“Governor Cole?” said a muffled woman’s voice.

“Speaking.”

There was a pause.

“It’s me.”

“Kitten?”

“Yes. I went past twice this morning very early. Gee, it was cold.”

“You mustn’t do that, honey.”

“Oh; you called me ‘honey.’ Do you mean it?” Read hesitated. His heart was beating unevenly.

“Why don’t you say something? Don’t hang up, please. I want to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Could I see you tonight?”

“Well, I…”

“Late, I mean. I’ll work till after one. Could you meet me?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Oh, gee! Park the car just around the corner on Front and I’ll come arunning. That way nobody will see you. Will you really do it?”

“I’ll be there at ten after one. Is that all right?”

“That’s perfect. Please be there, won’t you? I’d be so disappointed I couldn’t stand it if… Gee, I got to go. If I get caught using this phone I’ll get fired. Goodbye, Governor. You wouldn’t kid me, would you?”

“I’ll be there.”

Read walked out into the hallway, feeling guilty. He heard voices. Boyle came in from the library.

“Mr. Upham and Mr. Austeen in the library, Governor.”

Read nodded, then stopped for a moment to compose himself. Austeen? What was Austeen doing with Gregg? Read went into the library, trying to smile cordially.

Austeen and Gregg were standing by the fire. Austeen had his right arm in a sling. He smiled.

“Morning, Governor. Mind my crashing in? I wanted a last-minute interview. Somebody told me to see Gregg Upham. Here I am.”

“Hello, Austeen. Hello, Gregg. Sit down, won’t you?” Read was very much annoyed, but showed no signs of it. They all sat.

“Excuse me, Governor,” said Austeen, “if I seem to rush you, but I’ve got a plane to catch. Any statement you’d like to make?”

“I don’t know of any.”

Gregg cleared his throat.

“Austeen means in regard to the violence. We’ve been getting telegraphic reports from all over the State since six o’clock. Things are pretty bad.”

“So I heard from Charley Parrott. Colonel Putnam is already taking steps.”

“Good,” said Austeen, seriously. “I’ll print that. Did you know, Governor, that I.W.A. headquarters in Toledo had been wrecked by a mob of Vigilantes and a couple of radicals seriously hurt?”

“I hadn’t got that report yet. It’s up to the Colonel now. That’s his province.”

“Sounds like martial law.”

“It may come to that. I hope not.”

“Did you know that a radical organizer had been killed by the farmers in South County? Did you know that a couple of deputy sheriffs in Springvalley saved three radicals from being lynched?”

“I heard so.”

“Any particular statement?”

“Well, I’d like to predict my re-election. Martial law may be declared during the election, but I doubt it. Things will be absolutely normal after Tuesday.”

“Thanks. Governor, did it ever occur to you that there might be an attempt to assassinate you?”

“A man in public office always takes that chance.”

“Are you taking any unusual precautions?”

“I may before the election is over.”

Austeen got up.

“Thank you, Governor. I’m taking a plane in a little while. Will you shake hands with me?”

Read laughed.

“Certainly. Office call you back?”

“No. My work’s done. Anyway, I want to get out before the pogroms start.”

“It isn’t as bad as that.”

“Who knows? Well, Governor; remember me when you get to the White House. I’ll be camping on your doorstep telling the other boys I predicted it.”

“I’ll remember. Austeen, you irritated me somewhat, I’ll admit, but no hard feelings now.”

“Same here. Goodbye.”

When he had gone, Gregg said:

“Well, Frankenstein, how do you like your monster?”

“What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect murder exactly.”

Read winced.

“These things happen.”

There was a long pause, then Gregg said: “Anyway, you’ve got the right stuff in you. Lots of men would be hunting cover in your place. Doesn’t it bother you to shoulder the responsibility for all this violence?”

“Why should it? Things would be much worse if I sat back and let Eagle Beak beat me.”

“The long view. The end justifies the means. Well, in the long run you’re probably right. But I couldn’t stand it.”

They sat silent, looking at the fire. After a while Jean came in from the hall followed by Watwood Jones, a small, dapper, painfully polite young man.

“Hi, Daddy. According to the papers they did everything but shoot you last night but you don’t look very worried. Really you must be careful.”

“How do you do, Governor. How do you do, Mr. Upham,” said young Jones, painfully correct.

“Where’s Fred?” asked Read.

“He drove to Cleveland or some place,” said Jean, indifferently. “I never want to see him again after the way he acted at the football game.”

“What!”

“Ask Wat.”

Read turned to look at young Jones, who was blushing.

“He… I think he had a drink too many,” said Watwood, shifting about and avoiding Read’s eyes. ”He objected to Jean talking to me and pretty soon he hit me.”

“It was between halves, just when those hoodlums were hissing you, Daddy,” Jean interposed.

“Yes,” said Watwood, “he got very very angry and then he hit me. I had my glasses on, too, and they fell and broke on the cement.”

“I almost have to lead him around,” said Jean, with a laugh.

“You see, I’m so nearsighted.”

Read grimaced at Gregg and when young Jones and Jean had gone he said:

“Young love! All they do is fight and make up, fight and make up.”

Gregg sighed.

“I’m away past that. But it used to be such fun. I haven’t even got energy enough to start a fight now.” Read said nothing. He sat staring into the fire, thinking about Kitten.

Read was sitting in the President’s office, looking out the window at the gray and brown autumn landscape spread out before him. The Academy was built on a hill and dominated the little town of Benton which lay far below, half hidden by smoke-gray autumn mist. The landscape, the little sleepy town, looked melancholy in the dim afternoon light. Read drummed on the chair-arm, listening to Colonel Brower, a big, pompous, deadly serious man of sixty.