King Cole (23 page)

“I like Mary for a name,” said Johnny. “I like my name, too. It’s simple. But I like it.”

“Oh, I think Johnny’s a swell name.”

The phone rang. It was Harold.

“Taxi at the north entrance, Governor.”

“Thanks.” Read turned. “Your taxi’s outside, Miss Reese. North entrance. I’ll go to the door with you.”

Johnny got quickly to his feet, but Read motioned for him to sit down.

“I… I really ought to take her,” said Johnny.

“You sit down. I want to see you.”

Kitten smiled.

“Well, goodbye, Johnny. Thanks for everything.”

“That’s all right. Do you live close in?”

“She’s going to move,” said Read, taking Kitten by the arm. “Come on, Miss Reese.”

They crossed the rotunda silently. Kitten was pouting. When they got past the sentry on the north porch, she said:

“You don’t seem a bit glad to see me, Governor. I thought you’d be worried to death. I telephoned you and they wouldn’t let me talk to you. I even sent you a telegram. Did you get it?”

“No.”

“Well, gee, you sure are hard to see.”

“It’s the election.”

“Yeah. Oh, aren’t you going any farther? I thought you’d take me out where it’s dark and then I could kiss you. How am I ever going to wait till Monday?”

“It’ll roll around. Kitten, you seem to like Johnny.”

“Oh, he’s a wonderful boy.”

“Don’t like him too well.”

“Why, Governor, I don’t know what you mean. Naturally, when he was so nice to me I had to sort of show my appreciation. Why, he’s just an infant.” She laughed and squeezed Read’s arm. “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be silly, Kitten. But pay attention to what I say. No tricks where Johnny is concerned. He may be looking you up if he gets a chance. You know what to do.”

Kitten hesitated.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“I’m going to ship him East to school as soon as I can.”

There was a pause. Finally Kitten said with a sigh:

“All the same he’s mighty nice. Such a gentleman.”

“Goodbye, Kitten. Call me Monday morning at ten o’clock.”

“Don’t worry. Governor, could I call you at the Mansion and wake you, like we said?”

“No, Kitten.”

“Well, goodbye, then. See you Monday. Thanks for being so nice to me. Don’t worry. I’ll be a good girl.”

When Read got back to his office, Johnny was at the window peering out, trying to see Kitten get into the taxi.

“Well, Galahad,” said Read.

Johnny came over and sat down.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dad,” said Johnny with a great effort, his face red and sullen.

“What do you mean?”

“I know. I know.”

“Try and keep your mind above your belt. You don’t know anything.”

“They wouldn’t kidnap her just because you talked to her. I’ve heard things like that before. Another one of our governors had the same thing happen to him, and you know who I mean. Only they put this girl on a train for New York.”

“You know too much for your age. And by the way, what are you doing here? Where’s your uniform?”

Johnny lowered his eyes and stared at the floor.

“I got worried.”

Read cleared his throat loudly and turned away; he was touched. Unable to speak for a moment, he stood looking down at the election extras on his desk. The
Examiner
had an enormous headline which took up nearly half of the front page:
Cole Wins!
The
Independent
couldn’t resist a final dig: 
State in Turmoil as Cole Wins.

“So you got worried.”

“I couldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t let me go. They’ve been pretty snotty since you were there. They know you’re going to take me away. So finally poor old Simp lent me some money and I rented a car. I skidded on a wet road near Harmony and turned the car over. That’s what made me late. I busted a couple of tires.”

Read came over to Johnny and they silently shook hands.

‘‘How’s Uncle Gregg?”

“Holding his own, I guess.”

“God, it was awful. I kept seeing poor Gregg. I like him best next to you, Dad.”

“You better go home, Johnny. Get some sleep. I really ought to stop around at Headquarters.”

“You’re not sore at me, are you? I thought you might be, me running off like that.”

Johnny got up.

“No; only you didn’t use your head. What could you do? But it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry I said anything about that girl. If you say it’s all right, it’s all right. But she was such a nice-looking girl and she was getting shoved around so and her clothes looked so awful and, well, I can’t stand anything like that!”

“I’m glad you can’t. Goodnight, Johnny. See you at breakfast.”

When Johnny had gone, Read lit a cigar and, sitting on the edge of his desk, he meditated. Johnny was all right; any man could be proud to have him for a son. Read snapped his fingers. “Good heavens! I forgot to tell him that Jean got married.” Read ran across the room and opened the door. Johnny had disappeared. But there was a tall, familiar figure in the outer office, and Read started with surprise. Asa Fielding, gaunt and old, was arguing with Harold.

“Well, Governor,” cried the old man, turning. “Just wanted to pay my respects.”

“Come in,” said Read.

Fielding was looking seedy as usual, as if he hadn’t a cent. His loose-fitting clothes were baggy and wrinkled; his old slouch hat was sweat-stained and battered; and there was a reddish-gray stubble on his face. He looked worn-out. He had been drinking and Read noticed the reek of alcohol.

They shook hands, then they sat down.

“Well,” said Fielding, “you beat me. I didn’t think you could do it. But you did. You’re just too smart, Read Cole. Too smart for your own good, even.”

“Elections are funny things. You never know how they’re coming out till the last ballots are counted.”

Fielding snorted.

“Very nice. Very nice. You think I don’t know what beat me? It was the Armory speech. Don’t kid me, Governor. You wanted the farmers and you got them. It was the smartest political play I’ve seen in many a year. You’re a real member of the Ohio Gang now. You know what’s what. I used to have hopes for you, Governor. But you sure shot ’em, this election.”

“I felt I had to beat you, Fielding. So I did my best.”

“Your best was good enough. Read Cole, the liberal. I might have known how you’d turn out. Liberalism is merely one face of capitalism, and its weakest. After liberalism comes Fascism; we’ve almost got it already. I’ve got to hand it to you on the martial law business. That was wise. We were all afraid you’d try that, too. We knew that you’d have Putnam and all the rest of the saber-rattlers trying to get you to put the State under martial law. Thanks for holding out, Governor. It took guts, especially after that lunatic tried to assassinate you.”

“I’m going to give everybody the best deal I can.”

“I don’t doubt your word. Your word has always been good. Your intentions are good. But it’s not enough. Governor, I’m an old man. I’ve shot my bolt. So I can have my say. We’re living in a changing world, Governor, and no man knows what the future will bring. But I’ll tell you this: the old system is dead as mutton. I realized that twenty years ago. Dog eat dog won’t go anymore. It’s a brutal, senseless, wasteful system. We’ve got to have something else.”

“I’ve heard all this before.”

“You’ll hear it again, many, many times. Read Cole, when you made that mock Red-baiting speech, you were playing, deliberately playing, with forces you can neither understand nor control. No matter what you think, no matter what your intentions were, you showed yourself to be just another slick and irresponsible politician, taking advantage of an extremely serious crisis in order to get votes. You weren’t even sincere in your denunciation of the radicals. I know you, Governor. You can’t fool me. You’re an intelligent man. They don’t fool you with that long-haired. Bolshevik stuff. You wanted to scare the farmers, and you did.”

“I wanted to win and I did.”

“Yes,” said Fielding, “you did.”

There was a long silence and Fielding sat staring sadly at the floor.

“Don’t you worry,” said Read. “I’ll do my best for everybody.”

“I think you will, according to your lights. But, Governor, don’t you realize that the procession is going past you? You’re an anachronism now. You belong in the Coolidge era; a practical politician of the big boom. You believe in the divine right of the status quo. You believe in helping the workingman so that he’ll be happy and won’t get all excited and bust things wide open. You believe that men like Major Bradley are entitled to all the money they can get, no matter how they get it. Fundamentally, you believe in dog eat dog. It won’t do. All that’s over, even if you can’t see it. You’ll end up as a Fascist and an obstructionist. You’ll fight for men like Yardley Meadows and Major Bradley and betray your own people. I’m sorry they elected you, Governor. You’re a smart and able man, but you’re on the wrong side.”

Fielding sighed loudly, then he got up slowly, groaning a little.

‘‘My rheumatism. Well, I must go.”

Read got up and offered his hand.

“Thanks for coming in.”

Fielding smiled grimly as he shook Read’s hand.

“I know you think I’m just a goddamned old fool and are very kindly tolerating me. Someday you’ll know better.”

“You’d naturally be a little upset.”

“Yes,” said Fielding, looking down his nose, “that’s it. I’m just upset.” He laughed and stared at Read for a long time. “You have no idea… Well, well; I’ll be going. Congratulations on your victory, Governor. I wish you luck.”

They stood smiling at each other. There was a knock at the door, then Harold came in hurriedly, looking distracted.

“Excuse me, Governor, but…”

“Yes?”

“The hospital just called…”

“Well? Well?”

“I’m sorry, Governor. Mr. Upham just died.”

Read staggered back, grew very pale, then sat down heavily. No! No! It couldn’t be. He recoiled violently from the thought.

“My God, I’m sorry,” said Fielding, looking at Read with some concern.

Read neither looked up nor spoke, so the old man patted him on the shoulder, then turned and went out silently.

“Is there anything… I…” stammered Harold.

Read shook his head and Harold went out.

After a while Read got up and went to the window. Dawn was showing palely over the big buildings of the downtown district. The pavements were still wet and looked silvery in the wan morning light. Windows glimmered coldly above the deserted streets. Read shivered; then he put on his overcoat and hat and went out.

Harold and Barney followed him across the shadowy rotunda which was as yet untouched by the first light of morning. The guardsmen looked sleepy and ill-tempered, but they saluted smartly, then stared after the Governor, who was now crossing the north porch which was filled with cold blue shadows cast by the enormous old Doric columns.

These columns had taken the light of many dawns. They were rough and dirty and weathered. They were standing when Lee surrendered at Appomattox and the Ohio crowds were cheering for General Grant and Old Abe; and they would still be standing when His Honor, James Read Cole, Governor of this Sovereign State, freed of all his lusts and miseries and dreams, was dust.

THE END

ABOUT W.R. BURNETT

It has been written that if William Riley Burnett's major novels are judged solely for their influence, he was one of the most important writers of his time. His first novel,
Little Caesar
(1929), about the rise and fall of Rico Caesare Bandello of Chicago's Little Italy, was the prototypical gangster saga. It inspired numerous other writers and Hollywood filmmakers, created a new subgenre, and helped make film legends of Edward G. Robinson, James Cagney, and Humphrey Bogart. Public Enemy (1931), They Live by Night (1948), White Heat (1949), The Godfather (1972)--all are direct descendants of
Little Caesar
.

In addition, Burnett's 1941 classic,
High Sierra
, added poignant elements of humanity and high tragedy to the gangster story. Similarly,
The Asphalt Jungle
(1949) and its 1950 film version (Asphalt Jungle) also established a subgenre, that of the “big caper novel,” which flourished in the 1950s and 1960s and which still has its proponents and practitioners.

Burnett's novels may fall short of art when judged solely on their literary merits. But as critic George Grella says of Burnett and his work: “He may be the single most successful writer on the notion of the criminal as the emblem of an era. He provides some of the most dynamic and apposite metaphors for the life of America in the twentieth century.”

All the first-rank novels by Burnett were written before 1950. In addition to those cited above, others of note include
Dark Hazard
(1933),
Nobody Lives Forever
(1943), and two historicals:
Saint Johnson
(1930), the first substantive novel about Wyatt Earp and the gunfight at the O.K. Corral (as well as the basis for the 1932 film Beast of the City), and
The Dark Command
(1938). Such post-1950 novels as
Vanity Row
(1952),
Round the Clock at Volari's
(1961), and
Good-bye Chicago
(1981), his last published fiction, are competent but undistinguished. Between 1931 and 1963, Burnett wrote numerous screenplays not only for “A” films such as High Sierra (1941) with John Huston, and This Gun for Hire (1941), with Albert Maltz, but also for lesser “B” movies.