Produced by Greg Weeks, Dave Lovelace, Stephen Blundell
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[Illustration]
HAIL
TO THE
CHIEF
+-----------------------------+
| |
| BY SAM AND |
| JANET ARGO |
| |
| A great politician need not |
| be a statesman ... but it |
| is inherently futile to be |
| a great statesman, and no |
| politician. Except, of |
| course, for a miracle ... |
| |
+-----------------------------+
The tumult in Convention Hall was a hurricane of sound that lashed at a
sea of human beings that surged and eddied around the broad floor. Men
and women, delegates and spectators, aged party wheelhorses and
youngsters who would vote for the first time that November, all lost
their identities to merge with that swirling tide. Over their heads,
like agitated bits of flotsam, pennants fluttered and placards rose and
dipped. Beneath their feet, discarded metal buttons that bore the names
of two or three "favorite sons" and those that had touted the only
serious contender against the party's new candidate were trodden flat.
None of them had ever really had a chance.
The buttons that were now pinned on every lapel said: "Blast 'em With
Cannon!" or "Cannon Can Do!" The placards and the box-shaped signs, with
a trifle more dignity, said: WIN WITH CANNON and CANNON FOR PRESIDENT
and simply JAMES H. CANNON.
Occasionally, in the roar of noise, there were shouts of "Cannon!
Cannon! Rah! Rah! Rah! Cannon! Cannon! Sis-boom-bah!" and snatches of
old popular tunes hurriedly set with new words:
_On with Cannon, on with Cannon!
White House, here we come!
He's a winner, no beginner;
He can get things done!
(Rah! Rah! Rah!)_
And, over in one corner, a group of college girls were enthusiastically
chanting:
_He is handsome! He is sexy!
We want J. H. C. for Prexy!_
It was a demonstration that lasted nearly three times as long as the
eighty-five-minute demonstration that had occurred when Representative
Matson had first proposed his name for the party's nomination.
* * * * *
Spatially, Senator James Harrington Cannon was four blocks away from
Convention Hall, in a suite at the Statler-Hilton, but electronically,
he was no farther away than the television camera that watched the
cheering multitude from above the floor of the hall.
The hotel room was tastefully and expensively decorated, but neither the
senator nor any of the other men in the room were looking at anything
else except the big thirty-six-inch screen that glowed and danced with
color. The network announcer's words were almost inaudible, since the
volume had been turned way down, but his voice sounded almost as excited
as those from the convention floor.
Senator Cannon's broad, handsome face showed a smile that indicated
pleasure, happiness, and a touch of triumph. His dark, slightly wavy
hair, with the broad swathes of silver at the temples, was a little
disarrayed, and there was a splash of cigarette ash on one trouser leg,
but otherwise, even sitting there in his shirt sleeves, he looked
well-dressed. His wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and lean
hips, and he looked a good ten years younger than his actual fifty-two.
He lit another cigarette, but a careful scrutiny of his face would have
revealed that, though his eyes were on the screen, his thoughts were not
in Convention Hall.
Representative Matson, looking like an amazed bulldog, managed to chew
and puff on his cigar simultaneously and still speak understandable
English. "Never saw anything like it. Never. First ballot and you had
it, Jim. I know Texas was going to put up Perez as a favorite son on the
first ballot, but they couldn't do anything except jump on the bandwagon
by the time the vote reached them. Unanimous on the first ballot."
Governor Spanding, a lantern-jawed, lean man sitting on the other side
of Senator Cannon, gave a short chuckle and said, "Came close not t'
being unanimous. The delegate from Alabama looked as though he was going
to stick to his 'One vote for Byron Beauregarde Cadwallader' until
Cadwallader himself went over to make him change his vote before the
first ballot was complete."
The door opened, and a man came in from the other room. He bounced in on
the balls of his feet, clapped his hands together, and dry-washed them
briskly. "We're in!" he said, with businesslike glee. "Image, gentlemen!
That's what does it: Image!" He was a tall, rather bony-faced man in his
early forties, and his manner was that of the self-satisfied businessman
who is quite certain that he knows all of the answers and all of the
questions. "Create an image that the public goes for, and you're in!"
Senator Cannon turned his head around and grinned. "Thanks, Horvin, but
let's remember that we still have an election to win."
"We'll win it," Horvin said confidently. "A properly projected image
attracts the public--"
"Oh, crud," said Representative Matson in a growly voice. "The
opposition has just as good a staff of PR men as we do. If we beat 'em,
it'll be because we've got a better man, not because we've got better
public relations."
"Of course," said Horvin, unabashed. "We can project a better image
because we've got better material to work with. We--"
"Jim managed to get elected to the Senate without any of your help, and
he went in with an avalanche. If there's any 'image projecting' done
around here, Jim is the one who does it."
Horvin nodded his head as though he were in complete agreement with
Matson. "Exactly. His natural ability plus the scientific application of
mass psychology make an unbeatable team."
Matson started to say something, but Senator Cannon cut in first. "He's
right, Ed. We've got to use every weapon we have to win this election.
Another four years of the present policies, and the Sino-Russian Bloc
will be able to start unilateral disarmament. They won't have to start a
war to bury us."
Horvin looked nervous. "Uh ... Senator--"
Cannon made a motion in the air. "I know, I know. Our policy during the
campaign will be to run down the opposition, not the United States. We
are still in a strong position, but _if this goes on_--Don't worry,
Horvin; the whole thing will be handled properly."
Before any of them could say anything, Senator Cannon turned to
Representative Matson and said: "Ed, will you get Matthew Fisher on the
phone? And the Governor of Pennsylvania and ... let's see ... Senator
Hidekai and Joe Vitelli."
"I didn't even know Fisher was here," Matson said. "What do you want him
for?"
"I just want to talk to him, Ed. Get him up here, with the others, will
you?"
"Sure, Jim; sure." He got up and walked over to the phone.
Horvin, the PR man, said: "Well, Senator, now that you're the party's
candidate for the Presidency of the United States, who are you going to
pick for your running mate? Vollinger was the only one who came even
close to giving you a run for your money, and it would be good public
relations if you chose him. He's got the kind of personality that would
make a good image."
"Horvin," the senator said kindly, "I'll pick the men; you build the
image from the raw material I give you. You're the only man I know who
can convince the public that a sow's ear is really a silk purse, and you
may have to do just that.
"You can start right now. Go down and get hold of the news boys and
tell them that the announcement of my running mate will be made as soon
as this demonstration is over.
"Tell them you can't give them any information other than that, but give
them the impression that you already know. Since you _don't_ know, don't
try to guess; that way you won't let any cats out of the wrong bags. But
you _do_ know that he's a fine man, and you're pleased as all hell that
I made such a good choice. Got that?"
Horvin grinned. "Got it. You pick the man; I'll build the image." He
went out the door.
* * * * *
When the door had closed, Governor Spanding said: "So it's going to be
Fisher, is it?"
"You know too much, Harry," said Senator Cannon, grinning. "Remind me to
appoint you ambassador to Patagonia after Inauguration Day."
"If I lose the election at home, I may take you up on it. But why
Matthew Fisher?"
"He's a good man, Harry."
"Hell yes, he is," the governor said. "Tops. I've seen his record as
State Attorney General and as Lieutenant Governor. And when Governor
Dinsmore died three years ago, Fisher did a fine job filling out his
last year. But--"
"But he couldn't get re-elected two years ago," Senator Cannon said. "He
couldn't keep the governor's office, in spite of the great job he'd
done."
"That's right. He's just not a politician, Jim. He doesn't have the ...
the personality, the flash, whatever it is that it takes to get a man
elected by the people. I've got it; you sure as hell have it; Fisher
doesn't."
"That's why I've got Horvin working for us," said Senator Cannon.
"Whether I need him or not may be a point of argument. Whether Matthew
Fisher needs him or not is a rhetorical question."
Governor Spanding lit a cigarette in silence while he stared at the
quasi-riot that was still coming to the screen from Convention Hall.
Then he said: "You've been thinking of Matt Fisher all along, then."
"Not Patagonia," said the senator. "Tibet."
"I'll shut up if you want me to, Jim."
"No. Go ahead."
"All right. Jim, I trust your judgment. I've got no designs on the Vice
Presidency myself, and you know it. I like to feel that, if I had, you'd
give me a crack at it. No, don't answer that, Jim; just let me talk.
"What I'm trying to say is that there are a lot of good men in the party
who'd make fine VP's; men who've given their all to get you the
nomination, and who'll work even harder to see that you're elected. Why
pass them up in favor of a virtual unknown like Matt Fisher?"
Senator Cannon didn't say anything. He knew that Spanding didn't want an
answer yet.
"The trouble with Fisher," Spanding went on, "is that he ... well, he's
too autocratic. He pulls decisions out of midair. He--" Spanding paused,
apparently searching for a way to express himself. Senator Cannon said
nothing; he waited expectantly.
"Take a look at the Bossard Decision," Spanding said. "Fisher was
Attorney General for his state at the time.
"Bossard was the Mayor of Waynesville--twelve thousand and something
population, I forget now. Fisher didn't even know Bossard. But when the
big graft scandal came up there in Waynesville, Fisher wouldn't
prosecute. He didn't actually refuse, but he hemmed and hawed around for
five months before he really started the State's machinery to moving. By
that time, Bossard had managed to get enough influence behind him so
that he could beat the rap.
"When the case came to trial in the State Supreme Court, Matt Fisher
told the Court that it was apparent that Mayor Bossard was the victim of
the local district attorney and the chief of police of Waynesville. In
spite of the evidence against him, Bossard was acquitted." Spanding took
a breath to say something more, but Senator James Cannon interrupted
him.
"Not 'acquitted', Harry. 'Exonerated'. Bossard never even should have
come to trial," the senator said. "He was a popular, buddy-buddy sort of
guy who managed to get himself involved as an unwitting figurehead.
Bossard simply wasn't--and isn't--very bright. But he was a friendly,
outgoing, warm sort of man who was able to get elected through the
auspices of the local city machine. Remember Jimmy Walker?"