“What’s wrong with your own home?”
“This? This is my aunt’s home. Seven in the family and I make eight-one bathroom. I’m lucky to brush my teeth. And I share a three-quarters bed with my eight-year-old cousin.”
“I see. But that doesn’t tell why you are running for office.”
“Yes, it does. Uncle Sam was here one night and I was boiling over about the housing shortage and what I would like to do to Congress. He said I ought to be in politics; I said I’d welcome the chance. He phoned the next day and asked how would I like to run for his seat? I said — ”
“Uncle Sam-Sam Jorgens!”
“Yes. He’s not my uncle, but I’ve known him since I was little. I was scared, but he said not to worry, he would help me out and advise me. So I did and that’s all there is to it. You see now?”
I saw all right. The political acumen of an Easter bunny-except that the bunny rabbit was likely to lick the socks off me. “Okay,” I told her, “but housing isn’t the only issue. How about the gas company franchise, for example and the sewage disposal plant? And the tax rate? What airport deal do you favor? Do you think we ought to ease up on zoning and how about the freeways?”
“I’m going after housing. Those issues can wait.”
I snorted. “They won’t let you wait. While you’re riding your hobbyhorse, the boys will steal the public blind-again.”
“Hobbyhorse! Mister Smarty-Britches, getting a house is the most important thing in the world to the man who hasn’t one. You wouldn’t be so smug if you were in that fix.”
“Keep your shirt on. Me, I’m sleeping in a leaky trailer. I’m strong for plenty of housing-but how do you propose to get it?”
“How? Don’t be silly. I’ll back the measures that push it.”
“Such as? Do you think the city ought to get into the building business? Or should it be strictly private enterprise? Should we sell bonds and finance new homes? Limit it to veterans, or will you help me, too? Heads of families only, or are you going to cut yourself in on it? How about pre-fabrication? Can we do everything you want to do under a building code that was written in 1911?” I paused for breath. “Well?”
“You’re being nasty, Jack.”
“I sure am. But that’s not half of it. I’ll challenge you to debate on everything from dog licenses to patent paving materials. A nice, clean campaign and may the best man win-providing his name is Ross.”
“I won’t accept.”
“You’ll wish you had, before we’re through. My boys and girls will be at all your meetings, asking embarrassing questions.”
She looked at me. “Of all the dirty politics!”
“You’re a candidate, kid; you’re supposed to know the answers.”
She looked upset. “I told Uncle Sam,” she said, half to herself, “that I didn’t know enough about such things, but he said — ”
“Go on, Frances. What did he say?”
She shook her head. “I’ve told you too much already.
“I’ll tell you. You were not to worry your pretty head, because he would be there to tell you how to vote. That was it, wasn’t it?”
“Well, not in so many words. He said — ”
“But it amounted to that. And he brought Meyers around and said Meyers would show you the ropes. You didn’t want to cause trouble, so you did what Meyers told you to do. Right?”
“You’ve got the nastiest way of putting things.”
“That’s not all. You honestly think you are independent. But you do what Sam Jorgens tells you and Sam Jorgens-your sweet old Uncle Sam-won’t change his socks without Boss Tully’s permission.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“Check it. Ask some of the newspaper boys. Sniff around.”
“I shall.”
“Good. You’ll learn about the birds and the bees.” I stood up. “I’ve worn out my welcome. See you at the barricades, comrade.”
I was halfway to the street when she called me back. “Jack!”
“Yes, Frances?” I went back up on the porch. “I’m going to find out what connection, if any, Tully has with Uncle Sam, but, nevertheless and notwithstanding, I’m an independent. If I’ve been led around by the nose, I won’t be for long.”