“Hmmm…how about the political effect?”
“That’s another matter.”
“You betcha it is,” agreed Tom. “How about it, Mrs. Holmes?”
She looked worried. “Tom is right. It’s tailor-made for a word-of-mouth campaign combined with unfa vorable publicity. Why vote for a man who doesn’t even live in your district? — that sort of thing.”
I nodded. “Well, it’s too late to back out, but, let’s face it, folks — We’ve wasted our nickel.”
For once they did not argue. Instead Potter said, “What sort of person is Miss Nelson? Could we possibly back her in the finals?”
“She’s a good kid,” I assured him. “She got taken in and hated to admit it, but she’s better than McNye.”
“I’ll say she is,” agreed Tom.
“She’s a lady,” stated Mrs. Holmes.
“But,” I objected, “we can’t elect her in the finals. We can’t pin anything on McNye and she’s too green to stand up to what the machine can do to her in a long campaign. Tully knows what he’s doing.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Potter agreed. “Jack,” said Tom, “I take it you think we’re licked now.
“Ask Mrs. Holmes.”
Mrs. Holmes said, “I hate to say so, and I’m not quitting, but it would take a miracle to put Jack on the final ballot.”
“Okay,” said Tom, “let’s quit being boy scouts and have some fun the rest of the campaign. I don’t like the way Boss Tully campaigns. We’ve played fair; what we’ve gotten in return is shenanigans.”
“What do you want to do?”
He explained. Presently I nodded and said, “I’m all for it-and a wrinkle of my own. It’ll be fun, and it just might work.”
“Well, call her up then!”
I got Frances Nelson on the phone. “Jack Ross, Frances. Haven’t seen you around much, sweetheart. How’s the campaign?”
She sounded tired. “Oh, that — What campaign, Jack?”
“Did you withdraw? I haven’t seen any announcement.”
“It wasn’t necessary. I had a show-down with Jorgens and after that my campaign just disappeared. The committee vanished away. Look, Jack, I’d like to see you-to apologize.”
“Forget it, I want to see you, too. I’ll pick you up.” We laid it on the line. “I’m dropping out of the race, Frances. We want to throw our organizational support to you-provided.”
She stared. “But you can’t, Jack. I’m going to vote for you.”
“Huh? Never mind, you won’t get a chance to.” I showed her the Herald story. “It’s a phony, but it licks me anyhow. I should have played up my homeless condition but, like a dope, I let them do it. It’s too late now-when a candidate has to explain things he’s back on his heels and ready for the knockout. I was a fifty-fifty squeeze at best; this tips the balance.”
She was staring at the picture, bug-eyed, knuckles pressed to her mouth. “Jack — Oh, dear! I’ve gone and done it again.”
“Done what?”
“Got you into this mess. I told Sam Jorgens all about our first talk, including how you had to camp out in a trailer. I — ”
I brushed it aside. “No matter. They would have stumbled on it anyhow. See here-we’re going to take you on. We might even elect you.”
“But I don’t want the job, Jack. I want you to have it.
“Too late, Frances. But we want to beat that spare tire, McNye. The machine is still using you, to beat me in the primary by splitting the non-machine vote; then they’ll settle your hash. I’ve got a gimmick for that. But first-you call yourself an independent. Well, you aren’t now.”
“What do you mean? I won’t be anything else.”
“They gave women the vote! Look, darling, a candidate can be unbossed, but not independent. Independence is an adolescent notion. To merit support you have to commit yourself-and there goes your independence.
“But I — Oh, politics is a rotten business!”
“You make me tired! Politics is just as clean-or as dirty-as the people who practice it. The people who say it’s dirty are too lazy to do their part in it.” She dropped her face into her hands. I took her by the shoulders, and shook her. “Now you listen to me. I’m going over our program, point by point. If you agree with it and commit yourself, you’re our candidate. Right?”