waiting by the curb. “Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Ross.”
“Quite all right.” I went upon her front porch with her and said goodnight.
“Mr. Ross-I shouldn’t care what you think, but I’m not with Boss Tully. I’m
independent.” I waited. Presently she said, “You don’t believe me.” The big,
beautiful eyes were shiny with tears.
“I didn’t say so-but I’m waiting for you to explain.”
“But what is there to explain?”
“Plenty.” I sat down on the porch swing. “Come here, and tell papa. Why did
you decide to run for office?”
“Well . . . ” She sat down beside me; I caught a disturbing whiff of
perfume. “It started because I couldn’t find an apartment. No, it didn’t-it was
farther back, out in the South Pacific. I could stand the insects and the heat. Even
the idiotic way the Army does things didn’t fret me much. But we had to queue up to
use the wash basins. There was even a time when baths were rationed. I hated it. I
used to lie on my cot at night, awake in the heat, and dream about a bathroom of my
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own. A bathroom of my own! A deep tub of water and time to soak. Shampoos and
manicures and big, fluffy towels! I wanted to lock myself in and live there. Then I
got out of the Army-”
“Yes?”
She shrugged. “The only apartment I could find carried a bonus bigger than
my discharge pay, and I couldn’t afford it anyhow.”
“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