privately.
We waited until the last few days, then got busy. First we put snipe sheets
on our own billboards, right across Frances’ beautiful puss so that those eyes
looked appealingly at you over the paster. “VOTE FOR McNYE” they read. Two nights
later it was quarter cards, this time with his lovely picture: VOTE
FOR McNYE-A WOMAN’S PLACE IS IN THE HOME. We stuck them up on private property, too.
Tom and I drove around the next day admiring our handiwork. “It’s
beautiful,” Tom said dreamily. “Jack, do you suppose there is any way we could get
the Communist Party to endorse McNye?”
“I don’t see how,” I admitted, “but if it doesn’t cost too much I’ve still
got a couple of war bonds.”
He shook his head. “It can’t work, but it’s a lovely thought.”
We saved our double-whammie for the day before election. It was
expensive-but wait. We hired some
skid-row characters on Saturday, through connections Tom has, and specified that
they must show up with two-day beards on Monday. We fed each one a sandwich loaded
with garlic, gave him literature and instructions-ring the doorbell, blow his breath
in the victim’s face, and hand her a handbill, saying abruptly, “Here’s how you
vote, lady!” The handbill said, “VOTE FOR McNYE” and had his special picture. It had
the rest of Tully’s slate too, and some choice quotes of McNye’s best double talk.
Around the edge it said “100% American-lOO% American.”
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We pushed the stumblebums through an average of four precincts apiece,
concentrating on the better neighborhoods.
That night there was an old-fashioned torchlight parade-Mrs. Holmes’ show,
and the wind-up of the proper campaign. It started off with an elephant and donkey
(Heaven knows where she borrowed the elephant!) The elephant carried signs: I’M FOR
FRANCES; the donkey, SO AM I. There was a kid’s band, flambeaux carried by our weary
volunteers, and a platoon of WAC and WAVE veterans marching ahead of the car that
carried Frances. She looked scared and lovely.
Tom and I watched it, then got to work. No sleep that night- More pasters.
Windshield size this time, 3″xlO”, with glue on the printed side. I suppose half the
cars in town have no garages, housing being what it is. We covered every block in
the district before dawn, Tom driving and me on the right with a pail of water, a
sponge, and stickers. He would pull alongside a car; I would slap a sticker on the
windshield where it would stare the driver in the face-and have to be scraped off.
They read: VOTE FOR McNYE-KEEP AMERICA PURE.
We figured it would help to remind people to vote. I voted myself when the
polls opened, then fell into bed.
I pulled myself together in time to get to the party at the headquarters-an
empty building we had borrowed for the last month of the campaign. I hadn’t given a
thought to poll watchers or an honest count- that was Mrs. Holmes’ baby-but I didn’t
want to miss the returns.
One election party is like another-the same friendly drunks, the same silent
huddle around the radio, the same taut feeling. I helped myself to some beer and
potato chips and joined the huddle.
“Anything yet,” I asked Mrs. Holmes. “Where’s Frances?”
“Not yet. I made her lie down.”
“Better get her out here. The candidate has to be seen. When people work for
a pat on the back, you’ve got to give ’em the pat.”
But Frances showed up about then, and went through the candidate
routine-friendly, gracious, thanking people, etc. I began to think about running her
for Congress.
Tom showed up, bleary-eyed, as the first returns came in. All McNye. Frances
heard them and her smile slipped. Dr. Potter went over to her and said, “It’s not
important-the machine’s precincts are usually first to report.” She plastered her
smile back on.
McNye piled up a big lead. Then our efforts began to show-Nelson was pulling
up. By 10:30 it was neck and neck. After a while it began to look as if we had
elected a councilman.
Around midnight McNye got on the air and conceded.
So I’m a councilman’s field secretary now. I sit outside the rail when the