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IT RAINED HARD THROUGHOUT the State on primary day, and the turnout of voters was affected to a greater degree than usual. All of the candidates had their sign carriers out in force. They stood in raincoats and other foul weather gear on the sidewalks in front of the polling places. They were spotted at any number of strategic locations, including highway overpasses, bridge crossings and main street intersections. There, they waved at passing automobiles and solicited votes for the candidates they supported from anyone within earshot.

The media did whatever exit polling it could. Its members discovered, however, that few voters were willing to take the time to discuss their choices once outside the election site. Instead, they ran off to their cars or the closest place they could find to stay dry. The limited response was deemed insufficient by radio and TV reporters to risk predicting the primary results of the governor’s race prior to the closing of the polls.

Berman and Walsh spent the morning putting the final touches on the victory speech they drafted for Fiore after the Herald published its Sunday edition. They knew they had to include a short prayer for Cardella, and finally made up their minds to insert it at the end.

Berman decided not to spend any time working on a full-blown concession statement. But he noted a number of items he would want Fiore to mention if it unexpectedly came to that. He knew that in a certain number of key precincts the votes would be counted within an hour of the poll closings at 8:00 p.m. If Cardella bested Fiore in those locations, Cyril would still have time to put together an appropriate statement for Doug to read to his disappointed campaign workers and supporters.

The critical factors in the election turned out to be those that Berman had predicted. They were the uncertainty of Cardella’s physical condition and the “good guy” image Fiore picked up by refusing to campaign after his rival was hospitalized. The inclement weather that lasted throughout the day also aided their cause. Fiore’s organization made thousands of phone calls and drove hundreds of his supporters to local school buildings, veterans’ halls and senior citizen centers where the election machinery was set up. They did whatever it took to get out the vote.

By 9:30 at night, the TV election coverage on several networks showed Fiore ahead by just 51 to 49 percent. Political analysts were telling viewers that the outcome was still “too close to call.” But Berman knew they had won. The entire last hour was spent taking telephone calls from campaign representatives around the State. He compared the vote counts he was being given from the most important precincts with the numbers he and Walsh worked out much earlier—numbers that spelled triumph or disaster, depending on the support the candidate was receiving. A blackboard was set up in Berman’s suite, and Walsh constantly updated the figures as Cyril called out the reports he was given on the phone.

While that was taking place, Lester Karp handled the barrage of telephone calls from supporters and news agencies that came in on the other line in the suite. Karp’s wife was there also, and when not joining Grace Fiore on the sofa to watch the news, she stayed busy serving drinks and snacks to everyone there.

As the euphoria built, Berman became anxious. “We may have to wait until close to midnight for a concession,” he told Walsh. “I suspect Cardella’s wife will be at their headquarters at the Marriott to handle it.”

Walsh was more optimistic. “If they’re getting the same information from their polling place spotters that we are, they know it’s all over. It makes no sense for them to drag it out for hours.”

Fiore was too excited to sit still. He walked back and forth across the living area of the Biltmore suite like a tiger in a cage, his head turned to the TV from wherever he stood. Occasionally, he shouted out a “Yahoo” or slapped Berman’s shoulder when a particularly gratifying vote count was announced. He stopped a few times behind the sofa where Grace was sitting, resting his hands on her shoulders and rooting himself on. As the percentages began to increase in his favor, he massaged his wife’s neck with his fingers. “You’re halfway to becoming the ‘First Lady’ of Rhode Island,” he told her. At Berman’s suggestion, he went into the bedroom shortly after ten o’clock and practiced delivering his victory speech.

An hour later, Fiore finally got to direct his remarks to a Biltmore ballroom jammed with his family, friends and campaign workers. What required just twelve minutes to get through each time he rehearsed it, took more than twice as long when he stood in front of the cheering throng. At times it seemed as if the young volunteers hollering “Fi-o-re, Fi-o-re” over and over again would never let him reach the end. At the completion of his speech, he told the audience that he wanted everyone to be silent while he said a prayer for Richie Cardella. When he asked God’s blessing for his opponent, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, and probably the same in any home throughout the State still tuned in to the coverage on TV.

The final election figures, excluding about two thousand mail ballots that would take several days to count, were tabulated by three o’clock Wednesday afternoon. They showed that Fiore received almost 54 percent of the vote. The negative side was that only 18,000 registered Republicans cast ballots. That was almost 17 percent less than the number that was predicted on the basis of the usual turnout.

On the Democratic side, Bruce Singer picked up a very comfortable 58 percent of the vote in defeating June Bates. Thanking the voters and his campaign workers for their support, Singer got a resounding applause when he announced that his campaign for governor wasn’t taking a single day off. He promised to be out greeting the busloads of commuters as they arrived in Kennedy Plaza early the next morning.

In the post-election-day study of all the returns that he made on Wednesday, Berman noted that the drop-off among registered Democrats from the number expected to vote was only four percent. He felt certain that a similar result among Republicans would have meant defeat for Fiore. The conclusion he reached was that the huge number of Republicans who stayed home preferred to see Cardella represent their party in the general election. They were smart enough, however, to know that the fates had conspired against his being able to do so.

Berman complimented himself on managing a good campaign to that point. Walsh and Karp came by his room and praised him for a job well done. Each brought a bottle of Cyril’s favorite Scotch. Sandy Tarantino called to congratulate him and offer continued support in the weeks ahead. By the time Berman pulled the drapes closed in his bedroom in midafternoon and lay down for a nap, he still hadn’t heard a word from Fiore.

* * *

When the people of Rhode Island woke up on Thursday morning and turned on their radios and TV sets as they got ready for work, they learned that Richie Cardella passed away during the night. Only then did the doctors who treated him reveal the full extent of the bullet wounds to his chest. The general consensus among them was that only a miracle let him survive for over nine days.

Saddened by the news, Berman had two thoughts when he heard the announcement. The second one was that legislation of some sort should be introduced to require a candidate’s physician to submit a written report of the status of that individual’s health when the candidate entered a race for any statewide or federal office; that such a report should leave out nothing that was even potentially life threatening and be made available to the public through the media; and that it be immediately updated in the event of any accident or illness suffered by the candidate that came to the doctor’s attention prior to the election.

His first thought was that he should arrange for Fiore to be a pallbearer at Cardella’s funeral.