March 20, 1961
“Is the senator in?” J.T. asked.
Lucy, who was sitting behind her desk, reading the page on which she was typing, looked up momentarily. “He is.” She continued to read.
J.T. walked directly into Senator Anders’s office. The senator was on the phone. J.T. sat on a couch, hunching forward to read a copy of the Congressional Record on the coffee table.
“That’s right, Nat, we’ve still got a lot of strength in the South and West.” The senator winked at J.T. “And we have to keep it that way.”
J.T. nodded and smiled.
“Yes, I’ve been in touch with the people from Illinois. I think we can muster even more strength there the next time.” He listened. “That’s right. Keep a low profile for the time being. But there are still a lot of people who can’t get over having a Catholic in the White House. That’s his Achilles’ heel.” Pause. “I know he’s the President now. But he’s still an Irish Catholic President, and we know a lot of people who aren’t happy with a papist. We’ll have to stir up more of that kind of sentiment, that’s all.”
J.T., despite his appearance of total absorption in reading the Record, was listening intently to the senator’s conversation. He knew from Carmine DeSapio’s comments in New York that the senator’s hopes for the presidency were dead. Anders would be too old to be a serious contender after two Kennedy terms.
J.T. had also realized during his hop in the private RBM plane last night—God, he had felt like a ruler of the civilized world; Dana rode down with him and returned with the plane to New York—that the answer to his quest for money, fame, and power wasn’t going to be found as junior counsel to a congressional committee, or on the salary that went with it. He realized that the time and opportunity to set a new course had arrived. The tide was with him, and Dana Reynolds was trying her damnedest to ease his passage. He might as well take advantage of it, J.T. thought as he waited for the senator to finish on the phone. After all, how long would Dana be rooting in his corner before she felt that they were a serious duo and would expect him to do something serious about their relationship? Dana was as nice a girl—woman—as he’d ever known. But he didn’t feel like getting married, getting tied down, not with Dana, not with anybody, not right now. There were worlds to conquer, and he’d travel faster if he was lighter—and that meant no family dragging him down. Yes, he’d better take advantage of Dana’s contacts and get as high up the mountain as he could before Dana demanded commitments he didn’t intend to undertake—not now, not ever.
“All right now, Nat, you keep on top of it, and let me know what’s going on out there, hear?” He hung up the phone. “Morning, J.T. How was your trip to New York to see the folks? Did you give my regards to your daddy?”
“Yes I did, Senator. How did everything go here?”
“Very smoothly, thank you. I was more involved in politics than anything else. I guess you can tell that it’s still pretty hectic from my conversation just now.”
“How’s your campaign going?” J.T. asked to be polite.
“Damn well, J.T., damn well! We’re starting to pick up more support now than we had before the election. Particularly in the South and West, where people, frankly, aren’t happy with a Roman Catholic president. Those people are entitled to a president of their choice, too.”
“You think that prejudice is strong enough to defeat Kennedy the next time?”
“That prejudice has been strong enough to beat everyone before, except Kennedy. I’m inclined to think it was just a weak moment in history, one that can be turned around.”
“I don’t know, sir. These political things are a little beyond me.”
“They’re not really that complicated, once you get the hang of it,” the senator observed. “But these campaigns are really like working in the salt mines.”
“I can see that,” J.T. commented, again politely.
“What’s on your mind this morning, J.T.?”
“I was just wondering, sir, how much longer you think these hearings should continue.”
“Why, until we root out every crook in the country, parade them before the folks at home in their slimy splendor. Frankly, J.T., I wouldn’t mind if these hearings continued all the way to the next election. Why do you ask?”
“Well, sir, quite candidly, I was just thinking that the hearings can’t last forever, and with you on your way to bigger and better things, I was wondering where I’d go from here.”
“The future, you mean? Well, hell, son, there’s always room in the White House for a bright young man. Maybe as counsel to the president, something like that. There’ll be a spot for you—if we get there, that is,” the senator added quickly, to give the conversation a balance of humility.
“That’s very kind of you, Senator, and I certainly appreciate the confidence you have in me.”
“Even if we don’t make it, there’s always a place on one of the staffs, chief counsel to a committee. I don’t think you’ll have to start looking for a job, J.T. No, sir. You’ve won your spurs already.”
“Thank you again, Senator. It’s just that I was thinking about getting back to New York, going into practice with my father, maybe running for something myself. This political fever is catching, I’m sure you know that, Senator.”
“I’ve known that for years, J.T. That’s how I got here myself. Started out knocking on doors, getting out voters for other candidates. And one thing led to another—alderman, supervisor, commissioner. It’s something that gets in your blood. The excitement, the action.” The senator smiled. He seemed just about to fall into another folksy reminiscence. But J.T. didn’t want to be sidetracked.
“That’s why I was wondering how far you wanted to go with the hearings,” J.T. pressed.
“I guess we’ll just have to keep at them until we’re finished. The coverage hasn’t hurt either one of us too much, eh?”
“That’s certainly true.”
“I think there’s still a lot more mileage to the hearings, isn’t there?”
“I’m not so sure, Senator,” J.T. said slowly, thoughtfully. “I mean, we’ve had a lot of witnesses who took the Fifth Amendment. We’ve had the charts, the names of the families, the personnel of organized crime paraded before the committee. We’ve had our inside informant, complete with bag over his head. What else is there to go into that we can justify as necessary in order to start drafting legislation?”
The senator pursed his lips. “Well, I’ve been relying on you so far. And I’m going to leave it that way. If you tell me there’s not much more we can get out of the hearings, then there isn’t. How much longer do you think they can run?”
“Let me put it this way, Senator. I’m not running out on you. I’m staying with the committee as long as the hearings go on. But after that, I’d like to try the private sector.”
The senator thought for a moment.
“Tell you frankly what’s involved, so you understand the true picture, J.T.,” said the senator. “I’ve been trying like one son of a bitch to raise enough money to get a presidential campaign going. It’s tough, I don’t mind telling you. Going to parties, talking to people, trying to sell myself. That’s not easy. I can sell banana oil in the Senate. But to go out and sell yourself, tell people how wonderful you are, ask them for money, that’s tough. Frankly, I don’t expect I’ll be able to raise enough money to go the long haul. So my plan has to work out in the next couple of months or I’ll run out of steam. And if that happens, I’ll look like some fool with egg on his face. That won’t happen, though, J.T. I mean my looking like a fool. I’ll walk out gracefully before then.”
“What is your plan, Senator?” J.T. was listening carefully.
“To make a long story short—if it’s not already too late—it’s this. I know I can’t maintain a presidential campaign. I know that as well as anyone. But I also know the political game pretty well. Kennedy will buy me off with some kind of high position—Supreme Court, ambassador, something—before my purported presidential campaign catches the fancy of some sugar daddy who wants to fight the papists to the death. Kennedy can’t afford to let my steamroller build up steam. Understand, son?”
“Yes, sir, I do.” J.T. liked the senator’s craftiness. “If there’s anything I can do …”
“I know that, son. I know that. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Or all the other things that you’ve been doing. The hearings are the only things that got me this far, I’ll tell you that. And I appreciate it. More than you know, believe me.”
“You carried the ball, sir. I just inflated it.”
“Hogwash, J.T. You did the whole goddamn thing yourself.”
J.T. smiled appreciatively.
“Can we keep the ball rolling until something breaks, one way or the other?” asked the senator. “I mean, let me tell you. I know I’ve got a tough shot. But it’s a real shot at immortality, son. Supreme Court of the United States, ambassador to Spain, something. I’ve got to go for it. It’s the culmination of a dream. Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll have come a hell of a lot closer than most people. You see the picture I’m drawing for you, J.T.?”
“Yes, sir, I sure do.”
“If it doesn’t work out, I still have my Senate seat. But if I can just hold on long enough to become a thorn in somebody’s side … you get me, J.T.?”
“I understand perfectly, sir.”
“Will you stay with the hearings? I mean, keep the hearings going until then?”
“I will.”
“And then, son, you’ll have one powerful friend in me. I mean that. One powerful friend.”
“I can use all the friends I can get,” said J.T., smiling.
The senator grinned. J.T. was his kind of folks.