'Eliot. In all honesty. In all frankness. In a practical manner of speaking…'
'You're right,' Ness admitted. 'We're not set up for it. Even if we wanted to, we don't have enough Negro cops to work the east side. In a practical manner of speaking, Negro numbers racketeers, in the wake of Lombardi and Scalise's downfall, will flourish-modestly.'
'Then why didn't you accept Hollis's offer?'
'Because I can't go around cutting deals like that. And besides, I may want to crack down on the Negro numbers racket, at some time. If I could get some Negro cops on the force…'
Burton smiled ironically; flicked cigar ash into a brass tray. 'Whose fault is that?'
Ness shifted in the hard wood chair again. 'Well-mine, I suppose.'
'You've read the editorials in the Call and Post. The editors think your high requirements for police department candidates are designed to keep Negroes off the force.'
Ness shook his head, saying, 'That may be an unhappy by-product, but it wasn't even vaguely my intention. Just because I want high school graduates…'
'You toughened up the Civil Service exam to where a college graduate could flunk the damn thing.'
'Some do,' Ness shrugged. 'Only one hundred out of a thousand applicants pass. After all, I expect candidates who can handle the curriculum at our police academy-psychology, arrest procedure, criminal law, first aid…'
'Eliot, I admire your high standards-and considering how you've turned the sloppiest, most venal police department in the country into one of the best in the world, well… what can I do but commend you?'
Ness was bristling despite Burton's flattery. 'Are you suggesting I come up with an easier test for Negro applicants? That sounds like race prejudice to me.'
'No, no, no. All I ask is that you give Hollis and others like him some consideration. With the police brutality incidents we've had…'
Ness raised a finger. 'So-called…'
Burton waved his cigar in deference. 'So-called police brutality incidents we've had, we have a need-a political need, and a moral one-to accommodate these people.'
Racial concerns were nothing new for Burton, of this Ness was well aware. Burton's 1935 mayoral campaign had been a success due to his putting together a coalition of minorities-Negroes included. And Burton had been publicly vocal in opposing segregation in local hotels and restaurants.
'I understand the moral need,' Ness said. 'But I don't see where politics enters into this.' He spit out the word 'politics' like a seed.
Painfully, Burton explained. 'We have a state election coming up, Eliot. I know all about your disinterest in politics, but this has been in all the papers. Next month? Governor? State senators, state representatives? Elective offices? Sound familiar?'
'Do I really deserve this sarcasm?'
'God, yes! The three black city councilmen who are behind Hollis and, yes, are tied to the would-be Negro numbers racketeers are Republicans. Not only do they control the crucial swing vote that gets you your police department and fire department funds, they are key figures for rounding up the Negro vote in the state election.'
'The colored vote has always gone Republican,' Ness said. Archly he added, 'I may not know politics, but I know that much. It's been that way since the civil war.'
Burton was shaking his head. 'Times are hard, and times are changing. The New Deal is turning a lot of Negro voters Democratic. And I need to help deliver the Republican vote in this state election, Eliot. It's important to me.'
'To you?'
Burton's cigar had gone out. He seemed about to relight it, then settled it in the ashtray, folded his hands, and smiled at Ness. There was embarrassment in the smile.
'I'm giving serious consideration to running for senator, Eliot, in the next national election.'
Ness hadn't seen this coming; it struck him like a blow.
'This would be your last term, then…'
'No. There'd be one more term as mayor-and this all assumes we'd win the mayoral race next year.'
Ness smiled dryly. 'I think we can we make that assumption-you're the most popular mayor in the city's history. That's why the powers-that-be axe singling you out for greater things. And I don't blame them.'
'That's kind of you, Eliot. But those 'greater things' are unlikely to happen for me, if I'm not able to deliver the vote. And without the support of key race leaders, frankly, I can't.'
'I see.'
'I'd consider it a personal favor if you did your best to accommodate Hollis and Councilman Raney and other race leaders-if you can do so without compromising your own principles.'
Ness said nothing.
Nor did Burton, and Ness realized their meeting was over. He stood and the two men, the two friends, smiled warmly if wearily at each other across the massive oak desk, and nodded their goodbyes.
Ness walked down the hall to his office, where Bob Chamberlin and Albert Curry were waiting, seated at one of the conference tables.
'How did it go?' Chamberlin asked; he was in the process of lighting his pipe, his long legs crossed casually as he leaned back against the table. He was in suspenders and shirtsleeves.
'I'm not sure,' Ness said. He sat on the edge of the conference table.
Curry said, 'What do you mean?'
'His Honor would like us to cooperate with Hollis and any other race leaders who are willing to help. Just what the ramifications of that are, well…'
Chamberlin's little mustache twitched as he smiled. 'You mean, Burton wants you to give the Negro racketeers a free ride.'
Ness said nothing.
Curry said, 'Why don't we worry about that later… like if and when we put the Mayfield Road boys out of commission.'
Ness smiled faintly. 'Good point, Albert.'
Chamberlin blew out some pipe smoke and shrugged. 'So we cooperate with Hollis. Let's set up a meeting between you and him.'
'Good idea,' Ness said. 'Albert, could you arrange that?'
Curry nodded and went over to the phone on the desk.
Chamberlin said, 'When are you going to start utilizing the handful of Negro cops we have at our disposal?'
'Very soon,' Ness said. 'I'm going to put Albert right on that…'
'Mr. Ness,' Curry said, his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. He looked pained. 'I've located Mr. Hollis.'
'Good.'
'Not really,' Curry said. 'He's in the lock-up at Central Jail.'
'What?'
Curry shrugged facially. 'He and his Future Outlook League buddies got busted. They were picketing the Wool-worth's store on Central Avenue, for not hiring blacks. It got a little out of hand.'
Ness sighed. He turned to Chamberlin. 'Get him out. And the rest of his people.'
'What if he's already been booked…?'
'I don't give a damn. Tell Matowitz to spring him, and set up a meeting between me and Hollis, tonight, here at the office.'
Chamberlin nodded, put out his pipe and tucked it away, got up, put on his suitcoat and topcoat, and went out.
Ness turned to Curry. 'I want to talk to Toussaint Johnson.'
'When?'
'Now.'
Curry nodded. 'I'll call over to his precinct house and see if I can get a line on where he is.'
Soon they were riding in the EN-1 sedan, Curry at the wheel, Ness sitting broodingly as they abandoned the
