Loozyana citizen. Now, shall we begin our discussion?”
All but one of the committee members nodded; a young, dark-haired fellow was glowering at the senator.
“That’s Jack Williamson,” Murphy whispered. “Lake Charles. He’s the only anti-Long man on the committee.”
“This first bill, Senator,” Williamson was saying, “rearranging the thirteenth and fifteenth districts…you of course realize it, in effect, gerrymanders Judge Pavy out of office.”
“Nonsense,” Huey said. “The Judge retains his office until January 1, 1937…. When it comes election time, he simply has to run in a new district, is all.”
Williamson arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Did the people of these districts request this change be made?”
Huey stared at the young representative for a long time; but Williamson did not wither. In fact, he repeated his question.
And Huey finally said, with a smile about as convincing as mail-order false teeth, “Yes, the people of Evangeline Parish are ever’ bit behind it, and the St. Landry Parish members of the House are all for it. Now, call the question.”
The bill passed committee, 13 to 1.
But at least Williamson got on the record his objections to the various bills Huey roller-coastered through, most of which were gerrymanders or assaults on Huey’s enemies in New Orleans; but the anti-FDR bill sparked the biggest discussion, one that woke up the press reps in the gallery.
“What exactly is the purpose of this bill, Senator?” Williamson asked.
Huey answered grandly: “Why, to enable us to carry out the great principles of the Constitution of the Yew- nited States.”
“I see. Then it’s not designed to prevent the expenditure of federal funds in Louisiana?”
For once Huey was thrown; his answer was a vague muttering: “It intends to prevent the violation of the Constitution of the United States.”
“What do you have in mind, Senator? What’s the purpose of this bill?”
Huey flared; his voice was a roar. “That certain sacred rights are reserved to the states and the people! That whoever violates the Constitution of the United States in the great state of Louisiana is subject to a misdemeanor punishable by a fine and a jail sentence!”
“You’re willing to make law of this vindictive, patently unconstitutional claptrap,” Williamson said, ruffling the pages of the bill in the air disgustedly, “even though its chief effect would be to keep vast sums of federal money
Huey slammed a fist on the witness table; his water glass and pitcher sloshed and spilled some.
“Young man,” the Kingfish said indignantly, “I will preserve the Constitution of the Yew-nited States at
Applause and cheers from the gallery rocked the room. Shouts of support echoed: “Hot dog!” “Give ’em hell, Huey!” and such like. It was the Oklahoma fairgrounds all over again.
This was a crowd that apparently relished the idea of being deprived of federal funds.
I shook my head.
“What’s wrong?” Murphy whispered.
“I gotta get back to Chicago,” I said, “where people understand the value of a dollar.”
By early afternoon, Huey had pushed thirty-one bills through the committee.
He bragged about it, over the lunch he had sent up from the basement cafeteria to that twenty-fourth-floor suite. “That’ll put a crimp in that crip’s plans! Sumbitch thinks he can run
He sat at a white-topped table in the kitchenette area of the suite, eating with the boys. I’ll spare you the brutal details, but watching Messina put away meat loaf and mashed potatoes was an appetite killer; suffice to say even
We bodyguards played cards again, all afternoon, while Huey entertained a stream of legislators and lobbyists and the like, on errands of patronage and politics; the only one of these I recognized from previous sessions was Reverend Smith, who dropped by with some Share the Wealth Club literature for Huey.
But the paramount topic seemed to be lining up January’s primary ticket, and in Louisiana, the Democratic primary was the only election that counted. One visitor in particular seemed even more concerned about this topic than Huey.
You had to look hard and close to see that they were brothers. The cleft chin was the only near give-away. Earl Long’s eyes were dark and hard and sharp, but everything else about his face was soft, and his smile was a nervous, unsure, sideways thing, while his voice was the gravel road his words were forced to travel.
“I know we done had our ups and downs,” Earl said. In a cream-color pinstripe suit, his red-and-black tie loose, the younger, slimmer Long stood before his brother, who was seated on a sofa in his shirtsleeves with an ankle resting on a knee, a foot wobbling a slipper.
“You mean, like when you swore an oath I took a ten-grand bribe,” Huey said pleasantly.
“I mended that fence,” Earl snapped. “I stumped this goddamn state from pea patch to picket fence for your good fren’ Fournet.”
Huey was nodding. “Yes, you did. Much ’ppreciated.”
“Anyway, I know you’re considerin’ candidates for governor…and I remember what you tol’ me back in ’32, when I asked you to gimme the lootenant guv’nr slot.”
“That’s right,” Huey said. “I said I couldn’t use ya, ’cause I didn’t want people talkin’ ‘Long dynasty.’ We got enough stupid damn dictator talk goin’ as it is.”
“So, then, I’m not bein’ considered.”
“Not at this time, no, Earl.”
Earl was lighting up a Camel. “Who is, then?”
“I’m leanin’ toward Dick Leche.”
“Leche? A goddamn state’s appeals judge?”
“He used to be O.K. Allen’s secretary. He knows how to take orders.”
“And I don’t.”
“No. You’re my brother, ain’t ya? Or is it true Mama found ya on the porch in a picnic basket?”
Earl shook his head sullenly, and paced and smoked; he held his cigarette tight between thumb and forefinger.
“You got somethin’ else on your mind, Earl?”
Earl stopped pacing and came over and sat by his brother. “I don’t think you oughta be gerrymandering Judge Pavy outa his district, ’long about now.”
“You don’t, huh?”
“No.” Earl shook his head. “Huey, things are just a little bit too hot and little bit too tense right now. I think it’s a bad idea to even have a special session at all, at this here time.”
Huey shrugged. “Horse is out of the barn, Earl. Too late to stop ’er now, even if I wanted to.”
Earl smiled; was there sarcasm in it? Or maybe envy? “You can do anything, Huey. You’re the Kingfish.”
Huey smiled back at his brother; patted him on the leg. “You go on up to Winnfield, if you cain’t stand it, and listen, here-nothin’s gonna happen. Things ain’t that hot or that tense.”
Earl studied Huey for what seemed like forever; then he sighed, nodded, crushed out his cigarette in a glass ashtray, stood, waved his brother farewell, and went out.
The next subject to gain admittance to the Kingfish’s court looked more like Huey’s brother than Earl. He had the same oval face, similar earnest features, even a cleft chin (if not as prominent as Huey’s); as with Huey, the visitor’s imposing figure gave an impression of bulk that disguised strength.
The Kingfish remained seated on the sofa casually, as the visitor-immaculate in a lightweight tan suit with a brown tie, holding his straw hat in hand, a supplicant with head bowed-paid his respects.
“What brings
“I just wanted to thank you for seeing that Charity Hospital got its full appropriation, Senator.”
Huey beamed. “Well, you’re welcome. You been doin’ a fine job there, and, more importantly, I couldn’t be more tickled with the way things are workin’ out, out at LSU.”
