Kulaks. Old Eagle Beak talks sense now and then. “
They stared at him, appalled. Read wanted to laugh, but refrained. Ed Sullavan, out of his element, horrified, sat looking at Baylor in amazement.
“Well, by God,” he said, finally.
The Major recovered first.
“Why, John Baylor,” he said, “that’s a fine way to talk with our Governor sitting there. I…”
“Read Cole understands what I’m talking about, I think. The rest of you don’t.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” said Freytag, puffing loudly. “We understand.”
Yardley Meadows laughed his sour laugh.
“I think Mr. Baylor would object to being liquidated. And what a nice way to put it!”
Baylor looked sideways at Yardley Meadows, who did not seem as stupid as the rest.
“Of course I’d object. I do object. I intend to hang on to mine. Yes; I do object. That’s why I’m here.”
This threw a slight chill over the gathering. They began to look at Read as if to say: “Governor, if it’s as bad as that, you’re our one hope!”
“No use for us to kid ourselves,” said Baylor. “If that lunatic of an Asa Fielding is elected we’d better all leave the State. He’d put the hooks into us nicely.”
“You bet,” said Sullavan, suddenly waking from his stupor. “This State is American. Of course, we got our radicals but we’re sound. What we need is two more years of Read Cole.”
Baylor laughed, but said nothing.
The Major smiled blandly and getting up, bowed facetiously in Read’s direction.
“Governor, will you take the floor?”
Read smiled slightly and rubbed his chin; then he began to talk. He explained to these rich men the condition that the State was in. The farmers, owing principally to the South County business, had lost confidence in the present administration and wanted a change. The radical element, which was growing—all the very poor, the dispossessed, the restless—wanted Old Eagle Beak because he promised them the moon and they saw visions of a paradise where there were no rich men, no social distinctions, nobody working and the State Government paying the bill, God knows with what! The party Democrats, of course, wanted their own man in and would move heaven and earth to beat Read Cole. Some of the liberal element in the Republican party was wavering.
“In short, gentlemen,” said Read, “we’re in very hot water. Two weeks ago I began to get worried. The straw vote, which you’ve all seen, convinced me that I had been right to worry. If we don’t get the farmers we’re sunk.”
“Yes?” said Baylor. “Are you going to get them?”
“I am,” said Read, and then he explained how. The rich men sat hardly moving. They were afraid.
They heard the tumbrils distantly rolling. They sat flushed and intensely absorbed while Read talked. When he had finished, Baylor got up.
“Read Cole, let me shake your hand. You’ve got guts. You may be only a practical politician, as they say, but you’ve got what it takes. Good luck. I hope you don’t get shot. I wouldn’t vouch for your safety in some parts of Cleveland when you cut loose.” He paused and turned to the others. “And now, gentlemen, much as I hate to say it, I believe it’s time for us to take the strings off our money bags and kick in. Mr. Sullavan, let’s talk turkey.”
It was nearly eleven o’clock when the conference showed signs of breaking up. Sullavan, discussing money matters with the rich men, and meanwhile taking three or four pretty stiff drinks, had regained his poise and was sorry now that it was time to go. He wanted to sit for a while longer with guys like Lamont Jones and Yardley Meadows listening to him talk. Boy, was he getting some place! Wouldn’t he lay it on when he got home! “Why, they just sat there with their mouths open, men like that,” he’d say to his wife and son; “I surely told them a few things they didn’t know before. They’re not the only smart guys in this
They stared at him, appalled. Read wanted to laugh, but refrained. Ed Sullavan, out of his element, horrified, sat looking at Baylor in amazement.
“Well, by God,” he said, finally.
The Major recovered first.
“Why, John Baylor,” he said, “that’s a fine way to talk with our Governor sitting there. I…”
“Read Cole understands what I’m talking about, I think. The rest of you don’t.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” said Freytag, puffing loudly. “We understand.”
Yardley Meadows laughed his sour laugh.
“I think Mr. Baylor would object to being liquidated. And what a nice way to put it!”
Baylor looked sideways at Yardley Meadows, who did not seem as stupid as the rest.
“Of course I’d object. I do object. I intend to hang on to mine. Yes; I do object. That’s why I’m here.”
This threw a slight chill over the gathering. They began to look at Read as if to say: “Governor, if it’s as bad as that, you’re our one hope!”
“No use for us to kid ourselves,” said Baylor. “If that lunatic of an Asa Fielding is elected we’d better all leave the State. He’d put the hooks into us nicely.”
“You bet,” said Sullavan, suddenly waking from his stupor. “This State is American. Of course, we got our radicals but we’re sound. What we need is two more years of Read Cole.”
Baylor laughed, but said nothing.
The Major smiled blandly and getting up, bowed facetiously in Read’s direction.
“Governor, will you take the floor?”
Read smiled slightly and rubbed his chin; then he began to talk. He explained to these rich men the condition that the State was in. The farmers, owing principally to the South County business, had lost confidence in the present administration and wanted a change. The radical element, which was growing—all the very poor, the dispossessed, the restless—wanted Old Eagle Beak because he promised them the moon and they saw visions of a paradise where there were no rich men, no social distinctions, nobody working and the State Government paying the bill, God knows with what! The party Democrats, of course, wanted their own man in and would move heaven and earth to beat Read Cole. Some of the liberal element in the Republican party was wavering.
“In short, gentlemen,” said Read, “we’re in very hot water. Two weeks ago I began to get worried. The straw vote, which you’ve all seen, convinced me that I had been right to worry. If we don’t get the farmers we’re sunk.”
“Yes?” said Baylor. “Are you going to get them?”
“I am,” said Read, and then he explained how. The rich men sat hardly moving. They were afraid.
They heard the tumbrils distantly rolling. They sat flushed and intensely absorbed while Read talked. When he had finished, Baylor got up.
“Read Cole, let me shake your hand. You’ve got guts. You may be only a practical politician, as they say, but you’ve got what it takes. Good luck. I hope you don’t get shot. I wouldn’t vouch for your safety in some parts of Cleveland when you cut loose.” He paused and turned to the others. “And now, gentlemen, much as I hate to say it, I believe it’s time for us to take the strings off our money bags and kick in. Mr. Sullavan, let’s talk turkey.”
It was nearly eleven o’clock when the conference showed signs of breaking up. Sullavan, discussing money matters with the rich men, and meanwhile taking three or four pretty stiff drinks, had regained his poise and was sorry now that it was time to go. He wanted to sit for a while longer with guys like Lamont Jones and Yardley Meadows listening to him talk. Boy, was he getting some place! Wouldn’t he lay it on when he got home! “Why, they just sat there with their mouths open, men like that,” he’d say to his wife and son; “I surely told them a few things they didn’t know before. They’re not the only smart guys in this
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