study.”
Ezekiel Koontz’s study was by far the largest room in the house. Leather furniture, deep carpet, a massive oak desk, and walls not lined with books were covered with autographed photos of every President since LBJ, plus many well-known celebrities. Nursing the brandy and trying not to inhale the cigar, I waited for an opening.
“…And this is me and old George Burns. One time, years ago, he came to one of my birthday lawn parties. Came with a male nurse who stayed in the background and a big-ass blond who didn’t. Brought me a box of good cigars and a package of porno films for presents!”
I encouraged him to relate a few more personal anecdotes from celebs that had been his dinner guests over the years, then asked, “Judge, what was your favorite story about President Tyndall?”
“I’d have to think about that one, son, but off the top of my head at this moment, I’d have to say it was the time he called that Jap ambassador into the oval office. Ambassador Yoshita came in a’ bowin’ and a’ scrapin’ and the General, I mean the President, bowed one time back and asked him to have a chair. Soon as they sat down, Buck told him, eyeball to eyeball, ‘Listen, you little yellow son of a bitch, I’m gonna hold your tiny little feet to a hot fire. I’m giving you and your miserable, ungrateful country exactly three months to even up this trade business. You have been ripping us off for over forty years, and I’m telling you it’s going to stop. Now. If I don’t see satisfactory results within ninety days, I am going to freeze every asset you have in our country, and you will never sell one more car, radio, or computer here again. And, if you think I’m bluffing, or that Amercian business and industry aren’t behind me, as well as all our people, just try me. This meeting is now terminated. Thank you very much for coming by.’
“Poor old Yoshita never got to open his mouth. Lost a heap of face that day. It’s a wonder he didn’t trot right back to his embassy and commit honorable Hara-kiri.”
Walt and I laughed. I had heard similar accounts of that same story before, and realized Koontz must have gotten his version directly from Tyndall himself. Gentle urging prompted the Judge to relate a few more Tyndall stories, and then he subtly changed subjects. “I’ve been remiss tonight, son. I read that book you did on the Mexican rebellion. Splendid work. I think you were the best the Post ever had. Wish you were back with ’em permanently.”
“Thanks, Judge. It is good to be back, even for just this short stint. I’ve always wanted to do a piece on you, and this chance, circumstances notwithstanding, seemed irresistible. Historically speaking, do you consider Tyndall a good President?”
“The best since Truman.”
“You served as advisor to him, didn’t you?”
“Well, it’s been my greatest pleasure in this life to have known and been asked by every man since Carter for a little advice now and then. Some of ’em even listened.” He turned to Walt. “Hey, would you like to get a shot of me standin’ by this picture of the General? It’s my favorite.”
Neat. Adroit. But there was no way I was going to let him derail me now. While Walt took two or three shots, I said, “What I meant was, you were his chief advisor before his election, weren’t you?”
Koontz’s eyes narrowed. He fixed me with a stony glance, rolled his cigar between his lips for a moment, then stared at Walt. “Why don’t you go on down to the game room and play yourself a game or two of pool, Walter. Here, take the bottle with you. We’ll call you back up shortly.”
I nodded to Walt, who beat a hasty retreat, then faced my Tiger shark again. “I’ve got enough material for three articles, Judge. Let’s stop all this dancing. I didn’t come out here to do a piece for Gourmet or House Beautiful. I know all about you and your seven dwarfs.”
“Really. I reckon I must be slipping some in my old
Ezekiel Koontz’s study was by far the largest room in the house. Leather furniture, deep carpet, a massive oak desk, and walls not lined with books were covered with autographed photos of every President since LBJ, plus many well-known celebrities. Nursing the brandy and trying not to inhale the cigar, I waited for an opening.
“…And this is me and old George Burns. One time, years ago, he came to one of my birthday lawn parties. Came with a male nurse who stayed in the background and a big-ass blond who didn’t. Brought me a box of good cigars and a package of porno films for presents!”
I encouraged him to relate a few more personal anecdotes from celebs that had been his dinner guests over the years, then asked, “Judge, what was your favorite story about President Tyndall?”
“I’d have to think about that one, son, but off the top of my head at this moment, I’d have to say it was the time he called that Jap ambassador into the oval office. Ambassador Yoshita came in a’ bowin’ and a’ scrapin’ and the General, I mean the President, bowed one time back and asked him to have a chair. Soon as they sat down, Buck told him, eyeball to eyeball, ‘Listen, you little yellow son of a bitch, I’m gonna hold your tiny little feet to a hot fire. I’m giving you and your miserable, ungrateful country exactly three months to even up this trade business. You have been ripping us off for over forty years, and I’m telling you it’s going to stop. Now. If I don’t see satisfactory results within ninety days, I am going to freeze every asset you have in our country, and you will never sell one more car, radio, or computer here again. And, if you think I’m bluffing, or that Amercian business and industry aren’t behind me, as well as all our people, just try me. This meeting is now terminated. Thank you very much for coming by.’
“Poor old Yoshita never got to open his mouth. Lost a heap of face that day. It’s a wonder he didn’t trot right back to his embassy and commit honorable Hara-kiri.”
Walt and I laughed. I had heard similar accounts of that same story before, and realized Koontz must have gotten his version directly from Tyndall himself. Gentle urging prompted the Judge to relate a few more Tyndall stories, and then he subtly changed subjects. “I’ve been remiss tonight, son. I read that book you did on the Mexican rebellion. Splendid work. I think you were the best the Post ever had. Wish you were back with ’em permanently.”
“Thanks, Judge. It is good to be back, even for just this short stint. I’ve always wanted to do a piece on you, and this chance, circumstances notwithstanding, seemed irresistible. Historically speaking, do you consider Tyndall a good President?”
“The best since Truman.”
“You served as advisor to him, didn’t you?”
“Well, it’s been my greatest pleasure in this life to have known and been asked by every man since Carter for a little advice now and then. Some of ’em even listened.” He turned to Walt. “Hey, would you like to get a shot of me standin’ by this picture of the General? It’s my favorite.”
Neat. Adroit. But there was no way I was going to let him derail me now. While Walt took two or three shots, I said, “What I meant was, you were his chief advisor before his election, weren’t you?”
Koontz’s eyes narrowed. He fixed me with a stony glance, rolled his cigar between his lips for a moment, then stared at Walt. “Why don’t you go on down to the game room and play yourself a game or two of pool, Walter. Here, take the bottle with you. We’ll call you back up shortly.”
I nodded to Walt, who beat a hasty retreat, then faced my Tiger shark again. “I’ve got enough material for three articles, Judge. Let’s stop all this dancing. I didn’t come out here to do a piece for Gourmet or House Beautiful. I know all about you and your seven dwarfs.”
“Really. I reckon I must be slipping some in my old
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