Messin' with the Texan
Mob Rule: Part 32
Jack drinks in acres of bluebells and the sight of expansive ranch lands as he chows down with Lyndon and Ladybird
By John Armstrong
The trip from Kansas to meet Lyndon in Texas was a long, dusty one. We’d done Missouri just before and I had to admire the way Sydney’s staff had finessed the speech writing. A Missourian who heard me talk in St. Louis, Independence, or Joplin would have had heart stoppage if he’d been at the fundraiser a few nights later in Kansas. Missouri was a border state during the Civil War, never actually seceding but not quite supporting the federals either, and Missourians fought on both sides of the war or sat it out as best they could, as their consciences dictated. I danced around the state’s complex allegiances as much as the writers could manage, but in Kansas, firmly in the union, we made no bones about glorifying their forefather’s brave stand for truth, liberty, and freedom in the Great Conflict and exalting the Jayhawker ...
Courting the vote
Mob Rule: Part 31
The campaign begins to blur into a never-ending series of speeches, hotel rooms and handshakes until Lyndon B. Johnson offers Jack some Texas-style hospitality
By John Armstrong
It was just after ten when the phone rang. Personally, I had no plans to get up ever again unless forcibly removed at gunpoint. We were still in bed with a room service breakfast going cold on a tray; somewhere between the coffee and the first slice of toast it had been jettisoned in favor of more pressing activities. I stuck a pillow over it and it stopped for second then began ringing again almost immediately. Ignoring it further would just bring someone to knock on the door, so I kissed her one more time and picked it up and was told my presence was required in Bobby and Sydney’s war room. I begged 10 minutes to shower and then had to drag a naked woman halfway to the bathroom before she let me go. I tell you, that kind of thing does wonders for a man’s self-image. Two floors ...
Mob Rule: Part 30
Stealing from the Best
Finding his comfort zone halfway between holy roller and Hollywood hack on the campaign trail, Jack suddenly realizes it's not about who you really are, but who people want you to be.
By John Armstrong
It was a good thing I made my move when I did. The next morning we left for California. We took off in more of the drizzling rain and grey skies that mean spring in Washington and arrived in the hard glare and 70 degrees-plus heat of early May in Los Angeles. The waiting limos took us down palm-lined streets to the hotel and I got right to work pacing the floor and chain-smoking, waiting for Vanessa to arrive. Bobby and Sydney were in meetings all day in a room reserved for just that purpose and again I was largely unneeded, except when I was briefly trotted out for inspection by men whose names I forgot immediately after Bobby introduced us. I had given up on trying to keep such information in my head. It had become a blur of faces and names and even ...
Whistle-stops and White Houses
Mob Rule: Part 29
Now trapped in the travelling circus of politics, Jack tries to reconnect with the mob bosses and bring them up to speed without showing his real hand.
By John Armstrong
We’d flown to Philly for the first stop on the tour but after that we used limousines, at least for the East Coast. Nobody would see anything out of the ordinary in a convoy of big cars with no-see-‘em windows passing them on the freeway; people would assume it was just Family Business. Outside the Kennedy territory we ran the risk someone from the local ruling family would see us and wonder who was on their turf, but they’d be unlikely to stop us. If it turned out to be your own boss, it could seriously hamper a man’s career. It was a calculated risk. We were too conspicuous using airports, given the size of the entourage. Bobby had a team of minions, Sydney’s inner circle had a dozen or so men (and women) to take care of the grunt work, there were bodyguards and gunmen and several ...
Kicking off the Campaign
Mob Rule: Part 28
Declaring independence while rewarding the patrons who put you in office is just part of an inherently duplicitous political process
By John Armstrong
We left the next morning for Philadelphia. Sydney and Bobby said it was important to kick the campaign off there, for symbolic reasons. It was a short flight. By time we were up in the air it was time to put the seatbelts back on and come down again. The sign outside Independence Hall said “Closed: Private Function.” Inside the air was thick with smoke and voices, knots of men standing in groups waiting for the proceedings to begin and armed men guarding the doors and windows. Waiters circled the room like bees in a garden, making sure the glasses were kept full. I was kept backstage until it was time for my speech, Sydney and Bobby running over it with me line by line and making sure I knew where to wait for applause and which parts to hit hard on. “What if they don’t applaud where you think they ...
Primed and preened for the Presidency
Mob Rule: Part 27
I felt like a prize poodle just before the big dog show. They clipped and razored and washed my hair a few times, applied something foul smelling to it... I shut my eyes through most of it and thought murderous thoughts.
By John Armstrong
When I say campaign, obviously we couldn’t do it in the traditional electioneering style, rolling up with brass bands playing and banners flying. This was going to be what Bobby called a “stealth campaign”; as one of the conspirators, a hardware chain tycoon from Des Moines put it, “like we’re coming into town on a wagon pulled by cats.” Regardless, it was an all-out blitz to get out the vote. Bobby said, “We’ve got a comprehensive list of potential supporters in the key cities and what we need to do now is go out and meet them in person and lock them in,” he said. “We know who to approach, and who’s going to be receptive – or a good idea, anyway. What we have to do is convince them to get on board ...
A train pulls out of the station
Mob Rule: Part 26
With a cigar and a stiff drink, Jack boards the Kennedy campaign train with full knowledge the contest won't be won on merit
By John Armstrong
They cheered and jumped up from their chairs. Someone stuck a cigar in my mouth, and several of them called out “Speech! Speech!” Someone else began filling the whiskey glasses and stuck one in my hand. Bobby held his hands up for order and got nowhere. Finally Joe stood up behind his desk. I didn’t know he actually could but then I saw he was using his arms only to support him. “Order – Order, goddamnit!” Joe was used to being listened to, and it worked both ways – people were used to listening to him. They settled down but stayed standing, all smiles and backslapping and handshakes. You’d have thought I’d already been elected, I thought. Then I corrected myself – as far as the old man and his cronies were concerned, I had. I wasn’t to be elected; I was going to be installed. It ...
The Man Who Would Be King
Mob Rule: Part 25
After receiving an offer that could put him in the Oval Office, Jack takes a moment to reflect on the big picture, and the twisted route to power
By John Armstrong
Well, of course he is. Why not? My grandfather wants to drag the country back into the Dark Ages and he sends the daughter of the Prime Minister of England to seduce me so I can become president. Let’s not even mention this is the country we fought a war with to gain independence from in the first place, and now they’re the allies of the new revolution. You’ve heard the expression, “the mind reels”? Let me assure you that it does, and “reel” is scarcely the word for it. Mine was doing the Lindy Hop, as demonstrated by spastics. “Your father is the prime Minister of England,” I said. “Yes, he is,” she replied. “Edmund Hilliard, the Progressive Conservative party.” “Isn’t that a contradiction in terms? What’s a ‘progressive conservative’ believe in?”
...
Jack be nimble, or be dead
Mob Rule: Part 24
They’d been playing me, but why they bothered I didn’t understand. If they knew I was working both sides why all this subterfuge, pretending they wanted me in their conspiracy. President? The only thing I was going to have in common with Lincoln and Washington was being dead.
By John Armstrong
Vanessa must have been waiting right outside the door. She came in and sat down, looking a little bit wary, or maybe cautious is the better word, like someone investigating noises in the basement. If she expected some kind of eruption from me she’d have to wait. I was still trying to find a way to grab hold of reality and climb back on as it went whirling past me. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach without warning. I couldn’t breathe and my sense of time went screwy, everything gone into a sort of dreamy, slow motion but at the same time my brain was racing, a hundred miles an hour. It was the exact same feeling I remembered from the only ...
The end game and the Oval Office
Mob Rule: Part 23
Jack sits down with Bobby and Joe and a clutch of white-haired power players to discuss the prospect of a Presidential bid
By John Armstrong
I would have been less shocked if I were at an audience with the Pope and he winked and said, ‘Will you look at the knockers on that one?’ I choked on my drink and spat a mouthful up onto my jacket. When I stopped coughing they were still sitting there, waiting for me to say something. I dabbed at myself with a hanky. No one was laughing. Neither was I. “What the hell are you talking about,” I said. It seemed to me a very reasonable question. Bobby looked at his father and Joe nodded at him to go on. “Jack, we’re not saying that the old government was a good one, but it was at least a democratically elected one and this country was founded on the principle of every man having a say in how he’s governed. One man, one vote. That’s something that everyone here feels very strongly about.” He put ...
