“Very well, Seth, but I promise you this. I am not going to give up on this Bolivia thing. Maybe I can’t swing it right now but someday, I will take a colony of Oklahoma livestock and farm families down there and we will create something beautiful and profitable. When I do, there will be a place for you in that enterprise. You have my solemn promise on that.”
They both stood. “Thank you, Bill, and let me congratulate you on your new job here. Oklahoma can use you in Congress to make sure some of these big states don’t run willy nilly over us. Now, I had better run. My taxi should be back by now. Tell Alice I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to taste one of her great little cakes.”
“Don’t short change the tea, it is a very good Darjeeling.”
They were at the front door, when Bill slapped his forehead in exasperation. “I clean forgot. About that ex-partner of yours!”
Seth turned back from the door. He had heard nothing from that man since receiving the letter of dissolution of their partnership. “Maury O’Bannion? What about him?”
“That’s the one.”
“I have only one ex partner, Bill.”
“That boy is cutting a pretty big swath around this town. Drives one of them big auto machines (I suspect it’s rented), sports dandy New York suits and throws some mighty lavish parties for us newly elected poor bastards.”
With a feeling of disgust, Seth asked, “What’s his game?”
“He don’t let on. Just throws these big plush do’s and trots out the hard liquor by the case. I think he has backing and is trying to set himself up as a really good old boy willing to do favors.”
“Yes, and ask for favors in return.’
“You’ve got it. He’s got something big up his sleeve, you can bet your ass.”
“His excuse for busting up our practice was that he’d signed with some big New York syndicate.”
“You sniff around and I bet you’ll find the smell of oil somewhere in the deal.”
“Well, he didn’t have the kind of cash you say he’s spending when he walked out on our practice, even with what he took out of the firm.”
Alfalfa Bill looked at Seth knowingly. “Sorta siphoned out the liquid on you, did he?”
“Every bit of it.”
“And that is why you are as strapped for ready cash as I am, right?”
“Oh, I got something for what was left of the practice and for the house,” Seth was quick to explain.
“Yeah, after paying what you owed the bank. Damn, I am doubly sorry for getting you into this aborted project.”
“Drop it Bill. I’ll make out just fine.”
“Remember, I warned you about that guy, several times.”
“That you did, and you were right, a lot more than you know.”
Bill looked at him curiously but said nothing.
Seth looked at his watch. “Got to go. Taxi is due here. Let’s keep in touch.”
“Of course. Remember what I promised.”
8
THE HIGH GRAY OVERCAST GREETING the morning of Thomas Woodrow Wilson’s Inauguration was accompanied by a bone chilling cold for those pedestrians who chose to walk to Capitol Hill.
Josephus Daniels , Wilson’s nominee for the cabinet post of Secretary of Navy, temporarily escaped that cold by detouring into the New Willard Hotel . He shrugged out of his heavy dark wool overcoat while surveying the noisy lobby filled with politicians, powerbrokers (pretended and real), and newspapermen. He threaded his way through this noisy crowd, halting frequently to grasp outstretched hands offered in congratulation, many from total strangers. Ultimately reaching the front desk, he asked a clerk to ring Mr. Bryan’s room and was informed that Mr. Bryan had ordered a taxi for the Capitol and had departed not more than thirty minutes ago. Josephus thanked the clerk and turned from the desk only to bump into a grinning Franklin Roosevelt, State Senator from New York.
“It’s a glorious day for the Democracy, Mr. Secretary,” the young Roosevelt said, shaking Josephus’ hand.
“Glorious, indeed, Mr. Roosevelt, but I am not yet the Secretary of the Navy. The Senate will have something to say about my nomination.”
“A mere formality, I assure you sir.”
Daniels smiled. “I learned a long time ago, Mr. Roosevelt, in political matters nothing is ever certain until it happens and then, it still may not be certain.”
“I can’t endorse your reserve in this case,” Roosevelt said. “When do you officially take over the helm of our splendid navy?”
“Tomorrow morning. Would you care to come for my momentous oath-taking ceremony?”
Roosevelt laughed. “I would like nothing better, sir. Unfortunately, I must return to New York right away.”
“Ah then, perhaps you will allow me to buy you a cup of coffee, instead?” His invitation was not purely social. At that moment, he had an interesting thought which might solve one of his vexing problems.
They were fortunate in securing a recently vacated table against the oak paneled wall in the Willard Room. They were being seated when they were joined, to Daniel’s minor annoyance, by a distinguished, serious faced man in his sixties.
“Good morning, Senator Root,” Daniels said, extending his hand, “You, of course, know Franklin Roosevelt.”
“I’ve had a long acquaintance and frequent association with the distinguished name of Roosevelt,” Elihu Root replied with a nod of greeting to Franklin. “You remember, Josephus, I was his cousin T.R’s Secretary of State and being a New York Republican, the better part of my political strategy has been to keep a wary eye on the rising career of this Democrat member of the family. How are you, Franklin?”
“As Cousin Teddy might put it, just bully, Senator. May I congratulate you on being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize last year?”
“Thank you. I was most humbled by the award.” He turned to Daniels, “Speaking of congratulations, I would like to offer mine, Josephus, on your nomination to the cabinet.” His expression became suddenly apologetic. “I hope I am not intruding here.”
“Nonsense.” Daniels diplomatically lied. “We are just having coffee. Please join us.”
While the two New Yorkers exchanged amiable banter on the recent national election, in which Root had been Taft’s campaign manager, Josephus was mulling over his exciting idea, debating whether to broach it to Franklin in the presence of Root. Oh why not? Franklin has excellent credentials in addition to the Roosevelt name. Besides, it is a position Teddy held under McKinley before dashing off to Cuba with his Rough Riders. Still, Elihu being present might make it awkward. His idea was so intriguing that he didn’t want to delay since Franklin had to rush right back to New York. So he waited impatiently for a lull in the talk of the two New Yorkers, which only came with the refill of their coffee cups.
Josephus leaned toward Roosevelt and said, “Franklin, how would you like come to Washington as my Assistant Secretary of the Navy?”
Taken aback, the young state senator stared at him for moment as if he had not heard correctly, then a wide grin spread across his face.
“It would please me better than anything in the world. Grand—simply grand, Mr. Secretary.”
Smiling, Daniels said, “Then consider that I have tendered you the job, subject to both our confirmations by the Senate.”
“And, Mr. Daniels, you may consider that I have happily accepted.”
Both men laughed and shook hands. They agreed on a meeting date later in the week. Senator Root watched the exchange unsmilingly. A few moments later, Roosevelt, pleading the necessity to catch his train, left them with a broad smile and a buoyant step.
Senator Root looked at Daniels thoughtfully.
“I think you ought to know, Josephus, every person named
Roosevelt wants to run everything, and he will try to be the Secre
tary.”
Daniels stared at the distinguished national figure and shook his head. “Elihu, any man who is afraid his assistant will supplant him thereby confesses that he does not think he, himself, is big enough for the job.”
9
SETH LOOKED APPREHENSIVELY DOWN THE ornate lighted hallway that ran behind the Senate chamber.
“Hold up, Molly. Are you sure we ought to be back here?”
“Of course, it’s OK.”
“What makes you think it’s OK? I know a little bit about legislative privileged areas, and the U.S. Senate is a hundred times more sensitive about such matters than the Oklahoma state legislature.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him along the corridor.
“Oh, pooh! Don’t be such a nervous Nellie, big man. Today is special, besides you said you wanted to see the Capitol, and I intend to show you every darn part of it.”
He didn’t recall asking to be shown the Capitol. It was the inspiration of Bessie Mae, enthusiastically endorsed by Molly. The subject had come up at breakfast when he informed the Langdons about the blow up of his job in Bolivia. They had been expansive in their sympathy and eager to offer solutions to his jobless predicament, all of which involved his remaining in Washington. The most he would agree was to stay at least through the inaugural activities.
“Well, at least that is something,” Bessie Mae said. “You will enjoy it, even though the traditional Inaugural Ball will not be held. Count on those thin nosed Presbyterians to cancel the only part that is fun.”
“That’s OK by me,” Seth had replied. “I’m not much on dancing, anyway.”
“That’s because you have never danced with me,” Bessie said.
“Or me,” Molly echoed.
“Better believe it, my boy,” Henry Dalworth murmured, trying to light his pipe. “Both of these gals can cut a mean figure on the dance floor.”
“Well, he will never know, will he?” Molly had grumbled.
Molly and Seth stopped in front of an impressive carved door on the left of the inner hall.
“So what is this room for?” Seth asked.
“Just what it says on the door, silly,” Molly replied.
“I mean, why should the President have a room here, back of the Senate chamber? The Capitol belongs to the Congress, doesn’t it?”
“He uses it when he comes up to the Capitol on business. Want to see inside?”
Before he could say no, she had already opened the door. Oh well, why not!
He was close behind her when she stopped abruptly, with a loud “Oops!,” so that he bumped into her.
In the middle of that room sat a man going through papers at a desk made tiny by his astounding bulk. A second man was grimly moving swiftly toward them. He halted when the man at the desk waved him back and then he looked at the two intruders, his eyebrows raised.
“Mr. President—I—we had no idea. I mean, if we had known you were—,” she was stammering badly. President William Howard Taft squinted over his reading glasses at her consternation and a gentle smile appeared. “It is quite all right, young lady. No harm, I just have some last minute billsto act upon before my job expires at noon. Say—haven’t we met before?”
Molly smiled. “Yes sir, several times at White House receptions. I am Molly Langdon and this is our house guest, Mr. Seth Cane of Texas—I mean Oklahoma.”
The President nodded affably at Seth, then he frowned.
“Oklahoma, is it?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Well, I am forced to say Mr.—”
“Cane, Seth Cane.”
“Mr. Cane, I am really disappointed in you folks out there because of that liberal socialistic constitution you adopted six years ago.”
Seth was incredulous. He had been a delegate to that constitutional convention and couldn’t envision anything about that document as being anywhere near socialistic. “Excuse me, Mr. President. I don’t understand. What do you consider to be socialistic about our constitution?”
The President almost snorted. “I mean, of course, that nonsense about initiative and referendum. Dangerous poppycock.”
“With all due respect, sir, I hardly think—”
“If I had been Mr. Roosevelt, I would not have approved that document. In point of fact, I warned the New Mexico Constitutional Convention in 1910, not to incorporate a similar provision in their proposed constitution, or I would not approve it. They had the good common sense to drop the idea. Yes sir, they did.”
Seth, remembering the hard fought battle to get that particular provision adopted, could not let Taft’s comment go without rebuttal, even if he was still the President of the United States.
“Mr. President, if you will permit, I—.” He paused because the President was now staring at the clock on the wall opposite.
“Hey, my time is running out. I’d best attend to business on these last few bills.” By way of dismissal, he bent back over the papers in front of him and started making notes. The man standing beside him, who Seth reckoned was Secret Service, gestured with his head toward the door. Molly grabbed Seth’s arm and wheeled him out the door, closing it quietly behind them.
In the hall again, Molly looked at him mischievously and giggled. “Boy howdy, when I give a tour, it’s really a humdinger. And you, Mr. Cane, what were you thinking? That was the President in there and you were on the verge of giving him hell, I think.”
“Not true,” he said, calmly. “I was merely going to tell him, in a nice way, that his political philosophy belonged to the Dark Ages, and that is the reason why this country has elected a Democrat for the first time in sixteen years.”
“Like fun, you were.”
He grinned. “You’re right, I wasn’t going to say that, exactly. Maybe something like, thank God, Teddy Roosevelt was President when we wrote the Oklahoma Constitution.” He turned and steered her on down the hall. “Any more surprises on this tour, Miss Langdon?”
She looked past him back up the hall and her eyes widened and she smiled. “Only one more, sir, and it is coming down the hall, right behind you.”
Seth turned to see Will Bryan coming down the hall with a big smile.
“Well bless me, if it isn’t Seth Cane! Come to see our candidate sworn in, have you?”
“I have, thanks to unanticipated circumstances. Great to see you, Will, or should I say, Mr. Secretary?”
Bryan laughed. “For old friends, it will always be Will.” In the midst of their hearty handshaking, he beamed over at Molly. “I see you are in escort of the charming and pretty Miss Langdon. How are you, Miss Molly, and how is Henry Dalworth and that irrepressible lovely mother of yours?” He explained to Seth that he and Mary had enjoyed manya delightful meal at Bessie Mae’s table ever since “this young lady was knee high to a grasshopper.”
Seth nodded. “I know full well what you are saying. I am currently a beneficiary at that table.”
“Mother and Daddy are just fine and we are thoroughly enjoying Seth’s company during his brief stay in Washington,” Molly said.
This seemed to trigger something in the Commoner’s consciousness, for he gave Seth a consoling look. “You don’t know how grieved Mary and I were at your loss of Elizabeth. We regret that we could not have attended her funeral.”
“Thank you. Ginny and I certainly appreciated Mary’s kind letter.”
“Sometimes the Lord’s will is difficult to understand. But we must not gainsay His purpose.” I doubt it was the Lord’s purpose to throw Elizabeth from that horse and break her neck.
“I expect you and Mary are going to have some memorable moments in the next few days,” Seth said.
“Indeed, and by golly, we are looking forward to having you at our reception tomorrow night. It will be in our suite—the Presidential Suite at
the New Willard. Nothing significant intended there. It was available since the Wilsons are staying at the Shoreham until they move to the White House today.”
Seth was confused, “Reception?”
“It is to thank all our friends before I roll up my sleeves and go to work at the State Department. You did get Mary’s invitation, did you not?”
“I’ve been away from home for several weeks. Reckon I missed it.”
“No matter, no matter. We shall expect you anyway. Anytime after six-o’clock tomorrow, and for sure, you bring Miss Molly here. Oh yes, Seth, there is something I have been studying on and I want to talk to you about. Maybe tomorrow at the reception.”
Seth glanced at Molly whose face was flushed with pleasure. She nodded her acceptance. Seth said, “We’ll be there, Will.”
“Splendid!” He gestured with his thumb back toward the door of the President’s Room. “Did I just see you two come out of there?”
“Molly laughed. “Rather precipitously, I’m afraid.”
“I’m afraid we stumbled in on President Taft who’s working on some last minute business,” Seth explained.
“Ah, of course,” Bryan said with a gleam in his eye. “I think I shall look in on him myself.”
Seth almost said that perhaps the President might not welcome another interruption, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Who am I to tell the next Secretary of State what he should do ?
Bryan, with a wave at them, was already opening the door to the President’s Room and poking his head in.
Seth and Molly looked at each other, figuratively holding their breaths until they heard President Taft’s hearty, “Come in. Come in, Mr. Bryan.”
Bryan stepped back and looked at the lettering on the door and then putting his head back in, said, “Oh, this is the President’s Room and I am not the President.”
Taft boomed back, “But, I am the President. Come on in!”
Seth and Molly exchanged looks and laughed. “You know, politics is a strange club,” Seth said, looking at the closed door. “They are really a strange breed—politicians.”
Call Down The Hawk Page 5
