Frank shrugged saying, “I agree, but I don’t think it would be wise to ask. I think your old girlfriend is being very secretive about this whole situation. Once you’re outta here, I doubt you’ll ever hear from her or the kid. As far as I’m concerned, there’s something screwy going on. Did you notice how even Dr. Fredericks was somewhat hesitant when you asked about the kid. I wonder if maybe he’s afraid of your girlfriend or her boyfriend. From what you said, we know she’s no angel and he’s somebody that I don’t think anyone wants to mess with. I think we should get the hell out of here as soon as you’re able to travel.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I noticed the doctor too. He sure didn’t want to talk too much.”
Three days later, Vic was back in Chicago at his desk, looking a little pale when Jim Vogel arrived for an appointment to report on the strategy he was setting up for the campaign. With his briefcase on the floor next to his chair, Jim pulled out a pile of papers, placing them on the edge of the desk. Picking up the top sheets, he glanced at them, nodding and jotting a few notes, and then started talking.
“Here’s the way I see it. The District has been represented by a Republican for ten years and the incumbent has decided to retire. I think it’s because of some personal problems, but he’s also worried because the last election was very close and the seat is vulnerable.”
Vic nodded, fiddling with a pen over a pad on the desk in front of him.
“For the first time in twelve years, the Democrats think they have a good chance of winning the seat with a new face as a reform candidate.”
“Okay, I agree,” Vic said, chuckling. “It sounds like a good strategy, but come on, that’s just a bunch of rhetoric. How’s this gonna’ really work?”
“That’s where I come in.” Jim grinned. “What the hell you think I’ve been doin’ for the last several months? Hardly a week goes by when your name isn’t in the news and like I told you, the Crime Commission has worked out great. You’ve earned a solid reputation as a concerned citizen who went after corruption in government without being beholden to any of the old party bosses.”
Vic grinned. “You make me sound like a saint.”
“Didn’t I tell you I knew what I was doing? You’re being viewed as a true independent, with a spotless record, both as a businessman and a political appointee. I’ve also done my homework and know your personal appearances draw respectable crowds, with favorable comments from the media when you’re answering questions. More important than all that, though, is the commitments for campaign funds I’ve gotten from folks willing to support your candidacy.”
Jim reached for more papers and placed them on the desk. He was talking quickly now and pacing back and forth as he held up reports and discussed various statistics gathered throughout the district. He also showed Vic a schedule of meetings and events that he recommended for his approval. Vic listened, made comments and asked questions. Two hours later they parted as Jim hurried off to lunch with a potential campaign contributor.
Vic returned to the pile of papers on his desk, but felt his stomach tighten. Could he go through with this? He had to; so many people were counting on him. And he didn’t mean to be dishonest; he was only trying to do the right thing. But God help him, he thought, if anyone else found out about Shirley and David Rabin.
Chapter 39
On the Friday evening before the primary vote, Vic made a campaign appearance at the Unitarian Church in Deerfield. It was one of close to sixty gatherings that he’d attended during the past six months. Deerfield was an important segment of the district because of its diverse, well-educated population that turned out to vote in large numbers and political gatherings this close to an election received a lot of media coverage. The opportunity to strengthen his standing the last few days before the vote was a welcome event. His opponents, Albert Fine, a professor at Loyola University and member of the Chicago Park Board and John Finnegan, a lawyer and former alderman of a ward on Chicago’s North Side had appeared previously at the same forum. Tonight was Vic’s chance to review his platform and answer questions, many of which Jim Vogel had prepped Vic to expect. The crowd was quite large, an indication that the race was heating up and that the Deerfield residents were anxious to hear him.
At Jim’s insistence, Vic’s two sons, Ben and Jeff, had arrived with Darlene at their side. After shaking a few hands, they waved and sat in the front row.
Darlene smiled at Ben, “nice to see you in a suit and tie dear, but I think some of the folks think you’re Dad.”
“C’mon Mom, I’m only thirty three, but if they do, it’s probably because you look so young.”
“What about me Mom, don’t I look too old to be Ben’s son,” quipped Jeff.
“Yes Dear, but you could at least worn a tie and gotten a haircut, so you don’t embarrass your father.”
“It’s the eighties Mom, look at this crowd, I fit right in.”
Turning to look both ways behind them, Darlene grinned, “I think you’re right, it’s hard to get used to.”
To the side behind a curtain on the small stage, Vic, seeing Darlene and the boys nudged Jim, “that looks so staged. Did you have to involve them?”
Jim cocked his head and shrugged, “Hey, that’s what I do. The crowd loves a family man and with their good looks, having them in front of a bunch like this so close to the election is worth a lot of votes. Wait till you see the pictures in tomorrow’s newspapers. And don’t worry about Darlene, she’s an old pro at these political rallies. It took only a phone call and a promise that the boys would bring her and she agreed.”
“Hmmm, I’m sorta surprised. She’s been giving me a hard time about the election.”
“Well, I asked her to do it for me as an old friend, and for the boys. They’ll be so proud of their dad if you get elected.”
“Vic shook his head and straightened his tie, “Yeah, I guess so,” he said and without looking at Jim asked, “anything else, before I go out?”
“Not that I know of, but watch out for that old guy from the Tribune when you open up for questions. I hear he’s been bad-mouthing you.”
“What?” But before Jim could answer, Vic heard his introduction. Squaring his shoulders he walked briskly, waving as he went to the podium, smiling as he heard a few shouts of “Hi, Vic” amidst the applause.
“Thank you Deerfield,” he began, pausing for the crowd to settle down. “I’m here, as you know, to ask for your vote on Tuesday to be your representative in Congress.”
From there, Vic slid into his usual stump speech about growing up on the North Side of Chicago, attending public schools and receiving his Master degree in Business at DePaul. Hearing a few murmurs of approval, he looked at Jim, who winked and nodded.
“My whole life and career have taken place right here in Northern Illinois. I’ve spent many years in the construction business with our headquarters on Lincoln Avenue in Lincolnwood and for the last two years, I’ve also been working downtown, heading up the Crime Commission, where we have made great strides in our attempts to rid the city and state of corruption. I intend to continue that same type of work in Congress. The Federal Government’s wide range of bloated, over-lapping programs are rife with waste, and need scrutiny. With my experience, I know I can make a difference.”
Jim shot a thumbs-up as the audience began clapping and cheering.Vic acknowledged the applause, smiling broadly.
“My other major goal is to encourage assistance for the high-tech services and products that are causing a revolution in business throughout the world. Computers and new types of communications are the future and we in Illinois, with some of the finest universities and industries in the world deserve help from the Federal Government. I want the people of Illinois to be on the forefront of these breakthroughs and I will work in Congress to make this happen.”
Shouts of encouragement bro
ke out as several folks stood to add to the loud applause that greeted this statement.
Concluding with a thank you, Vic opened the gathering to questions. The first to respond was a tall gray-haired man with glasses that Vic recognized as a professor from Northwestern whom he had met at a previous meeting.
The man identified himself. “John Whittinghill, I teach computer science, Mr. Wayne,” he said holding up some papers. “At Northwestern we are working on projects you mentioned that will lead to new ways for people in the world to communicate. If elected, will your office be prepared to aid our requests for government grants?”
Vic responded affirmatively. He then took a question from a young woman asking his position on government student loans, followed by a man complaining about foreign aid. Vic handled both easily, but was distracted by a heavyset man, he recognized from the Tribune, to the right of Darlene and his sons, holding a small notepad and pen, waving his hand, shouting, “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne!”
Vic avoided looking his way and pointed at a man with his hand up who he knew was a friend of Jim Vogel. Before the man could start talking, the heavyset man stepped forward and shouted in a loud gravelly voice, “Mr. Wayne, John Shay from the Chicago Tribune.”
The loud interruption was causing a restless stirring in the crowd. People were standing and looking to see what was going on. Shay, in a wrinkled, ill-fitting corduroy jacket, barely covering his large belly, hanging over his baggy trousers and scuffed loafers went on loudly, “Mr. Wayne, could you please explain your meeting with a notorious madam from South Florida that took place at Gianotti’s Restaurant fourteen months ago, and how that relationship might affect your job, if you succeed in becoming a congressman from Illinois?”
Darlene’s eyes bulged as she held back Ben, who had started to get up to confront the scraggly-looking reporter.
Vic held his breath as his hand shot to his mouth, but nothing came out. Quickly looking to Jim, who was at his left shaking his head vigorously and motioning with his hands to stay calm. Vic leaned in, holding tight to the podium, attempting to control the wave of nausea that was surging inside of him.
Shay turned to the audience opening his hands and turned back waiting and called out, “Mr. Wayne?”
Taking a few deep breaths Vic looked to Darlene, standing and restraining Ben and Jeff. Slowly he raised his arms trying to restore order to the loud rumbles of the crowd and Shay’s shouting.
The room became quiet, except for the scraping of a few chairs as people’s attention was directed to the front of the hall. Waiting for the noise to quiet down, Vic focused on Shay. Clearing his throat, he squinted and zeroed in.
“I don’t quite understand the question; would you possibly clarify what it is that you are trying to find out?”
Ben and Jeff moved closer to Shay, glaring at him. Darlene, hands clasped in front of her, eyes shifting from Vic to the reporter.
Shay, chin out, looked first at Ben and Jeff and then Vic. He glanced at his notes, cleared his throat and rasped, “I have information that you met with a woman named Sally Ray from Fort Lauderdale, at Giannotti’s Restaurant near the O’Hare Airport fourteen months ago….Ms Ray is reputed to be the madam of a very exclusive brothel and escort service in South Florida with ties to organized crime in that area. I think the public would like to know what reason you would have for associating with her and what effect that will have on your job if you are elected to Congress?”
What were mumbles grew louder and Jim Vogel, who had come to Vic’s side yelling the reporter out of order. Other shouts from the audience called for Vic to answer the question.
Raising his arms, Vic attempted to quiet the crowd. “Please, please folks take your seats,” he shouted, pausing for the racket to subside.
The movement of chairs and voices died slowly and Shay moved closer to hear.
“You must be mistaken, Mr. Shay, I don’t recall any such meeting,” Vic answered in a low voice.
Jim gestured for him to get offstage, whispering, “say it’s late, you have another meeting tonight.”
Vic complied, making a feeble attempt at waving as he heard a lot of movement in the hall, drowning the weak clapping. Shay shrugged and moved back, then turned away.
Jim grabbed Vic’s arm and led him toward the exit, pausing only to quickly shake a few outstretched hands.
Once out the door in the back parking lot, Jim spun Vic around. “What the hell was that about Sally Ray?”
“Look Jim, I don’t want to talk about it. That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he said pulling away.
“Don’t turn away,” Jim hissed. “That answer is bullshit. You are a candidate and I–, I mean we want to know, what the fuck is going on? My ass is on the line in this thing.”
Darlene and the boys had come out. After Vic’s exit, she had steered the boys away from Shay, taking their arms and muttering through tightly gritted teeth, “get me out of here, I want to find your father, now!”
Seeing how angry Jim was she decided to wait thirty feet away.
Vic saw them. Looking away from Jim, he growled, “I don’t know any Sally Ray.”
“Don’t fuck with me Vic. You know Sally Ray, remember we had a conversation a couple of years ago when I mentioned I heard some rumors about Shirley Siegal? We both know that she’s Sally Ray.”
Vic sucked in his lower lip and tugged at his collar. “So what are you trying to say?”
Seeing him irritated, Jim bore in, “Vic, this is going to be all over the papers tomorrow. How the hell could you hide something like this from me?”
Stiffening Vic glared at Jim, “I really don’t want to talk about this, it might become an issue.”
“You’re goddamn right it’s going to be an issue. A great big fat issue unless you got an answer.”
“I’ve got nothing to say, so forget about it.”
Shaking his head with a weary look, Jim sighed. “Don’t screw this up, Vic. That fucking Shay has something on you. He may be a bummed-out drunk, but the Tribune doesn’t keep him on for nothing. He’s a good newsman and he’s got something. And if you don’t tell me what it is so I can spin it before the papers come out, the party’s going to dump you.”
Darlene began moving toward Jim and Vic with the boys following, “Jim,” she called out, let me talk to Vic alone. One of us will call you later on tonight. “
“Mom,” said Jeff, standing with Ben about ten feet away.
“Go away boys,” she answered with a sweep of her hand. “You too Jim, I’ll handle this!”
Reaching for Vic’s arm, she said, “What’s going on with Sally Ray? That bastard Shay has something on you; doesn’t he?”
Turning to her with his head down, lips compressed and eyes closed, he lifted his hands to cover his face.“Another one of your women?” she said sharply dropping his arm. “Have you taken up with a hooker since we’ve been separated?”
Vic shook his head and moaned, “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it? I warned you, politics is a nasty business.”
Letting out a long breath, he said through his hands, “can we talk?”
She glared at him, her eyes almost closed, without answering and then said abruptly, “Where’s your car Victor? Let’s get out of here.”
They rode for several blocks, neither saying a word until Darlene told him to pull into the lot of a brightly lit restaurant.
“Don’t get out,” she said as he parked.
“Now tell me what’s going on.”
Unable to look at her, Vic dropped his head back on the headrest as his hands loosely gripped the steering wheel. “Darlene, I want everything to be right with us, I love you,” he said barely audible.
She slammed her hand on the dashboard. “Cut it out Victor,” she screamed, voice cracking
, “Just tell me about this woman Sally Ray. You know it’s going to be all over the news, so you might as well tell me now.”
“Shirley Siegal is Sally Ray and yes, I had lunch with her over a year ago.”
“Is she a whore like Shay said?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that until after I’d agreed to meet with her.”
“So why Victor? I don’t understand, is she another Mitzi Rubin?”
Closing his eyes, he slumped forward. “She was back in town for a few days. She said she heard I was running for office and wanted to make a five thousand dollar contribution to my campaign, so I agreed. And then she went her way and I went mine.”
“Oh c’mon Victor, are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
“Darlene, I hadn’t seen or talked to that woman in thirty years other than that short lunch meeting we had at Giannotti’s… I don’t know how Shay or anyone else found out about it.”
“And…”
“Look Darlene, you know how I feel about you and our family….And I know my campaign is probably going to be in trouble with Shay and the Tribune on my case. I feel like such a goddamn fool and hate myself because I may disappoint so many people I care about. “
“Jesus, you sound more like a politician every day.”
“What do you think, should I withdraw?”
Darlene made a small clicking noise with her tongue and moved her jaw in a swirling motion as she pondered her answer, slowly saying, “that’s up to you, but don’t panic, lots of people give campaign cash to candidates. This has to be handled right. If you’re sure there’s no more to it, maybe I should talk to Jim. I’m sure between the two of us we can come up with a way to spin this crap.”
Albany Park Page 43
