by Stuart Woods
He hung up his overcoat, turned to his desk, and was immediately transfixed by the sight of a pale, green envelope resting on top of the “private” stack. He had received one or two letters from the president before, routine notes prepared by some anonymous White House staffer and, probably, signed by a machine; what struck him about this one was that it had been addressed by hand, and not the perfect hand of a top-notch secretary.
He picked it up and stared at it for a moment. It had been addressed to his home and forwarded. He had not been home for a month. He gingerly opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.
Dear Billy
I heard on the grapevine that on the recent inspection tour the 109th came out head and shoulders above any other ANG group in readiness. I’ve sent my official thanks to the unit, but I wanted to let you know personally how much I appreciate your doing such a fine job. I know it took you away when the legislature was in session, and I’m glad we didn’t have to call you to active duty in the end.
Next time you’re up this way, let me know you’re coming, and let’s get together for a chat.
With best regards, Jack Kennedy
Billy read the letter again, then placed it carefully in his brief case. He was astonished that the man had taken time to write the note, and he was giddy with flattery. He had been hearing a lot from the administration lately. That fellow Kass had been down in early October, and if Billy had read him correctly, he could expect an endorsement, perhaps even personal campaigning from the president when he ran for governor, although nothing had been promised, and the man had made it clear that the administration was looking to him for progressive action in race matters. Kass had also brought him confirmation of some mass transit money for Atlanta from the federal government, something the city had not hoped to get for months. The governor was still wondering how Billy had done that. Billy hadn’t done it at all, really. It had just fallen into his lap.
He was pondering all this when Sarah came on the intercom, and if he hadn’t been preoccupied, he might have paid closer attention to the telephone conversation which followed.
“Chief Breen on the line, Governor.”
“Who?” He struggled to concentrate on the name.
“The Chief of police. Of Atlanta. You asked his help a few weeks ago, remember?”
“Oh, sure, put him on.” It had been more than a month since he had talked with the Chief.
“Morning, Chief.”
“Morning, Governor. You asked me a few weeks ago to keep an eye out for a man for you, a Chief for Delano.” Breen never wasted time with pleasantries.
“Yes, Chief.” Billy was surprised to hear from the man. They had bumped heads a couple of times on the question of more black officers on the Atlanta force.
“I’ve come across a man who seems very well qualified. He’s a major in the army, commands the MP unit out at Fort McPherson. Retiring next month.”
“Retiring? How old is he?”
“Only in his early fifties. Joined real young, apparently. He applied to us, but we have a policy of promoting from within, and we couldn’t offer him anything anywhere near the level he’d want. I mentioned Delano to him, and he seemed interested. He’s from Columbus, originally, and knows the town from driving through.”
“Sounds like an interesting fellow. I’d like to meet him.”
“I’ll send a man over with a résumé he left with me, and your secretary can set up an appointment for him.”
“Sounds good. What’s the man’s name?
“Ah,” Billy heard some papers shuffle. “Tucker Watts.”
“Chief, I appreciate your remembering about this.”
“Oh, glad to do it, Governor, glad to do it. Any time.”
As they hung up, Billy thought the Chief had delivered his last statement with a lot of relish, more than he would have expected, but his mind was again occupied by the signals coming out of Washington, and he thought no more about it.
He buzzed his secretary. “Sarah, Breen is sending over a résumé on a major out at Fort Mac named Watts. Will you set up an appointment with the man as soon as possible, please? It’s about the job in Delano.”
“Certainly, Governor. Mr. Holmes is calling from Delano.”
He picked up the phone. “Mr. Hugh, how are you?” He knew why Holmes was calling, and he was relieved that Breen had called first.
“I’m just fine, Billy.” He sounded fine, too, Billy thought. The man was, what—eighty-six, eighty-seven? He was still chairman of the state board of education, still chaired the city council, and still ran the bank. His wife had died of a stroke in 1948, and the event had seemed to concentrate his dedication to work. His only concession to age was a hearing aid. “Billy, I’m sorry to bother you, but we’re beginning to hurt for a new Chief of police down here. Have you heard anything from your sources?”
“Yes, sir, I have. Chief Breen of Atlanta has recommended an MP major who’s about to retire from the army. I’m seeing him tomorrow.”
“Good. All of our force down here are pretty young and inexperienced. None of ‘em is really responsible enough even to be an acting Chief. The city manager is tearing his hair out. How soon you reckon we can get this fellow?”
“Well, now hold on, I haven’t even talked to him yet. Breen says he’s good, though, and he expressed an interest in the job.”
“Tell you what. We’ve got a council meeting at six o’clock on Friday. You coming down this weekend?”
“Yes, first weekend in a month.”
“Well, if you like the looks of this fellow, why don’t you bring him down here to meet the council? We’re ready to move; if he’s any good, we’ll take him. Might even pay a couple of thousand more than we’d planned on.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve talked with him and let you know if he can come. How’s Patricia? You’ve seen more of her than I have, the last few weeks.”
“Thriving. Will, too.”
“Glad to hear it. See you this weekend, then.”
Billy hung up and mopped his brow. He’d almost dropped the ball on that one. Imagine being saved by Breen, who didn’t even like him, much.
3
SARAH’S VOICE came over the intercom. “Governor, Major Watts is here to see you.”
“Ask him to wait for just one minute, would you, Sarah?” He had not had time until this moment to look over the résumé Chief Breen had sent him, but from what he saw now, the man had an outstanding record. Enlisting at age seventeen, he had finished high school, earned a degree while in the service, and attended a number of military police courses, in addition to the FBI training program for police officers.
Billy immediately thought that he would never find a city policeman so well qualified who would take such a job as that in Delano. He wondered why Major Watts was interested; then he remembered Chief Breen’s remark about promotion from within, and how it would be difficult to hire Watts into a police force at a level in which he would not be overqualified. At least Delano could offer the job of Chief.
“Send him in, Sarah.”
As Major Tucker Watts strode into Billy’s office and toward him, Billy was immediately struck by a number of things: the man’s size, for he was six feet three or four, well over two hundred pounds; his bearing; his confident manner; the rows of ribbons on the perfectly pressed uniform. Most of all Billy was struck, forcibly, by the color of the man’s skin. He was black.
During the time it took to make introductions and shake hands, Billy fought the wild urge to laugh aloud. Breen, from his office at city hall, had fired an ironic arrow into the air which, Billy felt sure, could be seen at this moment protruding from his back.
“Major, I want to thank you for taking the time from your duties to come and talk with me.” After a year of baiting Breen about an insufficient number of blacks on the Atlanta police force, Breen was inquiring, through the presence of the man before him, about the number of blacks on the Delano police force. Billy wo
ndered whether Breen had also called the press, whether they were waiting outside his office at that moment.
“Thank you for seeing me, sir. I was glad to come.”
The major’s speech was precise, perfectly enunciated. There was the musky, black intonation, but it seemed very unsouthern, almost West Indian. Billy thought it a pleasant sound.
Billy glanced at the man’s résumé. “I see you’re out at Fort Mac. Been there long?” He was beginning to overcome the distraction of what Breen had meant as a practical joke. He wanted to know more about Major Watts.
“I’m just finishing up a two-year tour. My last one, in fact. I’ll complete thirty years this month.”
“How did you get to know Chief Breen?” Watts seemed completely at ease. Billy wondered whether he knew why Breen had sent him.
“I command the MP detachment at Fort Mac. We liaise closely with the Atlanta police. I’ve met him several times in the line of duty.”
“Like him?”
There was a tiny pause before Watts spoke. “I’m sure he’s a competent police Chief.”
Billy smiled slightly. “Yes, I’m sure he is.” He glanced at the résumé. “You saw combat in the war?”
“Yes, sir. 761st Tank Battalion.”
“I’ve heard about the outfit.”
“Yes, sir. Eleanor Roosevelt’s Niggers.”
“That’s the one. We had a man from Delano in that outfit.”
“Who would that be, sir?”
“Marshall Parker.”
“He wasn’t in my company.”
“You were in Korea, too?”
“Yes, sir. That was when I transferred into the military police.”
“You’re married, I see. Any children?”
“No, sir. We married late.”
Billy shifted in his seat. “Let me be direct with you, Major. I have no doubt that you are very well qualified for this job by training and experience, but let’s talk about temperament. We’re talking about the job of Chief of police in a small southern town. There’s never been a black policeman in Delano. There are bound to be a lot of pressures involving race. Do you think you could handle that?”
“I’ve thought about the problems involved. What you have to understand, sir, is that an army base, wherever it is, is a small southern town. The army is disproportionately southern. I serve under white southern officers, and white southern boys serve under me. I can’t say that the situation has never caused friction. I think, for instance, that if I had been white I’d probably be a full colonel by now instead of a major, but I’ve never had any problems handling that. Ten years ago I was a master sergeant, so I can’t really complain about promotion. I’ve always had outstanding efficiency reports from white southern officers, and I don’t think there’s a white boy who’s ever served under me who would say he was been treated anything but fairly.”
“Well, you’d have a force of six men, all white and all southern. Handling them would be your very first problem. Tell me, what sort of social life do you have in the army? Do you think you could adapt socially to a place where virtually all the black people are less well educated and less affluent than you?”
Watts smiled, revealing white, even teeth. “That’s the first thing my wife asked me. But I reminded her that we’re not all that social, anyway. We’ve gotten used to moving every couple of years, like everybody in the army, so what friends we have are pretty scattered. If we want a big night out we go to the officer’s club, and living in Delano we’d still have PX and club privileges at Fort Benning and Fort Mac. We’ve always talked about buying a place in the country when we retire, and that would mean a pretty quiet life, too.”
Billy nodded. “Well, there’s no shortage of country around Delano. What sort of money do you think you’d need?”
“What’s the budget for the job?”
“About ten thousand.”
“I think that would do us very well. I’d have my retirement pay, too. I’d like to think that if I did a good job there would be more later.”
“I should think there would be. There are some insurance benefits, too, I think.”
“That’s fine, but what would concern me most would be the budget for the department and my authority as Chief. I don’t want to run a force that isn’t properly equipped and manned— that’s a losing game—and I’d want absolute authority to hire and fire.”
“Well, those seem like reasonable requests to me, but you’d have to take them up with the city council.” Billy gazed across the room at a painting of a sailing ship. He had begun to see an opportunity in Tucker Watts. “Major, would you be available to come down to Delano on Friday afternoon? There’s a council meeting at six o’clock.”
“Yes, sir, I could do that.”
“Let me talk with a couple of people, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow, then.” He stood up and stuck out his hand.
“Thank you, Governor, that will be just fine.”
When Watts had gone, Billy picked up the phone and began dialing Hugh Holmes’s number at the Bank of Delano. He broke the news as gently as he could.
“I don’t know about that, Billy. We’ve talked about hiring a black policeman, as you know, but a black Chief?”
“Mr. Holmes, I want to bring him down there on Friday, and have the council meet him.”
“Well, I guess we owe you that, Billy, after you’ve taken the time to find this fellow. Do you want them to know he’s colored?”
Billy thought for a moment. “Yes, but not until they arrive at the meeting. You’re meeting at six. I’ll try and have him there at six-thirty. All right?”
“All right, son. Do you think the press will get wind of this?”
“I don’t think so, but if they do, everybody will come off a lot better if they’ve given the man a hearing.”
“I suppose so.”
Billy hung up and made a mental note to ask Watts to be sure and wear his uniform.
Tucker Watts left the meeting with the lieutenant governor half elated and half afraid. Might this really happen? If it did, could he bring it off? He tried to imagine what might lie ahead, but all his excited mind could conjure up was the image of a tightrope stretched before him, so high that it was impossible to see what lay below. He knew that he would not hesitate to walk it if the opportunity came. He was drawn irresistibly toward it, helpless to stop himself.
Delano. Of all the places in the world, Delano, Georgia.
4
TUCKER WATTS hated lying to his wife, because she read him so easily. He had thought carefully about how he would explain things to her, in order to keep the lies he would have to tell her at an absolute minimum. As soon as he came into the house he went into the kitchen, where she was preparing dinner, and mixed them both a gin and tonic.
“I had an interesting job interview today,” he said, squeezing lime into their drinks.
“Oh?” She knew already just how interested he was.
“With the lieutenant governor, William H. Lee.”
“A state job?”
“No. You remember a little town called Delano?”
She furrowed her brow.
“You remember. We’ve passed through there driving back and forth to Columbus. You always say how pretty you think it is.”
“Oh, that one. Yes, it is pretty. Is the job there?”
He nodded. “Chief of police.”
Her eyebrows went up. “What does the lieutenant governor have to do with that?”
“It’s his home town. He’s helping them find somebody. Breen on the Atlanta force recommended me.”
“I thought Breen didn’t like colored folks.”
“He doesn’t. I don’t think he told Lee I was colored.”
She laughed. “That must have come as quite a shock.”
“Didn’t seem to. I think he’s going to recommend me to the city council.”
“Is Delano someplace you think we ought to go?”
“Well, look at it this way. We a
lready know by now that I’m not going to get hired at any sort of rank by any big-city police force because of seniority problems, and I’m too old and too mean to start somewhere as a patrolman.”
“Lord knows that’s true.”
“Careful how you agree with me.” He slapped her on the bottom.
“Mmmmm. Do that again.”
“Later. Now, we’re looking to retire, right? But we both know I need to work to keep from going crazy. Well, this might just give us everything we want. We can buy a few acres in the country near town, and you can do some gardening. We might even build us a house if things work out.”
“Being Chief of police isn’t exactly retirement, is it?”
“Shoot, I can run that department left-handed, once I get the little white-boy cops to understand who’s boss. Nothing happens in those little towns that even gets you out of bed more than a couple of times a year.”
“How about money?”
“Pays ten thousand, and with our retirement pay and PX privileges at Benning, we could live right well, you know?”
“You make it sound good.” She paused. “Is there something you aren’t telling me about it?”
Jesus, the woman was psychic. “What’s not to tell? You know everything I know. Lee wants me to go down there and meet the city council Friday evening.”
“You think they’ll hire a colored fellow?”
“I don’t know, but I figure Lee wouldn’t want me to go down there if he didn’t think so. He’s going to run for governor next year, you know, and it would be a feather in his cap with the colored vote, to have a black Chief in his home town.”
She nodded. “Guess so. Don’t you have an aunt or a cousin in Delano?”
“Aunt. I haven’t seen her in years. Don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
“Well, if it looks good to you it’s all right with me.” She opened the oven and took out a meatloaf. “Drink up your drink; supper’s about ready.”
5
AS THE Delano City Council convened on Friday night, Hugh Holmes found himself wondering at exactly what point he had begun doing things Billy’s way instead of the other way around. Early on, he decided, while Billy had still been in the state senate. The boy had always learned quickly. Now Holmes found himself leading the charge in a delicate matter, trusting Billy’s judgment entirely. He had not met this Major Watts, but he knew that Billy wouldn’t be bringing him to this meeting if he didn’t fully expect Holmes and the rest of the council to approve his appointment.
