CHAPTER IX
THE ELECTION
In the days following Quimbleton's coup Chuff was in seclusion. It wasrumored that he was ill; it was rumored that the sounds of breakingfurniture had been heard by the neighbors on Caraway Street. But at anyrate the Bishop lived up to his word. Orders over his signature went toCongress, and vast sums of money were appropriated immediately for
The establishment and maintenance of a national park with suitablebuildings and appurtenances wherein might be maintained an electedindividual in a state of freedom, with access to alcoholic beverages,in order that successive generations might view for themselves thedevastating effects of alcohol upon the human system.
No political campaign was ever contested with more zeal and zest thanthat which led up to the election of the Perpetual Souse. Life hadgrown rather dreary under the innumerable prohibitions of the Chuffregime, and the citizens welcomed the excitement of the campaign as anotable diversion. Quimbleton appointed himself chairman of thecommittee to nominate Bleak, and the editor (acting under his friend'sinstructions) had hardly begun to deny vigorously that he had anyintention of being a candidate before he found himself plunged into abewildering vortex of meetings, speeches, and confessions of faith.Marching clubs, properly outfitted with two-quart silk tiles and frockcoats, were spatting their way plumply down the Boulevard. Torchlightprocessions tinted the night; ward picnics strewed the shells ofhard-boiled eggs on the lawns of suburban amusement parks, while Bleak,very ill at ease, was kissing adhesive babies and autographing tissuenapkins and smiling horribly as he whirled about with the grandmothersin the agony of the carrousel. More than once, reeling with the endlesscircuit of a painted merry-go-round charger, the perplexed candidatebecame so confused that he kissed the paper napkin and autographed thebaby.
He found Quimbleton a stern ringleader. Virgil was not satisfied withthe old-fashioned method of stumping the country from the taff-rail ofa Pullman car, and insisted on strapping Bleak into the cockpit of abiplane and flying him from city to city. They would land in somecentral square, and the candidate, deafened and half-frozen, wouldstammer a few halting remarks. He felt it rather keenly that Quimbletonlooked down on his lack of oratorical gift, and it was a frequenthumiliation that when words did not prosper on his tongue his impatientpilot would turn on the motors and zoom off into space in the verymiddle of a sentence.
Nevertheless, the campaign went famously. Bleak had one considerableadvantage in being comparatively unknown. He had never permittedhimself the luxury of making enemies: except for a few ex-reporters whohad once worked on the Balloon he had not a foe in the world.Quimbleton had been eager to import a covey of gunmen from othercities, but when these arrived there was really nothing for them to do.They were glad to accept jobs from Bishop Chuff, and were well paid forwaylaying and sniping the few grapes and apples that had escapedprevious pogroms.
There was only one plank in Bleak's modest platform, but he walked itso happily that it began to look like a gangplank leading onto the Shipof State. He expressed his doctrine very agreeably in his speechaccepting the party nomination; though credit should be given toTheodolinda, who had assisted him by a little private seance before headdressed the convention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said (looking as he spoke at one of thehandbills announcing his candidacy for the dignity of mouthpiece of thenation)--"I issue dodgers, but I never dodge the issue. I can Take Itor Let It Alone, but frankly, I prefer to Take It. I hope I speakmodestly: yet candor insists that both by past training and presentinclination I feel myself fitted to deal with the problems of thisexalted office. If elected to this high place of trust I shall regardmyself solely as the servant of the public, solely as therepresentative of your sovereign will. As I raise the glass or peel thelemon, I shall not act in any individual capacity. My own good cheer (Ibeg you to believe) will be my last thought. I shall remember, in everygesture and every gulp, that my thirst is in reality the Thirst of aNation, delegated to me by ballot; that my laughter and song (if thingsshould go so far) are truly the mirth and music of a proud peopleexpressing themselves through me. I shall be at all times accessible tomy fellow-men, solicitous to hear their counsel and command. Believing(as I do) in moderation, yet I should not dream of permitting privatesentiment to interfere with public interest when more violent measuresshould seem desirable.
"I like to think, my fellow-citizens, that you have conferred thisnomination upon me not wholly at random. I like to think that I am onlyexpressing your thought when I say that many drinkers have been theworst enemies of the cause we all hold dear. The alcoholshevik and theI.W.W.--the I Wallow in Wine faction--have done much to discredit theold bland Jeffersonian toper who carried tippling to the level of afine art. I have no patience with the doctrine of complete immersion.Ever since I was first admitted to the bar I have deplored the conductof those violent and vulgar revelers who have brought discredit uponthe loveliest, most delicate art known to man. Now, at last, by supremewisdom, drinking is to be elevated to the dignity of a career. I liketo think that I express your sentiment when I say that drinking is tooprecious, too subtle, too fragile a function to be entrusted to thecommon crowd. Therefore I heartily applaud your admirable intention ofentrusting it entirely to me, and look forward with profoundsatisfaction to the privilege of enshrining and perpetuating in my ownperson the genial traditions that have clustered round the institutionof Liquor. If elected, I shall endeavor to carry on the fine oldrituals and pass them down unimpaired to the next incumbent. I shallendeavor to make duty a pleasure, and pleasure a duty. I shall remindmyself that I am only performing the service to humanity that each oneof you would willingly render if you were in my place.
"My fellow-citizens, I thank you for your amiable confidence, and amhappy to accept the nomination."
There were some who criticized this speech on the ground that it wastoo academic. It was remembered that Mr. Bleak had at one time been aschool-teacher, and his opponents were quick to raise the cry "What cana schoolmaster know about liquor?" It was said that Mr. Bleak was tooscholarly, too aloof, too cold-blooded: that his interest in booze wasmerely philosophical, that he would be incompetent to deal with thepractical problems of actual drinking: that he would surround himselfwith drinks that would be mere puppets, subservient entirely to his ownpurposes. The adherents of Jerry Purplevein, the nominee of the otherparty, made haste to assert that Bleak was not a drinker at all but wasa tool of the Chuff machine. Jerry was a former bartender who had beenpining away in the ice-cream cone business. Huge banners appearedacross the streets, showing highly colored pictures of Mr. Purpleveinplying his original profession, with the legend:
RALLY ROUND THE FLAGON
VOTE FOR
PURPLEVEIN
THE PRACTICAL MAN
One of the exciting features of the campaign was the sudden appearanceof a Woman's Party, which launched an ably-conducted boom for a WomanSouse and nominated Miss Cynthia Absinthe as its candidate. The idea ofhaving a woman elected to this responsible office was disconcerting tomany citizens, but Miss Absinthe's record (as outlined by her publicityheadquarters) compelled respect. She was reputed to have been apassionate and tumultuous consumer of sloe gin, and thousands of womenin white bartenders' coats marched with banners announcing:
ABSINTHE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER VOTE FOR CYNTHIA
and
OUR SLOGAN IS SLOE GIN
For a while there was quite a probability that the male vote would beso split by Bleak and Purplevein that Miss Absinthe would come inahead. But at the height of the campaign she was found in a pharmacydrinking a maple nut foam. After this her cause declined rapidly, andeven her most ardent partisans admitted that she would never be morethan an Intermittent Souse.
Purplevein's followers, in their desperate efforts to discredit Bleak,overplayed their hand (as "practical politicians" always do). Thesagacious Quimbleton outmaneuvered them at every turn. Moderatedrinkers rallied round Bleak. Moreover, the B
leak party had anirresistible assistant in the person of Miss Chuff, who put her trancesunreservedly at Dunraven's disposal. In this way Quimbleton was able toproduce his candidate before a monster mass meeting at the Opera Housein a state of becoming exhilaration. This forever put an end to therumor that Bleak was not a practical man. Miss Chuff also campaignedstrenuously among the women, where Purplevein (being a bachelor) was ata disadvantage. "Vote for Bleak," cried Miss Chuff--"He has a wife tohelp him." Purplevein's argument that the office of Perpetual Souseshould be an entirely stag affair fell dead before Theodolinda'sglowing description of the Hostess House which Mrs. Bleak would conductnext door to the little temple which was to be erected by thegovernment for the successful candidate.
Despite the exhaustion of the campaign, Bleak stood it well.Quimbleton, knowing the disastrous effects of over-confidence, kept hisman at fighting edge by a little judicious pessimism now and then, andrumors of the popularity of Purplevein among the hard drinkers. Dayafter day Quimbleton and Miss Chuff, after a little psychic communing,would prop the editor among cushions in the big gray limousine and spinhim about the city and suburbs to bow, smile, say a few automatic wordsand pass on. Over the car floated a big banner with the words: LetBleak Do Your Drinking For You: He Knows How. The unhappy Purplevein,who had to do his electioneering in a state of chill sobriety, wasaghast to see the beaming and gently flushed face of his rivalradiating cheer. At the eleventh hour he tried to change his tacticsand plastered the billboards with immense posters:
BLEAK DOESN'T NEED THE JOB--HE'S SOUSED ALREADY
This line of argument might perhaps have been powerful if adoptedearlier, but by that time the agreeable vision of Bleak's asceticfeatures wreathed in a faintly spiritual benignance was already firmlyfixed in the public imagination. The little celluloid button showinghis transfigured and endearing smile was worn on millions of lapels. Asone walked down the street one met that little badge hundreds of times,and the mere repetition of the tenderly exhilarated face seemed to manya citizen a beautiful and significant thing. Men are altruistic atheart. They saw that Bleak would make of this high office a richlyeloquent and appealing stewardship. They were reconciled to their ownabstinence in the thought that the dreams and desires of their ownhearts would be so nobly fulfilled by him. Alcohol was gone forever,and perhaps it was as well. They themselves were conscious of havingabused its sacred powers. But now, in the person of this chosenrepresentative, all that was lovely and laughable in the old customswould be consecrated and enshrined forever. Men who had known Bleak inthe days of his employment on the Balloon recollected that even duringthe cares and efforts of his profession little incidents had occurredthat might have shown (had they been shrewd enough to notice) howfaithfully he was preparing himself for the great responsibilitydestiny held concealed.
The day of the election was declared a national festival. The Chuffgovernment, a good deal startled by the universal seriousness andenthusiasm shown in the enrollment at the primaries, was disposed (insecret) to regard the office of Perpetual Souse as a helpful compromiseon a vexed question. The war against Nature had been only partiallysuccessful: indeed the chuff chief-of-staff declared that Nature hadnot learned her lesson yet, and that some irreconcilable berries andfruits were still waging a guerilla fermentation, thus rupturing thearmistice terms. The countryside had been ravaged, all the Chautauqualecturers were hoarse, industry was at a standstill, misery and despairwere widespread. Even the indomitable Chuff himself was a littlenonplussed. Better (he thought) one man indubitably, decorously,publicly, and legally drunk, than millions of citizens privilyattempting to cajole raisins and apples into illicit sprightliness.
The citizens went to the polls in a mood of exalted self-denial. Theyknew that they were voting away their own rights, but they also knewthat their private ideals would be more than realized in the legalizedfrenzy of their representative. Bleak, appearing on the balcony of hishotel, smiled affectionately on the loyal faces that cheered him frombelow. He was deeply moved. To Quimbleton (who was supporting him frombehind) he said: "Their generosity is wonderful. I shall try to beworthy of their confidence. I hope I may have strength to put intopractice the frustrated desires of these noble people."
The result of the polling was to be announced by a searchlight from theCity Hall. A white beam sweeping eastward would mean the election ofPurplevein. A white beam sweeping westward would mean the triumph ofMiss Absinthe. A steady red beam cast upward toward the zenith wouldindicate the victory of Bleak.
At ten o'clock that night a scream of cheers burst from millions ofpeople packed along the city streets. A clear, glowing shaft of redlight leaped upward into the sky. Dunraven Bleak had been electedPerpetual Souse.
Purplevein, who was rather a decent sort, hastened to Bleak's hotel tooffer his congratulations. Bleak, who was sitting quietly with Mrs.Bleak, Quimbleton and Theodolinda, greeted him calmly. Poor Purpleveinwas very much broken up, and Quimbleton and Theodolinda, in thegoodness of their hearts, arranged a quiet little seance for hisbenefit. They all sat their drinking psychic Three-Star in honor of theevent. As Quimbleton said, helping Purplevein back to his motor--"Hitchyour flagon to a Star."
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