FOREWORD

	You may not be old enough to remember the acute housing shortage following World War II (the subject of this story) but if you are over six but not yet old enough for the undertaker, you are aware of the current problem of getting in out of the rain. . . a problem especially acute for the young couple with one baby and for the retired old couple trying to get by on Social Security plus savings if any. (I am not suggesting that it is easy for those between youth and old age; the present price of mortgage money constitutes rape with violence; the price tag on an honestly-constructedif you can find onetwo-bedroom house makes me feel faint.)
	In 1960 in Moscow Mrs. Heinlein and I had as Intourist courier a sweet child named Ludmilla23, unmarried, living with her father, mother, brother and sisters. She told us that her ambition in life was for her family not to have to share a bathroom with another family.
	The next aesthete who sneers at our American plumbing culture in my presence I intend to cut into small pieces and flush him down that W.C. he despises.

	Any old pol will recognize the politics in this story as the Real McCoy. Should be. Autobiographical in many details. Which details? Show me a warrant and Ill take the Fifth.
A BATHROOM OF HER OWN


	Ever step on a top step that wasnt there?
	Thats the way I felt when I saw my honorable opponent for the office of city councilman, third district.
	Tom Griffith had telephoned at the close of filing, to let me know my opponents. Alfred McNye, he said, and Francis X. Nelson.
	McNye we can forget, I mused. He files just for the advertising. Its a three-way raceme, this Nelson party, and the present encumbrance, Judge Jorgens. Maybe well settle it in the primaries. Our fair city has the system laughingly called non-partisan; a man can be elected in the primary by getting a clear majority.
	Jorgens didnt file, Jack. The old thief isnt running for re-election.
	I let this sink in. Tom, we might as well tear up those photostats. Do you suppose Tullys boys are conceding our district?
	The machine cant concede the third district, not this year. It must be Nelson.
	I suppose so . . . it cant be McNye. What dyou know about him?
	Nothing.
	Nor I. Well, well look him over tonight. The Civic League had called a meet-the-candidates meeting that night. I drove out to the trailer camp where I hang
my hatthen a shower, a shave, put on my hurtin shoes, and back to town. It gave me time to think.
	Its not unusual for a machine to replacetemporarilya man whose record smells too ripe with a citizen of no background to be sniped at. I could visualize Nelsonyoung, manly looking, probably a lawyer and certainly a veteran. He would be so politically naive that he would stand without hitching, or so ambitious that it would blind him to what he must do to keep the support of the machine. Either way the machine could use him.
	I got there just in time to be introduced and take a seat on the platform. I couldnt spot Nelson but I did see Cliff Meyers, standing with some girl. Meyers is a handyman for Boss TullyNelson would be around close
	McNye accepted the call of the peepul in a few hundred well-worn words then the chairman introduced Nelson a veteran of this war and candidate for the same office
	The girl standing with Meyers walked up and took the stage
	They clapped and somebody in the balcony gave a wolf whistle Instead of getting flustered, she smiled up and said, Thank you!
	They clapped again and whistled and stomped She started talking Im not brightI had trouble learning to wave bye-bye and never did master patty-cake. I expected her to apologize for Nelsons absence and identify herself as his wife or sister or something. She was into her fourth paragraph before I realized that
she was Nelson.	j Francis X. NelsonFrances X. Nelson. I wondered
what I had done to deserve this. Female candidates are poison to run against at best; you dont dare use the ordinary rough-and-tumble, while she is free to use anything from a blacksnake whip to mickeys in your coffee.
	Add to that ladylike good looks, obvious intelli
gence, platform poiseand a veteran. I couldnt have lived that wrong. I tried to catch Tohi Griffiths eye to share my misery, but he was looking at her and the lunk was lapping it up.
	NelsonMiss Nelsonwas going to town on housing. You promised him that when he got out of that foxhole nothing would be too good for him. And what did he get? A shack in shanty-town, the sofa in his inlaws parlor, a garage with no plumbing. If I am elected I shall make it my first concern
	You couldnt argue against it. Like good roads, good weather, and the American Home, everybody is for veterans housing.
	When the meeting broke up, I snagged Tom and we rounded up the leaders of the Third District Association and adjourned to the home of one of the members. Look, folks, I told them, when we caucused and I agreed to run, our purpose was to take a bite out of the machine by kicking out Jorgens. Well, the situation has changed. Its not too late for me to forfeit the filing fee. How about it?
	Mrs. HolmesMrs. Bixby Holmes, as fine an old warhorse as ever swung a gavellooked amazed. Whats gotten into you, Jack? Getting rid of Jorgens is only half of it. We have to put in men we can depend on. For this district, youre it.
I shook my head. I didnt want to be the candidate; I wanted to manage. We should have had a veterTheres nothing wrong with your war record, pi~it
in Dick Blair.
	Maybe not, but its useless politically. We needed a veteran. I had shuffled papers in the legal section of the Manhattan projectin civilian clothes. Dick Blair, a paratrooper and Purple Heart, had been my choice. But Dick had begged off, and who is to tell a combat veteran that he has got to make further sacrifice for the dear peepul?
	I abided by the will of the group, because Jorgens
was not a veteran either. Now look at the damn thingWhat makes you think I can beat her? Shes got political sex-appeal.
	Shes got more than political sex-appealthis from Tom.
	When Dr. Potter spoke we listened; hes the old head in our group. Thats the wrong tack, Jack. It does not matter whether you win.
	I dont believe in lost causes, Doctor.
	I do. And so will you, someday. If Miss Nelson is Tullys choice to succeed Jorgens, then we must oppose her.
	She is with the machine, isnt she? asked Mrs. Holmes.
	Sure she is, Tom told her. Didnt you see that Cliff Meyers had her in tow? Shes a stoogethe Stooge with the Light Brown Hair.
	I insisted on a vote; they were all against me. Okay, I agreed, if you can take it, I can. This means a tougher campaign. We thought the dirt we had on Jorgens was enough; now weve got to dig.
	Dont fret, Jack, Mrs. Holmes soothed me. Well dig. Ill take charge of the precinct work.
	I thought your daughter in Denver was having a baby?
	So she is. Ill stick.
	I ducked out soon after, feeling much better, not because I thought I could win, but because of Mrs. Holmes and Dr. Potter and more like them. The team spirit you get in a campaign is pretty swell; I was feeling it again and recovering my pre-War zip.
	Before the War our community was in good shape. We had kicked out the local machine, tightened up civil service, sent a police lieutenant to jail, and had put the bidding for contracts on an honest-to-goodness competitive basisnot by praying on Sunday, either, but by volunteer efforts of private citizens willing to get out and punch doorbells.
	Then the War came along and everything came unstuck.
	Naturally, the people who can be depended on for the in-and-out-of-season grind of volunteer politics are also the ones who took the War the most seriously. From Pearl Harbor to Hiroshima they had no time for politics. Its a wonder the city hail wasnt stolen during the Warbolted to its foundations, I guess.
	On my way home I stopped at a drive-in for a hamburger and some thought. Another car squeezed in close beside me. I glanced up, then blinked my eyes. Well, Ill beMiss Nelson! Who let you out alone?
	She jerked her head around, ready to bristle, then turned on the vote-getter. You startled me. Youre Mr. Ross, arent you?
	Your future councilman, I agreed. You startled me. Hows the politicking? Wheres Cliff Meyers? Dump him down a sewer?
	She giggled. Poor Mr. Meyers! I said goodnight to him at my door, then came over here. I was hungry.
	Thats no way to win elections. Why didnt you invite him in and scramble some eggs?
	Well, I just didnt wantI mean I wanted a chance to think. You wont tell on me? She gave me the yougreat-big-strong-man look.
	Im the enemyremember? But I wont. Shall I go away, too?
	No, dont. Since you are going to be my councilman, I ought to get acquainted. Why are you so sure you will beat me, Mr. Ross?
	Jack Rossyour friend and mine. Have a cigar. Im not at all sure I can beat you. With your natural advantages and Tullys gang behind you I should a stood in bed.
	Her eyes went narrow; the vote-getter smile was gone. What do you mean? she said slowly. Im an independent candidate.
	It was my cue to crawl, but I passed. You expect
me to swallow that? With Cliff Meyers at your elbow The car hop interrupted us; we placed our orders and I resumed. She cut in.
	I do want to be alone, she snapped and started to close her window.
	I reached out and placed a hand on the glass. Just a moment. This is politics; you are judged by the company you keep. You show up at your first meeting and Cliff Meyers has you under his wing.
	Whats wrong with that? Mr. Meyers is a perfect gentleman.
	And hes good to his mother. Hes a man with no visible means of support, who does chores for Boss Tully. I thought what everybody thought, that the boss had sent him to chaperone a green candidate.
	Its not true!
	No? Youre caught in the jam cupboard. Whats your story?
	She bit her lip. I dont have to explain anything to you.
	No. But if you wont, the circumstances speak for themselves. She didnt answer. We sat there, ignoring each other, while we ate. When she switched on the ignition, I said, Im going to tail you home.
	Its not necessary, thank you.
	This town is a rough place since the War. A young woman should not be out alone at night. Even Cliff Meyers is better than nobody.
	Thats why I let them Do as you see fit! I had to skim red lights, but I kept close behind her. I expected her to rush inside and slam the door, but she was waiting by the curb. Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Ross.
	Quite all right. I went upon her front porch with her and said goodnight.
	Mr. RossI shouldnt care what you think, but Im not with Boss Tully. Im independent. I waited. Presently she said, You dont believe me. The big, beautiful eyes were shiny with tears.
	I didnt say sobut Im waiting for you to explain.
	But what is there to explain?
	Plenty. I sat down on the porch swing. Come here, and tell papa. Why did you decide to run for office?
	Well . . .  She sat down beside me; I caught a disturbing whiff of perfume. It started because I couldnt find an apartment. No, it didntit was farther back, out in the South Pacific. I could stand the insects and the heat. Even the idiotic way the Army does things didnt fret me much. But we had to queue up to use the wash basins. There was even a time when baths were rationed. I hated it. I used to lie on my cot at night, awake in the heat, and dream about a bathroom of my own. A bathroom of my own! A deep tub of water and time to soak. Shampoos and manicures and big, fluffy towels! I wanted to lock myself in and live there. Then I got out of the Army
	Yes?
	She shrugged. The only apartment I could find carried a bonus bigger than my discharge pay, and I couldnt afford it anyhow.
	Whats wrong with your own home?
	This? This is my aunts home. Seven in the family and I make eightone bathroom. Im lucky to brush my teeth. And I share a three-quarters bed with my eight-year-old cousin.
	I see. But that doesnt tell why you are running for office.
	Yes, it does. Uncle Sam was here one night and I was boiling over about the housing shortage and what I would like to do to Congress. He said I ought to be in politics; I said Id welcome the chance. He phoned the next day and asked how would I like to run for his seat? I said
	Uncle SamSam Jorgens!
	Yes. Hes not my uncle, but Ive known him since I was little. I was scared, but he said not to worry, he
would help me out and advise me. So I did and thats all there is to it. You see now?
	I saw all right. The political acumen of an Easter bunnyexcept that the bunny rabbit was likely to lick the socks off me. Okay, I told her, but housing isnt the only issue. How about the gas company franchise, for example and the sewage disposal plant? And the tax rate? What airport deal do you favor? Do you think we ought to ease up on zoning and how about the freeways?
	Im going after housing. Those issues can wait.
	I snorted. They wont let you wait. While youre riding your hobbyhorse, the boys will steal the public blindagain.
	Hobbyhorse! Mister Smarty-Britches, getting a house is the most important thing in the world to the man who hasnt one. You wouldnt be so smug if you were in that fix.
	Keep your shirt on. Me, Im sleeping in a leaky trailer. Im strong for plenty of housingbut how do you propose to get it?
	How? Dont be silly. Ill back the measures that push it.
	Such as? Do you think the city ought to get into the building business? Or should it be strictly private enterprise? Should we sell bonds and finance new homes? Limit it to veterans, or will you help me, too? Heads of families only, or are you going to cut yourself in on it? How about pre-fabrication? Can we do everything you want to do under a building code that was written in 1911? I paused for breath. Well?
	Youre being nasty, Jack.
	I sure am. But thats not half of it. Ill challenge you to debate on everything from dog licenses to patent paving materials. A nice, clean campaign and may the best man winproviding his name is Ross.
	I wont accept.
	Youll wish you had, before were through. My boys
and girls will be at all your meetings, asking embarrassing questions.
	She looked at me. Of all the dirty politics!
	Youre a candidate, kid; youre supposed to know the answers.
	She looked upset. I told Uncle Sam, she said, half to herself, that I didnt know enough about such things, but he said
	Go on, Frances. What did he say?
	She shook her head. Ive told you too much already.
	Ill tell you. You were not to worry your pretty head, because he would be there to tell you how to vote. That was it, wasnt it?
	Well, not in so many words. He said
	But it amounted to that. And he brought Meyers around and said Meyers would show you the ropes. You didnt want to cause trouble, so you did what Meyers told you to do. Right?
	Youve got the nastiest way of putting things.
	Thats not all. You honestly think you are independent. But you do what Sam Jorgens tells you and Sam Jorgensyour sweet old Uncle Samwont change his socks without Boss Tullys permission.
	I dont believe it!
	Check it. Ask some of the newspaper boys. Sniff around.
	I shall.
	Good. Youll learn about the birds and the bees. I stood up. Ive worn out my welcome. See you at the barricades, comrade.
	I was halfway to the street when she called me back. Jack!
	Yes, Frances? I went back up on the porch. Im going to find out what connection, if any, Tully has with Uncle Sam, but, nevertheless and notwithstanding, Im an independent. If Ive been led around by the nose, I wont be for long.
	Good girl!
	Thats not all. Im going to give you the fight of your life, whip the pants off you, and wipe that know-it-all look off your face!
	Bravo! Thats the spirit, kid. Well have fun.
	Thanks. Well, goodnight.
	Just a second. I put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned away from me warily. Tell me, darling:
who writes your speeches?
	I got kicked in the shins, then the screen door was between us. Goodnight, Mr. Ross!
	One more thingyour middle name, it cant be Xavier. What does the X stand for?
	Xanthippewant to make something of it? The door slammed.
	I was too busy the following month to worry about Frances Nelson. Ever been a candidate? It is like getting married and having your appendix out, while going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. One or more meetings every evening, breakfast clubs on Saturdays and Sundays, a Kiwanis, Rotary, or Lions, or Chamber of Commerce lunch to hit at noon, an occasional appearance in court, endless correspondence, phone calls, conferences, and, to top it off, as many hours of doorbell pushing as I could force into each day.
	It was a grass-roots campaign, the best sort, but strenuous. Mrs. Holmes, by scraping the barrel, rounded up volunteers to cover three-quarters of the precincts; the rest were my problem. I couldnt cover them all, but I could durn well try.
	And every day there was the problem of money. Even with a volunteer, unpaid organization, politics costs moneyprinting, postage, hall rental, telephone bills, and there is gasoline and lunch money for people who cant carry their own expenses. A dollar here and a dollar there and soon sr.~i are three thousand bucks in the red.
	It is hard to tell how a campaign is going; you tend to kid each other. We made a mid-stream spot check
phone calls, a reply post-card poll, ayid a doorbell sampling. And Tom and I and Mrs. Holmes got out and sniffed the air. All one day I bought gasoline here, a cola there, and a pack of cigarettes somewhere else, talking politics as I did so, and never offering my name. By the time I met Tom and Mrs. Holmes at her home I felt that I knew my chances.
	We got our estimates together and looked them over. Mine read: Ross 45%; Nelson 55%; McNye a trace. Toms was: fifty-fifty, against us. Mrs. Holmes had written, A dull campaign, a light vote, and a trend against us. The computed results of the formal polls read; Ross 43%, Nelson 52%, McNye 5%probable error plus-or-minus 9%.
	I looked around. Shall we cut our losses, or go on gallantly to defeat?
	We arent licked yet, Tom pointed out.
	No, but were going to be. All we offer is the assumption that Im better qualified than the little girl with the big eyesa notion in which Joe Public is colossally uninterested. How about it, Mrs. Holmes? Can you make it up in the precincts?
	She faced me. Jack, to be frank, its all uphill. Im working the old faithfuls too hard and I cant seem to stir out any new blood.
	We need excitement, Tom complained. Lets throw some mud.
	At what? I asked. Want to accuse her of passing notes in school, or shall we say she sneaked out after taps when she was a WAC? Shes got no record.
	Well, tackle her on housing. Youve let her hog the best issue.
	I shook my head. If I knew the answers, I wouldnt be living in a trailer. I wont make phony promises. Ive drawn up three bills, one to support the Federal Act, one to revise the building code, and one for a bond election for housing projectsthat last one is a hot potato. None of them are much good. This housing shortage will be with us for years.
	Tom said, Jack, you shouldnt run for office. You dont have the fine, free optimism that makes a good public figure.
	I grunted. Thats what I told you birds. Im the manager type. A candidate who manages himself gets a split personality.
	Mrs. Holmes knit her brows. Jackyou know more about housing than she does. Lets hold a rally and debate it.
	Okay with meI just work here. I once threatened to make her debate everything from streetcars to taxes. How about it, Torn?
	Anything to make some noise.
	I phoned at once. Is this the Stooge with the Light Brown Hair?
	That must be Jack Ross. Hello, Nasty. Hows the baby-kissing?
	Sticky. Remember I promised to debate the issues with you? How about 8 p.m. Wednesday the 15th?
	She said, Hold the line I could hear a muffled rumble, then she said, Jack? You tend to your campaign; Ill tend to mine.
	Better accept, kid. Well challenge you publicly. Is Miss Nelson afraid to face the issues, quote and unquote.
	Goodbye, Jack.
	Uncle Sam wont let you, will he? The phone clicked in my ear.
	We went ahead anyway. I sold some war bonds and ordered a special edition of the Civic League News, with a Ross-for-Councilman front page, as a throwaway to announce the rallyprizes, entertainment, movies, and a super-colossal, gigantic debate between Ross in this corner and Nelson in that. We piled the bundles of papers in Mrs. Holmes garage late Sunday night. Mrs. Holmes phoned about seven-thirty the next morningJack, she yipped, come over right away!
	On my way. Whats wrong?
	Everything. Wait till you get here. When I did, she led me out to her garage; someone had broken in and had slit open our precious bundlesthen had poured dirty motor oil on them.
	Tom showed up while we were looking at the mess. Pixies everywhere, he observed. Ill call the Commercial Press.
	Dont bother, I said bitterly. We cant pay for another run. But he went in anyhow. The kids who were to do the distributing started to show up; we paid them and sent them home. Tom came out. Too late, he announced. We would have to start from scratch no time and too expensive.
	I nodded and went in the house. I had a call to make myself. Hello, I snapped, is this Miss Nelson, the Independent Candidate?
	This is Frances Nelson. Is this Jack Ross?
	Yes. You were expecting me to call, I see.
	No, I knew your sweet voice. To what do I owe the honor?
	Id like to show you how well your boys have been campaigning.
	Just a moment Ive an appointment at ten; I can spare the time until then. What do you mean; how my boys have been campaigning?
	Youll find out. I hung up.
	I refused to talk until she had seen the sabotage. She stared. Its a filthy, nasty trick, Jackbut why show it to me?
	Who else?
	But Look, Jack, I dont know who did this, but it has nothing to do with me. She looked around at us. Youve got to believe me! Suddenly she looked relieved. I know! It wasnt me, so it must have been McNye.
	Tom grunted. I said gently, Look, darling, McNye is nobody. Hes a seventeenth-rater who files to get his name in print. He wouldnt use sabotage because hes not out to win. It has to be youwait!not you per-
sonally, but the machine. This is what you get into when you accept the backing of wrong uns.
	But youre wrong! Youre wrong! Im not backed by the machine.
	So? Who runs your campaign? Who pays your bills?
	She shook her head. A committee takes care of those things. My job is to show up at meetings and speak.
	Where did the committee come from? Did the stork bring it?
	Dont be ridiculous. Its the Third District HomeOwners League. They endorsed me and set up a campaign committee for me.
	Im no judge of character, but she was telling the truth, as she saw it. Ever hear of a dummy organization, kid? Your only connection with this Home-Owners League is Sam Jorgens . . . isnt it?
	Why, nothat is Yes, I suppose so.
	And I told you Jorgens was a tame dog for Boss Tully.
	Yes, but I checked on that, Jack. Uncle Sam explained the whole thing. Tully used to support him, but they broke because Uncle Sam wouldnt take the machines orders. Its not his fault that the machine used to back him.
	And you believed him.
	No, I made him prove it. You said to check with the newspapersUncle Sam had me talk with the editor of the Herald. Tom snorted.
	He means, I told her, that the Herald is part of the machine. I meant talk to reporters. Most of them are honest and all of them know the score. But I cant see how you could be so green. I know youve been away, but didnt you read the papers before the War?
	It developed that, what with school and the War, she hadnt been around town much since she was fifteen. Mrs. Holmes broke in, Why, shes not eligible, Jack! She doesnt have the residence requirements.
	I shook my head. As a lawyer, I assure you she does. Those things dont break residenceparticularly as she enlisted here. How about making us all some coffee, Mrs. Holmes?
	Mrs. Holmes bristled; I could see that she did not want to fraternize with the enemy, but I took her arm and led her into the house, whispering as I went. Dont be hard on the kid, Molly. You and I made mistakes while we were learning the ropes. Remember Smythe?
	Smythe was as fine a stuffed shirt as ever took a bribewe had given him our hearts blood. Mrs. Holmes looked sheepish and relaxed. We chatted about the heat and presidential possibilities, then Frances said, Im conceding nothing, Jackbut Im going to pay for those papers.
	Skip it, I said. Id rather bang Tullys heads together. But see hereyouve got an hour yet; I want to show you something.
	Want me along, Jack? Tom suggested, looking at Frances.
	If you like. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. HolmesIll be back to clean up the mess. We drove to Dr. Potters office and got the photostats we had on Jorgens out of his safe. We didnt say anything; I just arranged the exhibits in logical order. Frances didnt talk either, but her face got whiter and whiter. At last she said, Will you take me home now, Mr. Ross?
	We bumped along for the next three weeks, chasing votes all day, licking stamps and stenciling autobumper signs late at night and never getting enough sleep. Presently we noticed a curious factMcNye was coming up. First it was billboards and throwaways, next was publicityand then we began to get reports from the field of precinct work for McNye.
	We couldnt have been more puzzled if the Republican Party had nominated Norman Thomas. We made another spot check. Mrs. Holmes and Dr. Potter and I went over the results. Ross and Nelson, neck and
necka loss for Nelson; McNye a strong third and coming up fast. What do you think, Mrs. Holmes?
	The same you do. Tully has dumped Nelson and bought up McNye.
	Potter agreed. Itll be you and McNye in the runoff. Nelson is coasting on early support from the machine. Shell fizzle.
	Tom had come in while we were talking. Im not sure, he said. Tully needs a win in the primary, or, if that fails, a run-off between the girl and McNye. Weve got an organization, she hasnt.
	Tully cant count on me running third. In fact, Ill beat out Frances for second place at the very worst.
	Tom looked quizzical. Seen tonights Herald, Jack?
	No. Have they discovered Im a secret drinker?
	Worse than that. He chucked us the paper.
CLAIM ROSS INELIGIBLE COUNCILMANIC RACE it read; there was a 3-col cut of my trailer, with me in the door. The story pointed out that a city father must have lived two years in the city and six months in his district. The trailer camp was outside the city limits.
	Dr. Potter looked worried. Can they disqualify you, Jack?
	They wont take it to court, I told him. Im legal as baseball. Residence isnt geographical location; its a matter of intentyour home is where you intend to return when youre away. Im registered at the flat I had before the War, but I turned it over to my partner when I went to Washington. My junk is still in it, but hes got a wife and twins. Hence the trailer, a temporary exigency of no legal effect.
	Hmmm . . . how about the political effect?
	Thats another matter.
	You betcha it is, agreed Tom. How about it, Mrs. Holmes?
	She looked worried. Tom is right. Its tailor-made for a word-of-mouth campaign combined with unfa
vorable publicity. Why vote for a man who doesnt even live in your district?that sort of thing.
	I nodded. Well, its too late to back out, but, lets face it, folks Weve wasted our nickel.
	For once they did not argue. Instead Potter said, What sort of person is Miss Nelson? Could we possibly back her in the finals?
	Shes a good kid, I assured him. She got taken in and hated to admit it, but shes better than McNye.
	Ill say she is, agreed Tom.
	Shes a lady, stated Mrs. Holmes.
	But, I objected, we cant elect her in the finals. We cant pin anything on McNye and shes too green to stand up to what the machine can do to her in a long campaign. Tully knows what hes doing.
	Im afraid youre right, Potter agreed. Jack, said Tom, I take it you think were licked now.
	Ask Mrs. Holmes.
	Mrs. Holmes said, I hate to say so, and Im not quitting, but it would take a miracle to put Jack on the final ballot.
	Okay, said Tom, lets quit being boy scouts and have some fun the rest of the campaign. I dont like the way Boss Tully campaigns. Weve played fair; what weve gotten in return is shenanigans.
	What do you want to do?
	He explained. Presently I nodded and said, Im all for itand a wrinkle of my own. Itll be fun, and it just might work.
	Well, call her up then!
	I got Frances Nelson on the phone. Jack Ross, Frances. Havent seen you around much, sweetheart. Hows the campaign?
	She sounded tired. Oh, that What campaign, Jack?
	Did you withdraw? I havent seen any announcement.
	It wasnt necessary. I had a show-down with
Jorgens and after that my campaign just disappeared. The committee vanished away. Look, Jack, Id like to see youto apologize.
	Forget it, I want to see you, too. Ill pick you up. We laid it on the line. Im dropping out of the race, Frances. We want to throw our organizational support to youprovided.
	She stared. But you cant, Jack. Im going to vote for you.
	Huh? Never mind, you wont get a chance to. I showed her the Herald story. Its a phony, but it licks me anyhow. I should have played up my homeless condition but, like a dope, I let them do it. Its too late nowwhen a candidate has to explain things hes back on his heels and ready for the knockout. I was a fifty-fifty squeeze at best; this tips the balance.
	She was staring at the picture, bug-eyed, knuckles pressed to her mouth. Jack Oh, dear! Ive gone and done it again.
	Done what?
	Got you into this mess. I told Sam Jorgens all about our first talk, including how you had to camp out in a trailer. I
	I brushed it aside. No matter. They would have stumbled on it anyhow. See herewere going to take you on. We might even elect you.

But I dont want the job, Jack. I want you to have
it.
	Too late, Frances. But we want to beat that spare tire, McNye. The machine is still using you, to beat me in the primary by splitting the non-machine vote; then theyll settle your hash. Ive got a gimmick for that. But firstyou call yourself an independent. Well, you arent now.
	What do you mean? I wont be anything else.
	They gave women the vote! Look, darling, a candidate can be unbossed, but not independent. Independence is an adolescent notion. To merit support you
have to commit yourselfand there goes your independence.
	But I Oh, politics is a rotten business!
	You make me tired! Politics is just as clean-or as dirtyas the people who practice it. The people who say its dirty are too lazy to do their part in it. She dropped her face into her hands. I took her by the shoulders, and shook her. Now you listen to me. Im going over our program, point by point. If you agree with it and commit yourself, youre our candidate. Right?
	Yes, Jack. It was just a whisper.
	We ran through it. There was no trouble, it was sane and sensible, likely to appeal to anyone with no ax to grind. The points she did not understand we let lay over. She liked especially my housing bills and began to perk up and sound like a candidate.
	Okay, I said finally. Heres the gimmick. Ill get my name off the ballot so that the race will be over in the primary. Its too late to do it myself, but theyve played into my hands. Itll be a court order, for ineligibility through non-residence.
	Dr. Potter looked up sharply. Come again, son? I thought you said your legal position was secure.
	I grinned. It isif I fight. But I wont. Heres the gagwe bring a citizens suit through a couple of dummies. The court orders me to show cause. I default. Court has no option but to order my name stricken from the ballot. One, two, three.
	Tom cheered. I bowed. Now Dr. Potter is your new campaign chairman. You go on as before, going where you are sent and speaking your piece. Oh, yesIm going to give you some homework on other issues than housing. As for Tom and mewere the special effects department. Just forget us.
	Three days later I was off the ballot. Tom handled it so that it looked like McNye and Tully. Mrs. Holmes had the delicate job of convincing our precinct work-
ers that Frances was our new white hope. Dr. Potter and Dick Blair got Frances endorsed by the Civic Leaguethe League would endorse a giant panda against a Tully man. And Dick Blair worked up a veterans division.
	Leaving Tom and me free for fun and games.
	First we got a glamor pic of Frances, one that made her look like Liberty Enlightening the World, with great sorrowful eyes and a noble forehead, and had it blown up for billboards6-sheets; 24-sheets look like too much dough.
	We got a good picture of McNye, toogood for us. Like thisyou send two photographers to a meeting where your man is to speak. One hits him with a flash bulb; the second does also, right away, before the victim can recover from his reflex. Then you throw the first pic away. We got a picture which showed McNye as pop-eyed, open-mouthed, and idiotica Kallikak studying to be a Jukes. It was so good we had to tone it down. Then I went up state and got some printing done, very privately.
	We waited until the last few days, then got busy. First we put snipe sheets on our own billboards, right across Frances beautiful puss so that those eyes looked appealingly at you over the paster. VOTE FOR McNYE they read. Two nights later it was quarter cards, this time with his lovely picture: VOTE
FOR McNYEA WOMANS PLACE IS IN THE HOME. We stuck them up on private property, too.
	Tom and I drove around the next day admiring our handiwork. Its beautiful, Tom said dreamily. Jack, do you suppose there is any way we could get the Communist Party to endorse McNye?
	I dont see how, I admitted, but if it doesnt cost too much Ive still got a couple of war bonds.
	He shook his head. It cant work, but its a lovely thought.
	We saved our double-whammie for the day before election. It was expensivebut wait. We hired some
skid-row characters on Saturday, through connections Tom has, and specified that they must show up with two-day beards on Monday. We fed each one a sandwich loaded with garlic, gave him literature and instructionsring the doorbell, blow his breath in the victims face, and hand her a handbill, saying abruptly, Heres how you vote, lady! The handbill said, VOTE FOR McNYE and had his special picture. It had the rest of Tullys slate too, and some choice quotes of McNyes best double talk. Around the edge it said 100% AmericanlOO% American.
	We pushed the stumblebums through an average of four precincts apiece, concentrating on the better neighborhoods.
	That night there was an old-fashioned torchlight paradeMrs. Holmes show, and the wind-up of the proper campaign. It started off with an elephant and donkey (Heaven knows where she borrowed the elephant!) The elephant carried signs: IM FOR FRANCES; the donkey, SO AM I. There was a kids band, flambeaux carried by our weary volunteers, and a platoon of WAC and WAVE veterans marching ahead of the car that carried Frances. She looked scared and lovely.
	Tom and I watched it, then got to work. No sleep that night More pasters. Windshield size this time, 3xlO, with glue on the printed side. I suppose half the cars in town have no garages, housing being what it is. We covered every block in the district before dawn, Tom driving and me on the right with a pail of water, a sponge, and stickers. He would pull alongside a car; I would slap a sticker on the windshield where it would stare the driver in the faceand have to be scraped off. They read: VOTE FOR McNYEKEEP AMERICA PURE.
	We figured it would help to remind people to vote. I voted myself when the polls opened, then fell into bed.
	I pulled myself together in time to get to the party at the headquartersan empty building we had borrowed for the last month of the campaign. I hadnt given a thought to poll watchers or an honest count that was Mrs. Holmes babybut I didnt want to miss the returns.
	One election party is like anotherthe same friendly drunks, the same silent huddle around the radio, the same taut feeling. I helped myself to some beer and potato chips and joined the huddle.
	Anything yet, I asked Mrs. Holmes. Wheres Frances?
	Not yet. I made her lie down.
	Better get her out here. The candidate has to be seen. When people work for a pat on the back, youve got to give em the pat.
	But Frances showed up about then, and went through the candidate routinefriendly, gracious, thanking people, etc. I began to think about running her for Congress.
	Tom showed up, bleary-eyed, as the first returns came in. All McNye. Frances heard them and her smile slipped. Dr. Potter went over to her and said, Its not importantthe machines precincts are usually first to report. She plastered her smile back on.
	McNye piled up a big lead. Then our efforts began to showNelson was pulling up. By 10:30 it was neck and neck. After a while it began to look as if we had elected a councilman.
	Around midnight McNye got on the air and conceded.

	So Im a councilmans field secretary now. I sit outside the rail when the council meets; when I scratch my right ear, Councilman Nelson votes yes; if I scratch my left ear, she votes nousually.
	Marry her? Me? Tom married her. Theyre building a house, one bedroom and two bathrooms. When they can get the fixtures, that is.
