George Higgins - A change of gravity

Late that Saturday morning in the spring of '66, after the week's slate of routine but persisting annoyances had been discussed and new plans made to deal with them, perhaps even effectively 'this fuckin' time,"

Hilliard had cleared his throat and asked Merrion what it was he wanted.

"Because whatever it is that you want, my friend," Hilliard'd said, meaning every word of it, 'you'll have it. If I can get it for you, it's gonna be yours. You've earned it. If it's within my power, I'll do it, you know. I'll move heaven and earth if I have to. This you know's a true fact."

"Oh Danny, up yours, for Christ sake," Merrion said, discomforted and faintly embarrassed. He had cultivated the consensus about Hilliard:

"When Dan Hilliard says you're getting' a pony, a pony's what you're gonna get. You can go out and get yourself a red-leather saddle; you're not getting' a room full of shit."

Merrion hadn't asked for anything because he'd been being practical.

That was his policy. "That is how we do things, me and Danny. He has all the great ideas. I'm in charge of making sure they really are great; wont cost more'n they're worth or get us two into trouble.

"Dan and I've always understood each other, right from the very first day. As long as we talk it over before anything gets promised, chances are what we say will get done. We've always dealt in the same line of goods: only in possible things."

Hilliard used similar terms. "We may not tell you what you'd like to hear, that we'll do what you want us to do. We'll only tell you what we think we can do, and then if you tell us you want us to do that, we'll do our best to get it done." Neither of them mentioned the ballast to anyone else: "Things that we know're possible, because when we say we think we can do them, we've already gotten them done.

Merrion said he'd been thinking of appointment as an assistant clerk of a district court. "Pretty much ruled out the chairmanship of the Turnpike Authority," he'd said. "Nice job, pay's good; hours're great, but I don't think you can pull that one off. Pope? I'm not really religious, and anyway, I ate meat on Fridays 'fore it was allowed.

Chief justice? I'm not a lawyer."

Hilliard was going to be. He'd earned his degree from Suffolk Law School, punishing himself in Boston night after night and days as well in the summers during his first four years in the legislature. Awaiting the results of the winter bar exam, he could admit 'it fuckin' near killed me. If I hadn't been young, it would've." While still in law school he'd advised Merrion to drop his studies in education. "You're not gonna teach school; you're too stupid to teach. I've been a teacher; I know. Go to law school instead. Make my life easy: no matter how bad you screw up, I can always make you a judge. Any asshole can be a judge."

Merrion ignored him, getting his M.Ed, from Westfield State College. "I got some pride: Never even been inside a goddamned law school. I got other good qualities too.

"Courts sit in the summer. Judges' robes look hot. I think a nice quiet district-court clerkship's what I'd like; bug no one and no one bugs me. File papers all day and look out the window; have coffee; read the papers, movin' my lips. Talk about sports and politics, right? Basically the same stuff I do here' in Hilliard's Holyoke office, when not working as a substitute teacher, pretending to wait for a job-opening in biology and freshman composition, in a public high school. "If I don't find something pretty soon, I'm gonna hafta get serious about that. But it's not like I really wanna. What I want is something with the state or maybe feds. Pays at least nine grand a year and they can't kick your ass out in the street, next election goes the wrong way."

Merrion said clerkships met those requirements. "And your court job also pays better but that's not what makes it great — it's that no one's after you all the time like in this job, voters wanting something from you.

"See, the one thing I've found out from working in this job is that I don't want to spend my life doing it. I'm not knocking it now, understand me. I learned a helluva lot here, and I appreciate it. If it looked like you're headed for governor or US Senate, I'd have different stuff to do, manage a staff or something, like I do in a campaign planning events, scheduling, bullshittin' the reporters that'd be different. If you had a thing where I could be a chief of staff for you, like Larry O'Brien for JFK, or Leo Diehl for Tip O'Neill, that'd be a whole different thing a ten-strike, right up my alley; I'd love it.

"But we both know there's no way that's gonna happen. It isn't you're not good enough, or smart enough, or anything like that; it's because you're not rich enough. You don't have the family connections. It's too far for us two to jump. And if I get a new job now, I still want to work with you, run your campaigns. I love doin' that shit, as you know."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Hilliard said. "I think we're a good team."

"Well, so do I," Merrion said. "And I'm glad we both understand that.

Not going overboard here. But I don't want to deal directly with the public anymore, hand-to-hand stuff I do here. Since the civilians found out about we opened this office: people who want things from you now know they got a handy local place to go to, make their fuckin' demands. So they make more of them, save themselves a trip to Boston by buggin' me right here. I'm no good at dealin' with them. I don't like it and I don't like them, having to be polite to them.

"Sooner or later someone's gonna figure it out, and that'll be bad for you. So I should stop doing it, sooner.

"I am not the politician in this operation; you are. I am the mechanic. The world is full of assholes. I learned that by being your man in the district. I stay in this job for the rest of my life, I'll always be dealing with assholes. And I'll never get so I like 'em.

"I also realize no matter what I end up doing, I'm probably not gonna make a million dollars. So also for the rest of my life, while dodging assholes, I hafta think about making a living. Therefore what I have to do is find some kind of job that puts me in a different position.

Where instead of them controlling me, I'm the one controlling them.

"These people, Danny," Merrion said, "I'm telling you, I don't know how you do it. The six years I've been working for you, I've paid attention, watched you. Seen you with them; talking to them, listening to them. Half the time they're not even making sense but you still listen to them, like they're making sense. Going to their functions it seems like they're always having and you never get tired of it. Want to say to them: "For God's sake, will you shut up7. Stop talking to me." Never lose your patience. I don't know how you stand it. If I knew that I'd have to do what you do for the rest of my life, I think I'd go out of my mind.

"I've gotten so I hate them. Always pestering people like me to get people like you to get something for them cushy jobs and special treatment. When the truth is they don't even like us.

"You know what they're thinkin', they come in and see me? I don't think you do, and that's no reflection on you. When you're out campaigning, you're a candidate, sure, but also a celebrity. They want to be seen with you, maybe get their picture taken. Shows how important they are, the candidate knows them by name. So they're on their best behavior.

"You don't see the side they show me, swaggerin' in here to practically threaten me, try to order me around. They are fuckin' insulting. Act like they're lowerin themselves, comin' in to ask for a favor. Way they see it, they're the ones doin' the favor, for you, asking you do something for them.

"It's all over them; you can see it. Thinking: "Who're these guys that we have to beg? They're pols that's all they are. They don't deserve no respect. The only difference they see between politicians and the kid who pumps their gas and cleans their windshield down at Borromeo's Gulf is that you dropped into City Hall one day, maybe pay a water bill. And it so happened you hadda wait and a thought crossed your mind: "Hey, as long's I'm in the neighborhood, why not run for something', huh? Might be kind of fun." So you filled out some papers, and then next you got elected. Best day you ever had. You should be grateful to them.