Джозеф Хеллер - Maximum Impact

Green’s voice was resonant. “Senator Stinson.”

The West Virginia Democrat made a clearing sound in his throat, almost a cliché of a Southern orator preparing to speak. It prompted Hugh Green to remind him, “Five minutes, Senator.” That brought laughter from the Senate staff members and reporters who knew Stinson’s tendencies all too well.

“Thank you, suh. Ah ahm aware of the rules of these proceedin’s.” Stinson cleared his throat again, almost in defiance. “Ah ahm reminded here today of the awesome duality of the responsibility we all take upon our shoulders when we assume a seat in the United States Senate.” Stinson began in the leisurely drawl that was his trademark and became more pronounced when television cameras were watching. “On the one hand, we are told we have been elected to represent our constituencies to the best of our abilities, and that means lookin’ out for what’s good for our people and our commerce and our states. But we are also told we must uphold the Constitution of the United States of America, and that means there must be some balancin’ of interests between what’s best for our constituencies and what’s best for our country. That is a verrah delicate balance. Ah don’t know that my colleague from my neighbor state of Ohio has done a thing wrong in that regard. But the allegations that have been buildin’ up against him are formidable indeed.”

Stinson removed his glasses and wiped his eyes and his face with a handkerchief retrieved from a hip pocket. It was the right gesture, although no one who saw it could have pinpointed exactly why it was right. It used up nearly a minute of his allotted time.

“It pains me, ladies and gentlemen,” he continued. “It pains me considerably. Ah do not believe this man is capable of serious ethical misconduct. Ah have known him too well for too long to believe that. We have been on different sides of too many issues and on the same side of some. Ah have worked with him and against him for years without seein’ a single ethical misstep on his part. So it is difficult for me to believe now that he has made the grievous breaches of conduct of which he appears to stand accused, mostly by the media. In the earliest stages of this committee’s work, it was not my feelin’ that anythin’ would be gained by puttin’ the honorable senator from Ohio through an inquisition. But ah, too, voted for this hearin’ because ah came to believe the allegations against Senator Marshall were so serious he should be given the earliest and most public method of exoneratin’ himself. It is mah fervent hope he can do that verrah thing. Ah hope he will answer all the questions put to him with the same honesty and candor ah have come to expect from him over our many years of workin’ together, and ah hope he comes through this ordeal unscathed.” Stinson drew a deep breath. Many in the committee room hoped it was a signal he was finished. In fact, he was getting wound up.

“The world is a-changin’. Ah wish ah would have the privilege of livin’ long enough to see the results of those changes. But ah suppose, by the time we see the results of the current changes, ther’ll be new changes. Things are changin’ all over the place, faster than most of us can keep up with ’em. We’ve got historic things goin’ on in Europe, or Eastern Europe.” He waved his hand. “Ah guess it’s all one Europe now, or gettin’ that way fast—faster than this old World War II veteran can keep up. We got changes in Central and South America, changes in Africa, changes right here at home. Maybe for folks like Harold Marshall and me, the changes are comin’ too fast.”

He paused again, appearing lost in thought, and then resumed. “Mah point is, Harold Marshall came to this United States Senate when we were operatin’ under a set of rules slightly different from the set of rules we have today. The old rules led to abuses, there’s no question about that, and the new rules, well, we don’t know how they’re gonna work out, but at least we’re tryin’. And that’s the message ah think ah wanted to get across this mornin’. We’re surely tryin’. And if some of us don’t quite hit it right the first time, well, ah’d hope there’d be some understandin’ about that. Ah’d hope—” The Stinson drawl had used up more time than his mere words would have, had they been read without the slow-motion theatrics.

“The senator’s time has expired,” Green said.

“Ah ahm sorry, Mr. Chairman,” Stinson said. “Ah had not expected to exceed mah time. Ah would like the full text of my remarks to be printed in the record of this hearin’.”

“Without objection, so ordered,” Green said. “Senator Alogato.”

The New Yorker pulled himself erect in his chair and coldly surveyed the audience he could see arrayed before him. How many more were looking in on television he couldn’t know, but he knew those in his presence were hostile, and he played to that.

“I don’t mind stating for the record that I believe this committee is here today playing out a charade choreographed by the liberal media of this country, who, throughout modern history, have made it their personal crusade to pillory fine, upstanding, patriotic Americans who don’t happen to share their liberal political philosophy.” Alogato saw Harold Marshall bow his head and mistook the gesture for one of thanks. In fact, Marshall had been afraid this was exactly the sort of defense he would get from the conservative New Yorker, and it was exactly the kind of defense Marshall knew would not play well with his constituents, who were, after all, no fools.

“I voted against this hearing,” Alogato continued. “It’s premature. In his rush to defend his good name, I believe my friend from Ohio has not permitted himself time enough to review the evidence and mount the sterling defense of which I am certain he is capable.” He nodded toward Vredenberg. “No offense, Counselor.”

“No offense taken,” Vredenberg replied.

Alogato concluded, “Mr. Chairman, I am on record as opposing this hearing, and I have nothing further to say at this time. I would like to reserve the remainder of my time until such point as I can put it to better use.”

“These are opening statements, Senator,” Green replied. “You basically have your say, and if you don’t use your allotted time, it’s time lost. Do you want to reconsider your decision to relinquish the floor at this point? If you choose to do so, our conversation will not be deducted from the time you have remaining.”

Alogato glared at Green, who was making him look as though he didn’t know the rules. Rather than risk further damage, he backed out gracefully. “You are correct, of course, Mr. Chairman,” he said. “But like the gentlelady on my right, Mrs. Justica, I do not wish to detract time from what I am sure will be an able self-defense by Senator Marshall.”

Pace swallowed the laughter, but all around him he heard snickers from reporters more attuned to feminist sore spots than Jack Alogato. To refer to Eleanor Justica as the “gentlelady” was, in the arcane decorum of the United States Senate, perfectly proper and unobjectionable. But to refer to her in the second reference as “Mrs.” rather than as “Senator” was inexcusably sexist, and Jack Alogato would pay for the slip somewhere in the newspapers the next day, not to mention the next time he wanted anything from the feisty female senator from Indiana.

Hugh Green suppressed his own smile and plunged ahead. “Senator Adams.”

“Mr. Chairman, I deplore the fact that the tenuous evidence being explored by this committee is, at the same time, playing out before the public,” Adams said. “I think it is because of media attention to this story Senator Marshall felt compelled to come here today to defend himself. I am sorry he felt that was necessary. But I intend to hear him out with my mind wide open. He has a commendable record in this body. He is an honored colleague and a noble foe, and I wish him well. I yield back the remainder of my time.”