Fannie Flagg - Standing in the Rainbow

In Kansas City Earl Finley sat in a room in the back of Democratic headquarters with ten other worried men, chewing on his cigar, his pig eyes darting back and forth.

"Well, boys," he said, "we now have a tractor salesman, an ex-gospel singer, and a fairy mortician, and a drunk sitting up in the governor's mansion. Now, just how in the hell are we going to get them out?"

People may have wondered why Cecil Figgs, who was so successful in the mortuary and floral business and certainly did not need the measly little pittance the office of chief of protocol paid, had accepted the post. But Cecil had a very good reason. After reaching the top of his profession, he had become increasingly restless and bored as the years went by. He no longer planned the smaller funerals, only the large and important ones, but they were few and far between. Cecil had a burning need to stage the big event. He loved those with music, special lighting, spectacular sets, and fancy costumes. He had been so bored that last year he had thrown a big funeral for Miss Lily Mae Caldwell, who had been dead for over ten years. She had founded the Miss Missouri Pageant, so he invited all the ex-Miss Missouris to come back for the huge memorial service to be held on the stage of the theater where all the Miss Missouris had been crowned. Most of the girls had not liked her very much, but they came anyway. They more or less had to. Cecil had arranged for the entire evening to be filmed and not to show up would have made you look bad.

The memorial pageant was a grand affair. He'd hired Bert Parks to emcee and had filled the stage with an orchestra and twenty four different church choirs from all over Kansas City, wearing specially designed blue velvet robes with a jeweled Miss Missouri crown embedded on the front. Ten of the ex-Miss Missouris performed their old talent numbers and all of the others dressed in evening gowns were called onstage one by one. After they had all arrived there, when Cecil gave the cue, twenty-five white doves were released as a huge portrait of Lily Mae Caldwell, lit up at the top of a long pair of glittering silver stairs, was revealed, and Karen Bo Bo, an ex-Miss Missouri, sang "I'll Build a Stairway to Paradise."

That extravaganza had kept him busy for a while but after it was over he felt empty and hollow again. What Cecil wanted was a bigger venue and now, thanks to his investment in Hamm's campaign, he had the entire state to work with.

The first thing Cecil did as the new chief of protocol was to insist on changing the state troopers' uniforms. He came flying into the governor's mansion with his costume designer from the Little Theater and hundreds of sketches of the costumes the designer had done for The Student Prince. He explained to a room full of flabbergasted state senators, invited for a gala breakfast, who would have to pass the bill to get the funding, that he wanted to eliminate all the old gray-and-brown uniforms and create a new look, bright blue with red stripes and lots of gold buttons. Cecil got nowhere fast. At the end of the day he'd managed to get funding to create a special governor's Honor Guard uniform to trot out on state occasions. However, there were three stipulations in the bill: 1) No swords; 2) No plumes; 3) No white boots. Cecil was in a fit over that but at least he got his Honor Guard. The next week he had a slew of decorators descend on the mansion, laden with swatches and paint samples.

Thanks to Hamm cutting the budget, the entire staff working in the governor's mansion were trustees brought in from the state penitentiary. The cooks down to a woman were all murderers, as well as the maids and yard workers, with a few thieves and one five-time bigamist thrown in for good measure. But no matter their checkered past, Cecil set out to make sure they were all in starched white uniforms, neat and clean at all times. One ice-pick murderess named Alberta Peets, who did not like to wear shoes when she cooked, was told by Cecil that she was no longer allowed to go barefoot around the mansion. This upset her very much and some said Cecil was living on borrowed time.

He did not seem to notice. He was too busy making sure that when out-of-town dignitaries came to visit they would not think they were in Dogpatch, USA. He was determined to see that Governor Hamm's administration was one that would move the state forward and he had a lot of moving to do. Most of the men who surrounded Governor Hamm still wore white socks and brown shoes. After about a month of Cecil Figgs and his decorator friends running amok through the place, jerking down curtains, putting up new ones, and insisting that every male wear a fresh flower in his lapel, Rodney Tillman, at the behest of everyone, went into Hamm's office and complained about him.

But Hamm just dismissed it and said, "Oh let him have his fun he earned it."

"But Hamm, he's upsetting the staff," said Rodney.

"Well, that's their problem. They're just going to have to learn to put up with him; he's not hurting anybody."

Rodney made no headway with Hamm. Whatever Hamm's reason for keeping Cecil around, he must have known what he was doing. Hamm was not going to stop Cecil from doing anything he wanted. It was clear Cecil had full run of the governor's mansion and there were no two ways about it.

It also became clear that if you wanted the governor's ear, it was a good move to go through Cecil.

Of course, there were jokes. People snickered behind their backs that Cecil Figgs was really the first lady but Hamm didn't hear it and, besides, he was too busy to deal with that silly little gossip stuff.

And Cecil was far too busy, as he said, "trying to bring a little couth into the governor's mansion." He did complain daily about Hamm's ban on alcohol. He said it had been an embarrassment to the state, offering only lemonade and grape Kool-Aid to the president and first lady of France when they visited. And even though he could be a holy terror and fly into a fit over the smallest detail, he was always kind to Betty Raye.

As far as Betty Raye was concerned, she was more than happy, even relieved, to let Cecil plan the parties and act as host or hostess and entertain the various guests who came to the mansion. She was grateful to have someone who knew how to do all the things that she had no idea how to do. Even though Hamm had promised her she would not have to get involved, she would do the few events Cecil said she should. Cecil understood how shy she was and would ask her to come to a function only if he thought it was absolutely necessary. "Darling," he would say, looking at her with his big eyes, "you really should come in just for a minute. It just wouldn't look right for the state if you didn't put in just a tiny appearance." She would go whenever he did ask and try her best but she always felt uncomfortable and was glad when Cecil gave her the nod that she could slip out.

Other than those few functions, she mostly remained pretty much in the background and tried her best just to stay out of everybody's way. It was not too hard being first lady. Not many people ever recognized her. When Cecil had taken her shopping to buy a dress for the inauguration, one woman had come up to her and asked "Miss, do you have this in a size fourteen?" And another had asked if she had anything in a black, off the-shoulder evening gown. As a few unkind reporters had said in newspaper articles, she was not the most charismatic of first ladies. In fact, as only a few people had ever heard her, one said they even wondered if she could speak. The one thing she hated more than anything about being first lady was having to raise her children in the mansion. She felt as if they were living in a fish bowl. She was never alone, never had a moment to herself. The place was teeming with people night and day. She could not even go down to the kitchen for a drink of water without running into a tour group. And she could not leave or go anywhere without having a state trooper with her. But she did not complain. Hamm was happier than she had ever seen him.