Authors: Myles (Mickey) Golde
Looking over his glasses, Wallace said, “That’s it? No way Wayne, there’s got to be more to this story.”
“Look guys, I trust Jim to handle things to get us through Tuesday. He’ll blast Shay and the Tribune today and tomorrow. I know he can do it and after Tuesday, we’ll go public with an innocent story about an old friend from high school wanting to make a contribution.”
“I dunno Vic,” jumped in Jim, ““What about all the other news people? I’m getting calls from everybody for a reaction to the Tribune story.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m getting calls too. I say just give out as little information as possible, but deny that anything dirty is going on.”
“What about the Mayor and the Governor, will they go along. We need their endorsement.”
Wallace and Callaway looked at each other. Callaway gave a short nod and Wallace nodded back.
“Hold em off until Tuesday and then we’ll talk,” said Wallace ”
The day before the primary election, the Tribune ran a follow up piece detailing Vic’s longtime friendship with Sally Ray and her convict husband Howie Rabin. Jack Brown was also mentioned, with the article describing him as a former Chicagoan, and reputed leader of organized crime in South Florida and close associate of Sally Ray.
The Tuesday vote, like most primaries was not heavy; however, it was somewhat larger and closer than expected with many voters in the District raising questions based on the recent accusations appearing in the Tribune. Victor Wayne’s large lead suffered but he managed to prevail over his closest opponent by 450 votes to become the Democratic candidate for Congress.
The following afternoon Vic and Jim met at Jim’s office on Randolph across from the Sherman Hotel. The receptionist and Jim’s secretary congratulated Vic on his victory, as Jim ushered him into his private office and closed the door. File folders cluttered the desk, black leather couch and floor. A small desk lamp partially blocked Jim’s view of Vic across the desk.
“They can’t take the heat,” he said, leaning around the lamp to see Vic’s re-action. “Wallace and Callaway want you to give some kind of statement in the next week that you are dropping out of the race, claiming health issues or family pressure or some other lame excuse.”
“Jesus, that’s like admitting I did something wrong. I won’t do that. What if I don’t go along?”
Jim scratched his head, got up and started pacing in front of the 11
th
story window. He stopped near the desk and glanced at the morning paper open to yesterday’s voting results.
Turning to Vic, he said, “I can’t say for certain, but I think, the Governor and Mayor won’t help you. And Vic, I hate to do this, but I’m gonna have to back away, too. My entire career is dependent on the party. Why don’t you just forget about running? You’ve got a nice business and you don’t need this grief. I’ll prepare a statement and this whole thing will die down in a couple of weeks.”
Vic stood up and poured himself a drink from a bottle of scotch on the small bar behind Jim’s desk. “You want one?” he said replacing the bottle.
Jim shook his head.
Holding the drink, Vic rested his hip against the bar. “Jim, I can’t walk away now. If I do, my wife and kids will never believe that I’m not having an affair with Shirley or maybe something even worse. I can walk away from going to Congress, but I’d be giving up my family if I do what you’re asking. I think I better go now Jim. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Vic did not show up for a meeting the next morning at Wayne Construction and did not answer calls from his office. Ben and Jeff grabbed a Ford pickup from the company lot and drove up Edens Highway to the Sheraton in Northbrook, looking for him. He answered their loud knocks at the door to his suite wearing clothes that looked slept in and needing a shave.
The blinds were drawn, blocking out the light and on the coffee table were the morning newspaper, along with a half empty whiskey bottle and a lowball glass. Vic retreated to the couch and sat down next to the only light in the room.
“You okay?” asked Jeff, walking across the room to the couch. “We tried calling and came when you didn’t answer.”
“I’m okay,” Vic grunted.
Standing across from him, Ben said softly, “You missed the meeting, we were worried. What’s wrong, Dad?”
“They want me to drop out of the race. I saw Jim last night and he gave me the news. I guess the heat about Sally Ray is too much.”
“You mean they don’t buy the story about her only wanting to contribute?” said Ben. “I don’t believe it. Most of these old party guys got skeletons all over and have been dodging crap their whole lives. This is nothing compared to some of the things they do.”
Jeff leaned over, “Ben’s right Dad, these guys are a bunch of hypocrites. With your experience in business and the Crime Commission, they should be glad to have you.”
A small smile crossed Vic’s face. “Hey, you two, I appreciate your confidence, but let’s face it. The big guys might have skeletons of their own, but as long as they don’t hit the news, they’re safe. But they’re scared of the crap that guy Shay can drag up and want to keep their distance. If I quit, it’ll be easier for them. You understand what I’m saying, boys?”
Ben grinned. “How many times do we have to remind you? Stop calling us ‘boys.’ Last time I checked, I’m 33 and little Jeffy is 30. You know what, old man? I think it’s time we got involved. This is bullshit. You’re not going to walk away, are you?”
Jeff chuckled, “Ben’s right Dad, this is a bum rap and if you walk away, everyone will believe the Tribune. You can’t give up. Look, you trust us and you know we’ve done a good job with the company. So how about giving us a chance to work on this problem?”
Vic shook his head, “look guys, I’m worried about Mom and the two of you. You know that your mother and I have problems and I don’t want to do anything more to hurt her. I also don’t want the two of you to doubt me. If I drop out now I know everyone will believe what the Tribune is saying about me. I can’t handle that. Staying in though is going to be rough.”
“Just give us eight hours, Dad, and don’t make any waves,” Ben said, his thick eyebrows forming a straight dark line over his intense blue eyes. ”Tell Jim to put a lid on things until we get back to you. I think I have an answer.”
Vic looked at the two of them. Both were dead serious, but excited. Jeff along side his brother scratched at his ragged black beard, smiling as he nodded. Vic had seen that look before, usually when they were trying to close a big deal.
“Look guys, I know you mean well, but this is different,” Vic said, holding up his hands, as his lips turned up at the corners forming a slight smile. “Sorry about the ‘boys’ crack.”
Pushing back a shock of shoulder length hair, Jeff smiled. “Dad, give us till tonight and trust us. You belong in Washington. How else are we gonna take over the company?”
“Okay,” Vic said, chuckling. “You’ve got eight hours. But do you mind telling me how you’re going to change things?”
“No, just wait to hear from us. And don’t worry; we’ll be in touch soon.”
Outside Ben and Jeff hopped in the pickup and headed north. They stopped at Sunset Foods in downtown Highland Park to pick up sandwiches; then proceeded to their mother’s house.
Darlene, answered the door wearing jeans, a black turtleneck and no make-up. She greeted them each with a kiss. Frowning she pulled away from Jeff. “I hate that beard, Jeffrey, do something
about it
.”
He laughed.
“What’s so important that we have to have lunch? Don’t you have work to do?”
“We’ve got to talk, Mom,” said Ben, sitting at his old place at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s important,” echoed Jeff, taking his spot across from his brother.
A half hour later, Darlene, slowly sipping a Diet Coke, half glasses perched on her nose, listened intently, as her sons told her what had happened that morning. Half a turkey sandwich, barely eaten, rested on the plate in front of her. When they told her how upset Vic had gotten that the party and even Jim Vogel, were deserting him, a small vein appeared at the side of her brow.
“He doesn’t want to resign, Mom,” Jeff said. “He knows it would read as an admission of guilt and he swears it is not what everyone thinks.”
“You’ve got talk to him,” Ben pleaded. “We know you’ve had your differences, but we believe in him and know that deep down, you do, too. Please talk to him. We’ve got to make him stay in this race.”
An hour later, Darlene, after sending the boys away, put on fresh make-up, brushed the tangles out of her hair and jumped in her silver Mercedes SL. Fifteen minutes later, she parked the small convertible at the Sheraton and knocked on Vic’s door. A haggard-looking Vic, answered.
“My God Victor, what’s going on? I couldn’t believe it, when the boys surprised me in the middle of the day and told me what happened yesterday and how hard you’re taking it.”
She waited, not entering until he turned and retreated into the room leaving the door open. With his back to her he mumbled. “I have no problem dropping out, but I love you and need you and the boys to trust me.”
“Victor, I’ve always felt that you could make a difference as a Congressman because you’ve believed in things; like when you worked for HIAS as a boy and the way you and your brother built a successful company where the customers trust you and the employees and even the Unions, all look up to you. Plus look at the way you’ve fought crime at the Commission. Don’t you still feel the same way?”
With a soft grunt, Vic shrugged.
“Speak up Victor, do you still feel like you have what it takes to make the world a better place? Or are you going to run out on your convictions and suffer the consequences?”
His lips tensed into a tight line and he closed his eyes, but wouldn’t turn in her direction.
Moving into the room, Darlene stood behind one of the decorative French provincial chairs on either side of the coffee table near to where he was sitting. Head down he did not stir. She took a few steps closer, standing directly across and looking down at him.
His head bobbed slowly and he looked up at her. “You know I do, and what they are inferring is a bunch of lies. I have nothing to do with Shirley Siegal and her friends or her business. But Jim has orders from Wallace and Vern Callaway to get me to drop out. The Governor and the Mayor are afraid because they could be in trouble for backing a guy with ties to gangsters. ”
Darlene glared at him. “Then fight back,” she said, leaning over with her hands on her hips. “We can beat them and the opposition, if you will go out and fight. All they’ve got on you is one meeting and a lot of unconfirmed accusations.”
Uncrossing his arms and looking up, Vic smiled. “We, did you say we can beat them? Am I hearing right?”
“Victor, let me run this campaign. I’ve been watching how Jim’s been putting everything together for the last year. Between that and all my experience working for the United Fund and all the politicians I’ve met and worked with over the years, I know that I can do this.”
Slowly standing, his hands reaching out slightly Vic sighed,. “Do you mean it, Dearie?”
“You will make a great Congressman, but don’t get any ideas—I’m not your Dearie. I’m here because your sons and I believe in you. You deserve this chance.”
Vic reached out to her, but she backed away.
“Go get cleaned up. A candidate can’t be seen looking like
you do
.”
“Yes ma’m.” he saluted. “Thank you, I’m feeling better already. There is no one I trust and believe in more than you.”
Darlene rubbed her chin and scrunched one eye, “I’ve got a lot of work to do. First I want to talk with Jim and then I’ll have to talk with the Mayor and Governor. Once we know where we stand, we can plan for the next few months. I’d also like to know what’s going on with that reporter from the Tribune.”
“I may be able to help you with the Trib,” Vic offered, with a broad smile. “Kevin O’Malley has friends there.”
A week later, Vic received a message from Darlene to be at a store that afternoon on Glenview Road, east of the commuter train station to downtown Chicago. She was there, in tennis shoes, a baggy white shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows and tight fitting jeans on her still size eight figure. She was speaking into a phone cradled on her shoulder while jotting notes on a clipboard and directing a man installing additional phones. Looking over her reading glasses, she smiled pulling the receiver away from her ear.
“How do you like our new headquarters?”
He turned slowly in a complete circle and nodded his head in approval at the workmen moving boxes, checking out the mechanical systems and setting up tables and chairs.
“Nice, and I like the location.”
“Me too, every morning a few thousand people pass by on their way to the train. Plus during the day, there’s a lot of foot traffic.”
Depositing the phone on a card chair, she glanced at her notes. Referring to a large diagram of the building spread on a folding table to her left, she held down the curled edges and pointed as he drew closer.
“We’ve got five thousand square feet with forty feet of frontage,” she said. “The telephone bank with ten cubbyholes will be in the back on the right. On the other side are private offices for you, me, and a few assistants. The back area behind the partition is for storage of signs and all our printed material. In this open area, we have room for additional desks and at least fifty folding chairs.”
Vic nodded as she talked.
Looking away for a moment, she stopped and waved, yelling, “I’ll be right with you.”
“That’s the painter, I think,” she said tilting her head toward a man in white spattered painter’s overalls near the front door. “The walls and partitions are gonna’ be light green and I ordered ten file cabinets that will be lined up in front of the back partition.”
Vic smiled. “What are we doing for the rest of the furniture and other supplies?”
“I’ve got Ben and Jeff out renting the rest of the furniture. They’re having it delivered this afternoon. And they’re picking up red, white and blue signs with ‘Victor Wayne for Congress’ in big block letters for the windows. The rest of the stuff, I’ve ordered some and we can get whatever else we need as we go along.