The Dead Zone(111)

Johnny grunted doubtfully.

'You saw him,' Roger said, gesturing at the TV set. 'The man is a clown. He goes charging around the speaking platform, like that at every rally. Throws his helmet into the crowd - I'd guess he's gone through a hundred of them by now - and gives out hot dogs. He's a clown, so what? Maybe people need a little comic relief from time to time. We're runningout of oil, the inflation is slowly but surely getting out of control, the average guy's tax load has never been heavier, and we're apparently getting ready to elect a fuzzy-minded Georgia cracker president of the United States. So people want a giggle or two. Even more, they want to thumb their noses at a political establishment that doesn't seem able to solve anything. Stillson's harmless.'

'He's in orbit,' Johnny said, and they both laughed.

'We have plenty of crazy politicians around,' Roger said. 'In New Hampshire we've got Stillson, who wants to hot dog his way into the House of Representatives, so what? Out in California they've got Hayakawa. Or take our own governor, Meldrim Thomson. Last year he wanted to arm the New Hampshire National Guard with tactical nuclear weapons. I'd call that big-time crazy.

'Are you saying it's okay for those people in the third district to elect the village fool to represent them in Washington?'

'You don't get it,' Chatsworth said patiently. 'Take a voter's-eye-view, Johnny. Those third-district people are mostly all blue-collars and shopkeepers. The most rural parts of the district are just starting to develop some recreational potential. Those people look at David Bowes and they see a hungry young kid who's trying to get elected on the basis of some slick talk and a passing resemblance to Dustin Hoffman. They're supposed to think he's a man of the people because he wears blue jeans.

'Then take Fisher. My man, at least nominally. I've organized fund raisers for him and the other Republican candidates around this part of New Hampshire. He's been on the Hill so long he probably thinks the Capitol dome would split in two pieces if he wasn't around to give it moral support. He's never had an original thought in his life, he never went against the party line in his life. There's no stigma attached to his name because he's too stupid to be very crooked, although he'll probably wind up with some mud on him from this Koreagate thing. His speeches have all the excitement of the copy of the National Plumbers Wholesale Catalogue. People don't know all those things, but they can sense them sometimes. The idea that Harrison Fisher is doing anything for his constituency is just plain ridiculous.'

'So the answer is to elect a loony?'

Chatsworth smiled indulgently. 'Sometimes these loonies turn out doing a pretty good job. Look at Bella Abzug. There's a damn fine set of brains under those crazy hats. But even if Stillson turns out to be as crazy in Washington as he is down in Ridgeway, he's only renting the seat for two years. They'll turn him out in '78 and put in someone who understands the lesson.'

'The lesson?'

Roger stood up. 'Don't f**k the people over for too long,' he said. 'That's the lesson. Adam Clayton Powell found out. Agnew and Nixon did, too. Just... don't f**k the people for too long.' He glanced at his watch. 'Come on over to the big house and have a drink, Johnny.

Shelley and I are going out later on, but we've got time for a short one.'

Johnny smiled and got up. 'Okay,' he said. 'You twisted my arm.

Chapter Twenty

1.

In mid-August, Johnny found himself alone at the Chatsworth estate except for Ngo Phat, who had his own quarters over the garage. The Chatsworth family had closed up the house and had gone to Montreal for three weeks of r&r before the new school year and the fall rush at the mills began.

Roger had left Johnny the keys to his wife's Mercedes and he motored up to his dad's house in Pownal, feeling like a potentate. His father's negotiations with Charlene MacKenzie had entered the critical stage, and Herb was no longer bothering to protest that his interest in her was only to make sure that the house didn't fall down on top of her. In fact, he was in full courting plumage and made Johnny a little nervous. After three days of it Johnny went back to the Chatsworth house, caught up on his reading and his correspondence, and soaked up the quiet.

He was sitting on a rubber chair float in the middle of the pool, drinking a Seven-Up and reading the New York Times Book Review, when Ngo came over to the pool's apron, took off his zori, and dipped his feet into the water.

'Ahhhh,' he said. 'Much better.' He smiled at Johnny. 'Quiet, huh?'

'Very quiet,' Johnny agreed. 'How goes the citizenship class, Ngo?'

'Very nice going,' Ngo said. 'We are having a field trip on Saturday. First one. Very exciting. The whole class will be tripping.'

'Going,' Johnny said, smiling at an image of Ngo Phat's whole citizenship class freaking on LSD or psilpcybin.

'Pardon?' He raised his eyebrows politely.

'Your whole class will he going.'

'Yes, thanks. We are going to the political speech and rally in Trimbull. We are all thinking how lucky it is to be taking the citizenship class in an election year. It is most instructive.'

'Yes, I'll bet it is. Who are you going to see?'

'Greg Stirrs...' He stopped and pronounced it again, very carefully. 'Greg Stillson, who is running independently for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives.'