A Shade of Difference (74 page)

“Wheee,” said the
Detroit
News
and Times.
“Ain’t we got fun!”

Hands were lifted all across the chamber in response to Jawbone’s demand, and the Speaker said, “The Yeas and Nays are ordered; the Clerk will call the roll,” in an annoyed voice.

Twenty minutes after that, while the House stirred and fretted and gossiped with excitement, he announced:

“On this vote the Yeas are 136, the Nays are 245, and the motion to lay on the table is defeated. The question now is on ordering the previous question of the gentleman from California to dispense with further proceedings under the call of the roll.”

“Mr. Speaker,” Jawbone said firmly, “on that I demand the Yeas and Nays.”

“You can have them,” the Speaker said dryly as hands rose again across the chamber. “The Clerk will call the roll.”

Half an hour later he announced:

“The Yeas are 249, the Nays 140, and the motion to order the previous question by the gentleman from California on dispensing with further proceedings under the call is approved.”

“Now which call is that?” the Washington
Star
asked dryly of the New York
Herald Tribune.
“I’ve lost count.”

“That’s the call before the call before the call,” the
Trib
told him. “‘Way back there about an hour and a half ago.”

“And we still haven’t completed reading the
Journal,
”
the
Star
groaned. “Isn’t Jawbone having fun!”

Whether he was or not it was impossible to tell from his expression, which was simultaneously harried, nervous, excited, and determined.

“The question now is on the motion itself, to dispense with further proceedings under the call,” the Speaker said.

“I demand the Yeas and Nays on that motion, Mr. Speaker,” Jawbone shouted, and behind him Cullee Hamilton, towering angrily, cried, “Mr. Speaker, how long is this farce going to continue?”

“I can understand the impatience of the gentleman from California,” the Speaker said. “I can even,” he added as a laugh swept across the chamber, “sympathize with it. Nonetheless, the gentleman from South Carolina is within his rights according to the rules of the House and we have no choice. The Clerk will call the roll.”

Twenty-five minutes later the motion to dispense with proceedings under the previous call—the ’way back call, as the
Trib
called it—was approved 242-167. Representative Swarthman had now succeeded in delaying House consideration of the Hamilton Resolution two hours and fifteen minutes.

“The Clerk will continue the reading of the
Journal,”
the Speaker said. The Clerk proceeded to do so for fifteen minutes, during which many members, many of them from the South, drifted casually off the floor.

At the committee table in the center of the Majority side, the gentleman from South Carolina and the gentleman from California ostentatiously did not speak to one another again, Jawbone hunched over, doodling on a copy of the Hamilton Resolution, Cullee slumped in his seat and glowering darkly upon the chamber. Presently Jawbone swung into action again.

“Mr. Speaker!” he cried, “I make the point of order that a quorum is not present.”

“The gentleman is perceptive, astute, and omniscient,” the Speaker said as Cullee rose to his feet. “He is also exactly correct, a quorum is not present.”

“I move a call of the House, Mr. Speaker,” Cullee said.

“The Clerk will call the roll,” the Speaker said. Twenty-nine minutes later—“Lord,” the
Wall Street Journal
remarked to the St. Louis
Post-Dispatch,
“aren’t these jokers
ever
going to get down to business?”—the Speaker announced that 362 members had answered to their names, a quorum was present, and without objection further proceedings under the call would be dispensed with.

“Mr. Speaker,” Jawbone cried, “I object to dispensing with further proceedings under the call.”

“The gentleman has nothing to object to,” the Speaker said. “This was on a point of no quorum. When I said we had a quorum, we were in business.”

“But, Mr. Speaker—” Jawbone protested.

“Now, see here! I said we were in business and we
are
in business. Does the gentleman care to contest my ruling?”

“No, sir, but—” Jawbone began doggedly.

“The gentleman will have plenty to explain as it is,” the Speaker remarked, causing a burst of laughter and applause from the now-crowded chamber. “The matter before the House is House Joint Resolution 2.3, introduced by the gentleman from California, and on this the House will resolve itself into the Committee of the Whole House on the State of the Union, unless my distinguished friend from South Carolina has something more to offer.”

He paused, and Jawbone said hastily from his seat, “No, sir! No, sir!”

“The House must be thankful for small favors,” the Speaker said. “Under the rule, debate is limited to six hours. Time
was
to have been divided equally between the chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee, for the proponents, and the Minority Leader, for the opponents. However, I am wondering under these new circumstances which seem to have developed in the last couple of hours whether my good friend from South Carolina may not be having second thoughts about being a proponent?”

“Mr. Speaker,” Representative Swarthman said into the amusement that followed, “if the Chair is agreeable and my good friend from California is agreeable—and the distinguished Minority Leader, I might say, is agreeable—it might be better if I were to control time for the opponents and the gentleman from California, Mr. Hamilton, were permitted to control time for the proponents.”

“I expect that might be more sensible,” the Speaker agreed, as the Minority Leader nodded and the House again burst into laughter. “A trifle irregular, maybe, but infinitely more sensible. Very well. The Chair will ask the gentleman from Michigan to preside as chairman of the Committee on the Whole House.”

“The Chair recognizes the gentleman from California,” the new presiding officer said as the Speaker came down off the dais and took a seat near the committee table.

“Well, what do you know?” AP muttered to UPI as they hurried out to file a “BULLETIN: Swarthman jumps traces, leads House revolt against Hamilton Resolution.” “Maybe this thing isn’t going through, after all.”

“Could be,” the UPI said. “Chalk one up for Seab Cooley.”

“There’s life in the old boy yet,” AP agreed.

Thus hurtled unexpectedly into control of the battle for his own resolution, the Congressman from California found himself forced to think fast and think shrewdly as he left the committee table and came slowly down the aisle to turn and face his colleagues at the microphone-cluttered lectern in the well of the House. At first his hands gripped the edges of the lectern with an obvious tension, then relaxed until they lay quietly, long and supple, upon the old worn wood.

An unusual silence fell upon the House, and after a long moment he began to speak. This was not the General Assembly, temporarily dominated by those he considered intolerant and impatient half-illiterates from the bush who had to be addressed as though they were a revival meeting; this was his own House, his own colleagues of the American Congress. His tone was calmer, his words more polished and graceful, than they had been in New York.

“Mr. Chairman,” he said, “I suppose the extraordinary performance we have witnessed just now on the part of my good friend from South Carolina is indicative of the attitude of some toward my resolution. As for me personally, he has left me in a surprising but not entirely unwelcome predicament. He has left me without a leader. Indeed, he has made
me
the leader. It is a responsibility I willingly accept.”

There was a murmur of amusement and scattered applause. He permitted himself a smile and went on.

“Mr. Chairman, I will not attempt to fool anyone here by trying to maintain that this is not a very controversial matter. It is. I will not attempt to fool anyone here by trying to maintain that I like personally, or approve of the visitor from Africa who has caused all this uproar both here and in the United Nations. I have known Terence Ajkaje the M’Bulu of Mbuele for quite some time. He is an obnoxious and self-interested fellow who fools few people in Africa and only the most naively and determinedly self-deluded here. But he is nonetheless a symbol, Mr. Chairman. It is as a symbol that we must consider him, and it is with a sense of national symbolism, I believe, that this House must address itself to the resolution now before it.”

He paused and took a deep breath.

“I do not believe in keeping little children out of school.” There was a stirring among Southern members, a sudden uneasy restlessness in the packed chamber before him, but he went firmly on. “I do not believe in medieval and inexcusable restrictions upon my race. I do not believe these things to be worthy of America in the eyes of the world. But, far more importantly,
I do not believe these things to be worthy of America in the judgment of her own heart.
Partly, if you like, I am concerned, as I think we all must be concerned, with America as the world sees her. Far more profoundly, I am concerned, as I think we all must be concerned, with America being true to herself.

“I am not one of those Negroes, Mr. Chairman, who tries to pretend that America has made no progress in the relations between the races. Nor am I one who condemns all of our southern friends, or who denies that many of them have tried and are trying, sincerely and genuinely, to help find decent solutions for a problem that sometimes seems almost insoluble. Nor do I maintain that all of my own people are perfect, or that all of us are ready for, or deserving of, the rights we are demanding.

“But, as with all things in this imperfect but, thank God, still-growing democracy, I believe a judgment finally has to be reached and a decision made on the basis of what seems best for all concerned. I think there comes a time when you have to stop balancing everything, or else you find yourself paralyzed forever between alternatives. There comes a time when judgment has to come down on the side of what is humanly and honorably and decently best—on the side of
what is right.
When I reach that point, I come down on the side of progress for my people and better treatment for my people and a full and fair exercise of their civil rights for my people. And for that, Mr. Chairman, I make no apologies.”

There was again the uneasy stir from the floor. The Congressman from California went on in a quieter, more conversational tone.

“Into this situation, the M’Bulu, urged on by some who are not friends of the United States, saw fit to inject himself, for purposes of his own aggrandizement and to embarrass the United States. You all know what happened. You know what happened here, when this government, through the President and Secretary of State, sought to make amends. You know what happened at the United Nations, where the amends were summarily brushed aside and it was decided, by all those who are not friends of the United States, to make the most of it for no other purpose than simply to embarrass this country.

“You also know,” he said somberly, “and I make no apologies for sounding immodest, because this is no time for false modesty—that I and I alone stopped the vote of censure against us in the General Assembly and secured a reprieve for us to consider the matter here.”

“You and a few American dollars and some very fast diplomatic footwork,” the
Baltimore
Sun
murmured and the New Orleans
Times-Picayune
said, “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll come out all right.”

“Now, Mr. Chairman,” Cullee said. “What do we do with the time we have? We have before us my resolution, which I believe makes a fair redress to the M’Bulu for whatever he may have suffered. It also provides some genuine and needed assistance to his backward country of Gorotoland. I also believe it proves the good faith of this Congress and this government to the world. I think, and I believe other members of the U.S. delegation to the United Nations would bear me out if they were privileged to speak here, that it is the minimum that we can do and still expect the General Assembly to vote negatively on the move to censure the United States and interfere most drastically with our internal affairs.

“For all these reasons, Mr. Chairman, I urge the House to consider favorably H. J. Res. 23.”

“In other words,” the
Wall Street Journal
murmured to the Chicago
Tribune
as Cullee sat down amid strong and genuine applause from many of his colleagues, “it’s a wonderful combination of altruism and self-interest.” “At least we have the altruism along with the self-interest,” the
Chicago
Trib
responded. “Not every nation,” he added cheerfully, “can make this claim.”

“The gentleman from South Carolina is recognized for such time as he may desire,” the Chair said, and the House settled back to hear the other side of it. Jawbone was ready for them.

“Mr. Chairman, my good friend, my very good friend from California has spoken eloquently on behalf of his resolution. Indeed he has. He has even been kind enough not to tell you that it was reported out by my committee by a vote of 15 to 13. He was even kind enough not to tell you that the chairman voted for it, under some persuasion from able gentlemen”—and he looked, with a puckish glance, at the Speaker, now sitting back among his colleagues on the majority side—“whose arguments seemed, temporarily at least, persuasive.

“Mr. Chairman, I want to confess right now that Jawbone Swarthman never made a bigger mistake in his life than to allow himself to be persuaded to vote for this little ole yellow-dog, tail-between-his-legs resolution. I was wrong, Mr. Chairman. I admit it freely, Mr. Chairman. How I could be so stupid, Mr. Chairman, escapes me. Except, as so many of my good friends kindly say, Jawbone
is
rather stupid, when you come right down to it.

“Well, sir, Mr. Chairman, no more! No, sir. Not on
this
resolution. Not on this let-the-world-kick-you resolution. No, sir, not on this little ole peewee look-at-us-aren’t-we-humble resolution. That’s not for Jawbone any more. I hope it won’t be for this honorable House, either!”