A Shade of Difference (75 page)

For him, too, there came the burst of applause, the amiable congratulations to an old practitioner. They could always count on Jawbone for a good show and many of them were with him, anyway. It lent a warmth that Cullee had not received, and he was aware of it as he sat back at the committee table and listened attentively to his opponent.

“Now, Mr. Chairman, sir, my good friend from California chose to go off into matters concerning internal problems in this country and he chose to say his resolution and this annoying little old fellow from Africa were somehow related to those problems. Conversely, he chose to say that those problems were related to the United Nations and the rest of the world.

“Well, Mr. Chairman, could be. I don’t deny every little Sneaky Pete in this whole wide world is out to get us, Mr. Chairman. That’s common knowledge. What I want to know is,
when are we going to stand, up like men and tell ’em they can’t do it?
When are we going to stand up and tell ’em to go to hell, Mr. Chairman? When are we going—yes, now, Mr. Chairman, you needn’t rap your gavel at me, I know that’s unparliamentary language; and if there’s any member of this House who never heard it or never used it, well, I apologize to that member, Mr. Chairman—but what I want to know is, Mr. Chairman,
When is it going to stop?
When are we going to act like
Americans,
Mr. Chairman?

“My good friend from California says if we pass his resolution humbling ourselves to this fly-by-night from the jungles of Africa, and if we give some money to his little ole bitty worthless country, the United Nations won’t pass this amendment of censure offered by the great Ambassador of Panama who is a brother-in-law of the great Governor of California who aspires to such great things in this country. Well, now, I’m not against giving every little pinch of sand on the face of the globe just as many millions as it wants, Mr. Chairman, and I’m sure Gorotoland can be taken care of in the regular foreign aid program or some other means they’ll think up down there at the White House. But supposing, Mr. Chairman, now just supposing we go ahead and pass this resolution and
then,
Mr. Chairman, suppose the United Nations goes right ahead and passes Señor Labaiya’s amendment
anyway,
Mr. Chairman; then what? Can my good friend from California give me any assurance on that, Mr. Chairman? I pause for him to reply, Mr. Chairman, if he kindly will.”

“Mr. Chairman,” Cullee said, “certainly I cannot give any such assurance; nor can anyone. The chances are excellent that if we pass this resolution the Labaiya amendment will fail to receive the two-thirds vote it must have in the General Assembly to succeed. But I can’t guarantee it; nobody can. I am interested in the honor of the United States, not in what somebody else may do.”

“Well, now, Mr. Chairman,” Jawbone said, “that doesn’t sound like what the gentleman was telling us here a few moments ago. Then we were to trade our
honor
for the United Nations’ agreement to refrain from telling us we were
dis
honorable, Mr. Chairman. Leastways, that’s how ole Jawbone heard it. I’m interested in the honor of the United States, Mr. Chairman. I say there’s only one way to uphold it, and that’s to defeat this humiliating resolution and tell our delegation at the United Nations to fight it through up there; and if we get beaten, well, we get beaten. At least we won’t have to be ashamed of ourselves. At least we’ll be proud in our own hearts, and not have to feel that we’re living on somebody else’s sufferance if we act real sweet and humble and beat ourselves over the head to suit the Africans. That’s
my
position, Mr. Chairman!”

And he sat down amid applause judged by the Press Gallery to be equal to, and possibly a shade greater, than that accorded the Congressman from California.

From that point the debate proceeded just about as expected. Cullee spoke briefly in rebuttal, Jawbone returned in re-rebuttal, other members of the Foreign Affairs Committee spoke briefly on one side or the other. The general debate ended around 8 p.m., and the time came for amendments. Three were offered, one by a Negro member from New York to expand the powers of the Civil Rights Commission, one by a white member from Mississippi to abolish the Civil Rights Commission, and one by a white member from Minnesota to establish an African Aid Fund to distribute aid to Africa. All but the last were defeated by comfortable margins after short but heated debates, and by 9 p.m. it began to appear that the final vote was approaching. The Committee of the Whole House on the State of the Union dissolved back into the House, and once this parliamentary sleight-of-hand was accomplished, the member who had been presiding as chairman of the Committee on the Whole reported to the Speaker that the committee had concluded discussion of H. J. Res. 23, and under agreement by both sides, was ready to vote on one amendment—that of the gentleman from Minnesota—and the resolution itself.

The amendment of the gentleman from Minnesota lost 229-110, and the Speaker announced:

“The vote now occurs on H. J. Res. 23. The Yeas and Nays are in order, and the Clerk will call the roll.”

“Mr. Aldridge!” the Clerk said in his pontifical tones, and when Mr. Aldridge said No, he repeated, “Nnnnnnnnn—oh.”

“Mr. Althouse!”

“Yes.”

“Yyyyyyyyyyeeeeee—ssss!”

And so the hour was here for his first testing, and in his seat at the committee table, keeping a penciled tally in disgruntled but re-established amity with Jawbone, the Congressman from California felt tension tightening through his body. See what you think of me now, little Sue-Dan, he thought, and you, too, ’Gage, damn you. And you, fancy Terry, and you, sly little Felix, and you, smart boy from Kenya, and you, tired old unhappy S.-G., and all the rest of you smart, sneering blacks who don’t know my country and what it means and don’t have the heart or the intelligence to understand even if you did. Call me names now, damn you, and see if I care. I’m going to win on this vote because I’m Cullee Hamilton of California and I don’t give a damn for any of you anyhow.

But it was not, as he had known, as easy as that. During the first roll call Jawbone’s excited intakes of breath as the tally seesawed back and forth indicated well enough that it was a real battle.

“I told you!” the Congressman from South Carolina cried excitedly when the first run-through ended and the vote stood 198 for the resolution, 199 against. “I told you!”

“Wait and see,” Cullee said with a calmness he did not feel. Oh, God, he prayed, don’t let me down now; if I’ve done all this against the shouters of my own race and failed, God help me— “Wait and see.”

And presently, as the Clerk droned through the roll for the second time and the absentees on the first call came forward to stand in the well of the House and identify themselves to the Speaker and cast their votes, he began to sense that God had heard and helped, though not by very much.

The moment came when the last name had been called, the last member had voted. A tense silence held the House, and though many knew from tallies they had been keeping what the outcome was, there was still that mysterious moment, stretching far back into history to the first awkward beginnings of Parliament itself, that always comes when men pause and await the word of Mr. Speaker that makes it true.

“On this vote,” he announced slowly into the hush, “the Yeas are 219, the Nays are 214, and the resolution is passed.”

“Ya-hoo!” shouted someone from over on the minority side, and with a great explosive release of breath the House let go, men stood and began to talk. Excitement welled up from the floor, the galleries, the busy regions of the press. The word went out to the United Nations and around the world that Cullee Hamilton had passed the first stage on his road to wherever it was he felt he had to go.

And later that night, on all the radio and television programs, in all the smooth and knowledgeable commentaries, his victory was recorded, his integrity was analyzed and there was endless speculation on what the outcome would be when his resolution went on to the Senate and when, thereafter, the United Nations returned again to its consideration of the Labaiya Amendment in the General Assembly.

Of the Congressman himself, much was seen that evening, always the same shot, just off the floor, where the television cameras had caught him immediately following his victory, looking pleased and excited and saying defiantly, “This is the first battle. The second will come in the Senate, and then we’ll have won the war.”

And following close upon this, a shot of the senior Senator from South Carolina, saying coldly, “Mr. Hamilton has himself a fight in the Senate. In the Senate we don’t take American honor so lightly as they do in some other places. No, sir, we—do—not.”

And close upon that a brief clip of Terence Ajkaje, standing on the UN Plaza with his gorgeous robes blowing about him against a backdrop of Brooklyn, saying calmly in his most British accent, “It was an interesting vote, but of course the United Nations must make its own decisions on things irrespective of what purely local parliaments do, must it not?”

5

“Well, it worked,” the Secretary of State remarked, dropping into a leather armchair across from the mammoth desk in the oval office by the Rose Garden. The occupant of the chair on the other side of the desk responded with an air of amusement that did not conceal the underlying tiredness that so often shows through the outward urbanity of those who sit in that particular chair at that particular desk.

“It worked for the House,” the President said. “What will happen in our old homestead the Senate may be another matter. Don’t you agree?”

“We’ll see,” Orrin Knox said. “You look tired.”

“Presidents always look tired. Presidents always are tired. But I had my regular checkup last week and everything is in great shape, so they tell me. I still plan to get away for some fishing as soon as we’re safely past His Royal Highness the M’Bothersome M’Bulu. Have you talked to Cullee?”

“He called me at home last night, triumphant but not very happy underneath. His wife and LeGage have been giving him hell on this, as I told you. Riding this stooge-of-Orrin-Knox bit pretty heavily, I gather, plus stooge-of-the-white-man. It’s quite a load for him to bear.”

“But he’s bearing it.”

“He’s good stuff.” The Secretary frowned. “And he trusts me. I can’t run out on him.”

“I didn’t know you were considering it,” the President said in some surprise. Orrin made an impatient motion.

“I’m not. But—how do we let Seab down gently? That’s what’s bothering me now. How can we make any gesture to help him save face without Cullee thinking I’m betraying
him?
It’s a problem.”

“If Seab could come that close to beating us in the House,” the President remarked, “I don’t think I’d worry too much about saving his face in the Senate. He’s doing all right.”

“But he won’t,” the Secretary said flatly. “History’s against him.”

“Oh? I don’t know that all the Senate agrees with that. I suppose you saw this story in the
New York
Times
this morning”—he picked it up from the desk and put on his reading glasses—“‘Southern Filibuster Threatened on M’Bulu Apology.’ How about that?”

“Psychological warfare. Bob tells me the talk is in the air—it’s always in the air, when they don’t like something—but that’s about all it is. It’s so late in the session, and everybody wants to go home, and basically the resolution is relatively harmless from their point of view.”

“Except in context of recent events,” the President said. “How about that proviso on speeding progress in attaining civil rights? That’s the sort of thing they’ll normally fight tooth and nail, even if it’s only an expression of intent.”

“Well, I’m not saying they won’t. Anybody who predicts the Senate is on dangerous ground. But I say it’s rather less likely than more. Particularly since Seab is getting on and maybe doesn’t really feel like expending the energy—or maybe doesn’t have it to expend. Let’s face it, our friend is getting old.”

“I still say it didn’t stop him in the House.”

The Secretary made a scornful sound.

“With a weak sister like Jawbone Swarthman to work on? That didn’t take much energy. I’ll bet all Seab had to do was make a couple of phone calls and Jawbone was ready to fire on Sumter again. The Senate is another matter.”

“The Senate,” the President said somewhat ruefully, “is always another matter. I hope you’re right. It will simplify things considerably if we can get it through the Senate in reasonable order.”

“Possibly things will change at the UN, too,” the Secretary said, “now that your friend the Governor of California has decided to get religion.”

“Not necessarily my friend,” the President said, “except”—he gave a mischievous smile—“as all you would-be Presidents are my friends. Apparently your putting the screws on Patsy at Dolly’s brunch had some effect after all.”

“Your
putting them on. I’m sure that was what did it, when you made your little disapproving comment. So now we get this—” Orrin reached over and picked up the
Times
and read in a formal if mocking tone:

‘“JASON CONDEMNS LABAIYA AMENDMENT IN UN … Governor Edward Jason of California today denounced a United Nations amendment attacking United States racial policies. The amendment was introduced by the Governor’s brother-in-law, Felix Labaiya-Sofra, Ambassador of Panama.

“‘Governor Jason in a statement issued through his office in Sacramento last night said that the Labaiya Amendment was “unnecessary and insulting” in view of action in Washington on a resolution introduced by Rep. Cullee Hamilton, also of California. Rep. Hamilton is a Negro.

“‘The Hamilton Resolution was approved by the House last night by the narrow margin of 219-214. It apologizes to the M’Bulu of Mbuele, ruler of the British-held territory of Gorotoland in Africa, for an incident in which he was attacked in Charleston, S.C., when he intervened in school integration efforts in that city. It also pledges greater efforts by the United States to speed fuller civil rights for its Negro citizens.

“‘Governor Jason said House passage of the resolution indicated approval by the Senate can be expected at an early date. He said this action by the Congress “obviates any need for an outside agency such as the United Nations to interfere in the domestic affairs of the United States.”