Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Illustrated) (484 page)

In totters Dada. Prosperity has spruced him up, but not to any alarming extent. The hair on his face is not under cultivation. His small, watery eyes gleam dully in their ragged ovals. His mouth laps faintly at all times, like a lake with tides mildly agitated by the moon.

Fish. Good morning, Mr. Frost.

Dada
[dimly].
Hm.

He is under the impression that he has made an adequate response.

Doris
[tolerantly].
Dada, kindly meet my fiance — Senator Fish from Idaho.

Dada
[expansively].
Young man, how do you do? I feel very well. You wouldn’t think I was eighty-eight years old, would you?

Fish
[politely].
I should say not.

Doris. You’d think he was two hundred.

Dada
[who missed this].
Yeah. [A
long pause.]
We used to have a joke when I was young — we used to say the first Frosts came to this country in the beginning of winter.

Doris. Funny as a crutch.

Dada
[to Fish].
Do you ever read the Scriptures?

Fish. Sometimes.

Dada. I’m the Secretary of the Treasury, you know. My son made me the Secretary of the Treasury. He’s the President. He was my only boy by my second wife.

Doris. The old dumb-bell!

Dada. I was born in 1834, under the presidency of Andrew Jackson. I was twenty-seven years old when the war broke out.

Doris
[sarcastically].
Do you mean the Revolutionary War?

Dada
[witheringly].
The Revolutionary War was in 1776.

Doris. Tell me something I don’t know.

Dada. When you grow older you’ll find there are a lot of things you don’t know.
[To Fish.]
Do you know my son Jerry?

Doris
[utterly disgusted].
Oh, gosh!

Fish. I met your son before he was elected President and I’ve seen him a lot of times since then, on account of being Senator from Idaho and all, and on account of Doris. You see, we’re going to have our wedding reception this afternoon —  —

In the middle of this speech Dada’s mind has begun to wander. He utters a vague “Hm!” and moves off, paying no further attention, and passing through the swinging doors into the White House.

Fish
[impressed in spite of himself by Dada’s great age].
He’s probably had a lot of experience, that old bird. He was alive before you were born.

Doris. So were a lot of other old nuts. Come on — let’s go hire the music for our wedding reception.

Fish
[remembering something with a start].
Doris — Doris, would you have a wedding reception with me if you knew — if you knew the disagreeable duty —  —

Doris. Knew what?

Fish. Nothing. I’m going to be happy, anyways
[he looks at his watch]
— for almost an hour.

They go out through the garden gate.

And now President Jerry Frost himself is seen to leave his window and in a minute he emerges from the ExecutiveMansion. He wears a loose-fitting white flannel frock coat, and a tall white stovepipe hat. His heavy gold watch-chain would anchor a small yacht, and he carries a white stick, ringed with a gold band.

After rubbing his back sensuously against a porch pillar, he walks with caution across the lawn and his hand is on the gate-latch when he is hailed from the porch by Mr. Jones.

Jones. Mr. President, where are you going?

Jerry
[uneasily].
I thought I’d go down and get a cigar.

Jones
[cynically].
It doesn’t look well for you to play dice for cigars, sir.

Jerry sits down wearily and puts his hat on the table.

Jones. I’m sorry to say there’s trouble in the air, Mr. President. It’s what we might refer to as the Idaho matter.

Jerry. The Idaho matter?

Jones. Senator Fish has received orders from Idaho to demand your resignation at eleven o’clock this morning.

Jerry. I never liked that bunch of people they got out there in Idaho.

Jones. Well, I just thought I’d tell you — so you could think about it.

Jerry
[hopefully].
Maybe I’ll get some idea how to fix it up. I’m a very resourceful man. I always think of something.

Jones. Mr. President, would you — would you mind telling me how you got your start?

Jerry
[carelessly].
Oh, I got analyzed one day, and they just found I was sort of a good man and would just be wasting my time as a railroad clerk.

Jones. So you forged ahead?

Jerry. Sure. I just made up my mind to be President, and then I went ahead and did it. I’ve always been a very ambitious sort of — sort of domineerer.

Jones sighs and takes several letters from his pocket.

Jones. The morning mail.

Jerry
[looking at the first letter].
This one’s an ad, I’ll bet.
[He opens it.]
“Expert mechanics, chauffeurs, plumbers earn big money. We fit you in twelve lessons.”
[He looks up.]
I wonder if there’s anything personal in that. If there is it’s a low sort of joke.

Jones
[soothingly].
Oh, I don’t think there is.

Jerry
[offended].
Anybody that’d play a joke like that on a person that has all the responsibility of being President, and then to have somebody play a low, mean joke on him like that!

Jones. I’ll write them a disagreeable letter.

Jerry. All right. But make it sort of careless, as if it didn’t matter to me.

Jones. I can begin the letter “Damn Sirs” instead of “Dear Sirs.”

Jerry. Sure, that’s the idea. And put something like that in the ending, too.

Jones. “Yours insincerely,” or something like that… Now there’s a few people waiting in here to see you, sir.
[He takes out a list.]
First, there’s somebody that’s been ordered to be hung.

Jerry. What about him?

Jones. I think he wants to arrange it some way so he won’t be hung. Then there’s a man that’s got a scheme for changing everybody in the United States green.

Jerry
[puzzled].
Green?

Jones. That’s what he says.

Jerry. Why green?

Jones. He didn’t say. I told him not to wait. And there’s the Ambassador from Abyssinia. He says that one of our sailors on leave in Abyssinia threw the king’s cousin down a flight of thirty-nine steps.

Jerry
[after a pause].
What do you think I ought to do about that?

Jones. Well, I think you ought to — well, send flowers or something, to sort of recognize that the thing had happened.

Jerry
[somewhat awed].
Is the king’s cousin sore? Jones. Well, naturally he —  —

Jerry. I don’t mean sore that way. I mean did he — did he take it hard? Did he think there was any ill feeling from the United States Government in the sailor’s — action?

Jones. Why, I suppose you might say yes.

Jerry. Well, you tell him that the sailor had no instructions to do any such thing. Demand the sailor’s resignation.

Jones. And Major-General Pushing has been waiting to see you for some time. Shall I tell him to come out here?

Jerry. All right.

Jones goes into the White House and returns, announcing: “Major-General Pushing, U.S.A.”

Out marches General Pushing. He is accompanied at three paces by a fifer and drummer, who play a spirited march. When the General reaches the President’s table the trio halt, the fife and drum cease playing, and the General salutes.

The General is a small fat man with a fierce gray mustache. His chest and back are fairly obliterated with medals, and he is wearing one of those great shakos peculiar to drum-majors.

Jerry. Good morning, General Pushing. Did they keep you waiting?

General Pushing
[fiercely].
That’s all right. We’ve been marking time — it’s good for some of the muscles.

Jerry. How’s the army?

General Pushing. Very well, Mr. President. Several of the privates have complained of headaches.
[He clears his throat portentously.]
I’ve called on you to say I’m afraid we’ve got to have war. I held a conference last night with two others of our best generals. We discussed the matter thoroughly, and then we took a vote. Three to nothing in favor of war.

Jerry
[alarmed].
Look at here, General Pushing, I’ve got a lot of things on my hands now, and the last thing I want to have is a war.

General Pushing. I knew things weren’t going very well with you, Mr. President. In fact, I’ve always thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it. The people are restless and excited. The best thing to keep their minds occupied is a good war. It will leave the country weak and shaken — but docile, Mr. President, docile. Besides — we voted on it, and there you are.

Jerry. Who is it against?

General Pushing. That we have not decided. We’re going to take up the details to-night. It depends on — just how much money there is in the Treasury. Would you mind calling up
your — father
—
[the General gives this word an ironic accentuation]
— and finding out?

Jerry takes up the white telephone from the table. Jones meanwhile has produced the shaker and glasses. He pours a cocktail for every one
—
even for the fifer and drummer.

Jerry
[at the ‘phone].
Connect me with the Treasury Department, please… Is this the Treasury?… This is President Frost… Oh, I’m very well, thanks. No, it’s better. Much better. The dentist says he doesn’t think I’ll have to have it out now…  Say, what I called you up about is to find how much money there is in the Treasury… Oh, I see… Oh, I see. Thanks.
[He hangs up the receiver.]

Jerry
[worried].
General Pushing, things seem to be a little confused over at the Treasury. Dada — the Secretary of the Treasury isn’t there right now — and they say nobody else knows much about it.

General Pushing
[disapprovingly].
Hm! I could put you on a nice war pretty cheap. I could manage a battle or so for almost nothing.
[With rising impatience.]
But a good President ought to be able to tell just how much we could afford.

Jerry
[chastened].
I’ll find out from Dada.

General Pushing
[meaningly].
Being President is a sacred trust, you know, Mr. Frost.

Jerry. Well, I know it’s a sacred trust, don’t I?

General Pushing
[sternly].
Are you proud of it?

Jerry
[utterly crestfallen].
Of course, I’m proud of it. Don’t I look proud? I’m proud as a pecan.
[Resentfully.]
What do you know about it, anyways? You’re nothing but a common soldier — I mean a common general.

General Pushing
[pityingly].
I came here to help you, Mr. Frost.
[With warning emphasis.]
Perhaps you are aware that the sovereign State of Idaho is about to ask your resignation.

Jerry
[now thoroughly resentful].
Look at here, suppose you be the President for a while, if you know so much about it.

General Pushing
[complacently].
I’ve often thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it.

Jerry. All right, then, you just take off that hat and coat!

Jerry takes off his own coat. Jones rushes forward in alarm.

Jones. If there’s going to be a fight hadn’t we all better go into the billiard-room?

Jerry
[insistently to General Pushing].
Take off that hat and coat!

General Pushing
[aghast].
But, Mr. President —  —

Jerry. Listen here — if I’m the President you do what I say.

General Pushing obediently removes his sword and takes off his hat and coat. He assumes a crouching posture and, putting up his fists, begins to dance menacingly around Jerry.

But, instead of squaring off, Jerry gets quickly into the General’s hat and coat and buckles on the sword.

Jerry. All right, since you know so much about being President, you put on my hat and coat and try it for a while.

The General, greatly taken aback, looks from Jerry to Jerry’s coat, with startled eyes. Jerry swaggers up and down the lawn, brandishing the sword. Then his eyes fall with distaste upon the General’s shirtsleeves.

Jerry. Well, what are you moping around for?

General Pushing
[plaintively].
Come on, Mr. President, be reasonable. Give me that coat and hat. Nobody appreciates a good joke any more than I do, but —  —