One Hand On The Podium (7 page)

“Tony,” Peggy warned, “he’s coming our way.”

“No big deal.” Obviously nervous, Tony stood up and walked toward his advancing adversary. They met in the middle of the room with every eye in the place suddenly on them. Peggy stared at them, wondering what kind of scene the two might make.

“Simon, come sit with my wife and me,” Tony proudly invited, as the patrons of the restaurant watched their every move, seemingly amazed at the candidates chance meeting.

***

Tony Bix was certainly no stranger to the city of St. Louis. He repeatedly appeared on the evening news whenever he was called on to defend some felon. He was interviewed many times to explain his policy of trying to help the criminals of the area get lighter sentences and many times even prove their innocence.

Tony was very convincing in his belief that the judicial system was a travesty, not a rehabilitating process, which it claimed to be. He knew his way worked, and though it wasn’t popular with the Republican mainstays of the city, it was very appealing to the poor and young voters.

He had a way of making juries feel sorry for even the most dangerous hoodlums. Tony helped arrange counseling for them and even arranged community jobs for some of them.

Simon Moss totally disagreed with Tony’s platform. But he also had the smarts to realize he would have a pretty good battle on his hands against the young handsome lawyer, especially if the Catholics came out in force as the local pundits had predicted. Neither of them had any opposition in the primaries, so both were prepared to face each other head on in the November general election.

***

“Hello Peggy,” Simon smiled, reaching for her hand.

“Well, hello Simon. Nice to see you,” she responded.

“Gonna be a boy or girl?” he asked.

“A girl. I hope it’s a girl,” she answered.

Standing between the couple, holding Peggy’s hand firmly, Simon went on. “Are you going to use one of those new birthing methods?”

“I would like to have natural childbirth but Tony—?

“Hey! Hey,” Tony interrupted, “What is this, a woman’s club? Come on Peggy, Simon’s not interested in that baby stuff. Right, Simon?”

“Tony, I was the one who brought it up, now let her finish,” he said, purposely trying to humiliate Tony.

A smile appeared on Peggy’s face while a grimace over took Tony’s. “I appreciate that, Mr. Moss,” she said.

“Darling, you can call me Simon,” he winked.

Peggy gave her husband one of those ‘so there’ looks.

His face turned red from embarrassment.

“Listen folks,” Moss said. “I only came here to say hello to a few acquaintances who are sitting in the bar. It’s been nice seeing you again Peggy, but I must be going. I hope you get what you want.” He gave her another wink.

“Thank you Simon. That’s so very sweet of you. Good-bye.” Peggy sighed, taken by the smooth politician’s charm.

Patting Tony on the back, Simon turned and walked through the adoring crowd. Tony watched his every move, sending a hateful stare at his opponent’s back.

“What a nice man. Don’t you think so Tony?”

“Boy, oh boy, my own wife makes a fool out of me,” he whined.

“What do you mean, me? I just don’t understand you,” she scowled.

In a muffled shout, Tony’s anger flared, “Why is it you keep doing this to me?”

The waiter interrupted, “Your salads, sir. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

“Oh, yes. Fine, thank you,” Tony said, trying to regain his composure. As Tony brought his fork to his lips to get a taste of the three-leaf salad, a hand touched his shoulder.

“By the way Bix, I thought you might like to know.”

Tony held his fork in mid air as Simon appended his visit.

“I drove by your campaign headquarters on the way over here, and it seems you’re having —, ah, how should I put this?” Simon grinned like only he did, with all his bright white teeth showing. “Seems like a huge public relations problem?”

“What the hell do you mean by that Moss?” Tony asked, trying not to show his concern.

“What I mean by that is, there were about, what appeared to be, at least a hundred pickets in front of your quaint little election headquarters. TV crews, the works. That’s a real shame. It doesn’t look good, Bix. I just thought you’d like to know. Well, I’ve got to be on my way.”

Quickly Simon started back toward the bar area of the restaurant. Tony slammed his fork on the table, grabbed his wife by the arm and pulled her along, in pursuit of his rival.

“But I thought you were hungry, Tony,” she said.

“Just come on,” he said, pulling her arm.

Peggy winced in pain as he yanked her in the direction of the exit. “You’re hurting me, Tony.”

In a split second they sidestepped the white-haired antagonizer.

Moss chuckled, “Don’t let me get in your way, young fella.’ Maybe if you’re lucky, Bix, you’ll make the six o’clock news.” Simon smiled as everyone around him laughed at the interchange that had just occurred.

Tony stopped at the door, turned and walked back through the room in his opponent’s direction. Those laughing froze in their chairs, expecting trouble. “Simon Moss, this is all your doing, isn’t it? If this is the kind of dirty trick you want to pull to help win this election, I recommend you prepare yourself for the same in return. Got that?”

“Now, now, now, Bix. You’re scaring your pretty bride there,” he teased the public defender.

This time the crowd was silent.

The concerned owner of the restaurant approached the men, having recognized the tension between them. “Please, please, if you two want to campaign for votes, I would appreciate it if you’d do it elsewhere. Don’t bother my patrons. I’m trying to run a business here.” He turned to his customers, “Please continue your meals, my friends. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

Tony quickly moved to Peggy’s side, then out the door, remarking sarcastically to her, “Yes, you are absolutely right Peggy. That Simon Moss is a nice man!”

She frowned and followed him to the parking lot.

***

“This is Rebecca Ray reporting to you from the campaign headquarters of Tony Bix, on the near South Side. As you can see, behind me, a somewhat large crowd of angry protesters has gathered, trying to make their views known to the young Democratic newcomer in the congressional race against Republican, Simon Moss. It’s quite obvious these people are Moss supporters.”

The crowd shouted their anti-Bix slogans as the lovely Miss Ray continued reporting, “Oh, here comes Mr. Bix now, just pulling up to the scene.”

The camera moved from the newswoman over to the blue Chevy Lumina driven by Tony with Peggy at his side. The couple sat in the car for a moment peering out the windshield, surveying the situation, then Tony got out of the drivers side. After closing the door he turned back toward the car and motioned Peggy to roll the window down. “You wait in the car Peggy, I’ll just be a minute.”

She knew the main reason her husband didn’t want her with him was because of her condition. She obliged with reserve, nodding okay.

“Now, what seems to be the problem here?” Tony asked cautiously, as he moved toward the mob of protesters.

A middle aged woman wearing too much make-up and an over abundance of costume jewelry, stepped out in front of the group. “You ain’t nothing but a criminal lover, Tony Bix,” she accused him, in a slow, southeast Missouri, drawl.

“Yeah!” Everyone cried out in unison. “Criminal lover!”

Holding up his hands, Tony responded. “Wait a minute, wait a minute—.”

“No, you wait a minute, mister wise guy politician,” the obnoxious woman continued, as the news crew captured the anxious moment. “We want our streets safe, but all you keep doing is getting these crooks off free as a bird. What’s with you, Tony Bix?”

“Ma’am, that’s not true. Please let me explain,” he begged.

“Not only do you free criminals,” she interrupted. “But you make sure these low life’s take jobs from our kids, who are good, law abiding citizens.”

“Down with Bix! Down with Bix! Down with Bix!” chanted the protesters.

“Please listen.”

No one listened as Tony pleaded for attention.

The crowd continued their chant, “Down with Bix! Down with Bix! Down with Bix!”

“This is ridiculous. Fucking stupid!” Tony grumbled to himself, under his breath.

The reporter, Rebecca Ray, made her way through the crowd, with her camera crew right behind her. “Mr. Bix. Mr. Bix,” she called out.

“What is it?” Tony asked her, putting his hands in his pockets, while looking into the camera, trying to seem unperturbed.

“Mr. Bix, can you explain to our viewers why they should vote for you.”

A round of boos came from the group as Tony raised his voice, “Let me say this. As a public defender, I know more than anyone that the people of this community must be protected. What I, and others like me, are trying to accomplish is to ease the cost to St. Louis and Missouri taxpayers of housing criminals in these human warehouses called jails and prisons”

“Some say you should feel sorry for the victims of the crimes, not the perpetrators of those crimes,” the reporter asked. “What do you say to that?”

“I agree with those people, Miss Ray. I care about the victims. Of course I do. But you can’t have every person who commits a crime in this state shoved into our inadequate penal institutions and not expect it to cost millions of your tax dollars every year. Sure, these fine people behind us don’t want criminals walking the streets, but I know for a fact that they aren’t about to vote for a tax hike to pay for the necessary new jails to house all of these felons.”

He continued, “I will fight for affordable and humane conditions in the prisons. I know there isn’t an easy answer to these problems. But I stand by my position on this most critical matter because if we don’t start rehabilitating some of these people right away, especially the younger ones, what we’ll have on our hands is a situation where hundreds of thousands of ‘time bombs’ will be just waiting to explode.”

Peggy rolled her window down, curious to hear what he was saying.

“What do you mean by ‘time bombs’?” the reporter questioned.

“Well, Miss Ray, I’m sure you’ve seen the facts. Statistics show that the longer a person is locked up, the angrier and more frustrated he or she becomes. We have a terrible dilemma facing us at the present. The prisons are overflowing with angry men and women, and when they are eventually released back into society, it’s a fact that the large majority return to crime. They just became better criminals while they are locked up.”

The camera moved in for a close-up.

Rebecca Ray, moved closer to her subject too. “Mr. Bix,” she said. “I’d like to change the subject if I may. Do you intend to debate Simon Moss over this and other issues?”

“No one has asked me as yet, Miss Ray,” he answered.

“I’m asking today, on behalf of my station,” she smiled.

“Sure. Yeah, sure. You arrange it and I’ll debate Mr. Moss,” he bravely stated.

The crowd cheered their approval and a man in the rear of the crowd taunted him, “You’ll be sorry, Bix!”

Everyone laughed.

“Let me have your attention, please,” Tony asked. He turned away from the interviewer, back toward the Moss supporters, “I’ll debate your candidate and you’ll see who has the most workable plans to help our city move forward. You’ll see that Tony Bix cares for the people of the Third District.”

Most of the people put down their signs and gathered around to listen.

“Let me reiterate, when I’m elected, I will introduce a bill to relieve our overflowing prisons, and will not, and I emphasize, will not, allow any convicted rapist or killer to go free. I promise you that. I see a system that only rehabilitates the young vandals, the small time criminals, whose idea of a job is breaking into people’s homes and stealing anything they can lay their hands on. I want to show them a better way. Yes, they will be punished but not always a prison sentence will result. It’s not perfect, I know, but as long as I’m involved in the criminal justice system I will continue to fight for, and defend, a program that our city and state need in order to move in a positive direction. You will see that I am a caring man who has what it takes to beat Simon Moss in November.”

A faint round of boos followed.

“Now you’ve heard me out and I’ve gotten your message, so will everyone please clear the sidewalks and return to your homes. I’ll see you at the debate. Please go home,” he instructed them. “Come on now. Please go home.”

The crowd slowly moved away from the area. Some went straight to their cars, others stood in small groups discussing what they had just heard from the young Democrat. It was obvious that Tony had impressed a few of his doubters.

Rebecca Ray wrapped up her report, telling her audience, “Well, it appears that a debate between these two congressional candidates will take place as soon as Simon Moss agrees and all the details have been worked out between their respective campaign managers. It looks like Tony Bix avoided a huge public relations mess and came out pretty good here tonight. He got his message across to the protesters and even might have won over a few of them. Simon Moss has his work cut out for him. This is Rebecca Ray at Bix campaign headquarters. Good night.”

The camera lights went off and Tony realized dusk had crept up on them. The sky was pale gray and the street lamps flickered off and on.

“You handled yourself very well,” the pretty reporter complimented Tony. “That should come across very effectively on the six o’clock news.”

Tony laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, smiling.

He continued laughing.

“Come on, share the joke with me,” she begged.

Tony looked up at the cloudy sky, then back down at the sidewalk, and shuffled his feet. He said, “Simon was right. He warned me that I’m going to make the news tonight!” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “That bastard.”

Feeling left out and a little bit jealous, Peggy got out of the car and walked over to join her husband and the young sexy reporter. She called out, “Are you ready to go home now, Tony?”