Primary Colors (56 page)

"I do too," he said, glancing quickly over at Susan--and calculating that there was no concession to candor he could make here, nothing he could do but tough it out. If I stayed with him, I would have to live with that.

"I was thinking," I said then, "about maybe going over to Montgomery and helping Bill Johnson get himself elected attorney general." That stopped him. But only for a heartbeat. He was, as always, much faster than me. "All right, if that's what you want," he said. "But do you know how long Billy's been talking about running for A
. G
.? You know how totally convinced he is those peckerwoods'll never vote for a black man? And say he does run, say you help him win--what, then? You know what the attorney general of Alabama does? He gets unsightly billboards removed. He sues the power company--unsuccessfully, always. And he sends Snopeses to the electric chair for knocking over convenience stores and sodomizing their granddaughters. Henry, we are talking about the presidency of the United States here. Are you with me?"

"He might also keep the trees clean," I said, with some heat. "Might keep some black kids from getting lynched." Stanton was surprised by my stubbornness. So was I.

"Look, Henry," Susan interrupted--gently. "We're gonna have to go out there in a few minutes and do this thing. The whole countr
y i
s going to be watching, so we better spend a minute thinking about what Jack should say."

I nodded. "Henry, come on," Stanton said, stretching his arms out across the desk toward me. His voice caught slightly. His eyes narrowed, burrowing deep, searching my consciousness, desperate to make a stronger connection. His brow, his nostrils, the veins in his neck, his arms, his fingers--everything was reaching out, everything was focused on me. I knew this moment so well; I had seen him do it so many times. He could talk all he wanted about an eternity of "false" smiles: His power came from the exact opposite direction, from the authenticity of his appeal, from the stark ferocity of his hunger. There was very little artifice to him. He was truly needy. And now he truly needed me.

"We've worked so hard--together, Henry--to get here," he pleaded. "And it's there for us now. It's right there. We can do incredible things. We can change the whole country--not just Alabama. If we win this thing, you don't think Bill Johnson's gonna want to come to Washington himself? He can be attorney general of the United States--not at first, maybe, but down the road. That's why he came up to New Hampshire. To make sure I'd remember him when the time came. And it's gonna come, Henry. I can win this thing. We are going to make history. Look me in the eye and tell me it's not gonna happen. Look me in the eye, Henry--and tell me you don't want to be part of it."

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Henry," he said. "You want me down on my knees? I can't do it without you. Don't leave me now." He hesitated, searched my face for an answer. "You're still with me, aren't you? Say you are. Say you are. Say it."

He stopped, and suddenly smiled. I had trouble reading the smile. He was nonplussed, but confident. He wasn't conceding anything. "Aw c'mon, Henry. This is ridiculous: you've gotta be with me."