The Man

“You fired Arthur Eaton because his presence was a threat to you. You also fired him because you could not manipulate him, bend him to accept your prejudices, and you tried to replace him with Mr. Stover, who would gratefully comply with any policy and order you wished to impose on the people. I say-”

“Mr. Manager, you are not interrogating me, you are lecturing me. And you are attempting to brainwash the Senate. Your assumptions are a tissue of lies, produced by your imagination, which you are attempting to stuff into the senators’ heads.”

“Is that so? I am sure the able senators may see for facts what you prefer to see as a tissue of lies. Contrary to your reckless claim, the great Secretary of State was trying to preserve you in office, not usurp your office. If you yourself were not conscious of your inept bumbling of domestic and foreign affairs, and the national hostility this had engendered, Arthur Eaton was aware, as a dedicated patriot he was extremely aware, and devoted himself to protecting you from yourself, if only to preserve peace and the continuity of our government. If he withheld certain CIA documents from you, it was because he knew how dangerous they might be in your hands, how you might misuse the information because of your own unbalanced feelings about your race. Secretary Eaton’s reward for this act of patriotism was to be fired, illegally and lawlessly fired, by you. It is evident to one and all today, this very day, that Secretary Eaton was acting in the right in temporarily withholding from you certain hearsay information about Baraza. Because as we now see, once you had illegally removed your Secretary of State and learned what he tried to keep from you, you performed and are still performing as injudiciously and as dangerously as he had feared you would. You are ready to send American troops into Africa, are you not?”

“Yes, I am. I have already informed the American public of that possibility.”

“You are aware that Baraza has a population that is 100 per cent black?”

“Yes, I am perfectly aware of that.”

“Do you admit that, even if you alone think it should be done, you are ready to pour into the defense of this primitive African Nigra tract the peerless product of American manhood, to sacrifice rocketry battalions that are, by coincidence, 100 per cent white-ski

“Yes, that is true.”

“Have you read the published accounts, only two hours ago released, that Premier Kasatkin spoke last night, in an address made in Leningrad, and said any American troops sent by you into Baraza would be regarded by the Soviet Union as an act of aggression? And that the Soviet Union would not stand for it?”

“Yes, I have been informed of his speech. I have not read the newspaper accounts.”

“Mr. President, are you prepared to risk the consequences of a worldwide nuclear war to protect something called Baraza?”

“Every head of this nation, henceforth, will have to risk the possibility of nuclear war to protect both America’s freedom and democracy elsewhere.”

“Or, in this case, to protect a patch of foreign jungle because its inhabitants are black, and you are black?”

“I trust that is not a formal question. I would not demean myself by replying to it.”

“We-ll, Mr. Witness, I am certain our honorable Secretary of State would be honest enough to reply to any question concerned with our life and our liberty. Nor would Secretary Eaton have countenanced the reckless and suicidal policy you are promoting. That is why I charge that you, knowing his feeling, and in defiance of law and the Senate, decided to thrust him aside. Tell me, Mr. Witness, do you consider yourself wiser than Arthur Eaton? Better versed in foreign affairs? More loving of your homeland than one whose ancestors came to these shores on the Mayflower and founded this republic to which your antecedents were later invited? No, there is no need to answer those questions. You need answer only this one: Do you feel that in recent weeks, and today, you have acted and are acting in the best interests of the United States, without being swayed by any outside pressures, without being influenced by any prejudices of any kind?”

“Mr. Manager, no man on earth can say to you in naked honesty that he comes to a decision, arrives at a judgment, entirely devoid of prejudices. All men are possessed of certain prejudices, certain feelings, certain emotions toward every problem they face. These prejudices need not necessarily be harmful or bad. More often, they are good, and collaborate with intelligence and common sense. I have prejudices, strong prejudices, against tyra

“Mr. President, forgive me for interrupting your most diverting political address. But your last remark is one I dare not overlook. Human beings, you humbly and disarmingly say, are apt to make mistakes. I suggest to you, sir, that today, in this perilous day and time, this nation ca

Douglass Dilman stood up.

He had not done well, he knew. Yet he was curiously relieved. For he had done what he had known from the first must be done: he had made the invisible Article V a part of the conscience of the court, and tomorrow he would be judged on it and nothing less.

Stepping down from the witness stand, then crossing past the podium and the table of opposition managers, he could see a crowd of press photographers, along with witnesses and page boys, jammed before and around the doorway to the Senators’ Private Lobby through which he would reach the President’s Room of the Senate. Then, as he moved toward the milling mob, he recognized Wanda’s distressed face among those waiting for him.

That moment, he knew that there was one act left undone that he now wished done. In seconds, they would surround him, begging him to pose, and he would agree, yes, he would agree, but not before insisting that Wanda pose side by side with him. To some, it might be a small thing, but to him, it was of dominant importance. Yes, he would call her to him, because she was so beautiful, because she was so courageous, but, above all, because he must let her know that today, perhaps, he had finally earned the right to stand in public by her side.

Now, at eight forty-five in the evening, and for the first time since Dilman had become President, certainly for the first time in many weeks, Arthur Eaton felt in high spirits.

Arms folded across his vest, the ankles of his outstretched legs crossed, he sat back in the soft armchair and continued to watch the drama ooze out of the trial on the brilliantly colored television screen near the built-in bar of his living room. Chewing on the stem of his empty silver cigarette holder, Eaton followed Nat Abrahams as he plodded through his examination of the last of the defense witnesses.