(7 of 8)
When he returns to Saint-Céré, where a housekeeper takes care of his two youngest children in a new house he has rented (no central heat, no bath, meals in the kitchen), the town elders glance up from their cards and shrug: "It's only Pierrot." But his organization men, waiting in the backroom, are excited and cordial, report happily of hundreds of new dues-paying members since election, listen while Poujade regales them with a bit of gossip from the big city and a lot of Poujade propaganda.
He explains his new theory on Algeria: "Big Wall Street syndicates found incredibly rich oil deposits in the Sahara, but instead of exploiting the discovery they capped the wells and turned the Algerians against us." He discourses on France's alliances: "All this is a great diabolic scheme to dismember France. Already the Saar is gone, and soon the Italians will want Corsica." He adds slyly: "As for those who are against us, I need only say: let them go back to Jerusalem. We'll even be glad to pay their way."
About the collaborators and ex-fascists on his staff, Poujade is abrupt: "I'm tired of people looking for lice in my hair. I fought the Germans and I know what resistance is. I don't need anybody to give me lessons in patriotism." Asked one man at a recent Saint-Céré meeting: "But what about tax reform?" Snapped Poujade: "That's precisely what we're fighting for, but to achieve real basic reforms we must reform the whole system."
Widening the Front. The truth is that Poujade has not mentioned tax reform since election, and he no longer talks of hanging. He is now intent on winning more moderate Frenchmen who are disgusted with the regime but dismayed by violent methods. He wants to live down the nickname hung on him in the campaign: "Poujadplf." Cagily, Poujade refused to join patriotic groups in a display in support of the Algiers demonstrations against Premier Guy Mollet. "They wanted Poujade to march on the Champs Elysées so that they could provoke the crowd and smash a few faces. The next morning every newspaper in France would be screaming, 'Poujade, fascist!' I'm not as stupid as I look."
Poujade now aspires to create a new "authentic French fraternity" which ranges far beyond shopkeepers. He has been assiduously wooing labor, dines union leaders 40 and 50 at a time. "When the workers listen to me, they say: 'Poujade is not so bad; he is not against us at all. He is against our enemies, the big trusts.' " The big trusts themselves are interested. Textile Tycoon Marcel Boussac, biggest of French businessmen, owner of race horses and the fashion house of Dior, sent an emissary to sound out this new political phenomenon. "He tried to pull the worms out of my nose," was Poujade's characteristically inelegant reaction.