(6 of 7)
Later, about 50 dignitaries tried to squeeze into the five cars for the ride to the local fairgrounds. Disgusted, Murphy wound up walking all the way to the fairgrounds, slogging to the speakers' stand through thick clouds of desert dust while Mrs. Tucker, in full pursuit, began to remonstrate with him. At length, Hollywood Star Wendell Corey, who had arrived early only to disappear mysteriously, turned up in time to make a half-incoherent speech about "my good friend and that great American, George Muffin!—I mean Murphy!"
Down the Barrel. As for Salinger, Murphy harbors only dark suspicions. "I think this guy is really vulnerable," says he. "He's a chubby little rascal who looks and sounds sly and disrespectful. If this guy was doing such an important job in Washington, how come he quit on an hour's notice? My cook would give me more notice than that! He was a pressagent! I'd like to ask him what he did for the President during the Cuban missile crisis. Did he hold his coat? Did he get a fresh supply of paper clips?"
No, says Pierre, who regards his role in the Kennedy Administration as the strongest point of his campaign. He freely dispenses the impression that he took an intimate part in the play of historical events. He punctuates his speeches with phrases like "I remember when President Kennedy . . ." He frequently alludes to the time that "we looked down the nuclear barrel" during the Cuba crisis, and he implies that it is a good thing, too, for the U.S. that he was there.
Spirited. Salinger also hits hard at Murphy's links to Goldwater. He accuses Murphy of having supported Dr. Fred Schwarz's ultra-right Christian Anti-Communism Crusade, charges that Murphy is an "archconservative of the same stripe as Senator Goldwater, but hasn't the courage to express his honest convictions."
Pierre has a swift, sharp mind and salts his addresses with impressive statistics. But lately he has been spending much of his time defending himself against Murphy's "carpetbagger" charges, and trying to convince the voters that he is not a Falstaff but a statesmanlike sort. It isn't easy. Not long ago, for example, he found himself confronted by a Los Angeles audience so hostile that he probably wished that he was out there with Wendell Corey and George Muffin.
"Why did you register in Virginia and vote for Senator Byrd?" someone asked.
"I didn't vote for Senator Byrd!" replied Pierre.
"How do you feel about subverting the state constitution?" demanded another.
"I've been upheld by the State Supreme Court!" he shot back.
"The Americans for Democratic Action is a Communist front—how do you feel about that?" snapped a woman.
"I don't agree with everything the A.D.A. says, but to call it a Communist front is stupid!" Pierre retorted.
At the close of the meeting, Salinger beamed a grin out over the sea of glum faces and said cheerily, "Let me thank you for the opportunity of joining you tonight. We've had a spirited discussion, haven't we?"
"Remind me," murmured Pierre as he drove off, "to fire my advance man."