Authors: Irving Wallace
He paused, then continued. “The plan is that in the next few weeks, you fall ill, become more and more confined to your White House bedroom, and as the months pass, your disability becomes permanent. As you recover from this disability, perhaps a severe coronary, to which we can arrange that a committee of physicians attests, those of us who have been your assistants will continue to conduct the business of the executive branch in your name. You will remain President in name only, of course, as were Woodrow Wilson and Eisenhower when they were invalided. You may sign the documents that require your signature, but you will leave the actual performance of your duties to your committee of successors in the Cabinet. I find this solution simple, orderly, completely sensible—and in the best interests of the country. In return, of course, you have our pledge that the Articles of Impeachment in our possession will never be made public against you. Well, now, Dilman, there you have it.”
Douglass Dilman had listened to this plan unfold as if helplessly caught up in a mad nightmare. And emerging from it now, finding himself face to face with an actual human being who had spoken these fantastic words as if they were ordinary words, he was for seconds too stunned by the reality to speak.
But then the full impact of what had occurred hit him, and he felt the blood rushing through him and felt the pounding beneath his chest and temples. The effrontery of the proposition, the degrading insult of it, at last transformed his shock into rage.
He stared at his black hands knotted together on the Buchanan desk, watched with fascination their trembling. Never in his entire life had he suffered such a monstrous attempt to humiliate him. As a Negro, he was a scarred veteran of white men’s jeers and ridicule, blasphemy and vilification. Yet now he could conjure up no agonized instance out of his past, from childhood to manhood, not even that revolting occasion on his honeymoon with Aldora, when he had been treated so inhumanly.
As his fury rose, and his head pulsated, he wanted to grab the heavy inkwell from his desk and fling it at Eaton’s face. Or strangle him, strangle him until he admitted indecency and confessed shame.
But then, seeking an ally to justify his right to violence, he remembered Nat Abrahams, and knew that Nat would restrain him, remind him that knocking someone down solved nothing except the question of which was the more muscular, and justice would not be served. What had this monster Eaton and his so-called cabal, what had they threatened him with—yes, impeachment for high crimes and misdemeanors, unless he crept into an invalid’s bed with a feigned disability for the rest of the term and allowed them as palace conspirators to run the country their way. How had that Sally put it last night? Two-legged beings, yes, that’s what they wanted on the premises. And anything lower than that they wanted kept in its place leashed and muzzled, like a bothersome house pet, tucked into the doghouse where its bark could not be heard, while two-legged men kept the house clean and in order. They wanted Eaton, and Eaton wanted Eaton, to run a comfortable white country, and comfortable white world, for privileged, superior white people, cynically bribing with Federal charities the susceptible minorities at home, cynically betraying through lies and peace-bartering the helpless small nations abroad.
That they felt they could accomplish this, that they believed he would readily and gratefully acquiesce to their offer, was what astounded and infuriated him. Desperately he tried to think with Nat’s mind. Obviously, they were confident because they believed they had a club over him. If he would not accede without resistance, they would employ legal force. Nat’s mind inquired: What legal force do they possess, Doug? What case can they build against you? Either they have something or they have nothing, and if you know they have nothing, then they are bluffing you, trying to intimidate you, scare you out. Nat’s mind instructed: Call their bluff, Doug, call it, and then decide.
It required his last powers of restraint to exercise this control. All right, Nat, I’ll try.
He saw Eaton placidly waiting for his reply.
Dilman said, “Eaton, I don’t know where, not even in stories about Central American politics, I ever heard a more bizarre or outlandish proposition. You have it all figured out, have you? I’m put away, and you play President. I’m to cooperate with you in this—this palace revolution, and if I refuse, you indict me for high crimes and misdemeanors, and then you try me and then you convict and remove me. But first, you kindly offer me the choice of abdication and self-exile.”
“If you prefer to put it that way, that’s right,” said Eaton agreeably.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Eaton—I think you’re bluffing. I don’t think you or your ambitious crowd have a single shred of evidence against me, not one thing, that would stand up and convince a majority of the 448 sworn members of the House of Representatives to send Articles of Impeachment to the Senate. Unless you can—”
“One moment, Dilman.” Eaton uncrossed his legs and sat straight. “If it requires this to make you realize that we are dead serious, that your situation is hopeless, then you should see it.”
He extracted three folded sheets of yellow foolscap from his inside coat pocket, elaborately unfolded them, patted them straight, half rose, and dropped them on the desk in front of Dilman. He fell back into the Revels chair. From beneath hooded eyelids, he kept his gaze on the President.
Douglass Dilman looked down at the topmost yellow sheet, filled with typewritten paragraphs, resting on the desk blotter between his elbows. At last he unclasped his hands, picked up the three pages, spun his chair away from the Secretary of State, and read the heading, and then the first paragraph of each numbered section. He read:
Upon the evidence collected by the Committee on Judiciary, which is herewith presented, and in virtue of the powers with which they have been invested by the House of Representatives, they are of the opinion that Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, should be impeached of high crimes and misdemeanors. They therefore recommend to the House the adoption of the accompanying resolution.
Zeke Miller, Chairman.
Harvey Wickland
John T. Hightower
Resolved
, That Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, be impeached of high crimes and misdemeanors in office.
Articles of evidence for the House of Representatives of the United States against Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, in maintenance and support of the resolution of impeachment against him for high crimes and misdemeanors in office.
That said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, at Washington, in the District of Columbia, unmindful of the high duties of his office, of his oath of office, and of the requirement of the Constitution that he should preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution, did unlawfully and in violation of his oath of office, commit treason against the United States by conveying, with knowledge beforehand or through gross indiscretion, national secrets concerning internal security into the hands of the U.S.S.R. and its allies through his hitherto covert friendship with one Wanda Gibson, an executive secretary of the Vaduz Exporters, Limited, of Bethesda, Maryland, said corporation having been indicted by the Department of Justice as a Communist Front organization conspiring with the U.S.S.R. to overthrow democratic institutions wherever . . .
That said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, unmindful of the high duties of his office and of his oath of office, in violation of the Constitution and laws of the United States, at Washington, in the District of Columbia, did unlawfully hinder the Department of Justice in its prosecution of the Turnerite Group, a subversive organization, and thus cause the loss of one life and internal unrest, because of unlawful and covert conspiracy with the Turnerite Group in an effort to protect from public knowledge the membership in this subversive organization of a relative and offspring, Julian Dilman . . .
That said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, unmindful of the high duties of his office, and the dignities and proprieties thereof, did disgrace and bring into contempt the Executive Branch of the United States government, and show himself unfit to perform the duties of his office, through certain intemperate and scandalous behavior involving loose morals, intoxication, partisanship, and maladministration.
Specification first
.—At Washington, in the District of Columbia, in a private chamber of the Executive Mansion, said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, while under the influence of intoxicants, made improper advances upon the person of a member of the Executive staff, namely Sally Watson, White House social secretary, and did attempt to seduce said Sally Watson, and did commit bodily harm to said Sally Watson when she resisted.
Specification second
.—At Washington, in the District of Columbia, for five years including the time of his ascension to the Presidency, said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, widower, conducted covertly an extra-marital liaison with the aforesaid Wanda Gibson, unmarried, in a house owned by said Douglass Dilman, on whose premises Wanda Gibson dwelt. In the same house there dwelt also the Reverend Paul Spinger, National Director of the Crispus Society, an organization of Negro Americans, and his spouse, Rose Spinger, who were treated to certain special favors by said Douglass Dilman, in return for aiding and abetting his liaison with Wanda Gibson and keeping it secret.
Specification third
.—At Washington, in the District of Columbia, said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, did attempt to bring into contempt and reproach the Congress of the United States, and impair the powers of Congress, by obstructing its legislative activity through veto of the Minorities Rehabilitation Program Bill, because of intemperate habits, partisanship, and inefficiency, to the detriment of the national welfare. Without study of the aforesaid legislative bill, while under the influence of intoxicants and Negro extremists, said Douglass Dilman . . .
Specification fourth
.—In his various residences at Washington, in the District of Columbia, in Chicago, in the State of Illinois, in Springfield, in the State of Illinois, where he was a registered patient in a sanitarium for alcoholics, and in his residences in the States of Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, said Douglass Dilman, President of the United States, was habitually addicted to . . .
Dilman came around in his swivel chair, and with great deliberation he held out the three yellow sheets until Eaton took them. Dilman was pleased to see that his own hands no longer shook, because there was no fear in him. One felt fear when there was something real that threatened, a person, a charge, that might subject one to physical injury or mental harm. This preposterous document, its grotesque half-truths and whole lies couched in the false dignity of Congressional legal verbiage, was too ridiculous to be treated seriously.
He considered Eaton with new confidence. “Is this all of your blackmail, Eaton?”
Carefully Eaton folded the three yellow sheets of paper. At last he looked up.
“These are, without the supporting affidavits and testimony of witnesses, the Articles of Impeachment against you that will ultimately be sent to the Senate, after the House of Representatives has voted to indict you. This evidence will first be presented to the House not as formal articles, but as a series of charges, written in similar language, supporting a resolution for impeachment. This is the case against you which I have managed so far to prevent from being introduced on the floor of the House.”
“I see. . . . Well, I’m sorry for you, Eaton. If you want to become President of the United States, as you do, you are going to have to work and sweat for it, gain it the hard way, and not by trying to frighten me out of this chair with three pages of poppycock. Yes, I’m going to make you work for it in a way that will revolt your fastidious self, by making you live and sleep and hold hands and cast your lot with that gang of inhuman bullies and ignorant rednecks on the Hill. You are welcome to them, and to this trumped-up pack of lies, a nigger indictment wrapped in a package of Constitutional parchment. It’ll get you nowhere.”
Eaton appeared incredulous. “Are you telling me, in the face of those irrefutable facts, you will not step aside?”
“I’m telling you more,” said Dilman, standing up. “I am telling you I will no longer give you the right to the dignity of resigning, because you do not deserve it. As of here and now, Mr. Eaton, you are fired!”
Eaton leaped to his feet and moved to the front of the President’s desk. “Dilman, I think you are too distraught to realize what you are doing.”
“I know exactly what I am doing. I am removing you from office and from my Cabinet.”
“I won’t let you commit suicide, Dilman. You’ve taken leave of your senses. There is a law—the New Succession Act—that prevents you from removing any Cabinet officer without the consent of the Senate. Have you forgotten? You can no more fire me than President Andrew Johnson could defy the Tenure of Office Act of 1867 by trying to fire Secretary of War Stanton without consent of the Senate.”
“Andrew Johnson did it, and I am doing it.”
“Dilman, for heaven’s sake, he was impeached for exactly this.”
Dilman nodded. “Yes, and he was acquitted.”
Eaton planted his knuckles on the desk, and bent forward. “Listen to me, Dilman. You won’t be that lucky. If you fire me, you won’t have me standing between you and your bitterest enemies. Nothing will hold them back. And now they’ll have their strongest ammunition against you, a new article of indictment, and the most powerful one: a charge that you flagrantly violated the law of the United States, that you ignored the rights of the Senate. They’ll be all over you like a pack of angry wolves, and they’ll have teeth for their final attack. Dilman, for once, for one last time while you still can, show good judgment, at least the good judgment of self-preservation. Step aside, as I have suggested. Don’t force us to parade all your friends, your misconduct, before the nation and the world. Don’t force us to drive you from this room in disgrace.”