Read Soul of a Whore and Purvis Online
Authors: Denis Johnson
Melvin Purvis (1903â1960) began as a special agent in the U.S. Justice Department. In 1932, J. Edgar Hoover placed him in charge of the Chicago office of Hoover's new Division of Investigation, which soon became the FBI.
Over a six-month period in 1934, Purvis's pursuit of the nation's most famous “Public Enemies” put him in the national spotlight. Apparently envious, Hoover drove him from the bureau the following year.
After leaving law enforcement, Purvis married and raised three children, making his living as a radio broadcaster and as the head of the “Junior G-man” public relations campaign for Post Toasties cereal.
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Some important dates:
June 1933
âUnder the suspected direction of Charles “Pretty Boy” Floyd, gangsters ambush police and agents transferring a prisoner in Kansas City, killing three policemen and Special Agent Ray Caffrey, the first “G-man” to die in action.
March 1934
âThe bank robber John Dillinger escapes from jail in Indiana and crosses a state line, making himself a federal fugitive.
May 1934
âUnder Purvis's direction, federal agents ambush Dillinger and Lester Gillisâaka “Baby Face Nelson”âat the Little Bohemia Inn on Little Star Lake, Wisconsin. Both criminals escape while two bystanders are killed. Later that night in a second gunfight Nelson kills one of Purvis's agents before escaping again.
July 1934
âPurvis heads a team of agents and local police who assassinate John Dillinger outside the Biograph Theater in Chicago.
October 1934
âPurvis participates in the killing of Pretty Boy Floyd in a cornfield near Wellsville, Ohio.
November 1934
âBaby Face Nelson dies in a shootout with federal agents on an Illinois roadside. Two agents also die.
February 29, 1960
âPurvis dies of a bullet wound from a .45 he received as a gift from fellow agents when he resigned. The death is ruled a suicide, though some evidence suggests it may have been an accident.
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In seven scenes,
Purvis
follows history backward from 1966 (six years after Purvis's death) to the evening of the “Bohemia Inn Shootout” in 1934.
Lyndon Johnson
J. Edgar Hoover
Clyde Tolson
John Dillinger
Melvin Purvis
Job Interviewer
Pretty Boy Floyd
Ohio State Highway Patrolman
Baby Face Nelson
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A lynched black man
An office secretary
A woman bound and gagged
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Scene 1: October 1966
The White House Oval Office
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Scene 2: March 1, 1960
The home of J. Edgar Hoover
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Scene 3: February 29, 1960
A fathomless void
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Scene 4: Spring 1959
An office at KSBC radio, Florence, South Carolina
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Scene 5: January 1935
An office of the U.S. Division of Investigation, Chicago
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Scene 6: October 22, 1934
A cornfield near Wellsville, Ohio
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Scene 7: May 1934
A hotel suite on Little Star Lake, Wisconsin
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An ellipsis [â¦] beginning a line is meant to suggest a pause.
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You may break your heart; but men will go on as before.
âMarcus Aurelius
October 1966: The White House Oval Office.
In a small zone of light,
LYNDON JOHNSON
and
J. EDGAR HOOVER
play gin rummy,
HOOVER
in a business suit,
JOHNSON
in shirt and necktie, socks, undershorts.
JOHNSON
pours himself generous drinks of bourbon.
HOOVER
sips sherry.
A lynched black man hangs in the dimness just outside the zone illuminated.
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JOHNSON
: The Mormon angels landed here from Mars.
They claim to bring a major revelation,
But look you close: It's just so old it's new.
Naturally they revive polygamy.
They're polishing up the ancient creeds
And revving up the old dictates,
Virgin sacrifice and every scary
Type of genital mutilation and
Putting your hand on your balls when you swear a lie.
HOOVER
:âElvis Presley is a clever robot.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Mark me,
The aliens wouldn't touch the Eastern Bloc:
They ain't nuts, just incomprehensible.
They've never said so much as boo to
us
.
They've got to have some outfit fronting them.
Who sends his ticklish tendrils in behind
The phony fronts? Our man J. Edgar Hoover.
I want the goddamn Mormons infiltrated.
HOOVER
: Lyndon, do you mean to indicate
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day
Saints has extraterrestrial origins?
JOHNSON
: I mean of course I don't mean Mars
per se
.
Just outer space. And if they're emissaries,
Then they've got outer-space angelic leaders,
Someone who dispatched them here from blackness.
Soon's they're ready, they'll negotiate,
And I mean to say negotiate with
us.
We'll find the outer-space administrators
And cut ourselves a deal. We'll dangle them
The Soviet Union and one thousand virgins.
HOOVER
: You overestimate our populace's
Moral amplitude.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â One
hundred
virgins.
HOOVER
: And you anticipate the politics
Of creatures we can't even guess about.
JOHNSON
: Nope. They're good old boys in search of profit.
If they were commies they'da lost the space race.
I don't care how many arms and feet
And slimy orifices God supplied you,
It's hope of raw materials and markets
That drives the steam from out your rocket's asshole.
Gin.
HOOVER
: No thanks.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â That's gin for me.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Make mine
Another sherryâ¦No. This isn't rummy!
JOHNSON
: Three fours, four jacks, a run of spades.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Go fish!
JOHNSON
: Now why, when fortune blows a little stink
Up your kimona, do you seek to change the game?
Falling behind should goad your appetites:
Sting you to whap the shit off the butt of your jeans
And hook that bull by his nostril ring.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â You brew
One nauseating mess of metaphors.
â¦We've got bigger fish to fry than Mormons.
JOHNSON
: Martians.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Lyndon, Mr. President,
You spoke of leaders. Let us
speak
of leaders.
JOHNSON
: A hunnerd twenty-five andâflip themâthree,
And thirtyâhunnerd fifty-eight for me.
HOOVER
: I'll not disperse among the Mormon fold
A hatch of undercover Martian-hunters.
They'll end up married to a bunch of milkmaids.
JOHNSON
: We've got Andromedans athwart our women.
They breed with Mormon females to make monsters.
Stick your spyglass in amongst that mess.
HOOVER
: My fondest vision is to map the hairs
And very capillaries of the least
Significant citizen and begin a file.
To tongue and probe the grossness in the soul
Of every enemy of the American Dream.
JOHNSON
: And what exactly is the American Dream?
HOOVER
: I've just described it.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Tonguing, probingâ
HOOVER
: Infinitesimal infiltration
And alphabetization of the masses.
But not the Mormonsâyet. Someday; my word.
Now, Lyndon. Mr. President.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â That's gin.
HOOVER
: Gin?
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â I play the hand that's dealt me.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Dealt?
I dealt you gin, a pat hand, one two three?
JOHNSON
: The odds come long, but once upon a time
We all were zygotes in a long-odds race.
People may complain, J. Ed, but think:
We're each the luckiest sperm there ever was.
HOOVER
: You S.O.B. You stacked the goshdarn deck.
JOHNSON
: How did I stack a deck I never held?
HOOVER
: Thus we hear your enemies crying.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Stud.
âA hand of stud. All right, you're high: Queen bets.
HOOVER
: Queen, sir?
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I'm sorry,
King
of Spades. Your bet.
HOOVER
: Mr. President, I wouldn't bet
A hamster's giblets on the King of Spades.
JOHNSON
:â¦Don't you think I know what brings you here?
I've dealt with darkness ever' step along.
Every ounce I've laid on the side of clean
I've goddamn nearly had to match with dirty.
The Civil Rights Act, 1964:
There the scale bangs down decisively
For victorious good. My life is right.
âI'm paired.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â It's lowball, and the pot is mine.
Phone rings.
JOHNSON
:You love to monkey with the rulesâ¦[
On phone
] What say?
â¦I see. And don't we have our whole Sixth Fleet
Playing war games down along those parts?
â¦No. I won't. Keep me apprised. That's all. [
Hangs up
.]
â¦My legacy is civil rights for all.
HOOVER
: Martin Luther King has got to go.
Phone rings.
JOHNSON
[
on the phone
]: Who's this? (Go on and shuffle please, J. Ed.)
Yes, Admiral, I am aware. The submarines,
The nuclear. I'm rattling our saber.
âThis is your president. Alert the fleet.
Mao has got to know the ocean's ours.
[
Hangs up.
]
We all agree you've got me where you want me:
How do you like my starburst undershorts?
I don't bawl, I'll take my punishment
For letting a weasel get me by the eggs.
But I can have a dab of shellfish compound
Here in my palm by two this afternoon
(Thanks to the chemists at the CIA)
To make it look like heart conditions killed me;
And I won't even have to lick it up:
It sinks into the flesh. And sink it will,
And I sink too, before I let the weasel
Devour my entire house. My deal.
HOOVER
: Those vicious chemists at the CIA.
JOHNSON
: Chairman Mao can kiss my bony ass.
âI'm on a little junket Saturday.
Georgia, Tennessee, the Carolinas.
HOOVER
: Just the time of year!
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â The votes down there
Just might stay Democrat another decade,
Although we smell a sea change.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Lovely weather.
JOHNSON
: Smooch the infants, snip the ribbons, suchlike.
Dedicate this one museum there. This feller
Elvis Purvis is the hero of it.
Down around where he called home. The man
Who collared Dillinger. Remember him?
HOOVER
: Several agents collared Dillinger
With the assistance of the whole division.
Later Purvis murdered Pretty Boy Floyd.
I have the officer's written recollection,
The Kansas cop, or whatever state it was.
On Purvis's orders, he dispatched the wounded
Prisoner with a bullet to the brain.
JOHNSON
: A perjured recollection?
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Written. Signed.
And decades later, Purvis shot himself.
I take that as the plainest mea culpa.
JOHNSON
: The South Carolina Criminal Justice Hall
Of Fame. The Elvis Purvis Gun Display!
âElvis? That his name?
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â His name was Melvin.
JOHNSON
: I'll be saying words in praise of him.
The nation sighs; let's celebrate our heroes.
Purvis; Kennedy; Martin Luther King.
HOOVER
: We want straight arrows, Boy Scouts, true believers.
What we can't abide are vivid heroes.
If a man should stand too high, well then,
We'll lop him at the legs. As I did Purvis.
JOHNSON
: A preacher ain't nothing to fret you, Herr Director.
Preachers rise and fall.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â King's dangerous.
JOHNSON
: They sit themselves on golden toilets, wiping
Their holes with hunnerds, talking on two phones
While flying around in bright red jet airplanes,
Don't pay no tax on half a cent of it,
Nobody says boo. What shoots 'em down?
What finally shoots 'em down? It's good old poon,
The whores and mistresses and altar boys.
You'd like to hound and tree a man already
Besieged by willing females who'll destroy him,
These underfucked and overfed and half-
Way unzipped Baptist slatterns shyly come
To sprawl themselves upon his offices.
And some of 'em are sexy. Comely. Cuddly.
Here you want to take him in your crosshairs
And thunder him to earth, with all
The messy implications that implies.
HOOVER
: The population is a nightmare seething
On the earth. We can't let heroes rise to wake
The monster into chaos.
JOHNSON
:                  “I have a dream⦔
HOOVER
: Man's best ordered into hives and warrens.
Public schools, vast corporate factories,
Housing projectsâ¦concentration campsâ¦
I'm going to knock with three.
JOHNSON
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Let's see, let's see,
That's twenty points. You'll catch me soon.
HOOVER
: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I'm bored.
JOHNSON
: I come from westward-roaming pioneers.
I like to sling my big old Eldorado
Around the roads on my place, hollering
And firing my revolver and raising dust
And gunsmoke. You won't get me in a hive.
HOOVER
: I'm not going to infiltrate the Mormons.
JOHNSON
: The last assassination crippled us.
[
He lifts the receiver and dials.
]
[
On phone
] What news?â¦Is that a fact? Well, well. I swan.
He must be facing some internal strife,
Some rumbling among his favored generals.
Try the following: Sweep the guns of the fleet
Across their bows. If they keep coming, raise
The subs and let them see our nukes. [
Hangs up.
]
â¦So freedom is a dusty artifact.
HOOVER
: You'll have your Civil Rights Bill, Excellency.
You just won't have your heroes. You must suffer
The lack of such as King and Kennedy.