bad road to the dead river - 4. mr bryan's speech

by nick nelson

part four of thirty-two

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twenty-two years earlier. a gray morning in the city room of the chicago flame -oracle. macdonald “mac” mccarthy, the city editor, was writing a memo, staring at the pad through the curiously curved glasses that made his eyes look like a frog’s. mac was an old-fashioned newspaperman's old-fashioned newspaperman. he was one of those guys who look fifty-five years old when they are twenty-five, and look fifty-five when they are seventy-five. you wanted to see me, mac?” a voice above him said. “yes, i did, reb. just hang on a second here while i write a blistering memo to the home and garden department.” “make it good and blistering. don’t spare them on my account.” mac didn’t answer, but took his time finishing his memo and popping it into the pneumatic tube behind his desk. rebecca “rebel” roussel, ace reporter for the flame-oracle, watched him from under her trademark arched eyebrows, which were shaded by her jaunty blue panama hat. “is mrs johnson still mad at me?” reb asked, when mac was finished, mac looked up.“oh no, no, that’s ancient history, “ he assured reb, but without looking directly at her. but he never looked directly at anybody, unless he was really mad and giving them what he called “an old-fashioned what-for.” this happened about once every three years. “then what do you want? i’ve had a long morning, and i have a date wth a scotch and water at barney’s.” “you know that the secretary of state, mr bryan, is flying to paris on wednesday for a round of peace talks with - with - whoever… “ “with boss finnegan and the sultan of booboo. and you want me to cover it? when did i get transferred to the foreign desk?” “oh no, no, nothing like that. before he heads off to paris, mr bryan is going to make a speech on monday at the cattleman’s annual picnic down in the southern part of the, at booneville or toonerville or some such place. and i would you like you to cover it.” “um - that isn’t exactly my line of country, mac. what is he going to talk about, a new cure for worms in cows?” “well, as you know, reb, mr bryan is known for making really surprising speeches in the most surprising places. and there is a rumor going around, just a rumor, you know, that he might make some kind of big speech about war in europe at this farmer’s shindig. and since you are my best reporter, i would really appreciate it - “ “you don’t have to butter me up, mac, i am happy to go. what am i, some kind of prima donna reporter that only goes where i want to go? just have maisie get me a ticket to flopville and i will be on my way on monday morning. i will even wash my face before i go.” “you’re a brick, reb. i knew you would come through.” “now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll get my lunch.” * reb found clarence “cowboy” grant, the ace reporter for the vigilant, waiting for her at the bar at barney’s. clarence called himself “cowboy” and usually sported a cowboy hat like will rogers’s, even though he had never been west of east st louis in his life. “you’ll never guess where i am going on monday,” clarence greeted reb. reb guessed, then laughed. “poor mac. i bet he thought he - we - had some kind of scoop.” “let’s just hope there is some kind of story, not just some of mister bryan’s usual sasparilla.” “the train ride is nice and scenic,” said reb, as whitey, the bartender, put her scotch and water in front of her. 5. venus and mars