Chapter 10
The only thing that alarmed Wanda as the campaign moved into the home stretch was the fact that the opposition showed an absolute lack of concern. It was as if Joe Carson knew with positive conviction that he would be re-elected.
"What do you make of it?" Wanda asked as she sat around the table with Mike Hanson and Sam Gold. "Are they up to something, or is it just my imagination?"
"No, Wanda," Sam replied, "it isn't just your imagination. For years, the machine has been pulling in the votes to keep these men in City Hall. They're just confident it will work for them again."
"Will it?" Wanda thought her voice sounded strange as she asked the question.
"That's something we won't know for sure until the votes are in and counted."
Something about the way he said it made Wanda feel for the first time that she could lose the election after all. She looked toward Mike for a glance or a word that would cheer her up, but he had nothing to offer.
"But why?" she asked in exasperation. "Just look at those wards where Mike and I are running especially. Those people must realize they'll never get anything better if they keep returning machine men to City Hall. Surely they can't be that stupid."
As she completed the question, Wanda sensed that there was going to be no bright, cheerful answer.
"It's the same story everywhere, Wanda. It's some kind of North American disease and I'm not sure North America has cornered the market on it either.
"They just refuse to care," he pontificated as he raised his glass of beer. "Take any city you like and count the votes. You'll find the lowest proportion of voters in the slum areas every time."
"But how can they be so blind?" Wanda persisted. "Surely they know that the fat cats aren't going to do anything for them."
"That's right, Wanda, the fat cats don't give a damn about those people and they know it, but it becomes a matter of distinction between fat cats."
"I'm afraid you've lost me, Sam," Wanda looked puzzled.
"Put it this way," he explained. "When you're living on welfare or selling stolen car parts or peddling your tail for minimum scale, everybody with a good suit is a fat cat. You are, Mike is, I am.
"The kind of alternative we offer them doesn't mean anything to them. So we try to convince them we really care about them, but why should they believe us. Elections roll around and all the fat cats make all the same old promises they've heard over and over again.
"The candidates live in nice houses or apartments, drive good cars, dress well, talk differently. As far as those people are concerned, we're all fat cats and we want their vote so we can get even richer and ignore them even more."
"But isn't there an answer somewhere?" Wanda found herself wanting to pound the table as she said it.
"If there is, a lot of people who have been looking for it for a long time haven't found it. When election day rolls around, most of them just don't bother voting at all. Those who do, vote for the fat cat they know rather than the fat cat they don't know. It's just as simple as that."
"Then why did you get me involved in this if you knew we couldn't win?" she tried to keep the anger out of her voice.
"Chalk that one up to me, Wanda," Mike interrupted. "I went to Sam with my plan for a reform slate to clean things up. We discussed it and thought that the impact of a whole slate would be strong enough to capture the imagination of those people out there. We thought we could make it different this time."
"I can't let Mike take all the blame," Sam broke in. "If there was a chance at all, you were a natural. You're a woman, and they seem to like that. You'd worked among them and won a lot of respect. It seemed like the one possible way of cracking the machine. We didn't lead you astray, Wanda. We believed it."
"I'm sorry, Sam," she reached over and patted his arm. "I don't know where I think I come off acting as if you were my keeper or something. I went into this with my eyes open and if it doesn't come off, then I won't be the first loser in history, or the last."
"Right, Wanda," Mike answered her comment, "but we're not saying you're licked yet. Sam has enough middle class suburban vote in his ward that I think he's going to make it. As for us, I don't like what I see, but I haven't given up hope. We're just going to have to work a hell of a lot harder in the last few days of the campaign."
"Okay chaps," Wanda forced a smile, "thanks for levelling with me. I'll get back out there and fight some more. You don't have to worry about carrying me. I can look after myself."
"We knew that all the time, Wanda," Sam managed his own version of a smile. "That's why we wanted you on the team."
The after school meeting broke up then and the three candidates went out to take another whack at lining up the votes they needed.
As she pulled out of the parking lot, Wanda saw another car following and knew that her tail was staying with her. Art was making very sure that there was no repeat of the ugly rape experience.
She knew he was still thinking in terms of the opposition having been behind it to scare her out of campaigning. She didn't agree. It was, she was sure, just a couple of kids who saw a woman alone on the street and decided to use her in their own way. Still, she admitted, it did feel comforting to know that the bodyguard followed her every step as she canvassed her slum ward.
Stopping at a restaurant for a snack before going back on the campaign trail, Wanda gave in to an impulse and waved at the man in the car that had parked not far behind. The least she could do to show her appreciation, she thought, was to invite him to eat with her.
He looked right through her as if she weren't there at all, and Wanda realized that it was the way of a pro. She decided not to embarrass him by persisting.
As she ate, Wanda's mind drifted back to the less than cheerful discussion she had just completed. Although she was sure both men knew more about the voting habits of the people than she did, she couldn't help thinking that this time they could be wrong.
It would be nice and easy, she knew, to accept the idea of defeat in advance and lessen the blow when and if it came, but she couldn't permit herself that luxury. There was still time enough to drag out a lot more votes and she was going to do everything in her power to get every vote she could.
When she realized she was just picking at her food without tasting it, Wanda forced herself to pay attention and eat. She was surprised to find that with a little effort, she could actually enjoy the food.
Although she suspected she was playing games with herself, she applied the same discipline to her campaign. So what if it looks hopeless, she told herself, I'll just work that much more and make that many more calls. It wouldn't be any fun at all if it were too easy.
Finishing her meal, Wanda hurried back to her car and set out to do battle. Through the rear view mirror, she saw her full time companion and shadow pull away from the curb behind her.
On her first call, Wanda was sure her approach was the same as it had always been and yet she found something different in the response.
"Why sure, Miss Tupper," the frowsy looking woman assured her, "we're gonna vote for you. I guess everybody around here is."
"You know where you vote, don't you?" Wanda asked.
"Oh sure, it's ah, um, I got a card here somewhere that says where. Don't worry, Miss Tupper, you got my vote. I ain't got no use for that bunch down at city hall."
Wanda walked out with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The woman had said the same thing she had heard hundreds of times during her canvassing of the neighborhood.
Always, the greeting was jovial and the assurance of a vote was there. This time though, there was a difference. In spite of all the woman had said, Wanda knew it was just so much talk.
For one thing, she was sure the woman didn't even know where to go to vote. She sensed too that even if she did, it wouldn't make any difference since she didn't plan on voting for anyone anyway.
The horrible realization that Sam and Mike were right really hit her.
Have I wasted all this time? she asked herself as she trudged down the hall with a sudden feeling of fatigue. A thick pall of gloom spread over her then and she knew that every minute of the campaign from now on was going to be more than hard work, it was going to be absolute torture.
Still, she forced herself to admit, there was no point in throwing away all the work she had done by blowing the last few days of the campaign and just quitting. That, she knew, was something she wouldn't do.
Her next three calls produced three more promises of votes, but Wanda was no longer able to believe anything they told her. All she could do was keep walking, talking and hoping.
As she knocked on the scarred door of the second floor apartment, Wanda realized she knew the woman and felt that this was one vote she could really count on.
Mrs. Harper was a devout churchgoer who had brought up her three kids to the best of her ability after her husband had just gone for a walk one night and never came back.
"Whadda you want?" the voice asked coldly.
"Don't you remember me, Mrs. Harper?" Wanda asked in her brightest voice. "I'm Wanda Tupper."
"Sure, I remember you" there was still no warmth in the voice despite the recognition.
"Well, Mrs. Harper, as you probably know, I'm running for City Council and I hope I can count on your vote."
"Well, you can't" the woman snapped. "I t don't vote for people like you."
"Mrs. Harper," Wanda forced herself to remain calm, "you have the right to vote for anyone you want to, but I can't understand why you sound so bitter about it."
"Can't you now?" the woman almost laughed, j "Well ain't that somethin'." j "Look, Mrs. Harper," Wanda's voice became a little firmer, "I've never known you to be afraid to talk if you have something on your mind. If you're trying to tell me something, come right out and say it."
"Oh, I'll say it all right. I thought it was a real good thing when I heard you was runnin', I was all set to vote for you."
"What changed your mind?"
"Well, I heard of politicians buyin' votes with money, but I never heard of one buyin' them by takin' her pants off for the boys."
"What do you mean?" Wanda felt herself flushing in anger and frustration.
"Don't play it innocent with me, Miss Tupper. The story's all over the neighborhood."
"Mrs. Harper, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'd like to hear you tell me in plain English."
"Then that's the way I'll tell you, Miss Uppity. Everybody in the neighborhood knows about you taking those two guys into the warehouse the other night and puttin' out for them. And they ain't even old enough to vote."
"That's a lie," Wanda snapped angrily.
"Sure it is," the woman glared. "Just like your pants and brassiere they're passing around the neighborhood is a lie. The last I saw, they was hangin' just inside the window of the pool room down by the corner. The way I hear it, your idea of buyin' votes means takin' your pants down for any guy wants it."
"That's filthy, Mrs. Harper," Wanda retorted hotly.
"That's the way I figure it too. Now you see why no decent people's gonna vote for a tramp like you."
"Mrs. Harper, you know me better than that. Yes I was in the warehouse the other night. I was grabbed off the street by two young punks and carried in there. They raped me, Mrs. Harper and ran off with my clothes."
"Rape was it?" her tone was laden with sarcasm. "Funny, I didn't see nothin' in the papers about that."
"It wasn't in the papers because I didn't report it to the police, that's why."
"My, my, now ain't that strange. That's the way it is down here, but when uptown ladies get raped they scream their heads off, there's always cops prowlin' all over the place for days tryin' to find out who done it. The way I see it, when one of you gets raped and don't yell it's because you liked it too much. Is that why you're down here tonight? Where are you gonna take your pants down and get raped tonight?"
Wanda was still fighting for an answer when the door slammed in her face.
She had planned on canvassing the whole building, but it was out of the question now. She had to get out and breathe air, even the dirty air of the slum. If she didn't, Wanda knew, she would collapse.
She ran down the last flight of steps and stood swaying on the front porch.