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Standing in the Rainbow - Fannie Flagg [158]

By Root 1905 0
mashed herself into a wall if she could. She was miserably unhappy but he showed up at all the governors’ wives’ events—teas, ladies’ luncheons, fashion shows—and charmed every woman there. He even won first prize at one of the many raffles, an original Mr. John picture hat, and delighted the women by wearing it for the rest of the luncheon. Hamm’s nature was naturally outgoing and spontaneous and if asked a question he would usually tell you exactly what he thought. To the reporters who had what they viewed as the dull job of covering all the governors’ wives, Hamm was a welcome and a refreshing change. Political spouses in general were notorious for not saying anything more than “You’ll have to ask my husband about that” or “I don’t know, I leave all that up to my husband.” Not Hamm.

And he didn’t see the danger ahead. In his home state, this candor had been an asset. Here on a national level, it was a potential disaster waiting to happen and reporters began to circle around him, hoping to get a quote for a good story.

Vietnam was on everyone’s mind and it was a dangerous and tricky issue for any politician. Hamm had been warned by Wendell to keep his mouth shut, but at a wives’ cocktail party, a nice-looking woman sidled up to him and, after complimenting him on his tie, asked, “What do you think about all these antiwar protesters that are popping up everywhere?”

Hamm did not have to stop and think. “They’re a bunch of idiots. What they ought to be protesting is the government who’s sitting on their butts and letting those little bastards get the best of us. . . . We have to either fish or cut bait. . . .”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Stop playing patty-foot with those Vietcong and get it over with. There’s a damn elephant standing in the living room and everybody’s tippy-toeing around it.”

The woman played dumb, as if she had no idea what he meant. “I’m not sure I follow you. What elephant?”

Hamm said, “The bomb, honey. We’ve got it; they don’t. What’s the point of having it if we don’t use it? Truman had the right idea.” He pointed out the window of the hotel at a group of protesters across the street. “All those little tweety hearts and dove types ought to shut up and let us stop the damn thing before it gets any worse; then we can bring our boys home and sling all those little turncoats out of the country and get on with it.”

Afterward, he was sorry he had used curse words in front of the lady but that was how he felt and it was too late to take it back. Too late to realize that the lady was covering the event for the Washington Times. By the time they got back to Missouri the story had been carried all over the country and Newsweek had a drawing of him reaching in a bucket and throwing hippies like bait across the ocean. One editorial cartoon had his picture with a mushroom cloud rising from his head; another depicted him as a mad dog, foaming at the mouth, with Betty Raye trying to hold him back on a leash.

Even though Hamm had said what a lot of veterans thought, he took a lot of heat nationally and got into trouble in his own state for sounding like such a hothead. He lay low for a while.

A few weeks later, Rodney came in his office chuckling. “You made the big time, boy. I just got a call from Berkeley University out in California and they want you to come out and give them a speech.”

Hamm looked up. “Really? When?”

Rodney dismissed it. “Don’t worry, I told them you were unavailable.”

“Why?”

“Why? I’m not going to let you go out there in the middle of that hotbed of loonies.”

Wendell agreed. “Naw, you don’t want to go there. It’s too dangerous. Hell, there ain’t nobody more violent than those peaceniks. They’d tear you apart if they could get near you.”

Hamm said, “Now wait, let’s think about this for a minute. That’s a big famous university out there. It could mean more national press, couldn’t it? It might make me look good to go and talk to them. Like I’m willing to see the other side of this thing . . . and if they’re willing to listen to my side a little, I might even make a few points.

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