Afterthoughts

"My responsibility, Mr. Crown, is to keep my planes and my men ready to fly. Healthy hunger makes them better at that. They need to believe that it is worth the death, and to see that worth in their own lives. I have done that at sea without a riot or a mutiny or a rebellion and I will do it here. The Navy has no established church except itself, Mr. Crown, and the men are free to worship the Lord as they choose."

The eye lock was fierce. Burton had stood his ground with Crown like that, but the others had never even dreamed of such foolishness. One of them gave way.

"That's fine where they can't vote, Admiral, but here in the city I got more difficult problems."

The mayor David Atwell tapped his glass on the table, or perhaps he merely trembled.

The locked eyes twinkled to each other. The brotherhood of consequential power.

-- Oh, my, mayor, thought Breckinridge; you have no idea of how many ways the five thousand crew members of an attack carrier can vote.

-- Or how many ways, thought Crown, they vote when they walk a pipeline or count brands on an open range.

Atwell skipped along his way, pleased with the thought that he had saved a bad situation. Of course he had, but not in the way he thought. Atwell was an excellent administrator when given clear objectives, and while he was a man of a few ideas worth attention he did have a crude sense of political reality.

"What I mean is that Mr. Crown and Mr. Burton gave me the idea to quieten down the Mexs by hiring them to drive the buses. That worked pretty good but it don't leave me much to offer the Negroes, and anyway they know what we were doing on the buses. If any of you got any ideas...."

He was interrupted by Bert Weston, a former pulling guard at Texas A & M who was edging into fat as his department store business and real estate ventures eased him into affluence. Weston was shrewd; had read the confrontation between Crown and the Admiral pretty close to the mark. He wanted to get down to cases.

"All this talk about voting in elections misses the point. If the Negroes get worked up enough to stop buying at the store I built 'em out in Nigger Town then I'm in trouble. And if they start comin' downtown then Gilbert here and everyone else will lose white business."

Gilbert Moore (no relation to the Dear Father, he would announce over his fifth drink whatever the company, was not so sure about that. He and other small operators had worked out a friendly agreement with Weston: he got the upper middle and rich trade while Moore and the others took the rest, and they already had some Negro customers. Didn't seem to bother the whites all that much because Negroes tended to shop early or late. But it might if the numbers jumped too fast. But, hell, he thought, damn few whites were going to drive all the way to the big cities on a regular basis. He decided to keep his mouth shut and think about getting some friends together and opening a catch-all store at Five Corners. So he just nodded.

Crown and Burton exchanged glances to decide who would answer Weston. Burton deferred. Crown tipped his chair back and finished off his glass of water.

"Well, gentlemen, Father Paul can't be with us today because he had two special services." He turned to Breckinridge: "Paul Moore is the Catholic leader hereabouts and he usually joins us for these chats." The Admiral knew those essentials, but nodded in response to the courtesy.

"So we've heard from everybody but Mr. Coffin. What did you make of the crowd at the church?"

Table of Contents

• Introduction

1. Maggie and Mr. Hank
2. The Reverend
3. Squalls Along the Flight Line
4. Flying Home to Church
5. A Visit with The Judge
6. Communion
7. Afterthoughts
8. Monday Morning With The Admiral
9. Into the Dining Room
10. On Toward Walking the Streets
11. Glimpses of An Election
12. The Dream and The Reality of Violence
13. The Admiral Loses More Than a Few Good Men
14. Down That Lonesome Road

• Cast of Characters
• Credits and Acknowledgements