Flipping back to the second page, Dilman quickly went over the outline of the prepared statement already in his briefcase, which he was to read to the reporters and television cameras. The general tone was humble and conciliatory. He was to begin by saying that he welcomed the opportunity to meet with the men and women of the fourth estate upon whom the electorate depended for all information concerning their government. He was to say that he felt they would perform with the same sense of responsibility with which he would try to perform. Never in our history, he would say, was a President or the public more dependent upon news media for accuracy and reliability. There would be the quotation from Thomas Jefferson: “The press is the best instrument for enlightening the mind of man, and improving him as a rational, moral, and social being.” Tim Flannery had calculated that these remarks, this initial flattery, would soften the cynical reporters, make them preen with self-importance, make them know that here was a Chief Executive who would cooperate with them. Remembering the writings of Reb Blaser and his kind, Dilman felt less confidence in the uses of flattery, but he liked Flannery too much to disagree.
After that, there was the repetition of all of Dilman’s press statements of the past month. He had not sought the Presidency, he had not wanted it, but since it was his duty by law to undertake the office, he would do so to the best of his ability. He had, he was to say, only a short time-short time was underlined-to be the caretaker of T. C.’s ideals. As a senator, he was to say, he had always admired and supported T. C., and he was to cite his voting record as a congressman. The country, he was to say, need expect no drastic detours from the peaceful and prosperous road along which the former President had been leading it. Had he not already given evidence of good faith in retaining every member of T. C.’s Cabinet and personal staff of advisers?
Troubled, Dilman looked up. Talley and Flannery were across the Oval Office, leaning against the fireplace, smoking, whispering. He considered telling them that he did not like these opening remarks. They seemed too humble, as if he were apologizing to the press and the 230 million Americans for having a Negro in the wrong place, as if reassuring everyone that the fact that he was a member of a minority race would not destroy them. Yet he had no courage to bring it up this late, for he realized that these were not Flannery’s words but the language of politically expert white men like Talley, Eaton, and the Cabinet members, and perhaps they knew what was best for him.
He concentrated on the rest of his opening remarks, mostly official news announcements: he had met with the National Space Council and agreed that within three months the advanced Apollo rocket would catapult a team of three astronauts into orbit; he had given assurances to Brazil and India that A-11 flights would not be continued over their embattled borders; he was being kept closely informed of Secretary of State Eaton’s meetings with Russian Ambassador Rudenko, and could reveal now only that progress had been made, and it was likely that the interrupted Roemer Conference with the Premier of the Soviet Union would be resumed at another site, probably on the European Continent; he had sat in on one meeting with labor leaders, heads of the steel industry, and Secretary Barnes, and he was confident the impending strike would be averted; he had been informed of the exclusive story in the Chicago Tribune that Frank Valetti, second-in-command of the Turnerite Group, was a member of the Communist Party, and he had already urged the Justice Department to investigate; he had written a letter to Annapolis, appointing T. C.’s young son, Fred, to the Naval Academy when he became eligible.
Dilman unwrapped a cigar, bit off one end, and lighted it. Although his opening remarks were filled with news, he knew that they would not be enough, and that Flannery and Talley knew it, too. Puffing the cigar, Dilman went down the possible questions that he might be asked, and then he examined the answers offered to him.
Question: Will you sign the African Unity Pact Bill? Suggested Response: Yes, we affirm our determination to support free peoples and democratic ideals throughout the world, et cetera.
Question: Can you discuss the subjects that you and Kwame Amboko of Baraza have covered, and relate them to the AUP and the recent Roemer Conference? Suggested Response: The meetings with President Amboko have been fruitful, and progress has been made in many areas. We will conclude our talks after tonight’s State Dinner. There will be a joint statement from President Amboko and myself upon his departure tomorrow.
Question: Do you feel that, as a Negro, you can be more effective in making activist organizations like the Turnerites behave more moderately? Suggested Response: I do not believe my color is an issue one way or another. As a senator, and now as President, I am certain my views about immoderate activity and violence are well known. Like my predecessor, I believe in progress under the law and through the courts of the land, such progress as is being made on behalf of Negro Americans by the Crispus Society and NAACP.
Question: Do you believe passage of the Minorities Rehabilitation Program will alleviate the current tension, and do you intend to support and sign the massive work and education bill? Suggested Response: I believe that MRP has much to offer minorities in this country, but at the same time I do not believe it should make us relax our other efforts to secure civil rights for all men and women, et cetera. I am still studying the bill, and will make my views known shortly.
Dilman put down his cigar and rubbed his eyes. The last question was the only one, so far, to which he had written the response. He realized now that his statement was ambiguous, and might not satisfy the press.
“Tim,” he called out, “do you think they’ll try to pin me down on the MRP Bill?”
Flannery nodded. “I think you can expect it.”
Talley took a few steps from the fireplace. “Mr. President, I’m positive you’ll avoid a lot of nettlesome questions by simply coming out in flat support of-”
“Governor,” Dilman interrupted, “I’m not saying I’m against it, God knows. It’s just so damn big and important, I want to feel sure it is right-will ease off the tension-”
Flannery said, “Then whatever you’re asked, keep saying you are consulting with your advisers, seeking the best and most efficient legislation possible. You know the sort of thing.”
“I understand,” said Dilman.
He reviewed the remaining possible questions and suggested responses quickly. How often would he hold press conferences? There was a star after this one. It had been planted. He was to say that he hoped to air ideas with the press every two weeks, depending upon circumstances. Had he approved of the Postmaster General’s new commemorative stamp bearing T. C.’s likeness? This also had been planted. He was to say that he had instigated the idea of the memorial stamp. Would he permit his name to be offered as a candidate for the Presidency at the Party convention in Baltimore next year? No star after this one. He was to say that such political considerations were premature, that he preferred to make no comment at this time, except to say that he had never had, and had not now, any political ambitions beyond Congress.
There were several more questions, and then the last one, and reading it, he sat up. For the first time, the New Succession Bill, which would freeze his Cabinet by giving the Senate authority over him, lay coldly and boldly before his eyes, not in speculative newsprint but as a fact presented by his advisers.
Possible Question: Since the New Succession Bill seems assured of passage through Congress, will you sign it into law or veto it?