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he said. That’s what he said to the little guy in Berlin. I was there at the picture-taking after the private conferences, I could hear what Huey said to him over the sounds of the reporters, the hammer of the flashbulbs. Just look this way, boss. You and me and cousin Henry, Aunt Anna and Moses down the lane, there’s a glory for each of us and it can be yours too. The little guy kind of jumped and twitched when Huey squeezed him on the shoulder. The interpreter was yammering away in that German of his, but somehow I think the little guy got the message already. He knew more English than he let on. He knew a lot more stuff than he let on about everything.
    What do you say there, Adolf? Huey said, and gave an enormous wink. I could have dropped my teeth on the floor. You think we can get this rolling, just the two of us? Hey John, Huey said, motioning to me, don’t stand there like a stupe on the sidelines, join the photo session. This here is my vice president, Huey said to the little guy.
    The little guy said something in Huey’s ear, up close. That’s right, Huey said. That, too. He’s everybody’s vice president. He is the second in command, isn’t that right? He gave me a Louisiana-sized wave, clasped my hand. Holding his hand that way, backing into the Führer, I had the little guy boxed against Huey. We had him in perfect position, trapped. We could have stood and tossed him over the Reichstag. But we didn’t, standing there frozen in the eye of the world, the press roaring, the sounds drifting around us and in that small abyss Huey squeezed my hand for attention and gave one perfect, focused wink. Got him, the wink said. Got him, didn’t I tell you?
    Got you too.
    * * *
    This was the meeting in the Bayou in November of 1935, the famous secret meeting. Never mind where. Huey’s boys got to me and said be in Amarillo at midnight and leave the rest to us. We’ll get you past the border and leave the delegation at home. It was easy to get away; I was back home for Christmas then. The President wouldn’t even have known I had blown town. It had gotten harder and harder to get Roosevelt’s attention; it wasn’t even worth trying anymore. Now and then I had fantasies of sneaking behind his wheelchair during the State of the Union and pulling the podium away, showing his shrunken parts to the world. But I never would have done that. Damn near would never have done anything if Huey hadn’t gotten in touch. Came into the parish humping my way in a big black car; it could have been Capone’s chauffeur up there in front, the guys with me in the back, Capone’s party boys. But I wasn’t scared. Who shoots the vice president? Easier to park him under a rug and let him die. I’m going to go for it, Huey said to me. This isn’t to bullshit you, I’m coming straight out. I’m running for president.
    That’s no surprise, I said. It wasn’t. The word had been out for years, this Senator wasn’t running around Washington for the graft, filibustering for the sake of opening his yap. Every man a king . He wanted to be president, all right. If not Roosevelt, then why not him? But Roosevelt seemed to have the banged-out vote pretty well sewed up. I told Huey that. You can’t run as the man of the people against this guy, I said. He knows the people too well. He’s a sitting president. You’ll just have to wait your turn.
    I’m not waiting my turn, Huey said. Up close he was intense, even more so than on the radio. There was something in his eyes, something in the set of his body that made you not want to explore his depths. All of this was in a room one-on-one; he wanted no one in there with us. After I got shot at, Huey said, grabbing his arm, I got this insight. There’s no sense waiting. You wait, you’re just as likely to die. Two inches either way on the gun hand and the guy wouldn’t have gotten me in the shoulder, he would have had me in the heart. I would have died there on the Capitol floor.
    I