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know all about it, I said. I read the papers too.
    You read a hell of a lot more than the papers, Huey said. You don’t pull that dumb cowboy shit on me, John Nance Garner. You’re the Vice President of the United States and no goddamned fool. I was calculating, let him have the two terms and run in 1940. But when I saw the blood spouting out of my arm, heard the screaming, saw that cocksucker lying dead on the floor instead of me, I said what the fuck is this? This is all bullshit. I’m making plans, biding my time, while the man on the plow is dying and I could have been dead. I’m going for it now.
    That’s your prerogative, I said. You’ve got a tough one ahead of you. But I can wish you well. I got no quarrel with you.
    Maybe you should, Huey said. You Texans, you think we’re all a bunch of savages and Cajun voodoo lovers here. Or grave robbers. But if you can take it, I can. I want you to run with me, he said. That’s the only way. You run with me, we can split him away.
    Run with you? I said. You’re crazy. Bolt the party, give up the office?
    Who said to give up? Huey said. You’re Vice President. You’re a constitutionally elected official, you’re in as solid as him. He can’t impeach you and it’s only eleven months until the election anyway. Instead of running as a Democrat you run with me as an Independent. I don’t want to go in the party anyway.
    Never heard of anything like it, I said. I have to tell you, I was astounded. Ever since that thirty-hour stemwinder in the Senate when Huey had worked with applejack and a tin can strapped to his leg to stop the government cold while he argued the budget and the Book of Genesis and a hundred other things, I had known he was a man to reckon with, no one to underplay, but this was something entirely new. This went outside my experience. Shit, I said, you’re crazy.
    So I’m crazy, Huey said. You think I’m out of place here? It’s all crazy. We got ourselves a country in collapse; we got ourselves a situation that won’t quit. Got thirty million men wandering the roads of America, ready to kill for a slice of bread; got thirty million women who would hump for the price of an apple or some clothes for the baby. Think it’s going to turn around? Think again. We’re in critical times, boy. It’s all falling apart on us. It’s time for someone to take over who cares for the people.
    Frank cares for the people, I said. In his way.
    His way, Huey said. He gave me that smile, opened his mouth, showed me all the lovely white and open spaces. Just two guys on the Bayou talking sense, he said. Got all the doors closed. Want some whiskey? I got me a bottle of the finest here. He busted Prohibition, I’ll give your guy that.
    I don’t care, I said. I never turned down any whiskey. Huey took a bottle from inside his coat, opened it, passed it to me. Here, he said. Got compunction? Want a glass?
    Never heard of that, I said. I took a swig deep down—not bad stuff—and handed it over. You serious? I said. You really mean it?
    Sure I mean it, he said. If you come over, I figure we got this election. It all falls into place. You’ve made a considered judgment, that’s it. You’re going with the real man of the people. Franklin will have a fit but what can he do? Maybe he can get Lehman to run with him. Two New York kikes, Huey said, and took a swig and giggled. Not that I got anything against kikes, he said. Kikes and shines and Micks and Polacks, hunkies and Cajuns and Injuns and all the rest of them, they’re all the soul of the country. But I want this to be a done deal, I don’t want to fool around. I want your commitment now , and then we’ll go on from there.
    And then what? I said. How do I go back to Washington and face the man?
    You don’t have to face him. You can stay on the ranch. You’re constitutionally elected, remember? There’s nothing he can do to you. We’ll wait a couple of months, then we’ll hold a joint press conference and