Alternate Gerrolds Read Online Free Page B

parties. The South wanted out because Hubert Humphrey, that babbling little Porky Pig senator from Minnesota, had been trying to introduce a civil rights plank into the party platform every year since 1948. And the closing of unnecessary military bases all over the country had further undermined the president’s support in every town that had lost jobs as a result. The shutting down of all those unnecessary air-defense and missile-building projects hurt Southern California the worst. And Detroit was claiming that the administration’s rigid insistence on auto-safety standards and smaller cars and gasoline efficiency had shut down half the assembly lines in America, so he couldn’t depend on much support from Labor.
    But, an impeachment—at least that was something that Americans could agree on. Adlai Stevenson’s campaign pledge had abruptly come home to haunt him: “We’re going to demonstrate to the entire world how democracy really works.”
    The broadcast concluded with a recap of last Friday’s uproar in the House of Representatives and the mean-spirited vote to impeach. The Senate was already organizing for the trial. From where I sat, they looked like a bunch of kangaroos laying railroad tracks to oblivion.
    Cronkite hadn’t told it all; he’d missed a lot of the backstage squabbling and infighting; but he’d replayed most of the worst news—and in retrospect, the cumulative weight of it was crushing. Even I found myself wondering, “Maybe the president is right.” Maybe it’s impossible to continue under these conditions and unfair to the American people even to try.
    Abruptly, I knew what I wanted to write. I rolled a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter and quickly tapped out, “The problems of America and of the free world demand the full attention of our elected leaders. This country needs a full-time executive. It is unfair to the nation and
to the office of the presidency to continue trying to operate in the current atmosphere of public dissatisfaction and distrust. Accordingly, this Friday, at twelve o’clock noon, I shall resign the office of the presidency.”
    I wondered how long Vice President Kennedy would last in front of the jackals. Already he was a laughing stock for marrying that silly blonde actress from Hollywood. (The new Monroe Doctrine: “Ooh, ooh, aaaahhhhh.”)
    Never mind that. I rolled another sheet of paper into the typewriter.
    “The presidency of the United States is not a popularity contest. It is not a prize or a reward. It is not a laurel wreath to be given or taken away by the winds of popularity. The presidency is only a job—sometimes it is a great responsibility, sometimes it is a terrible and crushing burden—but once the ceremony and ritual has been stripped away from the presidency, what is left is the responsibility for making difficult decisions, decisions that need to be made to protect the interests of America and the free world. Sometimes those decisions are bitter medicine—but like bitter medicine, we take those steps, because in the longer term we know that we shall be healthier for it.
    “I have had to make many of those difficult decisions. They were the best decisions that I and my advisors could make at the time; they were based on the very best information that we could get. It is my firm conviction that most of those decisions were the correct ones, and I believe that history will vindicate those choices.
    “When I was elected in 1952, and reelected again in 1956, I did not promise a pot of gold. The rewards I promised were those that would only come from hard work. Today, we are stuck in the middle of that course—and we are having a crisis of confidence. If we succumb to this crisis and abandon our larger goals, we will not simply be quitting a difficult task in favor of momentary comfort; we will be abandoning our leadership of the free world.
    “When I accepted this responsibility, I accepted the difficult as well as the great. I