thrown out just in time

This happened to me on the last Sunday of the regular NFL season when ------------------- [excerpt] -------------- two slobbering drunk sportswriters from the Alexandria Gazette got me thrown out of the press box at the Robert F. Kennedy stadium in Washington.  I was there as a special guest of Dave Burgin, sports editor of the Washington Star . . . but when Burgin tried to force a bit of dignity on the scene, they ejected him too.

...Actually, I was happy to get out of that place.  The Redskins were losing, which pleased me, and we were thrown out just in time to get back to Burgin's house for the 49er game on TV.  If they won this one, they would go against the Redskins next Sunday in the playoffs--...

[space]

...Not only did the 49ers stomp the jingo bastards and knock them out of the playoffs, but my seat companion for the flight from Washington to San Francisco was Edward Bennett Williams, the legendary trial lawyer, who is also president of the Washington Redskins.

"Heavy duty for you people tomorrow," I warned him.  "Get braced for a serious beating.  Nothing personal, you understand.  Those poor bastards couldn't have known what they were doing when they croaked a Doctor of Journalism out of the press box."

He nodded heavily and called for another scotch & soda.  "It's a goddamn shame," he muttered.  "But what can you really expect?  You lie down with pigs and they'll call you a swine every time."

"What?  Did you call me a swine?"

"Not me," he said.  "But this world is full of slander."

We spent the rest of the flight arguing politics.  He is backing Muskie, and as he talked I got the feeling that he thought he was already at a point where, sooner or later, we would all be.  "Ed's a good man," he said.  "He's honest.  I respect the guy."  Then he stabbed the padded seat arm between us two or three times with his forefinger.  "But the main reason I'm working for him," he said, "is that he's the only guy we have who can beat Nixon."  He stabbed the arm again.  "If Nixon wins again, we're in real trouble."  He picked up his drink, then saw it was empty and put it down again.  "That's the real issue this time," he said.  "Beating Nixon.  It's hard to even guess how much damage those bastards will do if they get in for another four years."

I nodded.  The argument was familiar.  I had even made it myself, here and there, but I was beginning to sense something very depressing about it.  How many more of these goddamn elections are we going to have to write off as lame but "regrettably necessary" holding actions?  And how many more of these stinking, double-downer sideshows will we have to go through before we can get ourselves straight enough to put together some kind of national election that will give me and the at least 20 million people I tend to agree with a chance to vote for something, instead of always being faced with that old familiar choice between the lesser of two evils?

I have been through three presidential elections, now, but it has been twelve years since I could look at a ballot and see a name I wanted to vote for.  In 1964, I refused to vote at all, and in '68 I spent half a morning in the county courthouse getting an absentee ballot so I could vote, out of spite, for Dick Gregory.

Now, with another one of these big bogus showdowns looming down on us, I can already pick up the stench of another bummer.  I understand, along with a lot of other people, that the big thing, this year, is Beating Nixon.  But that was also the big thing, as I recall, twelve years ago in 1960 -- and as far as I can tell, we've gone from bad to worse to rotten since then, and the outlook is for more of the same.

[space]

Not even James Reston, the swinging Calvinist, claims to see any light at the end of the tunnel in '72. ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you always trust your first initial feeling
Special knowledge holds true, bears believing

I turned around
and the water
was closing
all around like a glove
Like the love that finally found me.
Then I knew
in the crystalline knowledge of you
Drove me through the mountains
Through the crystal-like and clear water fountains

Drove me -- like a magnet
To the sea
To the sea

How the faces of love have changed
turning the pages
And I have changed,
oh, but you, you remain ageless

I turned around

and the water

was closing

all around like a glove.

Like the love
that finally found me.
Then I knew
in the crystalline knowledge of you
Drove me through the mountains
Through the crystal-like and clear water fountains
Drove me like a magnet
To the sea
To the sea

= = = = = = = = = = = =

{book excerpt - Fear And Loathing:  On The Campaign Trail '72 -- Hunter Thompson.  Copyright-1973.  Straight Arrow.  San Francisco}
{song:  "Crystal"  written-Stevie Nicks, 1975 Fleetwood Mac album on Reprise label}

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