Someday the Rabbi Will Leave by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online Page B

Massachusetts, but if you’re running for state senator, don’t kid yourself, you’re not going to be quoted. If there’s a reporter present from the Lynn Express , you’ll be lucky if you’re even listed as having been one of the speakers. Who’s your opposition? Al Cash of Lynn and Tommy Baggio of Revere. All right. Cash has been representative from Lynn to the General Court for a couple of terms. He’ll talk about his record and say he deserves promotion to the Senate. That audience won’t give a damn about his record. Same with Tommy Baggio who’s been a city councillor. He’ll talk about his record, but it was all in Revere, so why should that impress the good folks of Barnard’s Crossing?”
    â€œYeah, but what am I going to talk about? I don’t have a record.”
    â€œSo go with what you have.”
    â€œBut I don’t have anything.”
    â€œSure you do. You’re a local boy and you’re nice-looking and friendly. So you show them that you’re nice and friendly. People don’t listen; they look. That’s why TV beats radio. You just stand there and let them see you and say anything that doesn’t mean anything.”
    Laura could see that Scofield was nervous and felt a twinge of pity for him. He favored the audience with an embarrassed boyish grin and then a nervous chuckle. “I am John Scofield, twenty-eight. I am a practicing attorney with offices in Salem. I am unmarried,” he began. “I was born right here in Barnard’s Crossing and have lived here all my life. And my family has been living here ever since Colonial times. I went to the Gaithskille School and to Barnard’s Crossing High. Then I went to Harvard and Harvard Law School. Maybe they were a little easier to get into a few years back. I love this town and the people in it.” He went on to talk about places in the town—the Landing, Fremont Hill, Children’s Island—and the special associations they had for him. Behind him, he heard the little shuffle and scrape that suggested that Bottomley was getting to his feet and would come to stand beside him. His mind cast about for some way of ending his little speech, and then as he felt the presence of the chairman beside him, it came to him. “The point is,” he said, “that I like it the way it is and I don’t want to change it, not any of it.”
    It seemed to Laura that the applause for Scofield was a little louder and a little less perfunctory than it had been for the other candidates, but then, of course, he was the only candidate from Barnard’s Crossing.
    Speeches of the candidates running for representative followed. Laura Magnuson had no interest in any of them, but she remained because she wanted to speak to Scofield, to see what he looked like close up. Finally, the chairman came forward and announced, “Well, there you are, folks. You’ve heard them and it took just over an hour, which is not bad. I guess some of them will be standing around for a while and you can talk to them informal-like, or argue with them if you’ve a mind to.”
    Laura wandered over to the campaign material, assuming that was where he would go upon leaving the platform, only to discover that there was none for Scofield. So she headed for the door, reaching it just as he approached.
    â€œThat was a very effective speech you gave,” she said.
    Surprised, he stopped and looked at her with interest. “It was?”
    She nodded solemnly. “Very. Is that going to be the theme of your campaign?”
    He wondered what he had said that could possibly be the theme for a campaign. “Er—what, I mean what part of—?”
    She sensed that he had no idea of what she had in mind, and no thought of its political effect. “You said you were against change.”
    â€œWell, you know, I was just, you know, kind of expressing my