Hooeee, Bayonne voters opted almost four to one for an elected instead of an appointed school board. You bet I’m excited. At last there’s a chance for this camel to stick his nose under the tent. To be honest, I’m not the high-minded, public-spirited type that a mayor would tap to serve in that demanding though nonpaying post. No, with my sharp elbows, confrontational style, and radical views no mayor would touch me with a ten-foot pole. But on Election Day I figure I’m a shoo-in. First of all, the classy, public servant types—the kind who could beat me—will stay out of the race. They are gracious enough to serve but they don’t care for the mud wrestling of a campaign. Second, only 20 percent of the Bayonne electorate voted in the recent national Midterm Election. I calculate only from three to six percent will pull the lever to elect school board members in November. My many friends, family, and barroom buddies should easily put me over the top. I can’t wait to get my hands on those 1,300 jobs. Patronage time, baby. My favorites and hangers-on will be dancing down those ivied halls.
We’ll need every penny here in the school district for my big proposal: a well-paid school board. Listen, it was fine for an appointed member, having agreed to serve, to just toddle on over to Avenue A. But I’m going to have to hire a campaign manager, consultants, pollsters, rent a headquarters, pay for mailings, television ads, taxis on Election Day; you get the idea. Wherever I bartended here in town my customers understood that I made no uncompensated move. You need a paper and pen for a moment? Sure thing. But I expect to see that reflected in my tip. The Bayonne voters are realists. They won’t deny me; they know there’s no free lunch.
And don’t worry that I might answer not to you but to “some sleazy political boss in the shadows.” It won’t happen, for the simple reason that I am a political boss comfortable in noirish, smoke-filled (hey, I’m blue-collar) backrooms. Though I’d say more boozy than sleazy.
Democracy has returned to Bayonne. As Hannibal Lecter, M.D. says, “Goody goody.”
MERRILL C. JACOBSON