Star Building, Washington, D.C., 1921 - Source: Wiki Commons
Epilogue: Master and Apprentice
The following excerpt is referenced from esteemed author Philip Braddock’s The Model Man, a fictionalized biography centered on the later life of a disreputable figure in U.S. history. Set in the period from 1920 to 1931, the book tackles themes of social upheaval and old age juxtaposed with political intrigue and ideological banter. Braddock's work encapsulates the human element behind the much-maligned subject and received generally unfavorable reviews as a result.
A soft hum hung low in the air. Scattered rain drizzled on the rooftops, silently leaking underneath the main doorway onto the tile. The grim room seem to darken a shade as Jackson absentmindedly dropped the telephone back onto the receiver. He was a ghastly sight, sleep-deprived and plainly malnourished. Word of Adair's concession hit him like a spear through the gullet. Abandoned in a strange world at a strange time and consumed by the responsibility to tutor some penniless creature of frivolity, he pondered whether rekindling ties with an old acquaintance would release him from this slump. But life in the capital was no different, just one blow after the next.
That was it. It would soon be law. Jackson cleared his throat and braced for the explosion. "They've ignored our appeal," the hollowed man whimpered. He stared back at the telephone expectantly. "I have friends in the judiciary, we'll fight this." Adjusting his gaze to the ground, he murmured, "Defeat I'm familiar with, but the disrespect is another matter."
"Were you of the expectation that this infernal government would coddle your request?" snapped the gentleman. "This is politics, Edward. No man in his right mind will succumb to courteousness and petition." He rose and mellowed his tone. "Do you think I made it this far by relying on kinship and loyalty? Trusting in men's sworn oaths? No, my dear friend, everyone and everything is affixed with a price." An icy breeze wafted in the sitting room, interrupting the rant and sending chills through the corridor. "Thomas!" he thundered. "Would you kindly close that damnable window?"
The blank-faced secretary scampered to his feet and duly followed his instructions. These harsh mannerisms jolted Jackson, but the secretary was evidently unfazed. He trotted to the opposite wall without a word, shivered at the brisk air and closed off the crevice. As the window shut hard into its wooden frame, the thankless gentleman went on. "The Reds, here and elsewhere, are much like Thomas: Men who follow Master's orders and do as they are told," he stated, turning once more to face his guests. "It's no secret the socialists are imbeciles, useful fools for the Russian Jews. They'll not stop until American civilization is broken down to rubble. It cannot be disputed - "
"Call it whatever you'd like," interjected the fourth man present with the slightest hint of a Texan drawl. Jackson shot him a sharp look of warning of which the young man pretended not to notice. "It doesn't matter if they've used goddamn hypnotism, the battle is lost when the workingmen are with them." This younger man, brought to the manor at the insistence of his companion, was obviously not intimidated by his host's wealth and prestige. He continued, "The war will be lost too unless we defy their wickedness and strike before the iron cools. How long until our churches are condemned and open worship outlawed like in that Bolsheviki hell?"
"On that point, the urgency, I do believe there is agreement," responded the gentleman. He looked at the younger man and smiled, "You're a sharp one, aren't you? Good. Soldiers like yourself will be the only thing capable of salvaging America's fate." He paused. "We'll survive this law, but the next may prove fatal. Once these wretched Communists seek nationalization, the brick wall we've built in the Senate will prove impossible to scale. The Reds' modus operandi, subversive warfare of intellect and economics, will be turned against them. Their false ideas will sap the moral stamina of the people and the red tide will recede."
"Yes, that was his plan as well," declared Jackson, rubbing his nose with a dirty rag.
"Alexander, God rest his soul, was not half as clever as a walnut. He left this mortal realm a coward, the same way he lived." The gentleman stalled for a moment. "I've reasoned this out. I know what we can do to end this racket." He took a step and glanced to his right. "Thomas, grab my jacket, if you will." Gesturing back to his colleagues, he remarked with a knowing expression, "Friends, right this way. I believe we're late to our engagement."