One Man Can Make A Difference
James Ivan Kinchloe opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a "whoosh" of air. He rose slowly. Today was the day.
"You okay?" his wife asked.
"Oh, yeah; yeah, I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "Do you remember me telling you about that prison camp… you were there once," he reminded her.
She nodded. "You were quite the dashing prince."
"Thanks. I'm sort of reminded of how I climbed a tree to see where we were, and three of our men got captured. Colonel Hogan had to come up with a way to get them out – using Schultz of all people," Kinch explained.
"Well, at least they could be afraid he'd sit on them," she quipped.
Kinch smiled thankfully, but inside he was laughing hard. "You really are special, you know that?" He took her hands. They inched closer, and then they shared a long, passionate kiss and embrace.
"Now, do you feel better," she asked.
"Oh, yeah. Kind of funny with the A's winning with all those mustached men, the press likes to see me with mine."
She knew he was worrying about his image. All kinds of little things worried him – which was to be expected, all things considered. She wanted to help him look at the big picture, which he had done so well back at that camp – though inside he'd had plenty of butterflies at times.
"That was your look when you came home. After that reporter blabbed all about it; what was his name?" She chuckled. "Well, it doesn't matter," she said, flailing a hand. "Probably just find what reporter hasn't been able to interview General Hogan and it's him."
"No doubt." Kinch stretched and began to get ready.
"So, naturally, you were one of the big heroes. The press pushed all the white soldiers, but you were still part of an integrated unit."
Kinch nodded and finally spoke after a few minutes as he shaved. "I remember. I got to meet some famous people because of it; mostly black men like Jackie Robinson and Joe Louis. But, there was that special meeting…"
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Kinch stood straight and extended his hand. He'd never imagined that he would meet a man like this. But, here he was. "Mr. President," he said calmly.
"Mr. Kinchloe, welcome," Harry S Truman said as they shook hands. They sat down in the small conference room. "Mr. Kinchloe, I have heard so much about you."
"I'm glad to finally meet someone who'll have heard more than that reporter blabbed about," Kinch quipped.
Truman concurred. "That Tribune – they're a bunch of troublemakers. They jump on so much dumb stuff, they're the only newspaper in the country that could get an election wrong," he proclaimed.
Kinch, of course, knew Truman's language was somewhat salty; his memories were toning that down some because he respected the man so much. "Well, if they report a Republican win in six months, I guess you'll be in good shape," he said, not sure if he should make a comment that was more clearly a joke. However, he felt rather secure knowing that Truman would get a kick out of that little one.
"You sound like you're not so sure. I don't care what party you are, so go ahead, tell me."
"I'm… a little torn." Kinch admitted that the Dixiecrats had worn him down. "I admire what Roosevelt did, and I know what you called me here to talk about, Mr. President. But, the Republicans are still the Party of Lincoln. And, Governor Dewey seems to be a supporter of Civil Rights."
"You think you have problems with them, trying being in my shoes," he cracked. "Never mind, look, Kinch. – the general said you liked to go by that," Truman said, referring to Hogan. "Your outfit did a super job. I've talked to him, now I want to know how you were treated at that stalag. Not by their men, by ours. Because I'm thinking of integrating the military, and I want to make absolutely sure it's not going to cause riots."
"Thank you for asking, Mr. President. I thnk the commanding officer is the key," he said ina measured voice. "If he lays down the rules early and insists that there be no overt racism, there won't be." Sensing the president's interest, Kinch gladly went on; he knew he'd probably never find himself in the White House discussing things with a President again. "Previously, there hasn't been the opportunity for men such as myself to rise through the ranks. An all-white officers' corps, West Point, and so on have made it hard to imagine integrating. But, yet, we must, if we are going to truly uphold those values we fought for against the Nazis and against the Japanese Empire. It's up to you, as Commander-in-Chief, to make sure they obey your command. And, that they will be held accountable for any misconduct on their part, instead of simply blaming others," he spoke matter-of-factly. "And, that's something I perceive you would be willing to do," he conclude.
Truman smiled. "I can see why Hogan liked you. You don't mind the heat, do you?"
"Of what, Mr. President?"
"Politics."
"Well, Sir, if you're asking if I'd thought about running for office, I never really thought about it." Unsure of where this was going, he grinned a little to lighten the mood and made a joke. "Even if I did, depending on where I go, I might wind up hurting your cause. It might still be easier for me as a Republican in some places."
Truman chuckled in appreciation before shaking his head. "I'm not talking about that."
This greatly relieved Kinch. He hadn't wanted to even think about running for office. What could one man do, anyway, even if he were to get into Congress? Men like Jackie Robinson were the movers and shakers of the late 1940s. Maybe in a few more years, but not now. And, probably not ever for him. He was more than happy working behind the scenes.
"I'm talking about the political firestorm that will come just from the military brass. The Dixiecrats are likely to cost me an election if they think they can, just to spite me and make me think I need them. Face it, Kinch, it's all political."
"You're a courageous man, Mr. President. I know you'll do the right thing," Kinch affirmed.
"So, let's get back to this, what was a typical day like at Stalag 13?"
Kinch related how he was from the North, just like Baker, but there had been one from the South who had it much tougher back home. He also explained that not even all the Southern fliers they took in were hostile; he recalled one Texan who hadn't demeaned him like some.
"Yep, we got those. I'll bet the guy was about the same age as that Johnson fellow in the Senate." Kinch supposed he was. "But, my point is that he was willing to cooperate without having your then-colonel Hogan pull rank, right?"
"That's right, Mr. President." Kinch saw where this was going now.
"So, there's enough men there, if we put this through slowly, that will respect people of color that I shouldn't have much of a problem," Truman finished.
"That's right, Mr. President." Kinch complied when asked to share more, and they had a fruitful discussion.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH
He met another Southerner back in the present. "How are you, Reverent Graham?"
"Fine, fine," Billy Graham said. "I'm sure you have some concerns. What is your life verse?"
"Well…" Kinch licked his lips. He'd done tons of reading down in the tunnels while waiting besides the radio. "I tend to have them based on the moment, not any one that guides my life in total. Right now, I'm thinking 'I can do all things through Christ which strengthen me.' Or at least I'm trying to think that," he admitted with a slight grin.
"In your position, anyone would be struggling. Just remember, it is that relationship with God that will see you through," Graham reminded him. "It's not about repetitious things, or saying some magical phrase. It's about knowing Christ in your heart as your Savior and letting Him be your guide."
"I know." Kinch bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I don't know why my heart is so heavy right now, that's the problem."
"Because you wonder, I think, whether you can really do the job. And, probably because you were born in a year that was closer to the Civil War than it was to the Civil Rights Act. You have seen a lot.
"Tell me about it."
Graham continued by reminding him, "God had a purpose, though. Didn't you say something about a promising young football star out of Michigan who, had he come home…"
"Yeah. One of those things that people said back then to make me think it was an accident."
"And look what has happened instead. When did you first become involved in politics?"
Kinch smiled wistfully. "When someone a thousand miles away or so refused to give up her seat."
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"You want me to what?" Kinch stared, aghast, at the man in front of him. "You knock on my door, I invite you into my house, and you say I should what?"
The black man held up his hand. "Now, Mr. Kinchloe, I understand your concern for your family; you came to Grand Rapids from Detroit because it was booming and you were able to find good work in a smaller town with the expanding telephone network. SO, you've built a good reputation, and you have two small children now…"
"And, my wife is expecting our third," Kinch announced. She wasn't very far along, but he felt he could share the news.
"Congratulations. As I said, Mr. Kinchloe, you are a well-respected man here, but think about how respected you are around the country."
Kinch inhaled deeply. He knew the man didn't deserve to feel his wrath. He remembered the words of Benjamin Franklin – "We must all hang together, or we shall assuredly all hand separately." "Look, I'm sorry, I just… I feel very protective of my family now. That's my duty, as a man. I've done my part for king and country." It was a more British saying he'd picked up from the British soldiers, but he like the sound of it as describing patriotic service.
"And when people see you down there, weighing in on the boycott, think what an impact it will have," the visitor reminded him.
Kinch stood. "No. No. If you want someone respected, get General Hogan.," he said, holding out a hand. It flopped at his side. "Okay, he's probably too busy doing espionage against the Soviets. But, what about Carter? I mean, he was an even bigger part, he's the man who blew up the Nazi infrastructure." As Kinch paced, he noted, "Carter's got the personality for it, too. I mean, sure, he's got small children, too, but not only would people see a while man sticking up for us, which could inspire more whites to do it, it wouldn't surprise me if he's already thinking about going down there – or at least speaking out…" Kinch stopped and looked at the man seated on his couch. "He hasn't gone down there yet, has he?"
"No, not yet."
"Look, I'll do anything you want," Kinch pledged. "But, I don't want to risk my great position here; I'm actually moving up in the company, and that's great for our race. I know it's a lot tougher down South. I got family in New Orleans, in fact. But, it's such a mess that even if I could take more than a few days off, I'm pretty leery about actually going down South like you want me to in the middle of this bus boycott." He became pensive. "Even speaking out up here might be tricky, but I think doable if we're creful. Michigan is not Alabama, though."
"But, you'll do anything else?"
"Anything else," Kinch repeated.
At the moment the man nodded and said "Good," Kinch felt like he'd been hoodwinked the way Hogan would do to Kommandant Klink back at Stalag 13. "Mr. Kinchloe, one other thing our community needs is a man to run for Congress."
"Run for Congress?"
"This district has not had good representation. Now, I know the Democrats took back control of the House last time, but President Eisenhower, if he runs again, will have coattails."
Kinch whistled as his wife came in from tucking their children into bed. "Congress."
"What's that, Honey?"
"Mr. Perkins here just asked me if I'd run for Congress."
"I'm sure you two need time to talk," Mr. Perkins said, trying not to interfere. "But, think about it. You would stand a good chance of winning without having to spend a lot – we've got funds, and the NAACP could help. If you lose, so be it – you're fairly conservative, you like Ike, you took part in the process in a way the people respect. If you make it, and the people like you, you can stay a while; you don't have to worry about uprooting your kids. Washington has a very vibrant population ."
"Yeah, but it's not the Detroit area. My wife and I always thought we'd settle down and just live a nice, quiet life." He blinked, thinking of a time he'd said something similar to her during a mission with Hogan. "I gues I'm in a spot where I really have to choose something, though. It would be nice to make a difference."
"All I can say is, a man of your excellent observational skills can be very helpful. You're one of the quieter men during meetings, but when you do speak, it will carry more weight. And, you do have excellent oratorical skills, you are a good debater, you have the qualities of a good candidate for public office. The kind of man our district needs."
Kinch noticed something. "You're not just saying the kind of man our people need."
"No. Mr. Kinchloe, maybe that Ford fellow would have already been with us for years, and it wouldn't matter, I wouldn't be asking you to run. But, as it is now, I believe plenty of white people respect you – not just because of your record fighting the war from behind enemy lines, but because since you returned, you have been a fine, upstanding citizen, the kind of man they would be proud to put into Congress."
Once the Kinchloes bade him good night, Kinch and his wife sat on the couch as if they'd just been given one of those impossible missions from London. "Congress."
"I know you can do it, sweetheart." She put an arm around him.
"Yeah. Maybe." After what seemed like an eternity, he turned to her. "You sure you wouldn't mind?"
"Is it what you want?"
"Well…" He stared ahead for a moment before slowly realizing, "Yeah. I'd love the chance to make a difference. It's why I was so excited to be part of Papa Bear's team. I just wonder how much I can do."
"You did a mighty fine job by that radio. And, I still remember that tiem we ran into each other, and I helped you out on a mission. What you did may not have seemed like a lot with the others out blowing up bridges and getting secret documents all the time. But, you had a part in quite a bit, from what you've told me. And, I'm sure it hasn't been half of what you did."
Kinch nodded. She was right, he hadn't told her nearly as much as he could have.
"Well, if you're all in, I guess I'm all in," he responded.
"We make a great team. And, I'd love to be a Congressman's wife," she said sweetly as they embraced.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"Today's the big day," retired General Robert E. Hogan said back in the present.
"Yep." As Kinch and Hogan walked to a waiting limo, Kinch asked him, "Do you think Nixon was trying to pull a fast one?"
"With some of the questions you got asked, I wondered at times if he was hoping you'd drop out and say you didn't want it after all." He asked Kinch candidly, "Did you think about it?"
Kinch wasn't sure how much it had really stuck in his mind. "I guess the thought was there, right about when I expected Robert Byrd to stand up and shout, 'I will surround this chamber with a ring of steel.'" The impromptu German accent caused both men to laugh, relieving a lot of the tension. "I'm pretty sure Nixon himself thought he was home free. I mean, they weren't going to challenge him on Watergate with a black man sitting in the Vice Presidents' seat. And, he all but said that's why he chose me; he said I was a black man and yet I had enough of the same policies he did, like his universal health insurance idea; unlike Ed Brooke, who was too far left for him."
"Well, you stuck it out," Hogan said with pride as he patted Kinch on the shoulder.
Kinch nodded. As he helped his wife into the limo, with a Bible in her hand, he thanked her for the great work she had done over the years. Their three children were in another limo. He got in, followed by Hogan, and made some comments about legislation he'd like to see passed, such as Nixon's health insurance bill.
His wife complimented him on his skills as Hogan looked at the Bible.
"I hope you have another one you can use later. That's probably going to the Smithsonian," Hogan said to make small talk as they rode along the streets.
"Yeah. But, how many Bibles are in the Smithsonian that list birthplaces like a shack somewhere in Mississippi? Or notes about the Freedmens' Bureau? I made copies."
"Good."
As Kinch got out of the limo, surrounded by his wife and children, he stepped up to the podium in awe of the situation. Those names and notes in that Bible represented so much history, so much progress. There was a lot more to come, of course, he'd planned to speak directly to the people right afterward, unlike others who had suddenly come into his position, because he felt it was important.
He placed his left hand on his Bible and raised his right, stoically considering all that had occurred before, and all that could happen in the future.
"Repeat after me. I, James Ivan Kinchloe."
"I, James Ivan Kinchloe." A man, he considered, who was born at a time when it wasn't really as true as it should have been that anyone could grow up to do anything they wanted. And yet, somehow, it had happened.
"Do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute."
"Do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute," Kinch said, almost as a prayer even before the last part.
"The office of President of the Untied States."
"The office of President of the Untied States." He thought of a variety of white people he'd known growing up – indeed, he'd known former slaves growing up! He wished he could see the looks on their faces right now.
"And will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the Untied States. So help you God."
The words had been done almost individually, but to Kinch they went by in a blur as he pondered the weight of what lay before him. "And will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the Untied States." And, after his final part of the oath – "So help me God" – Kinch turned toward the cameras.
He prayed silently for a moment before continuing. Praying for strength, guidance, wisdom, and, most of all, for his country to repent from the millions of evils which had been done and to return to what it had pledged itself to be but had never been been willing to be. One nation under God, with liberty and justice for all. "The Battle Hymn of the republic" played in his head as he brought himself back to the present.
"My fellow Americans, our great national nightmare has passed, and it is now morning. Actually, two have passed. One we shall recover from more quickly, that of Watergate. The other will take time. But as your President, I believe we can heal…"
Note: As you might have guessed, the discussion was over which of our Heroes would be most likely to wind up leading their nation after the war. Interestingly, I wasn't the only one who felt Kinch – if things broke just right – might wind up doing it. I chose to put him in Ford's seat because it made a little more sense than trying to shoehorn him into a district where people of our universe already served. In addition, the area is close enough that it's plausible Kinch would want to move his family to a quieter, smaller area where it was more possible for them to find a good home in a somewhat integrated area, rather than the extreme segregation which might have been in Detroit. (Plus. There were some big riots in Detroit and learning of that might have made him want to leave.)
Things seem to flow from there. I see Kinch as rather moderate, yet acceptable enough to the people that by 1956 he could start to be elected to Congress, and therefore he'd have enough experience Nixon might pick him – though with ulterior motives – in '73 when Agnew resigned. (A stranger thought was having him as a Democrat fill Carter's shoes or even as a Republican filling Reagan's, but I felt he'd be getting pretty old by then. I peg his birth date as about 1910-1912, I think he'd have been in the military longer to rise where he did, and thus be older than Carter, too, by a few years.
Also, thanks to the person who noted my mistake with Ford's district – the district number was what threw me, there was some confusion with that between the years.