Amerikan Eagle

“I wonder if any of you people who are listening to me were ever at a barbecue! We used to go there—sometimes one thousand people or more. If there were one thousand people, we would put enough meat and bread and everything else on the table for one thousand people. Then everybody would be called and everyone would eat all they wanted. But suppose at one of these barbecues for one thousand people that one man took ninety percent of the food and ran off with it and ate until he got sick and let the balance rot. Then nine hundred ninety-nine people would have only enough for one hundred to eat, and there would be many to starve because of the greed of just one person for something he couldn’t eat himself.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, America, all the people of America, have been invited to a barbecue. God invited us all to come and eat and drink all we wanted. He smiled on our land, we grew crops of plenty to eat and wear. He showed us in the earth the iron and other things to make everything we wanted. He unfolded to us the secrets of science so that our work might be easy. God called: ‘Come to my feast.’

“Then what happened? Rockefeller, Morgan, and their crowd stepped up and took enough for one hundred twenty million people and left only enough for five million, for all the other one hundred twenty-five million to eat. And so many million must go hungry and without these good things God gave us unless we call on them to put some of it back…”

* * *

Sam kept his hands fisted in his pockets as the record ended and most of the men in the room applauded. Not moving his hands was a small protest, but it was the best he could do. Sean sat next to him, head nodding forward, and Sam jabbed him with an elbow.

“Huh?”

“Speech over,” Sam said. “Look suitably enthusiastic.”

Sean covered a yawn. “Sorry. Dozed off. Must’ve listened to that same speech a half dozen times, starting ten years ago. Rockefellers and Morgans too rich. Everybody else too poor. A new Homestead Act. No man a slave, every man a king.” He looked about at the mostly smiling faces. “The same blah-blah-blah. If the Kingfish wants to get elected next year to a third term, he’s gonna have to do better than reusing the same old speech.”

“If it works, it works.”

Teddy, the Party leader, came back to the lectern and took another folded sheet of paper from his coat. “All right, all right, all right. Last item on tonight’s agenda. I gotta list here of some names. When I read out the names, you can leave the hall. For you, the meetin’ is over. We’ll see you next month. Okay, here we go: Abbott, Alan, Courtney, Delroy…”

It was as if the temperature in the hall had abruptly dropped. Sam saw that the others near him felt the same way, moving in their seats, looking around. No matter what Teddy said, this was unusual, this wasn’t right. Sean whispered gleefully, “That’s how it happens in the occupied lands. You get separated out. One group lives, the others get shot. Wonder what group we’re in.”

“Sean, nobody’s going to get shot.”

“Maybe so. But you got your revolver with you?”

“Why?”

“If there’s shooting, I want to be next to you. I get the feeling you wouldn’t go without a fight.”

Sam kept his mouth shut. He knew where his revolver was. Safe back at home. Teddy droned on, “Williams, Young, and Zimmerman. Okay, get a move on, get a move on.”