Destiny

DESTINY

It would never have happened if Colonel G. Wingate
Trumbull had kept his nose clean. There's just so much
graft and thievery the people would put up with. In just
eight years since being elected State Representative, he had
gone from a little known man of modest means to wealthy
power broker in Springfield. He built a mansion of huge
proportions on National Avenue overlooking the river and
this at a time when veterans were unemployed and the county
poor farm was overflowing.

Even the Colonel's rank was a fraud. He didn't come up
with that ploy until his second term. But now everything
was out on the table. His illegal dealings with the big
money interests down state had exposed him for the political
hack that he was. He would be lucky to escape the tar and
feathers and a much publicized ride to the county line on a
rail.

Miles Erlander was a clothier on State Street. The
bane of Miles life was one Horace Nevers from that family of
no accounts. Why Horace had chosen him to harass, Miles
didn't know. Maybe it was because the clothing store was
just a stone's throw from the East Side Inn, and this is
where Horace spent most of his time. Or maybe it was
because Miles had once unceremoniously run Horace off when
he was spitting tobacco juice on the display windows.

Whatever the reason, unkind things happened to Miles,
and Horace was always around to enjoy. For instance the
night someone took three mules from the livery stable and
turned them loose in the clothing store. The next morning a
small group from the East Side Inn gathered to point and
whoop while Miles discovered the prank and spent the morning
shoveling out the store.

Most of the town had reason to dislike Horace. He was
a local rounder and was found many a morning in the street,
sleeping off an all night drunk. He cursed in public,
engaged in bar fights and drunken brawls, and made
suggestive comments to ladies. Police Chief O'Mally had
almost daily contact with him and secretly wished Horace
would murder someone so he could be done away with legally
and permanently.

Horace was 29 years old. His clothing was dirty and
worn with the sleeves of his once red union suit extending
below the arms of his shirt. He was tall and lanky and
occasionally cut his hair and beard with a sharp knife.
Missing teeth accented the remaining darkened stubs, and an
evil smile and reddened eyes complimented a sharp angular
face and nose. He smelled of old sweat, fresh manure from
the streets, and at times drunken vomit.

Gambling provided Horace with enough money to pay rent
for an apartment on Second Street and for cheap wine and
beer. His skill in cheating at cards was renown. He had
numerous dogs but even their loyalty had limits and they all
in time left him.

.....

Miles Erlander first suggested it after Sunday services
at the Svenska Lutheran Church. "You're Kidding. In Gods
name why?" asked Reverend Stromquist.

"If he's representing us in Springfield, then he
becomes Springfield's problem. We're rid of him."

"But we just got rid of Trumbull. We don't want a
Nevers representing us."

"I don't think he has the intelligence to pull a
Trumbull on us."

Chief O'Mally had caught parts of the conversation and
rushed in. "Gone? 150 miles to the south? And for a good
part of the year. Every year. That gets my vote."

And so it was. For the price of a cheap bottle of wine
Horace Nevers was convinced to run for the state assembly.
The electorate, after considering the advantages, backed him
100%. Running unopposed he was unanimously elected.

The victory celebration was one that the town would
never forget. Bonfires, a parade, speeches, shooting of
guns into the air. Everyone realized they were the winner.
Even Reverend Stromquist raised a glass of wine to toast the
town's good fortune. Horace spent the entire evening at the
East Side Inn and dawn found him wedged under the bar with
his head on the foot rail and his hand in a spittoon.

The send off to Springfield was also a gala affair. At
the train station a large group of well wishers gathered to
see Horace off. The Mayor gave a short speech lauding the
newly elected representative. Reverend Stromquist prayed,
"May his stay in Springfield be a long one." Miles Erlander
presented Horace with fifteen dollars in gold coin collected
by a grateful community. Chief O'Mally was there with
several burly policemen to assure that Horace would leave.

As the train pulled away, Horace moved down the aisle
looking for a bar car where he could convert gold coin to
strong drink. Not only did he find whiskey but also a card
game.

When the train arrived late at night in Springfield
three men tumbled out dragging, beating, and kicking a
fourth. A boot tromped hard followed by a scream of pain.

"Got his double dealing hand with that one."

"The hell with his hand. Get our money back."

"A carriage is coming. Quick, let's get out of here."

"One last kick in the head for this one."

.....

The Widow McGinty was heir to the McGinty fortune which
included several farm implement manufacturing plants, a
rambling Springfield mansion, and a sizable investment in
stocks and bonds. Her husband's death a year ago had been a
severe blow, but she was a strong, intelligent woman and had
selected talented men to oversee her holdings. At age 41
she was attractive, dressed fashionably, and was well liked
by the shakers and movers at the state capitol.

While returning late at night from a ball at the
Governors mansion, Mattie McGinty and her coach driver
witnessed three men deliver devastating kicks to the head of
another lying prostrate on the ground. Watching them
disappear into the darkness, she and the driver turned their
attention to the moaning victim of the attack.

.....

As the mist in his mind cleared, the pain settled in.
Horace could see that he was on a bed with a billowing white
comforter and across the room he saw lace curtains at the
window. An exploring tongue told him that several more
teeth were missing and there was a terrible pain in his
right hand. "Broken ribs," he grunted as his breathing shot
hot tremors through his chest. Horace had experienced all
these pains before. He recognized them, and they did not
bother him. What was perturbing was the feeling in his
head.

"Good afternoon Mr. Nevers."

"Ma'am, where am I? What happened?"

"My driver and I interrupted three ruffians who had
accosted you by the train station. Isn't that a poor
greeting for a new assemblyman in Springfield? We brought
you here to my home and Doctor Henning examined you and
after bandaging your hand, pronounced you well enough to
make the first roll call on Wednesday."

"And you. Who are you, and how do you know me?"

"I'm Mattie McGinty. We found your papers in your
wallet, Mr. Horace Nevers. The brutes who savaged you also
stole your money and your baggage, but don't worry. We will
take care of you until you're back on your feet."

"I'm mighty thankful, Ma'am. I sure have a powerful
thirst. You wouldn't have a bit of - "

"Already thought of that, Mr. Nevers. Olive will be
bringing you a bowl of warm broth. With that mouth I didn't
think you'd be wanting steak and potatoes."

Horace wanted to shout back, "Broth, hell. Bring
whiskey." But his head felt strange and he thoughtfully
said, "Thank you, Ma'am."

The days that followed were different from any that
Horace had ever experienced. A barber came in and gave him
a first rate shave and haircut. Mr. McGinty's clothes did
not fit Horace so a tailor was summoned and a complete
wardrobe was ordered: shirts, suits, formal wear, boots,
even stockings.

"Ma'am, I can't afford all these things. Every cent I
owned, I brought with me to Springfield, and now I'm flat
broke."

"Don't fret about money. I've plenty and the best use
for it is for helping others."

"I'm a proud man and it doesn't rest easy taking money
from another." That strange feeling throbbed in his head.

Mattie had a coach and driver put at his disposal. He
made daily trips to the barber and in his new clothes cut
quite a figure. A dentist fixed up his mouth with
replacement teeth and Horace learned to love his weekly
bath.

Usually Horace had meals with Mattie and they discussed
politics and government affairs. It didn't take her long to
spot his unpolished edges, but his straight forward approach
to life and it's problems enchanted her. She had a
continuing parade of guests, and in front of Horace, engaged
them in political discussions. When they left she and
Horace would review the ideas and the solutions presented.

In the assembly sessions Horace was recognized as a
good fellow and opposing camps vied for his support. His
first address to the assembly, given at the urging of
Mattie, was reported by the Gazette as reminiscent of
Abraham Lincoln with its down home humor and simple logic.

At home the relationship of Mattie and Horace seemed to
be one of mutual respect rather then of romantic
involvement. Mattie respected the sincerity of this poorly
educated gentlemen from the northern rural village. He
could see through a problem and recommend solutions that
were simple, humane, and fair. He was temperate and sincere
and was grateful for both the financial aid and the tutoring
she had supplied.

Horace saw Mattie as a truly great lady. Rich beyond
imagination, yet giving and caring. She saw his
shortcomings, yet gently guided him in the proper directions
without belittling or being condescending.

As the end of his four year term approached, Horace
received a telegram from Police Chief O'Mally.
"Your name has been placed on the ballot for
Assemblyman for the second term. Do not! repeat, do not
return to campaign. Your reelection is guaranteed."

Horace won by a landslide.

It was in his second term that Horace made his mark.
New assemblymen approached him and sought his advise. Old
timers realized that a Nevers endorsement on a bill was all
that was needed for passage. Some devious politicians tried
to use him but with Mattie's insight and guidance he was
able to evade them. He proposed many bills that raised the
status of Illinois politics from a quagmire to a model
working government.

One evening a group of well dressed men convened with
Mattie at the McGinty mansion. An ongoing discussion lasted
far into the night. Well after midnight the meeting ended
with hand shakes and the gentlemen returned to their
carriages.

Mattie invited Horace to have breakfast with her the
next morning.

"They want you to run for Governor."

"Me? Who are they?"

"Senators Gray and Halvington, U. S. Congressman Blaze,
our own Governor Stillwall, and Johnson, McNeely, and Wasco
from the Assembly."

"Interesting. Do they think I'll do a good job, or do
they think they can use me?"

"I'm betting a little of both. But that's not the
point. We --- You can handle them. I see this as an
opportunity to acquire power that can be used for the good
of the people of Illinois."

"Mattie, I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

"Horace, we're ready for this. We've made a great team
so far. I'll be at your side all the way and nothing will
stop us."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me.
Mattie, being kicked in the head that night at the train
station and being rescued by you has changed my life."

"Horace, I helped a man back on his feet. But you are
the one who shuns drinking, cares for people, is honest and
kind. It is your ideas and your manner of presenting them
that have made you a man of distinction in our government."

"You have taught me what to say and how to say it.
I've told you I'm grateful but it goes beyond that. When
I'm in trouble in the Assembly and all seems to be going
wrong, I can almost feel you at my side with your hand on my
arm and see the smile on your lips. Then the ideas pour in
and the words come out and Horace Nevers once again puts
those Whigs in there place. Mattie, I need you --- I want
you at my side, always."

"So, after six years under the same roof, Horace Nevers
turns the romantic. I do feel deeply about you, but this
old widow needs time to sort things out. Horace, thank
you."

The campaign for Governor was brilliantly run. The
Honorable Horace Nevers became a household word. Champion
of the people, prohibitionist (never had a drink in his
life), church member (had left the ministry to do God's work
in the government), family man (all the state was his
family), loves animals, completely honest, and romantically
linked to that wonderful lady, Mattie McGinty. Horace
Nevers was a shoe-in to be the next governor.

.....

The wood holding the bolt had decayed for nearly a
century. That bolt supported one end of a sign that read,
"Rosie's Bar". It is a coincidence that the bolt would
finally tear away just two weeks before the election. It is
a further coincidence that the Honorable Horace Nevers would
be walking beneath when this century of rot would terminate
in one end of the sign swinging downward.

The blow to his head was not hard but it seemed to
clear his mind for the first time in years. Horace smelled
cheap liquor and rekindled a deep hereditary thirst.
Leaving his hat and cane in the gutter where they had
fallen, he strode inside and bellied up to the bar.

Two hours later, with coat and tie discarded, he
challenged any man in the house. There were four takers and
one by one he dispatched them. Finally it was time to
leave. Bruised and bloody with clothes torn and stained,
Horace Nevers felt a man again. With a jug of whiskey in
one hand and a local prostitute in the other, he headed for
a bed.

Elly Fitzhugh had been a prostitute too long. Her age,
her health, her looks all required that her customers be
blind drunk. That night she achieved her greatest dream and
became Mrs. Horace Nevers.

The newspapers had a hay-day. Pictures of the bride
groom, torn clothes and all, hit the front pages. Head
lines read, "Gubernatorial Candidate Marries Woman of the
Evening."

Mattie McGinty went into seclusion never again to
appear in public.

Two weeks later the Chicago Tribune headlines reported,
WALTHUM ELECTED GOVERNOR!
With final returns in, voting totals show 97%
for Thadius Walthum, 2% for Horace Nevers. It is
interesting to note that despite his state wide
poor showing, in Nevers home district, he received
a unanimous 100% of the vote.

THE END

Story ID:	508
Written by:	Dick Dunlap (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Springfield Illinois USA
Year:	1869
Person:	Horace Nevers