Manhunt. Volume 14, Number 2, April/May 1966

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I walked down the aisle between rows of well-dressed listeners and made my way to the press table.

I was not sure why I had bothered to come. I was not going to report anything that the Honorable Marshall W. Taylor, Jr., mayor of this city of a million, said here today.

Nothing he could utter in his cultured tones to this respectable audience in the Parish Hall of this infinitly respectable church could match the story about him which I had in my pocket.

He might make better copy if he turned to Gino Rinauldi, his opponent beside him on the platform, drew a pistol and shot the guy point blank. But short of that, he was wasting his time.

I suppose I came because I wanted one last look at the faces of these people before I dropped my bomb.

I wanted to see collected together in one place at one time all the principals of the campaign, and I wanted to see them in the presence of this genteel, well-upholstered audience — so certain in its knowledge of right and wrong and so unshakable in its choice of a candidate.

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