Someday the Rabbi Will Leave by Harry Kemelman

laughed self-consciously. He did not like to admit, even to himself, that while his reason for being in the race was that he had weakly permitted Mulcahey to persuade him, it was only Laura’s interest that was keeping him in it. So far he had not succeeded in attracting the law business that Mulcahey had assured him would follow, and now he was worried about the bills that were mounting. He had a little nest egg of six thousand dollars, all that was left of his share from the sale of the parental home, and he was morbidly certain that this would be eaten up by the campaign before he was through.
    At the very beginning, to be sure, he had consented to go to various political meetings, and at her urging had risen to ask a question, or to make a comment introducing himself each time as a candidate for the state senate for this district. But when nothing tangible had resulted, either political or in the way of law business, he had lost faith. And now, when Laura told him of a group that was holding a meeting on the Harbor Bill, for example, and urged that it would be a good place to appear and present his position, he was apt to tell her that he was going to be busy that evening, that he had some research to do at the law library, or that he had to prepare for an appearance in court the next day. He manifested so little faith in his chances of election that she, too, had begun to wonder if she hadn’t picked a loser. When the Barnard’s Crossing Courier published a report of a telephone poll they had taken that showed that the three candidates were practically even, he showed no great enthusiasm.
    â€œWhat’s so wonderful about running even with two other guys?” he asked plaintively. “The poll was primarily for the statewide offices, governor, lieutenant governor, and attorney general. Then when they got down to state senator, they probably just read off the three names, Scofield, Baggio, and Cash, and asked which they liked. If they did them in alphabetical order, my name was the last one mentioned, so the average person who doesn’t care too much one way or another picked the last name he heard. But those other two guys, Baggio and Cash, they’re both professional. Both of them have organizations, people they’ve done favors for or people who hope to get favors. What chance does a new man have?”
    â€œWell, that’s where you’re wrong. Do you know why Cash is running for the Senate instead of for reelection to his seat in the General Court? It’s because he hasn’t got a chance of reelection. That’s why. Talk to any of the people around town who know. He voted against the Harbor Bill, and the Lynn people won’t forgive him that. In running for the Senate, he’s hoping that he can pick up votes from Chelsea and Revere and Barnard’s Crossing to offset the beating he’s going to get in Lynn. The point is that he doesn’t expect to win. See, if he loses he’s not politically dead as he would be if he lost for reelection. Because it’s a higher office.”
    â€œYeah, I heard something about that, but—”
    â€œAnd Baggio has standing only in Revere. And how about the results on second choice? You’re actually leading there.” She thrust the paper at him.
    But he didn’t take it from her. Instead, he asked, “What’s this second choice?”
    She explained. “They asked each person they called whom they preferred and then who was their second choice. Cash’s backers split between you and Baggio for second choice, but your people picked Baggio and Baggio’s people picked you.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo it means that a lot of people are not so much for somebody as that they are against Cash. If you could pick up some of Baggio’s votes, you’d be in.”
    â€œOr if he picks up some of mine, he’d be in. Unfortunately, this isn’t a horse race with win, place, and show.