Chapter Eleven

Boy's announcement for the senate seat as a Republican had been unanticipated by the
Party. In truth, the new leaders of the Party were not all that enthusiastic about another try
by the Esterbrook family to regain the seat. While many of the Republicans in the district
were just people who once were conservative, racist Democrats who respected the
Esterbrook tradition, a majority of the Party activists, even locally, were younger, white
people who not only preferred their elected officials be white but actually had an
ideological basis for Party membership that went beyond that. An effort was made to
dissuade Boy from offering his candidacy. Buster Bowman, the Party's county chairman
took it upon himself to approach Boy with the suggestion that he look elsewhere for an
opportunity to serve the public.

Buster was well suited to the task, having been a protégée of the late Lee Atwater's chief
South Carolina henchman, Tom Watkins. Unfortunately, the talent for political thuggery
present in abundance in Atwater had largely petered out with the passing of the torch
from Atwater to Watkins and on to Bowman. While Watkins had retained a certain talent
for politically mugging opposition Republicans and outright evisceration of any
Democrat stubborn enough to oppose one of his chosen candidates, Bowmen had neither
the killer instinct of Watkins or Atwater and totally lacked any social charm and skill
Atwater may have possessed that made overlooking his evil deeds possible. So, while
Bowman accumulated enemies as rapidly as Watkins, he failed to inspire fear like his
mentor and had no other means of deflecting accumulated hatred.

"Boy," Bowman began when he tried to 'beard the lion in his own den,' "you need to drop
out of the race for senate. The Party has already decided it is going to go to Jester McDill.
We don't want a divisive primary. Jester is a good black Republican and he'll be able to
peel off enough black votes to win the seat. You'll just be another attempt to bring back
the plantation mentality that the voters reject every chance they get."

"You say the 'Party has decided,' I don't understand, how can the Party decide before the

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runoff?" Boy asked.

"If you knew anything about politics in South Carolina, you'd know the Republican Party
is a top down organization. The leadership makes the decisions and the rank and file
follow. The county leadership talked it over with the state Party people and we think you
will be a distraction and will cost us a chance to expand our majority in the senate."
Bowman explained. "Besides, Boy, I ain't here to debate this with you, I am here to
explain it to you. You have to get the fuck out of the race or we are going to bury you
politically for the rest of your God damn life."

Bowman had heard, many times, the story of the time Atwater strong armed a Charleston
Congressman out of the race for Governor so Carroll Campbell, an upstate Congressman
at the time, would have a clear shot at the nomination. The way Watkins told it, the
Charleston guy had all the advantages and might, depending on which area of the state
turned out the most votes in the primary, have won. Atwater just bluffed and bullied the
man out of the race and, for his malleability, rewarded him with the nomination for Lt.
Governor, an office truly not worth a thimble full of cold cat piss, if you can win it,
which the Charleston boy did not.

For a political kingmaker, such moments of manipulation are the stuff you live for. That
piece of work enhanced Atwater's existing reputation for bad ass politics and, along with
Willie Horton, made him an absolute legend in political consulting circles. Bowman,
knowing he'd never operate on the national stage, still hoped for a role in statewide
politics and thought here was a kingmaker moment that could send him on his way.

Smiling at Boy, who was clearly perplexed, perhaps, even upset, by Bowman's lack of
civility, Bowman continued, "Boy, you aren't married are you?"

Boy conceded he was not married.

"How old are you, late thirties, early forties?" Though Boy started to answer, it became

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apparent this was intended as a rhetorical question since Bowman plowed on, not pausing
for a response. "Most men, if they aren't married by the time they reach your age, well
that is unusual and people wonder about it."

"I don't think I take your meaning." Boy said.

"Hell yes you do. How do you think it is going to play out for your family's law practice
if it gets all over the county that you're a fudge packing, bone riding faggot?" Bowman
asked, a malicious smile on his face.

Boy sat behind his desk in silence. Boy stared at Bowman and thought to himself he had
never seen such a profoundly ugly human being. Boy tapped the index finger rapidly, but
with no particular force, on his desk, still looking at Bowman. Finally, Boy stopped
tapping the finger, stood and spoke, "I'll give your idea some thought and let you know."

"Well," Bowman said, "don’t think too long. Like I said, I didn't come here to discuss
this, I came to tell you how it had to be."

"But, you see, Mr. Bowman," Boy lied in a calm, rational voice, "I am not a, how did you
put it, 'a fudge packing, bone rider,' very rich language by the way, almost poetic, so I
cannot see how you threatened allegations will apply."

In Boy defense, he did not exactly know he was lying about not being a 'bone rider,' he
was still in denial about that. However, he did know he was an occasional 'fudge packer'
but that seemed a mere technicality.

"Look, BOY," Bowman replied, in the first place, I ain't threatening, I am telling you how
it will be. In the second place, truth has nothing to do with anything in politics. You are
unmarried, you act like a faggot half the time and the 'threaten allegation' will sick. That's
all you need to 'think about.' You drop out by noon tomorrow and everything will be fine.
In fact, we'll find something you can run for that you can win, make you a state

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committeeman or something, but, that's it, that's the deal."

"Thank you for coming by." Boy said as Bowman rose from his chair and moved toward
the door. "Always happy to get the Party's input."

Leaving Boy's law office, Bowman felt great! He had done exactly what he set out to do.
He had put the fear of God into Boy Esterbrook. He felt so damn good he decided he
simply could not go back to the company he worked for as a manufacturing production
manager. This was a home run. When word got out about this move, particularly if the
chosen candidate, McDill, pulled off the upset in the general election in the fall, it just
might be Bowman's ticket into big time political consulting or, at least, a shot at statewide
office within the Party. "One step at a time," Bowman told himself as he made his way to
Harold's to hoist a few cold ones in the back room and enjoy his triumph, "this will get
my foot in the door, it may be the way out of this backwater hellhole."

A few hours later, after Bowman, perhaps unwisely, had shared his story with several
regulars, he did not pay much attention when Tuck Esterbrook slid into the room.
Basking in the glow of a rosy future, Bowman could be excused for being a bit slow on
the uptake, realizing a few minutes too late that the room was now empty except for Tuck
and himself. Tuck was a man no one would accuse of being a 'fudge packing, bone rider.'
One reason was Tuck early established his reputation for enjoying sexual congress with
women and had never evidenced any sexual interest, unless like some people do, football
is considered a homoerotic activity, in men. Another reason was that Tuck is a big old
boy, work hardened by years of farm labor and, though normally a nonviolent man, a
man known to have physically disciplined the occasional field hand and/or pulpwooder
when called upon to do so.

The EMS guys arrived in good time having been sent for as soon as the last regular
evacuated the back room, leaving Tuck to his work. Everybody agreed it would be a good
thing, since Bowman, Tuck being in an edifying mode, not particularly angry about
anything, was not put in a life-threatening situation, if the ambulance took Bowman to the

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big hospital in Batten rather than the closer emergency room in Combahee. Interestingly,
as it transpired later, everybody, including Bowman, agreed Tuck had never been
anywhere near Harold's that evening, as several distinguished citizens on the far side of
the county were also happy to attest.

The next day, everybody but Boy dropped out of the primary. Two days later, when he
returned from the Batten Hospital, Bowman resigned from the County chairmanship,
having decided he no longer had a passion for politics.