"when this conscience business starts, ain't no telling where it'll stop": Willie Stark Shakes Down Judge Irwin

When I left off in the first post about William Penn Warren's All The King's Men, the Boss, Willie Stark, used Jack, for whom Judge Irwin had been like a second father, to get into the judge's house.
The newspaper just announced that Irwin had endorsed the opponent of one of Stark's candidates.  Jack had gotten the judge to open the front door, late at night.

This is how I imagine Trump and his henchmen leaning on Republican Senators.  Though they probably are not as skilled as Willie Stark.  And the Senators appear far much less able to stand up to Trump the way the Judge does.   But the same sort of dynamics.



Once the Judge sees it's Jack at his door, the judge asks Jack how he is and what he can do for him.  Jack asks if the judge  could talk to ---

'"He turned to shut the door, and if his ticker hadn't been in good shape for all his near three score and ten he'd have dropped dead.  For the Boss was standing there in the door.  He hadn't made a sound."

The Boss forces his way in and the judge asks if he has anything to say, and the Boss says:

"'Not at the moment.'
'Well,' the Judge said, 'in that case --'
'Oh, something might develop,' the Boss broke in.  'You never can tell.  If we get the weight off our arches.'
'In that case,' the Judge returned, and it was an old needle and an old record and it was scraping ike a file on cold tin and nothing human, "I may say that I was about to retire.'
'Oh, it's early yet,' the Boss said, and took his time giving Judge Irwin the once-over from head to toe.  The Judge was wearing an old-fashioned velvet smoking jacket and tuxedo pants and a boiled shirt, but he had taken off his collar and tie, and the gold collar button was shining just under the big old red Adam's apple.  'Yea,' the boss went on after he'd finished his once-over, 'and you'll sleep better if you wait before going to bed and give that fine dinner you had a chance to digest.' (p 64)

'This verbal duel continues for couple of pages with the screws tightening slowly.  The Boss sits down as the narrator describes the room in detail.  The Boss tells Jack to get him a drink and pour one for himself.

"Judge Irwin didn't answer him.  He turned to me, and said, 'I didn't realize, Jack, that your duties included those of a body servant, but, of course, if I am mistaken -'
I could have slapped his face.  I could have slapped that God-damned handsome, eagle-beaked, strong-boned, rubiginous-hided old face, in which the eyes weren't old but were hard and bright without any depth to them and were an insult to look into.  And the Boss laughed, and I could have slapped his God-damned face.  I could have walked right out and left the two of them there, alone in that cheese-smelling room together  till hell froze over, and just kept walking.  But I didn't, and perhaps it was just as well, for maybe you cannot ever really walk out from the things you want most to walk away from."  (p. 66)

Do you think Michael Cohen began to feel like Jack?

The Boss gets up and pours Jack a drink and hands it to him.

'. . . the Boss look[s] up at Judge Irwin and say[s], 'Sometimes Jack pours me a drink, and sometimes I put him a drink and  - -' he stepped toward the desk again - - 'sometimes I pour myself a drink.'
He poured the drink, added water, and looked again at the Judge, leering with a kind of comic cunning.  "Whether I'm asked or not,' he said.  And added, 'There's lots of thing you never get, Judge, if you wait till you are asked.  And I am an impatient man.  I am a very impatient man, Judge.   That is why I am not a gentleman, Judge.' (p. 66)

The Boss offers the Judge a drink of his own liquor, but the judge refuses.

'The Boss looked up at him from the chair and said, 'Judge, you happen to have an evening paper round here?'
The paper was lying over on another chair by the fireplace, with the judge's collar and tie on top of it, and his white jacket hung on the back of the chair  I saw the Judge's eyes snap over there to it, and then back at the Boss.
'Yes,' the Judge said, 'as a matter of fact, I have'
'I haven't had a chance to see one, rushing round the country today.  Mind if I take a look?'
"Not in the slightest,' Judge Irwin said, and the sound was the file scraping on that cold tin again, ' but perhaps I can relieve your curiosity on one point.  The paper publishes my endorsement of Callahan for the Senate nomination.  If that is of interest to you.'
'Just wanted to hear you say it, Judge.  Somebody told me, but you know how rumor hath a thousand tongues, and how the newspaper boys tend to exaggeration, and the truth ain't in 'em.'
'There was no exaggeration in this case,' the Judge said.
'Just wanted to hear you say it.  With your own silver tongue.'
'Well, you've heard it,' the judge said, standing straight in the middle of the floor, 'and in that case, at your leisure --' the Judge's face was the color of calf's liver again, even if the words did come out cold and spaced - -'if you have finished your drink.'
'Why thanks, Judge,' the boss said, sweet as chess pie, 'I reckon I will take another spot.'  (pp. 67-68)

The Boss gets another drink, sits down, and asks the Judge if he's checked his decision with the Lord.

"'I have settled the matter in my own mind,' the Judge said.
'Well, if I recollect right --' the Boss ruminatively turned the glass in his hands --'back in town, when we had our little talk, you sort of felt my boy Masters was all right."
'I made no commitment,' the Judge said sharply, 'I didn't make any commitment except to my conscience.'
'You been messing in politics for a long time, Judge,' the Boss said, easy, 'and --' he took a drag from the glass --'so has your conscience.'
'I beg your pardon,' the Judge snapped.
'Nuts,' the boss said, and grinned, ' but what got you off Master?!'
'Certain features of his career came to my attention.'
'Somebody dug up some dirt for you, huh?'
'If you choose to call it that,' the Judge said.
'Dirt's a funny thing,' the Boss said.  'Come to think of it, there ain't a thing but dirt on this green God's globe except what's under water, and that's dirt too.  It's dirt makes the grass grow.  A diamond ain't a thing in the world but a piece of dirt that got awful hot.  And God-a-Might picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it and made you and me and George Washington and mankind blessed in faculty and apprehension.  It all depends on what you do with the dirt.  That right?'
'It doesn't alter the fact,' the Judge said from way up there where his head was, above the rays of the desk lamp, 'that Masters doesn't strike me as a responsible man.'
'He better be responsible,' the Boss said, 'or I'll break his God-damned neck!'
'That's the trouble.  Masters would be responsible to you.'
'It's a fact,' the Boss admitted ruefully, lifting his face under the light, and shaking his head in fatalist sadness. 'Masters'd be responsible to me.  I can't help it.  But Callahan -- now take Callahan -- it sort of seems to me he's gonna be responsible to you and Alta Power and God knows who else before he's through.  And what's the difference? Huh?'
'Well --'
'Well, hell!'  The Boss popped straight up in the chair with that inner explosions he had when, all of a sudden, he would snatch a fly out of the air or whip his head at you and his eyes would snap open.  He popped up and his heels dug into the red carpet.  Some of the liquor sloshed out of his glass onto his Palm Beach pants.  'Well, I'll tell you the difference, Judge!  I can deliver Masters and you can't deliver Callahan.  And that's a big difference.'
'I'll have to take my chance,' the Judge said from way up there.
'Chance?' And the Boss laughed.  'Judge,' he said, and quit laughing, ' you haven't got but one chance.  You been guessing right in this state going on forty years.  You been sitting back here in this room and n*** boys been single-footing in here bringing you toddies and you been guessing right.  You been sitting  back here and grinning to yourself while the rest of 'em were out sweating on the stump and snapping their suspenders, and when you wanted anything you just reached out and took it.  Oh, if you had a little time off from duck hunting and corporation law you might do a hitch as Attorney General.  So you did.  Or play at being a judge.  You been a judge a long time.  How would it feel not to be a judge anymore?'
'No man,' Judge Irwin said, and stood up there straight in the middle of the floor, 'has ever been able to intimate me.'
'Well, I never tried,' the Boss said, 'yet.  And I'm not trying now.  I'm going to give you a chance.  You said somebody gave you some dirt on Masters?  Well, suppose I gave you some dirt on Callahan? --Oh, don't interrupt!  Keep your shirt on!'  --and he held up his hand.  'I haven't been doing any digging, but I might, and if I went out in the barn lot and stuck my shovel in and  brought you some of the sweetest-smelling and put it under the nose of your conscience, then do you know what your conscience would tell you to do?  It would tell you to withdraw your endorsement of Callahan.  And the newspaper boys would be over here thicker'n bluebottle flies on a dead dog, and you could tell 'em all about you and your conscience.  You wouldn't even have to back Masters.  You and your conscience could just go off arm in arm and have a fine time telling each other how much you think of each other."  (pp. 67-70)

I know these are getting to be longer and longer quotes.  But this all fits in together as the screws tighten.  It's a slow steady build up.  The Judge doesn't budge.  Jack listens to the ticks and tocks of the grandfather clock.

'The Boss quit studying Judge Irwin's face, which didn't show anything.  He let himself sink back in the chair, shrugged his shoulders, and lifted the glass up for a drink.  Then he said, 'Suit yourself, Judge.  But you know there's another way to play it.  Maybe somebody might give Callahan a little shovelful on somebody else and Callahan might grow a conscience all of a sudden and repudiate his endorser.  You know, when this conscience business starts, ain't no telling where it'll stop, and when you start the digging --'
'I'll thank you  sir --' Judge Irwin took a step toward the big chair, and his face wasn't the color of calf's liver now --it was long past that and streaked white back from the base of the jutting nose --'I'll thank you sir, to get out of that chair and get out of this house!'
The Boss didn't lift his head off the leather.  He looked up at the Judge, sweet and trusting, and then cocked his eyes over to to me.  'Jack,' he said, 'you were sure right.  The Judge don't scare easy.'
'Get out,' the Judge said, not loud this time.
'These old bones don't move fast,' the Boss murmured sadly, 'but now I have tried to do my bounden duty, let me go.'  Then he drained his glass, set it on the floor beside the chair, and rose.  He stood in front of the Judge, looking up at him, squinting again, cocking his head to one side again, like a farmer getting ready to buy a horse.  .  .
Then, as though he had decided against buying the horse, the Boss shook his head and passed around the Judge, as though the Judge weren't a man at all, or even a horse, as though he were the corner of a house or a tree, and headed for the hall door, putting his feet down slow and easy on the red carpet.  No hurry. . .
The Boss laid his hand on the doorknob, opened the door and then, with his hand still on the knob, he looked back.  'Well  Judge,' he said, more in pain than with wrath I go.  And if your conscience decides it could gag at Callahan, just let me know.  In, of course---' and he grinned --'a reasonable time.' (pp 71-72)

The Boss may not have gotten all he wanted in this visit, but this was nothing less than a political home invasion.  And the Judge had to endure the Boss' taking over his house and his liquor and had to endure his threat.

And if a Senate were trying to impeach Willie Stark for this political arm twisting, how much hard evidence of any actual crime would there be?

[I had to look up rubiginous.  It means 'rust-colored.']