Free Capable of Honor by Allen Drury

freedom-loving peoples everywhere!”
    “I shall be happy to have lunch,” Walter said cordially. “I want you to tell me all about it. Then perhaps I can help America understand your shift in position.”
    “Hurry,” Vasily Tashikov advised grimly. “Your M’Bulu will not be there long.”
    “But I will be, Mr. Ambassador,” Walter assured him. “Don’t forget my bridge between East and West. It will be there, I think, whatever happens to Gorotoland. Or, for that matter,” he added calmly, “the Soviet Union. You can also tell me, incidentally, why Felix Labaiya had to fly home, and what you’re planning in Panama.”
    “One P.M. tomorrow,” the Ambassador said in an expressionless voice.
    “Surely,” said Walter Dobius.

    This, he tells himself as he closes the door of the study at last and starts down the stairs to his waiting dinner, is really quite a typical period in the life of Walter Wonderful. The Governor of California, the Russian Ambassador, a few nights ago the President of the United States—these things happen to Walter Dobius all the time. How can Helen-Anne be so imperceptive as to fail to see it, so unthinking as to laugh?
    Actually, of course, she isn’t. She knows exactly the land of life he leads, for she shared it for seven years, and on a smaller scale she leads much the same kind of life herself. There is nothing so extraordinary about being called by the Governor of California, invited by the Soviet Ambassador, consulted by the President of the United States—these things do happen, at a certain level of press and politics in Washington. It is just that in Walter’s case there is a unique emphasis about it, a special aura, a feeling on both sides that he who calls will receive assistance, he who consults will be given a sage and dispassionate wisdom suitable to the unraveling of great problems, the surmounting of great events. If a few observers sometimes feel that Walter with his enormous influence is more often the used than the user, then that simply shows a lack of perception monumental in its misunderstanding of his position in the story of his times. Walter knows what he is doing, and very few indeed are those who fail to take him at his own estimation.
    This has not been happenstance, he can congratulate himself as he slowly sips his Manhattan and stares thoughtfully into the roaring downstairs fire while Roosevelt hovers about and Arbella clatters in the kitchen, nor has it been any fluke such as sometimes occurs when Washington’s erratic tides toss surprising jetsam to the top. Walter has worked hard for what he has, and Walter deserves it. He may seem a little precious now, there may be an air of dignity slightly greater (if that be possible) than the responsibility he actually carries, but it is not a small responsibility and he has not achieved it lightly.
    Patsy may regard him with the spiteful attitude with which she regards most people, Helen-Anne from the vantage point of a special knowledge may feel and express a disenchantment more blunt and open than many dare, the Knoxes may be skeptical, Ted Jason, the President, and many another ambitious politician domestic and foreign may think that they play upon his ego to use him for their purposes, but no one can ever truthfully say that Walter Dobius is not exactly where he should be. He has earned his position honestly and he fills it with style.
    What citizen of a land that has for so long been dependent upon his wisdom could, in all fairness, ask for more?
    Certainly the list of honors and accomplishments indicates that few do. Pulitzer Prize three times, twice for national reporting, once for international; Sigma Delta Chi Award for Washington Correspondence twice; the Heywood Broun Award; the Raymond Clapper Memorial Award; the University of Missouri Award for distinguished service in journalism; the Overseas Press Club Award, the John Peter Zenger Award, the George Polk Award, and now the Jason Foundation’s