Free Report of the County Chairman by James A. Michener

going to win handsomely in the electoral college, and the very force of my belief rallied people to my cause. I found assistance where before it did not exist, and to no one during the long campaign did I betray doubt regarding my announced position, to no one, that is, except one night as I was speeding across Pennsylvania accompanied by one of the most incisive young men I had ever encountered. With me rode Robert Kennedy, campaign manager for the senator, and he asked, “All fooling aside, how’s it going?”
    “Terribly close,” I said.
    “Will you carry Pennsylvania?” he pressed.
    “If we do, it’ll be by a whisker,” I replied.
    “But there is a chance?”
    “Yes, there’s an honest chance.”
    “Will you carry your county?” the quiet voice probed.
    “No. The religious issue will hurt us badly. We’ll lose by about eight thousand. But that’s twelve thousand better than last time.”
    “Good,” he said. “Maybe that’ll be enough to enable Philadelphia to carry the state.”
    “How do you see it nationally?” I countered.
    “Very close.”
    “But we will win?” I asked.
    “Yes,” he replied, and we drove through the long night.

The first thing I had done politically upon returning from the boat trip across the Pacific and the car trip across America was to report to my Bucks County chairman, there to volunteer my services in the forthcoming campaign. Renewing acquaintances was a pleasant job, because for nearly fifty years the chairman had been a personal friend. We had grown up together, had seen many storms, and had reached middle age with some illusions intact.
    Johnny Welsh, when I saw him again in the fall of 1959, was a wiry, well-preserved, gray-haired, sharp-tongued politician whose iron will and personal integrity hadkept the local Democratic party functioning for more than a quarter of a century. When others of us were working abroad, he and his six sons were at home doing the dirty work of running a complex party organization. When the Democrats were in such low esteem locally that not even candidates could be found, Johnny Welsh ran for office. He made his living selling real estate and insurance, but his real occupation was politics, and he knew more about the workings of my county than any other man alive.
    Pennsylvania has the commendable system of placing each county’s affairs in the hands of three elected commissioners who in former days were paid $6,500 a year (now $8,500) and of whom one must by law be of the minority party. Thus no matter how strong the Republicans became, and they used to reap about 80 percent of the votes, there was always one paying job for a Democrat, and starting in 1951 Johnny Welsh filled that job. As such he became titular head of the party, and by the exercise of great will power and leadership in 1955 won the county away from the Republicans. This meant there would be two Democratic commissioners, and Johnny Welsh became the boss of one of America’s most challenging counties.
    He was helped conspicuously, I must confess, by the fact that shortly before the county-wide elections in 1955 the Republican coroner was charged with twenty-five counts of misconduct in office. For this misbehavior the unfortunate coroner went to jail, taking his party with him in defeat. But I do not mean to explain away this stunning Democratic victory solely in terms of an imprisonedcoroner. Most of the credit was due to Johnny Welsh, who, as minority commissioner, had so valiantly struggled to build a party.
    By 1959 Johnny had run into trouble in the form of a revolt in the southern end of the county, where otherwise loyal Democrats had axed him, so that he not only lost control of the county, but his minority seat on the commission as well. He did not, however, relinquish his leadership of the party, although someone else now stepped forth as titular head. Like everyone else in Bucks County, when I wanted to talk to the head of the Democrats, I went to see