Major, Sr.
"A chat with
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There was Sixty, putting forth some kind of proposition to a skeptical politico.
I should recognize the guy whose ear is being bent by Sixty, but I don't.
Sixty Rayburn, our former State Senator, at one time was unarguably the most powerful man in Louisiana, even moreso than the governor. After all, when you are chairman of the senate finance committee and the legislative budget committee in Baton Rouge, you hold some huge and heavy purse-strings.
The winter issue of "Louisiana Cultural Vistas", a superlative magazine published by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities, has a terrific piece of fiction titled "Last of the Red Hot Poppas." It is an excerpt from Jason Berry's new (2006) novel of the same name. Note that I said "fiction." That is the beauty of the 10-page excerpt about Louisiana politics, its governor, five senators, House speaker, a judge and a highly-interesting array of supporting characters. The yarn is accompanied by a selection of great up-close photos (Louisiana Political Photo Essay) by one Philip Gould.
Berry tells the story of corruption at the Capital, back-room deals, payoffs, threats - the whole nine yards of what Louisiana has endured over the years. This is fiction, remember, and the only time frame coming forth is a mention that "At a stag dinner in 1973 with fourteen oil, gas and petrochem barons, Walter Sutton watched the boldest power grab of his life" (by fictional Gov. Rex LaSalle).
If one were trying to find out if author Berry was writing about a real live Louisiana governor in 1973, it would be Edwin Edwards, who was governor from 1972 to 1980. Interestingly enough, one of the super photographs by Gould shows three men seated together in formal tuxedo attire, Gov. Buddy Roemer (1988-92), Gov. Dave Treen (1980-84) and Gov. John McKeithen (1964-72), None of those "fits" with the 1973 timeline, however, so the reader would be inclined to rule out the possibility that any one of them could be "Gov. Rex LaSalle."
Without the timeline, one might assume that Rex was actually Gov. Earl K. Long, but the dates don't fit.
That's why it's fiction, of course.
The "Photo Essay" as part of the 10-page story, while it has little to do with the timeline of the story, is fascinating in itself.
Sen. Rayburn is actually in two of the nine photographs, including the one with the unidentified politico. Actually, nobody in any of the photogaphs is identified and that's what makes the whole thing that more intriguing. You ask yourself, why were those pictures of actual now-deceased and living politically powerful Louisiana men (not a single woman) used to illustrate the fictional story? The reader is left to his own conclusion, to be sure.
I recognized one of the men as Joe Allario. Another showed a man addressing either the House or Senate with a large framed picture of Huey Long at his side. Another is of Gov. Edwin Edwards crouching down with a microphone in hand with a group of onlookers behind him. The second picture of Sixty is taken in chambers with him wearing glasses, apparently listening to somebody who has the floor in the Senate.
The best of the photos are the two mentioned above, one great closeup of Sixty in deep conversation in the Senate and the other one of the three former governors, Roemer, Treen and McKeithen. It shows all three of them highly amused by something somebody said. The one of McKeithen is priceless as he was obviously laughing out loud as the more dignified Roemer and Treen (both Republicans) grinned broadly.
There are many parallels to real life in Berry's story and I'm sure he had great fun weaving the tale through what could be true, what was true and what was untrue. Use of Gould's photography with no identifications was a master stroke.
At one point, Berry wrote "The door flew open and the Governor of Louisiana filled the room: white suit, white shirt, white buck shoes, a scroll under his arm tied in a bow as red as his tie."
The mental picture is delivered by grand prose.
But if if you try to pin this thing down to reality, in spite of the mention of 1973, you are brought further into fantasyland earlier on when Berry wrote "Logan and Beaconfield followed Woodruff and DuBulio into the main room to watch Bill Clinton praise Rex LaSalle as 'a son of the New South, a true leader of his state, a man of vision, a man I was proud to call - mah friend.'"
Whatever.
Anyhow, seeing that one picture of Sixty, the deal-maker, the pawn-broker, the king-maker, the guy who could make things happen, reminded me of that other era. I can't say for sure whether politics then was better or not, but it sure was a lot more interesting.
(Lou Major Sr. is former publisher of The Daily News and is a member of the board of Wick Communications.)
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