Only one stubborn stronghold of this sort really irked him by its refusal to capitulate. This was the parish of St. Landry, whose seat was Opelousas. Always independent of alien dictation, this fourth-largest county in Louisiana had remained uncompromisingly anti-Long under the leadership of a couple of patriarchal autocrats: Judge Benjamin Pavy, tall, heavy-set, and wide-shouldered, with a roundish countenance against whose rather sallow complexion a white mustache stood out in sharp contrast; and District Attorney Lee Garland, short and plump, his features pink beneath a flowing crest of white hair.
Garland, much the elder, had held office continuously for forty-four years, Judge Pavy for twenty-eight. The latter had been elected to the district bench in 1908, after an exceptionally bitter local contest in which the leader of the anti-Pavy forces, Sheriff Marion Swords, went so far as to charge that one of Ben Pavy’s distant relatives-in-law was an individual the purity of whose Caucasian ancestry was open to challenge. Since Judge Pavy was elected not only then, but continuously thereafter for the next twenty-eight years in election after election, it is obvious the report was given no credence at the time. With the passage of years, the incident was forgotten.
The situation in the parish of St. Landry would not have disturbed Huey Long too greatly, had there not been the possibility that in some future state Supreme Court election the heavy vote of that parish might upset the high tribunal’s political four-to-three Long-faction majority. On this ground alone it might be important for the Kingfish to alter the political climate of the St. Landry judicial district before the larger demands of an approaching presidential campaign monopolized his time and energy.
A matter of prestige was likewise involved. It was Long’s purpose to take the stump personally in the St. Landry area, in order to bring about the defeat of its heavily entrenched Pavy-Garland faction and score a personal triumph. On the other hand, if through some mischance his persuasive oratory and the well-drilled efficiency of his cohorts failed to carry the day, the result would be hailed not merely in Louisiana, but throughout the nation, as a personal defeat for the Kingfish. Hence, nothing must be left to chance. Matters must be so arranged that failure was to all intents and purposes impossible.
This involved no very serious difficulties. Earlier that summer, when he first outlined to his lieutenants plans for liquidating the Pavy-Garland entente as a politically potent factor, he gave orders to prepare for a special session of the legislature, this one to be called as soon as Congress adjourned. Once convened, the lawmakers were to gerrymander St. Landry from the thirteenth into the fifteenth judicial district. This would leave Evangeline (Dr. Vidrine’s home bailiwick), small but overwhelmingly pro-Long, as the only parish in the thirteenth district, thus assuring the election of a friendly judge there.
At the same time, it would annex St. Landry to another district which already included three large pro-Long parishes. Admittedly, the enlarged district would be given two judges instead of one, but under the new arrangement neither could possibly be elected without Long’s endorsement.
Senator Long took it for granted that his wishes—commands, rather—would be complied with at once. But some close friends earnestly urged him to forgo the gerrymander, at least temporarily. Political feeling was running too high as matters stood to risk possible violence, perhaps even a popular uprising, through such high-handed and summary procedures. Reluctantly, he agreed to hold this particular project in abeyance, but only for the moment.
At the close of August, however, with Congress in adjournment, and in view of the need to neutralize the federal government’s policy of patronage distribution solely for the benefit of his political foes back home, he decided that the time for action was at hand. Once more he sent word to Baton Rouge that preparations for a special legislative session, the fourth of that calendar year, be started without further delay. It should be convened on the night of Saturday, September 7.
Meanwhile certain bills, embodying the statutory changes he wanted, should be drafted forthwith by Executive Counsel George Wallace, so that he—Huey—could check their wording in advance, and make any amendments he deemed necessary. This must be done with secrecy—not the sort of puerile intrigue with which his opponents had assembled their hotel conference, but under a tight cloak of concealment, so as to catch the opposition unawares. The gerrymander that would retire Judge Pavy to private life was to be the first measure introduced and passed, becoming House Bill Number One and later Act Number One. The date of the state’s congressional primaries was also to be moved up from September 1936 to January. These should be held at the same time as the primaries for governor and other elective state officers. And there was another measure, one still in the planning stage, the details of which he would give later; something to take the sting out of Roosevelt’s punitive dispensation of federal patronage in Louisiana.
Having disposed of these matters, Long left Washington for New York with three of his most trusted bodyguards—Murphy Roden, Paul Voitier, and Theophile Landry. All he had in mind at the moment was a day or two of relaxation. August 30 was his birthday. He would be forty-two years old. This in itself called for some sort of celebration. Besides, in view of the busy weeks ahead—the Labor Day speech in Oklahoma on September 2, the special session of the legislature, the need to rush My First Days in the White House into print, the fall and winter campaign for state offices, the presidential campaign to follow—this might well be, for no one knew how long, his last opportunity for casual diversion.