When a really big fix is made, it usually is not handled in Washington at all. The deal is consummated back home, as a quid pro quo for a large campaign donation, after which the county or state chairman sends word through channels to his men in Washington that the matter should be okayed.
Lobbying can be a delightful and well-paid occupation. The mouthpieces of the industrial petitioners are usually charming gentlemen who know how to entertain. Buying an uninstructed Congressman C.O.D. is obsolete. Giving him a high time will do it, and the lobbyist can pocket the money earmarked for bribing and tell his client he passed on the boodle.
Most solons are lonely uprooted rustics. Usually their wives are away, holy frights they are glad to leave back home. These men want to talk and drink with someone. You don’t even have to get them girls, just invite them to a hotel and spend an evening with them. They’ll be so thankful, they’ll do anything you want.
The average big lobbyist doesn’t bother with run-of-the-mill Senators and Representatives, who are in the bag without much trouble. He sets his sights on the key characters like committee chairmen and floor leaders, and even they can be snared at little cost, though naturally to corral a chairman means an even heftier bill to the employer. The procedure used in the case of VIPs is simple and cheap. Each lobbyist is on friendly terms with some local hostess, for whom he does favors or to whom he gives gifts. When he has an especially important deal on, he asks her to invite his prospect to a party. During most of the evening he keeps away from the man he wants to meet, until by a fortuitous accident he is placed next to him at the table. Even then the conversation is kept chatty and frothy. A couple of days later, the lobbyist phones his erstwhile table companion and invites him to a rubber of bridge or a game of golf, and from then on he’s on his own.
Administrative heads and assistants are much more sought after than Senators. They are the ones who receive the deep freezes and their wives, the expensive gifts. In the final analysis, the best contact is a clerk, not a division head. The clerks do the work and make the decisions while their bosses drink cocktails.
Much of the big-time fixing is done by law firms. Many New York outfits maintain offices in Washington. These firms usually have partners belonging to both parties, so they are prepared for any political eventuality.
We would like to introduce you to some of the boys in Washington who can get things done:
First comes to mind an attorney, Charles Patrick Clark. Mr. Clark is a wonder-worker. When others can’t score, Clark is called in. Even Max Truitt, the Vice President’s son-in-law, had trouble getting Franco’s loan, so Clark hit in the pinch and Congress voted it. It may be a coincidence, but Clark was a counsel for the Senatorial Committee Investigating War Frauds when Harry Truman was its chairman.
Part of Clark’s success can be ascribed to the majestic manner in which he entertains. He used to project his parties in Georgetown, but now hosts it in a palatial four-story building near the Mayflower Hotel. It set him back a hundred grand to furnish its interior. The yard was landscaped at a cost of $25,000 more. Clark can muster more pretty girls than anyone else in Washington. You will always find enough of them at his parties. He has two stunners in his office, a blonde and a brunette, who frequently are escorted by his clients and his contacts.