“But why?” said Dennis.

“That’s the question that’s been bothering me. All morning, I’ve had this suspicion that we’re being used.”

“So what did Wallace gain by this charade?”

“A showcase. He’s just been on television, posing as the ordinary man standing up to a bullying government.”

“Governor Wallace, complaining about being bullied?” said Wilson. “That’s a joke!”

Bobby had been following the argument, and now he intervened. “Listen to George,” he said. “He’s asking the right questions.”

“It’s a joke to you and me,” said George. “But many working-class Americans feel that integration is being shoved down their throats by Washington do-gooders such as all of us in this room.”

“I know,” said Wilson. “Though it’s unusual to hear that from . . .” He was going to say from a Negro, but changed his mind. “From someone who campaigns for civil rights. What’s your point?”

“What Wallace was doing, today, was talking to those white working-class voters. They’ll remember him standing there, defying Nick Katzenbach—a typical East Coast liberal, they’ll say—and they’ll remember the soldiers making Governor Wallace withdraw.”

“Wallace is the governor of Alabama. Why would he need to address the nation?”

“I suspect he will oppose Jack Kennedy in next year’s Democratic primaries. He’s running for president, folks. And he opened his campaign today on national television—with our help.”

There was a moment of quiet in the office as that sunk in. George could tell that they were convinced by his argument, and worried by its implications.

“Right now, Wallace leads the news, and he looks like a hero,” George finished. “Maybe President Kennedy needs to seize back the initiative.”

Bobby touched the intercom on his desk and said: “Get me the president.” He lit a cigar.

Dennis Wilson took a call on another phone and said: “The two students have entered the auditorium and registered.”

A few moments later Bobby picked up the phone to talk to his brother. He reported a nonviolent victory. Then he began to listen. “Yes!” he said at one stage. “George Jakes said the same thing . . .” There was another long pause. “Tonight? But there’s no speech . . . Of course it can be written. No, I think you’ve made the right decision. Let’s do it.” He hung up and looked around the room. “The president is going to introduce a new civil rights bill,” he said.

George’s heart leaped. That was what he and Martin Luther King and everyone in the civil rights movement had been asking for.

Bobby went on: “And he’s going to announce it on live television—tonight.”

“Tonight?” said George in surprise.

“In a few hours’ time.”

That made sense, George thought, though it would be a rush. The president would be back at the top of the news, where he belonged—ahead of both George Wallace and Thich Quang Duc.

Bobby added: “And he wants you to go over there and work on the speech with Ted.”

“Yes, sir,” said George.

He left the Justice Department in a state of high excitement. He walked so fast that he was panting when he reached the White House. He took a minute to catch his breath on the ground floor of the West Wing. Then he went upstairs. He found Ted Sorensen in his office with a group of colleagues. George took off his jacket and sat down.