BooksBarbecue
Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“You do? Even better.”

“But I don’t know the details.”

Selfer smiled, held up his index finger. “It was 1933, to be exact. A cabal of top businessmen wanted to overthrow Franklin Delano Roosevelt and establish a fascist-style dictatorship of America.” He spoke fast, like an auctioneer, getting it all out. “The Business Plot conspirators weren’t simply angered because FDR was striving to help the common man with his New Deal programs, which big money simply could not allow. It wasn’t even their fear of any sentiment they could brand as Communism, socialism. No, the scheme was cheaper and meaner than that. The business barons were angry because FDR had taken the dollar off the gold standard. This meant they might lose a smidgen of their vast money, on paper, which was far too great a loss for them, and for this alone they were ready, willing, and able to topple American democracy while pretending to be the only ones patriotically American. For their figurehead, they wooed a maverick Marine general named Smedley Darlington Butler.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Lett said.

“Good, okay. Now, they tried to trick the proud Marine into playing along,” Selfer continued, “assuming as they were that he would hunger for the same unchecked power and riches they craved, all he needed was a taste of it. But Butler felt more in common with everyday people, you see, born as he was to a Quaker family, and the fellow loathed the idea of a single gilded room of the richest men pulling all the strings. So Butler blew the lid off the plan. It first broke in the Philadelphia Record and New York Post, I believe, and some were calling it the Business Plot and others the White House Coup.”

Selfer listened to the corridor again, then grimaced at Lett, letting his hair hang in his eyes. “Now get this. You might not know of this part. After the hearings and news stories, hushed and sanitized though they were, it was revealed that the cabal’s first choice for their fascist strong leader wasn’t Butler, but none other than . . .” Selfer thrust out his hands like a desperate vaudeville comedian low on laughs. “Guess who?”

“General Douglas MacArthur.”