The Rake

The Rake Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: The Rake Read Online Free PDF
Author: William F. Buckley
the chorus. Testimonials would be exchanged, and the station wagon would slide around the rink, pushed here and there by students on ice skates. The players on the visiting hockey team happily participated, and the band reciprocated by playing the anthem of the visitors’ college.
    The proceedings always featured a mystery guest, sitting in the passenger seat of the station wagon, face hidden by a great green-and-white shawl. Everyone waited eagerly for the opening of the station-wagon door. Only the incoming chairman knew who would be stepping out. Last year it was the good-natured president of UND, George Starcher, wearing a fake mustache. Once it had been Miss America, once a caged lion, and the year before that the movie actress Estelle Linkletter. The cheerleaders would greet the mystery guest with enthusiasm and excitement. When Reuben was an awestruck freshman he would not have been surprised if John Lennon had emerged as the mystery guest.
    But suddenly, in October 1968, there was no more beer. The easygoing neglect of the state’s blue law against supplying beer to minors had caught the attention of a law-and-order trustee—unhappily, a year-round resident of Grand Forks. Kurt Reuger was a devotee of UND affairs. He was capable of showing up at just about any scheduled student function. When he appeared, students would rue the day they were born, if that had been less than twenty-one years earlier and if they were detected with a glass of beer by Mr. Reuger’s vigilance.
    The enforcement of the beer prohibition generated widespread resentment. “May as well blame it on LBJ,” Reuben had said to Henri, over a beer at the Hop See. “It’s the American way—blame everything on the chief bad guy.”
    â€œYes,” Henri nodded, her face solemn, but her eyes sparkling. “Blame him for the Vietnam War, the ABM program, and the rise in the cost of living.”
    â€œThat’s what we call ideological opportunism,” Reuben said, sipping his beer with delight. Reuben allowed himself to be carried away on the theme of LBJ. “You know, just imagine— just suppose —that Sally had thought to convey an invitation to the White House and that LBJ had accepted ! The mystery guest comes out of the station wagon and it’s the president of the United States ! Henri, I’m not sure he’d have gotten out of there alive.”
    â€œThat’s silly, Reuben. Dumb. The president can come and go without your permission.”
    â€œOf course—though I’ve done my bit to restrict his movements. You know that.”
    Indeed she did. Against her advice Reuben had marched in Chicago with the thousands of other protesters at the Democratic convention in August 1968. President Johnson, havingdecided not to run for reelection, had appropriately declined to attend. But Reuben was one of the agitators who had gone one step too far, ending up in jail after the police cracked down at Lincoln Park. He had asked the resolute cop who led him into the police station whether the jail had any postcards—“I’d like to send some to my friends.” Reuben winced at the memory. “That’s when he clubbed me.”
    â€œI don’t blame him,” Henri said.
    Inauguration Day 1969 was a festive day on campus. Henrietta wore her fake-fur coat and held up a UND banner, green and white, mounted on a three-foot-long stick. She was seated in the crowded stands two or three rows up from the improvised ceremonial stage. Reuben had wanted her to sit in the box with the student dignitaries, but she said no. “Reuben, I haven’t belonged to anything much here, and I’ve certainly never been president or chairman of anything—”
    â€œI was going to suggest you appear as honorary chairman of the Duck Hunters’ League.”
    Henri blushed lightly and turned her head, but Reuben had already darted away to see to his myriad duties.
    She
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