University of Virginia Library

Chuck Hite

Troglodytic
Richmond

Much of the following could be
true. Think of the possibilities. -

A twist of the wrist and a wait
while flickering horizontal and
vertical blips haltingly transpose
themselves into the local evening
news. Finding oneself in such a
situation is not particularly
uncommon in the capital city of
the Old Dominion where the
troglodytic problem of what to do is
incessantly a hassle.

Tonight it struck after a
desperate turn to the local rag's
amusement pages revealed twelve
GP's and one sordid X. Twisting the
knob marked vol. con. brought on a
hauntingly familiar tone, a voice
which should have been familiar yet
was not.

As the blips gradually focused,
my interest flared. There he was,
boy author, student Board of
Visitors member at my university,
son of a banker (and ex-Board of
Visitors member at my university),
and now a candidate for the
Congress of the U.S. from my
district, the noble Third.

With ears burning, my fingers
pushed the vol. con. another ten
degrees. "Jay" was addressing some
area civics-type club, saying how he
thought campus unrest was a
despicable thing and the usual
applause-getting phrases in the
civics club circuit. Suddenly he was
gone, replaced, as it were, by some
lady with a voice not quite as
squeaky giving the stock market
quotations.

Incensed, I rushed for the
telephone, convinced that here was
a prime example of news distortion
and ready to lodge the most
vociferous of complaints. They had
probably taken the quote out of
context and ignored all the good
things "Jay" had said about
students.

"News," the voice at the end of
the line boomed out, whereupon I
immediately launched into a five
minute tirade, demanding to know
why the station had not given my
boy a fair shake.

"But that was the only thing he
said about students," the voice
patiently explained.

"No," I cried incredulously.
"Well, what else did he have to
say?"

"Oh, he made a few jokes about
the age difference between him and
Satterfield and then he attacked
Satterfield for voting against the
increase in social security benefits
for the old. But then an old lady
got up and told how she heard
Satterfield say he would have voted
for it but that it would have given
legislative powers to an appointed
H.E.W. bureaucrat and the old lady
said Jay should have thought about
that and he just sort of grinned and
decided to say something about
campus unrest."

"Ahh," I gulped. "Well, hasn't
Jay said anything else on students
before this?"

"Not that I can recall. Let'S SEE'
The other day he made a statement
about busing."

"Oh, really? What?"

"Said he was unalterably
opposed to it as a means to achieve
axial balance."

"That's all? Nothing about what
should be done?"

"Nope. Just a flat out rejection.
Got to get them votes, you know."
A pause. "Say, he must have said
something when all those guys were
looting up there in Charlottesville in
May."

"No, afraid not. He was never
around them. Didn't say a thing."
A pause. "But you guys must have
made his voice sound squeaky."

"Damn if that's so. We had to
fiddle with audio a half an hour just
to be able to record his voice."

Thrashing about for a last
minute attack I cried, "Oh yeah?
Well, your voice ain't the greatest."

"Yours sounds awfully
familiar," was the smug reply.

"Hey, yours does too. Didn't
you used to be a DJ?"

In the ensuing moments the
voice and I exchanged enough
minor pleasantries to become great
admirers of one another.

"Say, who don't you join a
friend and me for drinks down at
his office later tonight. I'm sure
you'd be interested in what he's
working on."

"Oh, what does he do."

"Working on the advertising
campaign for another Republican,"
he said.

"Oh, which one?"

"The one from Winchester."

A hurriedly scribbled note had
guided me to downtown Richmond
and the offices of Ed's (a protective
name change) advertising firm,
Gargoyle, Wishbone, and Acne
(another protective name change.)
Housed in a spanking new building
distinguished by ground floor
parking facilities and pebble
covered grounds, the firm, I was
soon to learn, was one of the
South's finest.

It had done those intricate
"wouldn't life be easier with an
extension phone" TV spots; other
notable accounts were "do
something nice for your lips,
Chapstick," the now defunct new
white canned Richbrau beer, and
the man who challenged Wallace
and lost, Jim Brewer.