was jolly, Momma said, offhanded, and seemed always to assume that everyone was as untouched and unscathed by the war as he was. She said he gave pain to some folks, especially to those men and women who had lost a son or a brother or a husband and who had not quite gotten out of the habit of listening for troop trains and watching for that familiar scrawl in the letterbox. They didn’t want to hear about skirmishes and flare-ups, but they let Mr. Pettigrew tell them and they let him laugh and be casual about the war, probably, Daddy said, because he was Mr. Pettigrew of the Pettigrew fortune and the Pettigrew mansion and the Pettigrew heritage, all of which assured him of the sort of respectability that he would sometimes fail to live up to.
But Daddy said Mr. Pettigrew made up for his indiscretions once the war ended. Daddy said we needed him then, Neely needed him because folks were weary and fairly down-trodden and it would take a Mr. Pettigrew to pick them up again. So Daddy said the citizens of Neely did the only thing they could do: they made him mayor. There was no campaigning, there was not even an election. It was all very proper and fitting to the occasion and the candidate, Daddy said. The town council invited Mr. Pettigrew to become mayor and he accepted their invitation. Daddy said Buddy MacElrath was mayor of Neely at the end of the war and was very contented with his position, but he gave it up, Daddy said, gave it up without a whimper because he saw that it wasn’t a matter of politics but a matter of morale, of what Daddy called spiritual necessity. Neely didn’t need a mayor in 1945. It needed a beacon, Daddy said. And Mr. Pettigrew, with his fortune and his mansion and his heritage, was more than prominent enough for the citizens of Neely to take a heading from. Daddy said Wallace Amory jr. stunk of his daddy’s success and his daddy’s money and his daddy’s ambition, and he said it gave the people of Neely a healthy kick in the pants to point to Mayor Pettigrew and say, “That man represents us.”
Consequently, it didn’t matter that Mayor Pettigrew was a piddler since there was really nothing a mayor did that couldn’t be piddled through, except maybe presiding over commencements and openings, and Daddy said folks figured that if Mayor Pettigrew could handle a golden shovel he could manage well enough with a pair of scissors and a ribbon. So people couldn’t have known what they started when they invited Wallace Amory Pettigrew to become mayor. They couldn’t even have suspected that the job would catch fire with him. Momma said they were all surprised. Daddy said they were astounded and that he’d never seen a man so ripe with zeal, he called it.
There was a time in Neely when the mayor was treated to a swearing-in dance at legion hall #33, but Wallace Amory jr. changed all of that. He and Miss Pettigrew gave an inaugural ball at the Pettigrew mansion where they served exotic canapes and authentic French champagne in crystal glasses. Momma and Daddy went and Momma said it was exceedingly glorious. Daddy said yes, Mayor Pettigrew did indeed dance divinely and did indeed make delightful conversation. A photographer from the Chronicle was present, and a half dozen of his pictures appeared on the “Social Sidelights” page of the Sunday edition. There was one of all the councilmen and their wives. One of the Presbyterian minister Mr. Holroyd with his mouth full of pate. Two of the dance floor taken from up on the balcony. One of the mayor shaking hands with a man who was obliterated from the knees up by what Momma said was the knobby part of her shoulder. And one of Wallace Amory jr. and Miss Myra Angelique waltzing which carried the caption “Mayor and Sister cut the shine.”
Daddy said this was the sort of thing we wanted from our new mayor—idle pleasure, extravagance, simply something to point towards. But he said the office had a horrible and unexpected effect upon Wallace Amory
But Daddy said Mr. Pettigrew made up for his indiscretions once the war ended. Daddy said we needed him then, Neely needed him because folks were weary and fairly down-trodden and it would take a Mr. Pettigrew to pick them up again. So Daddy said the citizens of Neely did the only thing they could do: they made him mayor. There was no campaigning, there was not even an election. It was all very proper and fitting to the occasion and the candidate, Daddy said. The town council invited Mr. Pettigrew to become mayor and he accepted their invitation. Daddy said Buddy MacElrath was mayor of Neely at the end of the war and was very contented with his position, but he gave it up, Daddy said, gave it up without a whimper because he saw that it wasn’t a matter of politics but a matter of morale, of what Daddy called spiritual necessity. Neely didn’t need a mayor in 1945. It needed a beacon, Daddy said. And Mr. Pettigrew, with his fortune and his mansion and his heritage, was more than prominent enough for the citizens of Neely to take a heading from. Daddy said Wallace Amory jr. stunk of his daddy’s success and his daddy’s money and his daddy’s ambition, and he said it gave the people of Neely a healthy kick in the pants to point to Mayor Pettigrew and say, “That man represents us.”
Consequently, it didn’t matter that Mayor Pettigrew was a piddler since there was really nothing a mayor did that couldn’t be piddled through, except maybe presiding over commencements and openings, and Daddy said folks figured that if Mayor Pettigrew could handle a golden shovel he could manage well enough with a pair of scissors and a ribbon. So people couldn’t have known what they started when they invited Wallace Amory Pettigrew to become mayor. They couldn’t even have suspected that the job would catch fire with him. Momma said they were all surprised. Daddy said they were astounded and that he’d never seen a man so ripe with zeal, he called it.
There was a time in Neely when the mayor was treated to a swearing-in dance at legion hall #33, but Wallace Amory jr. changed all of that. He and Miss Pettigrew gave an inaugural ball at the Pettigrew mansion where they served exotic canapes and authentic French champagne in crystal glasses. Momma and Daddy went and Momma said it was exceedingly glorious. Daddy said yes, Mayor Pettigrew did indeed dance divinely and did indeed make delightful conversation. A photographer from the Chronicle was present, and a half dozen of his pictures appeared on the “Social Sidelights” page of the Sunday edition. There was one of all the councilmen and their wives. One of the Presbyterian minister Mr. Holroyd with his mouth full of pate. Two of the dance floor taken from up on the balcony. One of the mayor shaking hands with a man who was obliterated from the knees up by what Momma said was the knobby part of her shoulder. And one of Wallace Amory jr. and Miss Myra Angelique waltzing which carried the caption “Mayor and Sister cut the shine.”
Daddy said this was the sort of thing we wanted from our new mayor—idle pleasure, extravagance, simply something to point towards. But he said the office had a horrible and unexpected effect upon Wallace Amory
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