The Candidate

By DF Doran

August, 1964

Reporter Jim Monaghan watches Lucas Anderson, Ohio Attorney General and candidate for Governor, slip into a hotel room with a beautiful young woman.

Believing he has an exclusive story of marital infidelity and scandal, Jim finds no support from his newspaper editors and executives. But his persistence uncovers something even bigger - of deception, abuse, and murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DF Doran
• Release date: Jan 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386772453

Book preview

Chapter One

August 1, 1964

Could it be just over a year?

Jim Monaghan mused as he sat in Leon’s barber chair and said, We need to shave the beard off and shorten the hair.

Closing his eyes, Jim thought back to June 13th of last year when Irene Dunn, an elderly widow, called him, claiming her husband’s casket had been switched. She told Jim her husband was not buried in the expensive copper casket she had purchased, but instead he was buried in a plain pine box. Jim, then, was a newly hired obituary writer for the Lincoln News Tribune, a medium size newspaper, in Lincoln, Ohio, a town of 100,000 people, 30 miles north of Columbus.

What a journey. And tonight, I am a political reporter covering a gubernatorial candidate’s fundraiser, Jim thought.

Jim recalled Alex Reid, who was sentenced to a paltry seven years in prison at the infamous Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield for defrauding grieving families by switching caskets. He thought of the prestigious Associated Press Investigative Award he won for his coverage of the story. Butit was still in the box under his desk at work. He thought of Mary Ryan, with whom he’d been madly in love; Irene, the courageous widow; and Steve Hampton who,as an employee of the funeral home, was Jim’s main source. He shuddered when he thought of the week before the Reid trial.

On Friday, August 15th, one week before the trial was to start, Hampton was discovered dead, an alleged suicide. George Rogers, the District Attorney and Mary’s boss, concerned for Jim’s safety since he was a key witness, suggested Jim be protected and stay at a hotel. Jim remembered dinner that night when he and Mary, very much in love, had planned their future. On their way to the hotel, his truck was t-boned, and Mary was thrown through the windshield. She died hours later. That same evening, Jim’s primary source for the story, Irene Dunn, allegedly fell down her stairs and broke her neck. Jim always blamed Reid for the two accidents, as well as Hampton’s alleged suicide, but he had no proof.

The Lincoln Police Department, led by then Captain Buckner investigated all the incidents but found no crimes. Jim didn’t believe the police looked hard enough, and he was certain Reid and his cohorts were responsible for it all.

Jim thought of Bernard and Audrey Hill. Bernard was the owner of the Hill Family Enterprises, which included a chain of weekly newspapers throughout Ohio, along with ten radio stations and two television stations. Audrey, his daughter, was the assistant publisher. Both were sources of comfort during those dark days. Mary’s death was even worse than when his parents had died four years earlier. He thought fondly of Bernard, who, to help Jim, assigned him to write human interest stories from the John Kennedy funeral. Jim remembered the heady days in Washington DC, rubbing elbows with journalist legends like Merriam Smith and Pierre Salinger, JFK’s Press Secretary.

But after Kennedy's funeral, Mary’s death and the failure of the police to find those responsible, plummeted Jim into a deep depression. He started coming in later and later to work. His clothes were never clean, and his personal hygiene was in disarray.

His city editor, Zack Willy Williams took him aside on the Friday before Christmas and gave him a warning – clean up, get your act together, or look for another job. Worse, he said Jim was the only one responsible for anyone dying on August 15th. He was driving when the accident that took Mary’s life happened.

Jim thought of Christmas day. He hung his head in shame, remembering when Edgar Johnson and his mother, Maybelle, pounded on his door and came in to find him in a filthy trash-strewn apartment holding a Browning .22 caliber pistol.

Would I have pulled the trigger? We will never know, though Dr. Donna Nance, the psychologist Judge McCallister found for me believed I was just crying out for help. Who really knows? But I don’t ever want to get back to that depth of depression again.

Jim knew he would never be able to repay the Hills, the Johnsons, Rev. Jefferson, or Judge McCallister. They saved my life. Especially, Judge McCallister. Jim wondered about Anna Masters, who came into his life earlier this year and a possible future with her. We got along great until the other night, when she was obviously not comfortable with what she called, ‘those people’, referring to Edgar’s family and the Black residents who were members of Rev. Jefferson’s church.

Jim thought of Sgt. Major Harlow, his unlikely friend, who was close to Irene’s husband Patrick, grateful for his help in identifying two men, Clyde and Buck who, after a night of drinking, admitted to killing Hampton and Irene. But they walked free, as newly appointed Chief Buckner said it was just barroom talk.

Jim’s anger rose as he remembered the night those same two men had assaulted Edgar’s sister, Haley Johnson, but was furious when he thought of their suspended sentences. It was bad enough, Jim thought, their charges were reduced. District Attorney George Rogers had negotiated three to five years in prison. But a late substitute Judge disregarded the negotiation and suspended their sentences.

He thought of Delmar Batcher who had pointed the finger at Clyde and Buck, then allegedly hanged himself in jail.

So many unexplained deaths. I will find the truth. I know there are others responsible. They will make a mistake someday.

Chapter Two

"You gonna sleep, or do you want your hair cut?" Leon, a member of Rev. Jefferson’s church and long-time barber in downtown Lincoln, asked.

What?

You said you wanted to shave your beard and get your hair cut short, then you closed your eyes. I been waiting for you to wake up ever since, but I ain’t got all day, Leon complained.

Sorry, Leon, it’s been a hell of a year. Yes. I was just thinking about all that happened.

"I remember you. Last year, you had long hair and you ran in here and said you wanted a flat top. I tried to talk you out of it, but you insisted. Now your hair is long again. And I read all about that casket switching business you wrote about last year. It was terrible.

I saw you at Rev. Jefferson’s church the night it burned. We didn’t have many white people there that night and I asked the Reverend about you. He said you were good people. So, now you sure you want that beard completely shaved off? It’s gonna cost you.

Yes, Leon, shave it off and cut the hair kinda short, not a flat top, but short.

Chapter Three

The Hilton Hotel was the newest and largest in Lincoln. Only three years old, the 200-room hotel, with a spacious ballroom, was the first choice for large events. The five-story modern building was located close to Hamilton University. Jim was impressed with the grandeur of the lobby. All the sofas and chairs in the lobby appeared to be made of expensive leather. And the oriental rugs on the floor were huge and beautiful.

As the crowd filed into the ballroom, Jim noted all the people were dressed up. Men in suits and women in tailored dresses or pantsuits. Thank goodness, I threw on my blue blazer, Jim thought. And it fits pretty well. I think I have put on most of the weight I lost last Christmas.

The media area was in the sports bar adjacent to the ballroom, where the reporters could see the crowd and hear