Red, White and Red by Charley Rosen
With his big red-and-white-striped top hat, and his forefinger cocked and aimed right between my eyes, Uncle Sam wanted me. And he’d have me too, the old jingo-jangled cutthroat. I expected there’d be stenographers and maybe even TV cameras to immortalize whatever game plan I’d devise—paltry lies, phony repentance, or meek defiance.
Schmuncle’s plan was for me to ride several aeroplanes across the country to Washington, D.C., with all my expenses on the House. But I scrounged up enough dignity to insist on traveling by rail. That’s because trains never crashed into mountaintops or made unscheduled stops in the middle of Lake Huron. And on a long train ride I could, in comfort and safety, do the things I did best—tend to my bodily functions, manipulate numbers, read, and remember.