THE BAY CITY IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATION :

ROCCO NOBILE, STANDARD BEARER

Two young women were hired to staff the office. They were told they were to act as a clearing house for city residents seeking information on federal aid programs, about welfare, about Social Security benefits, about recreational programs available. The existence of the new office was announced the following Wednesday with an advertisement in the small twice-weekly paper which was Bay City's only media link with civilization.

Two days later, the Bay City Improvement Association announced that it was making plans to open a privately funded day care center to watch over the children of working parents. A day later, Rocco Nobile, standard bearer of the Bay City Improvement Association, announced that he had received a contribution from an anonymous donor which would enable the association to set up a free medical clinic for Bay City residents who could not afford private doctors.

After a week of such announcements, it should have begun to get through to the drink-sodden editor of the Bay City Bugle that something unusual was happening in Bay City, but it hadn't.

As he was sitting in his regular tavern for his morning eye-opener, the drinker on the next stool said to him: "Hey, that Rocco Nobile is something, hah?"

"Who's Rocco Nobile?" the editor asked as he waved to the bartender for another stinger on the rocks.

"That guy you keep writing about in the paper who's doing all those good things."

"Oh, sure," said the editor. He smiled. Maybe his friend would buy the drink if he said he liked Rocco Nobile. "A great man," the editor said. "I'm going to do a big feature story on him."

"Hey, that's good," said the man on the next stool. "Let me buy you that drink."

The editor did not notice that all the while the man talked to him, he kept his right hand jammed into his jacket pocket.

The next day the editor remembered Rocco Nobile and telephoned for an appointment. He was ushered into Nobile's office and sitting room that very afternoon, and he spoke with Nobile for two hours and it might have been longer except he refused, absolutely refused, to have Mr. Nobile go to the trouble of sending out for another bottle of Creme de Menthe to make more stingers on the rocks.

The next day, the Bay City Bugle announced that Rocco Nobile, a self-made multi-millionaire who had made a giant fortune in the oil importing business, had moved to Bay City.

His goal, he said, was to "do what little I can" to revitalize the city and to get the piers working again.

Rocco Nobile said that he owed Bay City a debt he wanted to repay because when his great-grandparents had come to America seventy-five years earlier, they had settled first in Bay City. "I want to repay our family's debt to this great land of freedom and opportunity," Nobile said. In parentheses, the editor added: "A fine and noble sentiment. Would that more of us felt that way."

Before the story appeared, Nobile told his secretary in her office, "When that drunk's story appears, you're going to hear from the mayor. He'll want to talk to me. Tell him that I'm going to be in and out of town for the next few days. Make the appointment for next Wednesday. Here."

Mayor Douglass Windlow called on time as Nobile had expected and the appointment was made for the following week.

In the meantime, Nobile's men prowled the city day and night, buying drinks in taverns, courtesy of Rocco Nobile. They visited homes, dispensing leaflets on aid programs for the elderly and sick, courtesy of Rocco Nobile. They talked a lot, but they listened more.

Mayor Douglass Windlow arrived at 2 P.M. on Wednesday. Nobile asked if he would join him in a small glass of Amaretto, then sat in an unholstered chair across from the mayor, who sat casually on the leather sofa.

"What is on your mind, Mayor?"

Windlow showed Nobile the blinding smile which was his greatest political asset, sipped the Amaretto and said, "I just thought I should meet you. For a new man in town, you've made a considerable impact already."

"Thank you. I hope to do more."

The mayor put down his glass and fidgeted with one of his gold cufflinks for a moment.

"Rebuilding a city like this is a terribly hard job," he said. "Everything that the urban crisis is going to be all over the nation is already here. Dwindling resources, a shrinking tax base, an impoverished population requiring more and more services with fewer and fewer tax dollars to pay for them. This city is a whole catalog of urban ills." The mayor slid into the phrases easily and smoothly, as befitting one who had learned them through years of giving exactly the same speech.

"Well," Nobile said with a slight smile. "It's not that bad for some."

Mayor Windlow looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Your brother-in-law, for instance," said Nobile, still smiling.

"My brother-in-law?"

"Yes," Nobile said. "The one who is the secret owner of the paving company which does all the city's work." He took a notebook from the side pocket of his smoking jacket and carefully opened it to a page. "Yes. Your wife's brother, Fred."

He looked up at Mayor Windlow and this time Nobile wasn't smiling. Windlow gulped. He started to answer, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"And of course there are other people in town who make a very good living. For instance, there is Peppy Ritale, who handles the numbers play in town. He does quite well. Naturally, he would do much better if he did not have to pay you twenty-five percent of his profits each week," Nobile said. "And there is Mr. Bangston, who is the loanshark down on River Street. Another partner of yours. And there is..." He stopped and snapped the book closed. The crack of the hard cover lingered in the room like the sound of a pistol shot. "But I guess there isn't any need in going on. You know the names in this book."

Windlow picked up his glass of Amaretto and drained it in one large swallow.

"Who are you?" he finally said. "What do you want?"

"I am who I say. Rocco Nobile. And I am going to be the next mayor of Bay City."

"The election's two years off," Windlow said.

"I am not waiting for the election," Nobile said.

"I will be appointed, after you resign, to fill your unexpired term."

Windlow tried a small smile. "Oh, you have it all worked out," he said. "I resign, you take over. But suppose I just don't resign?"

Nobile shrugged. "Then I will have to wait until the federal prosecutors indict you for all the crimes in this book. That will put me several months off schedule, but I guess I could wait if I had to."

There was a long, uneasy pause in the room.

"You can prove those things?" the mayor said, pointing toward the notebook which lay on the table between them. His hand quivered as if he were toying with the idea of grabbing the notebook and fleeing.

"You know I can," Nobile said. "I would be a poor fool to aim a gun at you, without being sure first that it was loaded."

"There's room enough in Bay City for everybody. I could use a partner," Windlow said hopefully. "I've been thinking for a long time now that some new blood might... well, might improve things here. A fresh outlook. There is enough for everybody."

"Wrong," Nobile said. "There is barely enough for me. But there will be." His dark eyes narrowed as he stared at Mayor Douglass Windlow. He said casually, "I think next week would be a good time for you to resign."

"The City Commission would have to elect my successor," Windlow said. "I can't just appoint you."

Nobile picked up the notebook again and opened it to a section near the back.

"Yes, here it is. The City Commission. I have a numbers runner, a man who sells police cars to the city in violation of the law and a man who gets kickbacks from all municipal employees for tickets to testimonial dinners that are never held. That is three out of five. I will have no trouble getting their votes."