This is the final installment and conclusion of my story. The people and events described in the story are as true as my memory now permits. If I have departed from what actually took place, I have done so inadvertently -- which is always a possibility, given that I am recalling things which happened roughly 45 years ago. I urge anyone interested in this story to begin with the first installment, which can be found here: The Mojo Tokers. I think beginning with the first installment will greatly increase your enjoyment.
Surprised, I looked hard at Principal Bauer, searching his face for any hint of sarcasm or ridicule. "Me? Why?"
"I think you'll learn things and skills that could be useful to you after you graduate." the Principal replied. "Only one other student is running this year. You'll have an honest chance of being elected. Besides, you'll have fun."
"Fun? Student Council President is a popularity contest, Principal Bauer. Maybe no one knows this. Maybe it's the biggest secret in the school. But I'm not popular. In fact, only a dozen people in my class will 'hi' back to me if I 'hi' to them! Only a dozen!"
"Just think about it. That's all I ask. Just honestly think about it. I don't need to know your decision until Friday."
Later on during lunch break that day, I told the Mojo Tokers what had happened. "Turkey wants me to run for Student Council President." I made sure to keep my voice flat, neutral, in order to magnify the joke. As I expected, there were immediate cries of disbelief.
'Turkey' was Principal Bauer's nickname with the students. He'd once been asked what the middle initial of his name stood for. Unfortunately, he'd been too witty for the student who had asked. He'd replied, 'Turnkey", the old British slang for a jailer. I guess he was trying to suggest he was more our warden than our principle. But the student he said it to knew nothing of British slang. Instead, he heard 'Turkey'. Within days, the whole student body was calling Principal Bauer, 'Turkey'.
Soon everyone was laughing. Everyone except Jeff. He was looking at the ground off to his side, as if pondering something. "I don't know. Maybe... Are you going to think about it?"
"Think about what?"
"About what would happen if you ran."
"Huh? I'd lose! Sure as hell, I'd lose." Jeff had to know that. Was he pretending not to? Almost a year and half had gone by since the night I had screwed up, the same night in 1973 that the Yom Kippur War had broken out in the Middle East. Almost a year and a half, and still three-quarters of the school would not -- absolutely not -- acknowledge my existence. True, more people would acknowledge it than I had let on to Principal Bauer, but the gist was the same. I was arguably the least popular boy in the school, and getting elected to Student Council was never more than a popularity contest.
"You don't have to win, you just have to run." Jeff replied evenly, like he was dispassionately stating a law of physics. "Listen. Think it through. Think what just running would do for you."
I thought, but I couldn't think of a single positive thing it would accomplish. But when I asked Jeff to explain, he would only repeat, "Think it through. You're smart. You'll see it."
The next day and the following day after that, Jeff gradually revealed the angle he'd been looking at. If I ran for office, I would be allowed to make a 15 minute speech in front of the whole student body. That would be my chance. I could tell them how sorry I was, apologize, promise to never do anything even remotely like it again, beg for forgiveness.
At first I was appalled Jeff would think of such a thing! The humiliation alone would take a decade off my life. "No." Jeff told me. "You will force them to accept you. You will turn the tables. If they don't accept your apology, then they are now the jerks, the evil ones. And they will know that. Either way, you win. You'll lose the election. They'll never vote you president. But you'll win the real contest. Your time as an outcast will end. This is your chance. Take it!"
Jeff kept it up, kept working on me. On Thursday, I told Principal Bauer I would run.
Come election day, all the students assembled in the gym minus the outgoing seniors. The eighth graders from the middle school were there -- next year's freshman class. The only other candidate was Diane. A year younger than me and only a moderately popular girl. But moderately popular was all it would take running against me. Diane went first with her campaign speech.
It seemed to me she got more applause than she should have, given her mediocre status in the school. I felt it likely her sudden boost in popularity might have a lot to do with sticking it to who she was running against. That is, me. I was most likely right about that.
After things had quieted down following Diane's speech, Principal Bauer called me to the podium. Just as I stood up, a section of the bleachers exploded into noise. I looked up. It was the Mojo Tokers, all eight of them, rhythmically stomping their feet and chanting my name. The sound was thunderous.
To understand how loud it was, you need to know the school -- and its bleachers -- were built in 1910. Those old wooden bleachers had offices and storage rooms beneath them. In other words, they were hollow. And like many hollow things, they made a huge and excellent drum. Led by Tim, the Mojo Tokers sounded like an army, rather than just eight kids. The noise was so loud, even amplified by the microphone, what came out of my mouth could not be heard even by those nearest to me.
Finally, the teachers managed to get the Tokers to quiet down. I began again. Instead of blurting out my apology up front, I had decided to build up to it, but a few seconds into my speech, the microphone went to static. The equipment was old and it sometimes did that. Still, I persisted on, speaking as loud as I could while not actually shouting.
Later, Tim told me he got bored trying to hear what I was saying. Hence the reason he began stomping and chanting again. The other Tokers immediately joined in. The gym filled with their thunder. The relatively few other students I was on speaking terms with -- scattered about the gym -- joined the Tokers in stomping and chanting. And then it happened.
I was never to find out why the bulk of the remaining students -- the ones who had staunchly ostracized me for nearly a year and a half -- suddenly, spontaneously changed their hearts. But within just two or three minutes almost all the students were drumming the bleachers with their feet and chanting my name. Only a few seconds later and I looked around. I couldn't spot even a single student who was abstaining. Not even one. Not even Diane.
Long before my 15 minutes was up, Principal Bauer rescued me by approaching the podium, shouting to me to return to my seat. I did so. The faculty rose and eventually quieted the students, after which the ballots were passed out.
The next day a second assembly was called to announce that I had won the vote and would become next year's Student Council President. I expected Principal Bauer to announce the tallies, but he forgot to do it. From that hour on, I could not walk down the hall between classes without two or three dozen students beaming at me and saying 'hello'. People who had not had a word for me in well over a year came up to tell me how glad they were that 'it was over'. I went almost instantly from pariah to hero, from least popular boy in school to -- at least for now -- hands down most popular. I walked on clouds. I walked in something very close to disbelief, but I walked on clouds.
In the days that followed, Principal Bauer swore me to secrecy in order to tell me -- as was my right to know -- the vote tallies. Of the nearly 500 votes cast, I had won all but two.
Towards the end of the following year, after my term in office had almost run its course, a student told me that his mother, a middle school teacher, had been in a local restaurant when she overheard a conversation about me. The restaurant owner and a customer were agreeing that the world had gone to hell, and the proof of it was the school had allowed me to become Student Council President.
The teacher had taken it upon herself to approach the two and -- after a few pleasantries -- mention overhearing their conversation. "I hope you won't mind my stating my opinion" She had said. "But there has not been a better, more active Student Council in twenty years. He has led them to achievement after achievement. He has reformed how the cheerleaders are selected. He has tightened security at the school dances, putting an end to fights in the parking lot. He has raised money for the United Way. He has persuaded the high school librarian to open her library for use by my middle school students. And he and the Student Council have done a dozen other things you most likely have not heard about."
No one took my victory and subsequent term in office more to heart than Jeff, followed by the remaining Mojo Tokers. Years later, I finally realized why. From the moment I decided to run, I had meant more to them than a friend. On some level, I had become a cause. I had become their banner, their flag, their totem. My victory had meant to them their self-esteem. For Jeff most of all. I suspect now he might even have taken it a step or two further and seen in me himself, seen in me his own victory. Perhaps one of the few victories he expected to ever have.
