The Coup d'Etat Part IV

The Coup d'Etat Part IV

University of Mary Washington--Newspaper--Satire
Satire--University of Mary Washington

The fourth part of a satiracal column about a student protest articulated as if it were a revolution. This part depicts President Woodard's realization of the revolution's severity and his plan on combating it.

Gathski

Gathski. "The Coup d'Etat Part IV." The Bullet. October 30, 1979.

HIST 298, University of Mary Washington

1979-10-30

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English

    Last week's episode left the cadre of Mary Washington revolutionaries alone in the dark of Seacobeck Hall--an unostentatious beginning for the infant regime. But after endurig a night in Seacobeck (it builds character, they say) the revolutionaries found renwed vigor. A week later we find them in full control of the dining hall and of neighboring Chandler Hall. The base of support has been broadened and the college was vitually paralyzed. But the Administration has yet to play its hand . . .

    President Prince Briggs Woodard leaned back in his swivel chair, exhausted. He was rudely disturbed by the buzzing of the intercom. Startled he fell backwards, catching himself on the edge of the desk.
    He lifted the receiver, bracing himself for the unbearable wheezing of his private secretary.
    “Mr. President, Mr. Mello from the Washington Post is here for his appointment.”
    “Mello?!” Ward blurted in near hysteria.
    His secretary’s voice fell to a whisper. “Not the same one, Mr. President, not even related. We had him checked out when he called for his appointment.”
    “Thank God,” the President sighed. “Give me a minute, then send him in.” He hung up, not waiting for an answer.
    What was happening? Leave for a week and come back to find open rebellion! A shooting! Violent retaliation? And then what?  Nothing! “We didn’t want to do anything until you got back, Mr. President,” Bishop said.
    Obviously, no one understood him when he had said that the only threat to college security came from the inside! Now, despite his best efforts, word of the disturbance had leaked. Must have been one of those damned day students. “I know I should’ve locked ’em in their damned lounge,” he mumbled to himself.
    What would he tell the reporter? The truth. Always the truth. But in what form?
    The door swung open and the Post reporter entered. To Woodard’s delight, the man was nearly his age—but oh how the poor man showed it! Those ugly lines, that white hair, and that double chin. Woodard smiled.
    “Mister Mello! It’s my pleasure to have you here. It’s not often we get someone from the Post. What’s on your mind? Clean drug record this year . . . And I’m sure you noticed how many boys—er—men we have this year, but our women, OUR WOMEN! They’re still as attractive as ever, eh?” He winked slyly.
    The reporter did not respond. Instead, he pulled out a small pad from his breast pocket and flicked it open ominously.
    “Is it true that you’ve been serving store-bought cold cuts in the dormitories for dinner for the last week?
    Woodard’s face dropped, then he smiled coyly raising a chubby finger in realization. He walked over to his desk and stared intently at his calendar.
    “I thought so,” he remarked finally. “Halloween. You’ve been trying to throw a scare into me. How trite. Who put you up to this—Ray? Ed? Forrest? Who?”
    “Dr. Woodard, before I came over here, I took the liberty to look around a little bit. Tell me frankly, sir, have classes begun yet or are you taking a semester off?
    “Oh that!” Woodard pounded his fist on the desk. “It’s Halloween. We’ve never had classes on Halloween . . . as long as I’ve been here anyway.”
    The reporter breathed impatiently. “Dr. Woodard, do you know where your students are right now?”
    Woodard was outraged and he tried in vain to hide it. “Of course, I make a point of touring this campus at least once a week . . .” He stumbled over his words. “Mister Mello, I take great offense at your insinuations. If I have nothing else I have control over this campus. I make sure of that!”
    The reporter seemed placated. He shook his head pensively. He replaced the pad in his pocket and turned towards the door. Stopping short, he fished diligently in his pocket and pulled out a dime. He flipped it into the unsteady hands of the President.
    “There, now you have something.” He closed the door behind him.
    Woodard waited until he heard the wheezing amenities of his secretaries and the closing of the outer door. Immediately, he summoned his secretary on the intercom.

“Mrs. Johnson, take this down. First, tell Servant to have his people report to Secobeck as usual starting tomorrow morning. We’re going to storm it.”
    He paused. “And get Chief Bishop on the phone for me . . . oh, and Mrs. Johnson, how many loyal students are there now? Is that all? Have them assemble in the ballroom immediately.”
    The wheezing voice protested.
    Woodard raised his eyebrows. “Cannon fodder? Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just that the rebellion is too obvious. We need them to attend more classes and walk around a little more. I want no one in their dorms before dark. That’s all.”
    The President listed impatiently to the pointless, but friendly suggestions. Finally, her voice tailed off and she hung up politely.
    The harried college president grinded his teeth as he began to develop a scheme.
    “Hmm, cannon fodder!” he thought to himself . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

Note: This writer feels no personal animosity towards Dr. Woodard or any other characters used (and to be used) in this series. Character distortions are purely for satirical purposes.

Newspaper aticle

Martin Carille

Williams, Megan