Michael Malone - Weebly

surgeon, trial lawyer, congressman, screenwriter,
hitchhiker, prophet, millionaire, or enemy of the people,
not a great editor, not a great lover, not a great
sportsman, not, he concluded, a great anything. As he
had told Sammy Smalter, he would leave no scratch on
the tablets of history. He made lists of facts now. He
and June could not get along. He would die. He would
die from (1) a heart attack (smoking, drinking, no
exercise, tension in the home), (2) cancer (smoking,
southern diet, family history, tension in the home), (3) a
car accident (poor driving habits, poor upkeep of a
poor car, bad luck, tension in the car). At this point
Hayes's personal lists were limited to modest
aspirations: pick up carton of cigarettes, call printers,
June's birthday.
But as the private lists contracted, the public ones
grew. Into the lists that appeared boxed in the Dingley
Day went all the ambition and idealism, the breadth and
reach, displaced from his life. He made ruthless,
sweeping decisions: the ten best books, movies,
products, Americans, human beings. And the ten worst.
He strode over history, awarded laurels, condemned to