At the Sentinel, the staff went to work behind locked doors. No one was allowed out or in. Foxx was pumped up like one who had just returned from vacation. She had everyone working with non-stop enthusiasm, right around the clock.
Twenty-two hours later, the press began to roll. Jack stood watching, fascinated by the oncoming flood of "Sam Must Go!"s. Foxx pulled a copy and handed it to him, and there was the grinning head shot of Sam Manning in the center of the front page surrounded by the seven deadly sins. Turn the paper over, and the headline read "D.D. for Mayor!"--his picture in the center of his seven living virtues.
Five thousand copies hit the streets just before noon. A fleet of kids on bikes with handlebar baskets loaded fanned out across a dozen roads, supplementing the regular truck route, dropping copies in homes from Clark Street up the hills to Baxter and Sycamore. Others left papers in stores, restaurants, barber shops. Two girls walked through Town Hall itself, a paper for every desk in every office. Stand in the square and you could hear the excitement billowing. The town was electrified. Everyone seemed to know something more to add to the Sentinel's litany of abuses. Above all, they talked about the money. They laughed about the money. Jack had introduced the smartest win/win package ever laid before an electorate: an honest administration to evict a corrupt one, and a neat little nest egg to unite them. Good for morale, great for business.
In the four remaining days before the election, Gandeeans talked of little else. Sam Manning went into battle, sound-trucking through