"Get a Move On, Boy!"

Ohio's dignified Senator John Bricker walked briskly toward the tiled subway under the Senate Office Building. With him was J. H. Macomber, Expenditures Committee clerk. As they approached the little monorail, open-top trolley that trundles Senators to the Capitol, a shot split the air. Bricker and Macomber whirled. About 15 steps behind them, they saw a grey, sharp-faced little man frantically breaking open a smoking, single-shot target pistol to reload.

Bricker and Macomber sprinted for the car. Roared the Senator: "Let's get the hell outa here! There's a crazy man back there. . . . Get a move on, boy!"

While Bricker scrunched 215 pounds down as far as he could, the driver gave the car full lever. It started off at 5 m.p.h. The Senator took a quick look back, let go a stentorian "Watch it!" and ducked again as a second shot cracked out. Again, the little man missed.

When the car reached the Capitol stop, Senator Bricker stepped shakily out, took the elevator upstairs to report to the police. He was not amused by the ribbing colleagues gave him. Said a newsman, explaining the bad marksmanship: "The man obviously did not lead the Senator enough on the second round."

From the Senate Office Building, the would-be assassin walked quietly out into the street. Within two hours police found him, learned that he was an ex-Capitol policeman named William L. Kaiser and fetched him back to be identified by Bricker.

Why had he shot at the Senator? Kaiser fancied that he had three very good reasons: 1) he had been fired from his policeman's job in April and a Bricker appointee had taken his place; 2) when he had been wiped out in the crash of an Ohio building & loan firm 15 years ago, the name of Ohio's then Attorney General, John Bricker, had appeared on all the papers that spelled his financial ruin; 3) Bricker had done nothing to help him get his job or his money back.

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