when he was exposed two years later as the highest-ranking elected official in Indiana to wear “the shroud of the terrorist and the mask of the highwayman,” as a crusading Irish American journalist put it, he shrugged it off. As did voters in the 1924 election. Jackson was one of us—a neighbor, son of a mill worker, war veteran, small-town lawyer relatively new to the big city, a Disciples of Christ Protestant in good standing, not a shred of
