Hollywood

by Ed Nelson

  Dad handed the newsman his card and told him, “We will be home late Saturday.”

  Dad turned to the Mayor and continued, “Is there any way we could get our car out and get moving, it is getting late and we need to get to Princeton.”

  The Mayor hustled over to the Fire Chief and we shortly were on our way to Princeton.”

  Of course the kids chattered like crazy about the fire and what we had done. Even though we were all there and watched what each other had done it still had to be replayed.

  Dad had one comment, “Rick, this is the first time I have actually seen you in action. I know of all the things that you have done, but never have I seen anyone look at a situation and take the right actions as quickly as you just did.”

  “Thanks Dad,” I replied. “When I saw a problem the world seemed to slow down as I looked around. When I saw what needed to be done, things started moving quickly again.”

  Mum chimed in, “During the war we saw that all the time. Some people can process events faster than others. Normally we don’t notice it, but when lives are on the line and seconds count those that react stand out.”

  After that initial outburst of talk we all became quiet. Eddie fell asleep and Denny looked tired. I felt like I had run a marathon and just wanted to sit. When we got to the hotel in Princeton we checked in, went to bed and right to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  We had two rooms with double beds. Mum, Dad and Mary in one room, Denny, Eddie and I in the other. After getting cleaned up we went down for breakfast. We were all slow starters this morning. I think yesterday traveling, and the fire took a lot out of us.

  When we were finished it was still early. Visiting hours at the funeral home started at ten and the funeral was at one. To help pass the time Dad took us on a tour of Princeton. It was a nice town, but not that big. The most interesting sight was the Jackson Feed Mill. What was interesting was that a crew was painting over the name on the side of the building.

  Dad stopped and asked them what was going on. One of the men told him that the mill had been sold to some large corporation and that the name was changing. Dad shared this with Mum, and she asked him if that bothered him. He told her that it didn’t, he had never counted on receiving anything from his father.

  After riding around for almost an hour we went back to the hotel and changed into our suits and ties. Mum came out in a nice dress, in a dark blue.

  She turned around and asked, “Do I look okay?”

  All of us guys said yes.

  Mary spoke up, “Mum the seam on your left stocking is not straight.”

  We all looked and of course the kid was right.

  “Thank you Mary, we women have to stick together. Men don’t notice anything.”

  Mary looked over, stamped her foot and said, “Men!”

  Thus the training of another woman started. Now I know why men don’t stand a chance.

  We signed the guest register at the funeral parlor. There was a small crowd already. Ross had been in business in Princeton for many years. He was very active in town affairs and was well known. From the comments I heard he was liked by everyone. Several farmers told of how he had carried them through some tough times.

  The recent widow, Florence was there dressed in black. When she saw Mum and Dad she came right over. She thanked them for coming. She kissed Mum on the cheek and hugged Dad. She was introduced to each of us. She told Mary she was darling.

  She introduced two very well dressed men who had joined her. They were Ross Junior and James her sons by Ross. They didn’t seem very interested to meet us. As a matter of fact indifferent would describe their attitude. They would be my half uncles but I suspected I would never be close to them.

  Dad stated, “I see the feed mill has been sold.”

  James quickly asked, “What business is it of yours?”

  No, I wouldn’t be close to them.

  “Why none of my business, I was just making a comment,” replied Dad.

  If one knew what to look for you would have seen the tightening of Mum’s jaw.

  “Just want to make sure that you are not trying to claim something that isn’t yours,” said my surly Uncle.

  Ross touched his arm and said, “Jim you don’t need to start trouble where there isn’t any. There are the Bannermans we need to say, hello.”

  They left without any other comments.

  Florence shook her head sadly. “Jack I’m sorry, this has been a very rough time for us. Ross was diagnosed with cancer just a month ago. He went quickly. Then we have just found out that the feed store was deeply in trouble. Ross had to write off too many bad debts over the years.”

  “The last straw was the day he died the bank called his loan. We had to arrange a quick sale to pay everything off. We lost a lot of money. There is just enough to pay off the loans. The house is paid for so I have that. Other than that I have nothing but social security. The boys will have to find work somewhere. It won’t be easy on them as they have never held a job.”

  Wow! What had they been doing all their lives? It may have been impolite but I asked Florence.

  “They have always had the money at hand so they played golf, tennis, raced cars, went to dinner and shows in Evansville, the things that young men of means have always done.”

  “Fops,” Mum commented.

  No one asked her what a fop was so it dropped.

  Dad was approached by the funeral director who asked to speak to him for a minute. Dad stepped aside to listen, nodded his head and came back.

  “Rick, you and I will be pall bearers.”

  As Dad had been listening the funeral director had handed him an envelope which Dad slid into his inside jacket pocket.

  We paid our respects at the casket and then left. We went back to a restaurant next to the hotel.

  During lunch Mum asked, “What was that envelope the Funeral Director slipped you?”

  “I don’t know he just handed it to me without comment.”

  At that Dad retrieved and looked at the envelope.

  “It is from Dad’s attorney’s office.”

  As was telling us he opened the letter using a table knife as a letter opener. He read it through slowly then cleared his throat and read it to us.

  “Dear Jack. I’m dying of cancer. As one of my sons I want you to know I have always loved you and respected what you have done with your life. Because of the relations between me and Anna, we never had the opportunity to be close.

  Now as I find I am dying much sooner than expected I find that I’m not leaving the world as a successful business man, but an overall failure. Somehow it doesn’t mean that much right now.

  You have probably met your two half-brothers by now. They aren’t worth the gunpowder to blow them up. Florence had her way in raising her young ‘gentlemen’, young louts is more like it.

  When I found I was dying, I made inquiries about how you were doing in Bellefontaine. It was very pleasing to find out that you and Peg are doing well and that your children have such good reputations. You and yours will have to carry on the good Jackson name. I know those other two won’t.

  The only thing I can leave you is a family mystery. There is a small container buried twenty five feet from the northwest corner of the San Toy jail. It is down about four feet. Maybe you can figure out what it means. It is connected with the Rowlands. I and my father John both studied it for years and could not come up with what it is talking about. It may be worth something and it may be nothing. Go with god, your father. Ross Jackson.”

  That was the only time that I saw a tear in my father’s eye.

  We attended the funeral and laid my grandfather to rest. It was a dull January day very appropriate for a funeral. My two Uncles were there accompanied by attractive young ladies.

  As we were leaving I heard one of the women tell Uncle James, “Well call me if you can come up with money to go out. If not I will find someone else.”

  Florence came over and spoke to Mum a
nd Dad.

  “Jack and Peg I know I haven’t always been the kindest to you. However we are family and need to pull together during this financial emergency. I would like to talk to you about a loan when you stop by.”

  Dad and Mum exchanged looks. Even I could understand what was said.

  Dad replied to Florence. “I’m so sorry we won’t be stopping by the house. We have to get back to Bellefontaine as soon as we can. Why don’t you write with what you need and I will see if we can help.”

  She had no choice but to accept what Dad told her. She gave a weak smile and thanked us once again for coming to the funeral. We headed to our car which was parked next to the hearse. It blocked the line of sight from other cars. As we were getting in our car we all heard very clearly.

  “Mother did you get the money? If not we will have to cancel our trip to Europe!”

  We piled into our car and returned to the hotel. We went upstairs and packed while Dad checked us out.

  Once we were in the car he told us, “We will get a room in Vincennes. It is too long of a drive to try to make it home tonight.”

  The only comment made about Ross’s family was made by Mary.

  “That lady didn’t smell very nice at all.”

  Dad snorted, chuckled and that was the end of that.

  We got to Vincennes in good time and found a room at a motel outside of town. We ate dinner at a little diner across the street. We watched TV on the little sets in our room.

  I read more about the life gambles and how the descendants got greedier and greedier as they got closer to the final payout. At one time I wouldn’t have believed family could be like that. Now I knew better.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday morning after breakfast at the diner we headed home. We got to downtown Vincennes near where the fire was when a police car turned on its lights behind Dad.

  He muttered, “What now,” while pulling over.”

  The policeman was Bill Rose from yesterday. He was all smiles,

  “Sorry if I scared you folks. The Mayor had us on the lookout for you. He would like to speak to you at his house if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”

  There was no reason not to and our trip was ahead of schedule so we followed the police car to the Mayors house. The patrolman must have called ahead because the family was waiting at the door.

  We were welcomed in like favored members of the family. After taking our hats and coats we were settled into the kitchen with our choice of coffee or hot chocolate. Mayor Hobbs handed us each a copy of the Vincennes Sun Commercial. The headline was, “Deadly fire kills.”

  The story proceeded to tell that one person didn’t make it out of that inferno. He was in the first room. I must have got a really sick look on my face because the Mayor spoke up.

  “Rick, Mr. da Costa was known to smoke in bed and an advanced alcoholic. He was dead before you ever went up those stairs.”

  I still wondered.

  Mum gasped, “Rick, have you looked at the pictures?”

  As I was saying, “No,” I looked at the front page picture. I never noticed but when I was coming out of that building the Sun Commercial photographer must have been there. The picture showed me coming out of the doorway with the girl in my arms.

  I was looking up so it was a good shot of my face. Behind me smoke was curling up the doorframe and flames shooting down the stairs.

  Other than the fact it was me, it was the most incredible action shot I have ever seen. The look on my face was of such intense concentration there is no doubt I would have ran through a brick wall to get out of there. Further inside the paper were additional pictures of me and my brothers.

  When the reporter interviewed us I had given a concise description of what occurred when I went up-stairs. He asked how I knew to check the doors for heat before opening them, I told him, Boy Scout training. Eddie let him know that I had just passed Eagle. That was in the paper.

  Mr. Hobbs informed us that the whole family would be receiving the keys to the city of Vincennes and be recommended for an Indiana State award of heroism for our actions. They would keep us posted for events and would like us to come back for the presentations. He also told us the photograph was so dramatic that the AP had picked it up and the story would be in many newspapers. Oh joy!

  Mary and Ruth were playing dolls at the other end of the table. Melissa told us she had hunted for a Barbie Doll to replace Mary’s. She couldn’t find them anywhere. When she inquired of a local store which carried the Mattel brand they made a phone call and found out that our area was a test market. Sales in the test area had been tremendous, so the doll would be released nationwide in March.

  Mary heard all of this and said, “It’s alright I have other dolls at home. Rick promised he would buy me one when he could. I know he will.”

  Of course I had to reaffirm the promise, which was no problem. As we got ready to leave the two little girls hugged and promised to write each other. Their Mums exchanged addresses.

  On the way out of town we were accompanied by the police with lights and sirens. After that quick trip the rest of the drive seemed slow. While we were driving I asked Dad about the Rowlands that Ross had referred to in his letter.

  “They are actually relatives of your grandmother Anna. Though I suppose with the way families intermarried back then that it could be both sides. Anyway John Rowland’s brother is your great-great-great grandfather.”

  Dad continued, “John was a rocky mountain fur trader in the early 1820’s. He moved to what is now New Mexico in 1823. He and his business partner William Workman got tangled up with several attempts to overthrow the Spanish there. In 1840 they were connected somehow to the Republic of Texas. They apparently were such known trouble makers the Spanish governor of Santa Fe threw them out.”

  “Rather than heading back to the United States, they led the first Europeans into California. They ended up with large land grants but none of that is still in the family except for about a hundred acres in the City of Industry which is owned by the direct descendants. You now know as much as I do.”

  “When we get a chance we will go dig this up, whatever it is.”

  “Dad won’t they object if we go to start digging holes right outside of the town jail?”

  “Hardly Rick, it is a ghost town. That is another story for later.”

  Talk about the fire, the funeral, the family who we had never met before and what was buried in San Toy kept us occupied for the whole trip home. It was late when we arrived back in Bellefontaine.

  Sunday we went to church as a family. Cheryl and her parents were there. We didn’t have a chance to talk.

  After lunch I went over to Tom Morton’s and we piled in his car and went to pick everyone up. We went directly to the movie. It was a great action story and the girls loved Cary Grant so all was well. We stopped at Don’s for a hamburger after the movie.

  Cheryl had been smiling and happy until we arrived at the restaurant.

  “Rick, I have been dreading this. Dad got word late Wednesday. We knew his posting here was only temporary. He was up for promotion. It requires Congressional approval. Congress was holding up all promotions over some sort of budget dispute. Because of this Dad couldn’t go to his new command. They had a problem here in Bellefontaine with the existing commander and needed a temporary replacement.”

  “Dad was given the assignment as Squadron Commander here which is normally a Major’s or Lieutenant Colonels slot. He was supposed to take over a Fighter Group in California but with the timing it was all messed up. So now he has been appointed to a job in the Pentagon. He reports next week and Mom and I will follow in two weeks. This is the life of an air force brat. This will be the sixth time I have moved since the first grade.”

  The rest of the date was almost in a haze. I was numb. Would I never have a regular girlfriend?

  I shared the Hawthornes impending move with my parents. They didn’t appear to think this was the disaster that I saw. Mum
wanted to talk about who we should invite to my Eagle ceremony which was coming up in two weeks.

  Chapter 8

  Monday was hectic. The morning started out at home with the usual routine. When I hit the school door it began. The Columbus Dispatch had picked up the Vincennes fire story on its supplement. The picture of me carrying out Ruth took up half the page. There was no doubt that it was me. Someone had already placed a copy of the paper in my trophy case.

  Kids kept coming up to me and wanting to know the full story. Why I don’t know, if they had read the paper they would know the full story. What topped the cake was when I was asked to autograph a copy of the paper. I did it, but this was getting out of hand.

  For one of the few times in my life I was glad to hear the bell ring to start class. That lasted for about two minutes. Every teacher had to recognize me and my heroic feat. For God’s sake! I carried a little kid down the stairs!

  Lunch was a mixed bag, the gang wanted to talk about the fire and Cheryl’s leaving. We agreed that it sucked having to leave in the middle of the school year. That part didn’t seem to bother Cheryl. She had done that many times.

  It was leaving people behind that bothered her. I liked to think that leaving me was on that list. We tried to console her by pointing out as we got older we would leave many people behind, like when we graduated high school and college.

  I guess it is easier to say than live, because she didn’t look any more cheerful. We did agree that we would write her a group letter every week updating her on how the class fared this year. We knew it would be pointless to continue it after that, but it would give her some closure on this episode in her life.

  I won’t say school lessons themselves were boring, but when you are constantly ahead, everything being presented is blasé. The sense of discovery in learning was mostly in study hall. I really had few connections to my classmates. I definitely was working at a different level than they were. While they were memorizing facts for test, I was delving into the whys of events.