Papa mused, “I know what we are going to do with those empty crocks.” He continued, “We have all the corn we need. We’ll make hominy and put it up in Mason jars. We will dry the rest and take it to the mill for grinding into grits. These same neighbors that would be curious about what we are doing with those crocks will come and buy the hominy and all the grits that we have for sale.”
Glen shook his head. “Soon we’re going to be so busy with legitimate business we won’t have time to take care of the wine.”
Papa replied, “Some day we will be able to make wine, and sell it openly to anyone in the world without having to be afraid of being caught, disgraced and thrown into prison. I wait upon that day. Right now, however, we need the money.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SUPPLIES
Mama needed some supplies for the kitchen, so Papa and Glen took a trip to Quitman. When they arrived in town the streets were a press of farmers and their families, drummers, merchants, and loiterers as the two entrepreneurs moved up Brassnog Avenue toward the square. The annual Clarke County Fair was in progress, but Papa was in no mood to join in the ebullience and excitement of the festivities proceeding about him. In addition to purchasing his wife’s household supplies, he needed to make another withdrawal from the bank, and to set up another assignation with Jordan Peltier under the river bridge. Glen was certainly aware of all the people, and longed to move out to the fair grounds for an afternoon and evening of something new, different, and fun.
He sighed in resignation, but said nothing to his father once more. After their arrival at the bank, Papa moved to the teller’s cage and proceeded to write his check. As he received the cash, he casually turned his head in the direction of the bank president’s desk and caught Jordan Peltier’s eye. Papa moved his head almost imperceptibly, and Jordan made a faint nod in understanding and agreement with Papa's intent.
Thereafter Papa and Glen emerged from the bank then went back into town and finished Mama Hailes’ business. It was now nearly noon and the recently full streets were almost empty as most of the residents and visitors had progressed to the edge of the town to the noise and excitement of the fair. Papa moved on again without any consideration of joining in the activities of the midway. As was their custom he proceeded to purchase the necessary ingredients to prepare his luncheon with Jordan Peltier and another ration for Glen. Fortunately, their meeting place would not be compromised as the fair grounds were at the other end of town.
Jordan arrived at the river.
Papa spoke. “We have collected all of the wine, and it is already through working in the crocks. Within sixty to ninety days we will have to have the barrels in place and ready to finish it off over the several months after that is accomplished. When can we take delivery?”
At their most recent meeting, they had agreed on Jordan receiving twenty percent of the profits from the operation after the costs of operations had been paid, i.e., the net profit. Now was the time for him to meet his portion of the obligations of that bargain.
Jordan said, “Now that we have the money and the wine, I will contact my favorite cousin in South Louisiana and make arrangements to deliver New French or American oak barrels. If I must take old ones, then they will have been relined and fired, and staves and copper binders replaced to almost new condition. I am sure that they will be perfectly satisfactory to finish the wine to your requirements.”
“They have to be,” Papa answered, “We have gone through a great deal of misery to bring it this far, and we must not be disappointed because of a lack of the best equipment that is possible to obtain.”
Somewhat tested, Jordan responded, “I know what you are going through, just don’t worry about my part. I have also established a contact to meet you in New Orleans when you deliver your first load down there. If they like the product, the dependability of the deliveries, and the price, then they have advised that they will take all that you can produce. What else will you require and when will you be ready to make the first appointment in New Orleans?”
“Did you forget the wine bottles, corks, and seals?” Papa inquired.
“Do we have to be so fancy with the first shipment? Couldn’t you just put it up in fruit jars then expand to something with a little more class after we know they will take the stuff?” Jordan asked, tentatively.
“No.” Papa Hailes replied, somewhat stiffly. “If we take it down there like a bunch of hayseeds with our mouths stuffed with corn silk, they’ll size us up for what we are and pay us a dollar a gallon for it. We cannot afford to finish this and take the risk of moving it down there, getting caught and going to prison to be paid a dollar a gallon. This is our blood that we will be carrying. It is also going to be your money.”
Rather weakly, Jordan acknowledged, “I see.” He continued, “All right, I’ll go back to the same source as the barrels and get six hundred bottles. Let’s see, there are twelve bottles per case. That will take fifty cases of bottles! How can we get that many cases up here?”
Papa had a ready answer, “The same way that we will take them back. They don’t need to be in fancy cardboard boxes. Why don’t you drive down there, stuff a bottle into every opening and crevice in the car and bring them to us? Or even better just bring them in their cases. Your level of risk will be far less bringing them here than ours will be on the way back down there with full bottles of illegal wine. You must do your part, too.”
Jordan became defensive, “I didn’t expect to have to be directly involved in this. I have to think of my position with the bank.”
Papa smiled and said, “Jordan, you think of your position at the bank, and I’ll think of my position with my wife. They can’t put you into jail carrying a bunch of empty bottles if you are stopped on the highway. They may have a lot of curiosity about it, but all you have to say is you are going to put up some apple juice, or whatever. If I am willing to accept the risk of giving up the protection and consortium of my wife for this then you can provide us the bottles and supplies we must have. I don’t really care where you get them or how they are delivered. Just get them here safely in the numbers we need and on time for them to be filled, without everybody in south Mississippi knowing about it.”
“Then I want thirty percent.” Jordan fumed.
“No.” Papa was emphatic. “We harvest and produce the wine then take all of the real risk to get it sold. Twenty percent is the maximum that we can give you for your part of this. If you don’t want to do it, I am sure we can put up this first batch into fruit jars sell it off and still get enough to pay you what we owe at the bank then get out of the business altogether. The decision is up to you, Jordan, but just think of all the cash flow that you will be able to expect simply by helping us get through this hurdle. I have to know though, right now.”
Jordan Peltier was not a precipitate man. He did not like the idea of being forced into making a commitment of this magnitude on such immediate notice and without the opportunity to weigh the risk to benefit ratio before reaching his conclusion. This was an abrogation of all of his training and experience as a banker. He knew, however, what he stood to lose if he refused to agree to this demand. He smiled and said, “Come back to town with me now. I have to get back to the bank. You can go out to the fair and enjoy the afternoon. It will give me an opportunity to consider all the aspects, and you will have my decision today by closing time at the bank.”
Papa said, “We will come back to town with you, but we won’t go to the fair. We will stay at the bank and provide you with the expected amount that you will receive from your twenty percent of this year’s vintage. You know that next year’s will be much more, and by that time all of our logistic problems should be resolved. For our part, that information should be enough for you to clearly make a decision regarding this matter between your usual activities of making loans and foreclosures, and whatever else is on your schedule for the afternoon.”
Jordan Peltier, piqued, stood up, looked at my grandfather and uncle a
nd said, “Let’s go.” Jordan left the river first and rode back to town. A half-hour later Papa and Glen entered the bank. Jordan noted their arrival and assumption of their seats in close approximation to his desk. He saw one after another of his other bank customers.
Glen could hear the sounds of a band playing in the distance. He knew that they were coming from the fairgrounds, and envisioned all of the wondrous sights and colors, the banners and flags, the smell of hot dog sausages, hamburgers and onions roasting on open fires, and of popcorn and cotton candy, as big as a man’s head and as white and light as the clouds that passed above the crowd. As he sat quietly with his father, he thought about all those lovely young girls strolling and looking at the available young men that gave them the eye and a smile. He wanted so badly to be among them.
After a while Jordan’s appointment schedule began to be completed, but Papa and Glen remained patiently and quietly awaiting his attention.
Papa asked the receptionist for several pieces of writing paper and preoccupied himself with his income and expense projections of the current and coming year. To his credit he calculated the projection of the total and net incomes carefully and conservatively in order to be as fair and honest with Jordan as possible.
When all had left and the bank was imminently closing, Jordan looked at the two quiet, reflective customers remaining, and beckoned them to approach his desk. He called to his secretary and instructed her to close the bank and let all the tellers and other employees leave for the day, and to lock the door as she departed. This was quite an unusual procedure for Jordan Peltier, and recognized that she was baffled by his order.
Reassuringly, he advised, “Don’t worry. I know these two quite well, and I don’t want you to stay. You are already on overtime, and I want you and your family to get out to the fair and have a good time.”
Thanks, Mr. Peltier. “Just don’t forget to lock up when you are finished and ready to leave.” Thereupon, she took her few possessions and walked out through the glass paneled front door. They all heard the click as the key turned in the lock, assuming their complete privacy.
As they took their seats before him, he apologized for not having been able to accept the figures sooner during banking hours. “The bank has been much busier than usual today and it seems that everyone needed to see me. As a result, I haven’t had any opportunity to go over your figures until now. Are you finished with them yet?” He concluded.
Papa reached into his saddlebag, extracted a large manila folder and handed it to Jordan. He said, “We have been here the better part of the afternoon and know how pressed you have been to clear all of your appointments. The time has been well spent, and, yes, we do have the information that you need in order to finalize your considerations and decision.”
He said, “Here are the figures. You must go through all of them here and now because if you decide not to participate we must have all of it back as it will be of no further value to either of us. We wouldn’t want these documents out of our possession if you don’t want to do business.”
Jordan answered, “I understand. Let’s look at the bottom line first. There is no reason dallying around here all night if there isn’t enough for either of us to take the risk.”
Papa removed the sheets from the folder and sorted through them until he found the amounts of the net profit that they could expect, and that each would receive after the product had been delivered and sold, all the expenses had been paid and the indebtedness to the bank retired.
Jordan moved the table lamp over the page and bent forward scrutinizing the figures upon it. After an extended time, he sorted the pages and carefully examined each item of the entire projection. “My part of $975 for the first year doesn’t seem like very much for what I’m doing.”
Glen, now totally piqued himself, interrupted, “Before you worry so much about yourself and what you’re getting, take a look at every number that you have before you. We live with all of it every day. We endure the heat, we’re stung and bitten by every insect, animal, and plant that can hurt you on the ground and up in the trees seven days a week from before daylight until after dark. We will gross a total of $4800 if your connections in New Orleans are willing to buy at that price. After we pay off all of the obligations, including your precious bank, which incidentally is also paying you, and if we are lucky enough to find a four leaf clover we will have $3600. When we pay you a fourth of that, that is, $900 which is the price of a new automobile, we will have $2700 left. We still want you to have another $75 because we like you and want you to know how grateful we are for all your five or six hours of effort that you actually put into this.
For my part, if you say no and pull up your stakes from all of this right now, it will suit me just fine, and I will really get a laugh every time I think of how you have foxed yourself out of one of the sweetest deals a man could ever hope for and without any risk or effort for the taking of it.”
Once more, Glen began to stand up. Once again, however, Papa restrained him as before with a willful pressure upon his knee. Papa did not speak, did not intervene. He could feel the heat of his son’s anger and resentment in the tightness of Glen’s thigh muscles, and was glad when he knew that the feeling of affront began to temper then to subside as he relaxed and settled back into his chair.
Papa said, “We appreciate the efforts that you have expended, and the extent of the resources that you have been able to help us use in the past several weeks. Please understand, however, that Glen is very tired and has placed his life in jeopardy on more than one occasion to bring in this first harvest. He has denied himself of any social contacts other than those of me and his mother. I am sure that you of all men can understand the dimension of that sacrifice. We both feel that the apportionment of these meager spoils is fair for the first year’s effort. If you don’t at least double your return next year, then we will pay you that difference and get out of the business ourselves.”
Once more, Jordan Peltier was captivated by these simple farm people who had now become real brigands. He relaxed and said, “I was presumptuous. Glen, I apologize for my selfishness and will accept my part of this year’s earnings. I’m still sure that you will agree that it isn’t very much for any of us this year, but we have to think that it is a positive investment for our future. Thank you, Mr. Hailes for your patience, and for helping me to understand your sacrifices.”
“Glen,” Papa commanded, “I want you to reach out and shake Mr. Peltier’s hand so that we can put all of this behind us and get ready for getting the wine to the buyer, getting our money, and getting everyone paid with some money left for us to be able to enjoy for the first time in our lives.”
Glen waited a few seconds, looking at Peltier, then stood up and slowly extended his hand. Jordan took it in his own, and both of them felt the strength of the pressure being applied by the other, an intensity that Jordan also noted in Glen Hailes’ eyes knowing that the peace between them would be restive at best at least for now.
On the way home, Papa admonished Glen that he had been too harsh with the banker. “We have got all this wine hanging like figs from the trees and in the loft of the barn just waiting to be bottled, shipped, and sold. Jordan Peltier’s greatest virtue is that he isn’t stupid, he is a bit greedy, but he is willing to take chances with us. Your blowing up in his face could have resulted in all that wine not getting delivered. It might have made some of our local folks happy because they would be our only customers and resulted in us breaking our backs on a chain gang while your mother died alone. I know that you are tired to death of this craziness, but you must remember that patience wins out over all things.”
Glen looked away for a while and didn’t say anything. Then he spoke distantly, more to himself than to his father. “Alright, Papa, but he’s just so damn arrogant.”
“No buts, Glen. Be nice to him. We are too far in now to let impatience or your feelings destroy it. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” was his only
reply. His thoughts were still his own private property, and Papa couldn’t hear him amend, “At least for now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE PACKAGING
Mr. Peltier had been at the Bank of Quitman for six months and had taken no time away from his duties continuously because of the exigency of the situation at the bank as a result of the sudden, unexpected demise of his immediate predecessor. The services of the bank had now been re-established, and the daily life of its activities had begun to resume stability and almost plodding ponderance, like the rest of the banks of the world. Jordan contacted the Chairman of the Board of Directors and advised that he needed to go home to Louisiana for a few days to rest, see his family, and purchase a few items that were not locally available in Quitman or the larger surrounding towns.
Mr. Schultz, a short, portly man with a bristling mustache was pleased with the command that Jordan had assumed and with the current status of the bank’s financial condition and the satisfaction of their customers. He contacted four of the remaining Board members, but was unable to reach the last one as he was on a business trip to Atlanta. This, however, was sufficient for a quorum to approve Jordan’s request for a respite.
Jordan made sure Veldon Phipps, the Chief Clerk, knew that he would be in charge of the administration of the daily bank activities during this time, and assured him that he would call and talk to him every day during his absence to assist in the event that any unexpected complications should arise. This accomplished, he removed his coat and hat from the rack that stood in the corner of his office, put them on and walked out on the square of Quitman. He strolled across its windy courthouse lawn over to the Jefferson Hotel and entered the lobby.
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