Hiram and Jake reached the bus and pushed open the door. They made one final scan of the parking lot and climbed on the bus fraught with worry.
From the back of the bus floated sounds of carnal pleasure, barely audible over the happy students clamoring onto the bus behind them. Jake smiled first.
They knew instinctively it was Charlie. On the back seat, the wild thrusting continued. All Charlie knew was that he wanted this girl, this hot little Omaha bitch, and he had her.
Several older students crowded around watching things they had never witnessed or done.
In front, Sister Agatha hobbled onto the bus with the help of an eighth grader and collapsed onto the front seat. She ignored the commotion at the rear. Before the bus was out of the Ak-Sar-Ben parking lot, she was asleep.
Within minutes, Charlie and Candy Bahr were sitting up, clothing restored. Neither showed a hint of embarrassment or regret, even as Jake handed Candy Bahr the panties he had found on the seat across the aisle. One freckle-faced boy stood watching Charlie and Candy Bahr the entire trip.
Candy Bahr was overpowered by a desire to be with Charlie. This was so much more than her only other time, fumbling with a halfback in the back of a Plymouth. And Charlie. God, he was something.
At Boys Town, the buses emptied. The staring stopped.
“You guys go on,” Charlie said.
When the crowds thinned, he escorted her from the bus to the dorm and helped her through the window into the room.
Hiram and Jake were waiting and stared in disbelief at the beautiful girl in their room.
Charlie let them gawk at her for a few seconds and then said, “Can you give us a little privacy, please?”
His voice allowed no dissent.
Jake and Hiram stepped into the hall without protest.
The door had barely closed behind them when Charlie and Candy Bahr entwined again, kissing, groping, pulling at clothing, and fell to Charlie’s bed like two desperate animals.
“We’d better go to the rec room,” Hiram suggested, still wide-eyed.
Hiram and Jake settled at a table near the magazine rack where they could talk. Neither felt resentful, but instead were in awe of Charlie.
As they whispered in the crowded room, they came to realize Charlie had been in town less than two days and had done things beyond their wildest dreams.
“Anybody who can put the fear of God into a guy like Link and play music like he does is my hero,” Jake said.
Hiram nodded. “And how could he get such a beautiful girl? Did you ever see anything like that?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have the first idea what to say to a girl, any girl.”
“And what about that hog today at the barn?” Jake added.
The pair fell silent, contemplating the things they had seen.
Hiram coughed. “Well, I guess I know whose side I want to be on, you know, if shit comes down.”
They talked until the dorm monitor flashed the overhead lights signaling five minutes until lights out.
Hiram and Jake stood and walked slowly toward their room, not sure what to do, or how to act.
They were almost to the door when it opened and Charlie’s head appeared. He had a serious expression.
“Come in, guys. I was hoping you’d be back. I’ve got to show you something.”
On the bed lay a motionless shape completely covered with a blanket.
Both boys gasped and stopped cold.
“Oh God,” Jake whispered between labored breaths. “What is this? Is that Candy under there?”
Charlie said nothing. His grim face and slumped posture spoke for him. He stepped to the bed and slowly pulled back the covers. Candy Bahr lay there fully clothed staring lifelessly at the ceiling, her mouth gaping open unnaturally.
“Shit, Charlie!” said Hiram, his heart pounding in his ears.
Panic hit, like a thousand pound bear had entered the room. They approached cautiously and stared down at her, totally lost as to what to do or say.
Her lips quivered slightly and then moved to form a word.
“Let’s play poker!” she said in a ghostly voice.
Both boys jumped back as she sat up laughing, fully alive.
“Shit, Charlie!” said Hiram again.
“Damn you, Charlie,” Jake hissed.
Candy laughed and jumped from the bed to stand alongside Charlie. The two clutched each other as they convulsed with laughter.
“Shit, Charlie. You’re crazy.”
Charlie smiled devilishly, his arm around Candy Bahr’s waist. Candy gazed into Charlie’s eyes and felt complete.
Charlie had secured his reputation as a Boys Town lady killer. He was someone for whom there would always be a beautiful girl. He knew it. They all knew it.
Chapter 32
The Trip Home – Omaha, 1949
They played poker on the floor by the light of a one-bulb desk lamp, betting with potato chips, Juicy Fruit gum, and jaw breakers. Diablo purred contentedly in Charlie’s lap.
Years later, Hiram would remember the poker game as one of the best times he ever had. Candy treated Jake and Hiram warmly, like close friends, laughing, joking, shrugging off their teasing, giving back in kind. She was a real person, not just a pretty girl.
A sadness entered the room when she finally said, “Sorry, guys, I need to go home.”
Charlie spoke immediately.
“Hiram, I need that truck, the one that runs, the red one sitting outside the garage.”
The bear had entered the room again.
“Ain’t no way you can take that truck. No way.” Hiram said, his voice almost pleading, yet he punctuated his final word by adamantly shaking his head.
“Yes, Hiram, we’re taking the truck,” Charlie said in a calming voice. “We’re all going. And you or Jake are driving. One of you has to be a better driver than me. If we’re going to be family, this is the time to choose. Be with me or against me. There’s no in-between on this. I’ve got to get Candy home.”
Hiram stood resolute, his arms crossed. But Charlie saw the slivers of doubt flashing in his eyes.
“It’s okay, Hiram. Come on, now. Trust in Man’s Son. We can do this.”
Refusal turned to uncertainty. Then Hiram shrugged his shoulders in full surrender.
“Alright, dammit,” Hiram said. “Come with me you three punks. We’d better not wreck it. I’ll drive. And be quiet. We’ll have to push it down the hill. I don’t want to wake up Father Gallagher.”
Highway 6, Dodge Street, was a two lane road that led into the heart of Omaha.
They pushed the old truck from the garage and let it roll silently to the bottom of the hill.
Soon they were underway. Hiram drove. Jake rode shotgun. Charlie and Candy Bahr squeezed between them joined at the hip, still taken with each other.
The pickup truck’s tires sang on Dodge Street while the clattering Ford engine kept the beat and the transmission whined backup harmony. Fields and barns whipped by, then isolated homes, and finally the city.
By 50th Street Charlie gave Candy two more love marks, one to the neck, the other above her right breast.
“Charlie, you’re nuts-o. Mama’s going to kill me,” she said laughing.
“Don’t let your mama see them. Keep your hair down. She’ll never know.”
To Hiram’s amazement, they reached Candy’s home intact. Charlie escorted her to the door while Hiram and Jake waited curbside. With Charlie away, they fought worry lest it turn into panic.
Charlie reached the front porch; he stopped on the steps and sniffed the air, nostrils fully flared.
“What is that glorious smell?” he asked.
“Oh, that. Mama cooked beans today.”
“They smell just my Grammy’s beans in Kentucky. Best food I ever ate.”
“My mom is from Kentucky too,” Candy said.
“I knew it! Those Kentucky beans... I’ve got to have some!” Charlie gave her the most pathetic, yearning look he could muster.
“Stay her
e,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Candy disappeared into the house. When she returned, she presented Charlie with two Mason jars filled with a mixture of pinto beans and ham.
“Will you look at that?” Charlie beamed.
“Mama has about a dozen jars in the ice box. She’ll never miss these.”
“Ah, but something is missing,” Charlie said in mock disappointment. “What could it be?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “What?”
“A spoon?” he said swatting her behind lightly.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, hurrying to please him.
She returned with a spoon from the dinner set, one her mother would certainly miss. But she didn’t care. She wanted Charlie to have it.
“I’ll see you again soon, Candy Bahr. Think about me. We’ve got something good between us.”
The truck clanked away leaving a cloud of gray smoke hovering in its trail. The four teens wondered when and how they would ever be together again.
Charlie grew reflective as they drove through the South Omaha neighborhoods.
“Look at these houses,” he said.
“What about ‘em?” Hiram asked. He banged the dashboard, and the broken speedometer jumped alive to 30 MPH.
“They are all the same,” Charlie pointed out. “Maybe every fifth house is a backward plan, but they’re basically all the same.”
“So what?” Jake asked.
“The people that live in them are all the same too.”
“No they’re not,” Jake argued. “They’re all different. You’ve got old people in some houses, young in others.” He pointed to a home. “Rich people live there. See how everything is painted? That next house over has a bachelor. You can tell by the way his lawn looks. They’re all different.”
Charlie looked at Jake curiously. “You don’t get it. Look at it like I do. Let’s say you were a thousand feet above these homes looking down on them. Wouldn’t they look alike?
“I suppose so,” Jake admitted. “Maybe a few different roofs.”
“Okay. Let me try another way,” said Charlie. “Let’s say each of these homes was a flower in a huge field of flowers. If you were a hundred feet away, all the flowers would look exactly the same, right?”
“Right,” Jake conceded.
“No individual flower is important, right?”
“Right, you can’t tell them apart.”
“And if a dozen flowers are plucked out, then no one really cares, because it makes no difference, right?”
“I suppose so,” Jake admitted.
“That’s how it is with people,” Charlie said. “A few get plucked, it makes no difference. Do you know what I mean?”
Jake shrugged, but his brow was furrowed.
“That’s against our religion,” Hiram said.
“Open your minds, guys. They’ve told you how to think.”
The truck turned west at Dodge street.
Charlie continued. “People don’t go to church to worship God. They go for a social life. They go to get praised by their priest. The people who go are all the same. They’re no different than ants or mosquitoes, or a field of flowers. If they live, okay. But if they become weeds or pests or interfere with God’s purpose, well…then they must be dealt with.”
The trio lapsed into silence, each deep in thought. The truck clattered on, singing its rhythmic tune.
Charlie twisted open one of the Mason jars and scooped up a spoonful of beans and ham.
“Jesus! I’m so excited,” Charlie said, taking his first mouthful.
Jake glanced just long enough to see Charlie savoring the taste with eyes closed and a blissful expression.
Charlie felt the look. “Jake, these beans are so good. I feel like I’m back in Kentucky. You want some?”
“No thanks. Beans don’t set well with me.”
Hiram, hunched over the steering wheel, shook his head, and focused on the road ahead.
“Suit yourself, boys,” said Charlie scooping a second spoonful.
Half an hour and one Mason jar later, the pickup clattered triumphantly into the Boys Town compound like a victorious crusader returning from the Holy Lands. Jake and Hiram breathed sighs of relief. Charlie wondered why they had been so nervous.
In the associate priests’ rectory, Father Gallagher was in a deep sleep when a loud backfire startled him awake. He heard tires sliding to a stop on gravel. He was on his feet almost instantly and gathering his wits. He heard two truck doors slam shut followed by a round of laughter.
Someone’s into the farm fleet at the garage! This has never happened before. Whoever it is will be in big trouble.
Father Gallagher bolted for the front door in his pajamas and rushed onto the front porch in time to see three figures disappear into the darkness across the street.
They’re headed for the dormitories. Students!
Gallagher shot off the steps barefooted at full stride. At the first dormitory, he saw no one and ran to the second, then the third.
Where are they?
No one was there. He circled the last dorm and slowed to a walk.
Whoever it was, I’ve missed them. Maybe they left campus by the back road.
He had returned to the rectory and was in bed before he thought of Charlie.
Could it have been Charlie? No, not on his second night. Too soon to do something so brazen. But maybe I should have checked their room. No. Hiram and Jake would never get involved in any shenanigans involving a vehicle. Would they?
Gallagher fell into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter 33
Douglas County Health Center – August, 2012
Maggie Bryant stepped from the elevator with her purse in one hand and a take-out sandwich in the other. She passed the empty nurses’ station and felt a twinge of apprehension. She quickened her pace. Halfway to Jake’s room, a nurse stepped into the hall ahead of her.
It was Louise, the pleasant nurse she had met yesterday. Louise smiled warmly and spoke in a low voice.
“No changes with Mr. Bowden. He’s still excited that you came yesterday. He was hoping you would come today. He was so cute this afternoon. He asked for a mirror to check his hair. Wanted to look good for when you came.”
Even at age sixty-two, adult children enjoy parental love and approval. Maggie felt a warm sensation that calmed her annoyance and blunted the harsh feeling she harbored for her father.
“You came back,” Jake said, his pleasure apparent. “I was hoping you would. I’m happy. Maybe a little surprised too.”
Maggie kissed him and immediately blurted her thoughts.
“Charles Manson? Really, Dad?” she asked with a half-smirk. “You actually knew him? And you kept it from me for all these years? Part of me is here to see whether you’re telling the truth, or just being melodramatic.”
“It’s true. I knew Charlie. At this stage of my life I have no reason to lie, especially to you.”
“How am I supposed to react to news that my Dad was friends, really good friends you said, with a mass murderer?”
“You can react however you want. I just want to tell you things you need to know.”
“If the truth was ugly enough to hide for so many years, why do I need to know it at all? Why now?”
“You need to know because I won’t be here much longer to protect you from it.”
She scoffed.
“Protect me? I don’t understand. You haven’t protected me for years, Dad. Let’s face it. Our relationship was never that close. I know you love me. I love you too, but something has always been missing. I’ve got grandchildren now. I have people in my life now who need me more than you ever did.”
“You came back today because you want to know about your life. Inside, you need to know why things are the way they are, why I’m the way I am, why your mother left.”
She blew an exasperated breath.
“Knowing the sordid details won’t solve anything.”
“But you still need to know, don’t you?”
“I’m here. Tell your story, Dad.”
She gave him a sideways petulant look.
“My rules?”
“Yes, Dad. Your rules. Was there ever any doubt?”
Jake felt the tension ease. He allowed his head to relax on the pillow.
“I’ll start with Diablo. He was one of the few things I left Boys Town with.”
“Our Diablo? The cat?”
“You remember him?”
“Sure I do. That wicked animal took a swipe at me every time I got near. I was seven when he finally got run over. Diablo was from Boys Town?”
“Yeah. He used to hang around the campus. He appeared from Hell one day and made Boys Town his home. You weren’t the only kid to have trouble with Diablo. Before you were born, he was already the most awful cat you’ve ever seen.”
“Sounds like a perfect cat for an orphanage,” Maggie said jokingly.
“All the boys thought so too. That’s why we called him Diablo. Diablo is Spanish for ‘the devil’. Anyway, one of the first things that flabbergasted me about Charlie was that Diablo would show up on Charlie’s lap, almost as if by magic. Damnedest thing I ever saw. Charlie was the only person that ever got along with that cat.”
“So Diablo was really Charles Manson’s cat?”
“In a way he was.”
“That might explain the foul disposition. How long did you know Manson?”
“Almost four days, but to be candid, those were the most defining days of my life.”
“Tell me about this ‘really good’ friendship.”
“I would say our relationship was more than friendship. We were more like blood-brothers.”
“You mean like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?”
“I vowed allegiance to Charlie.”
Maggie sat back in the chair, shaking her head softly.
“Dad, that’s exactly what Hitler had his Nazis do. They had to declare total allegiance to him. If you’re going to reveal something about yourself and Manson, get on with it, so I can leave.”
Jake digested her outburst.
“Maybe I’ve underestimated your reaction. I should have predicted how you would feel. Charlie’s name is emotionally charged. When most people hear ‘Charles Manson,’ they automatically stop thinking and start feeling creepy. That’s the conditioning we’ve been taught. That’s what we’re supposed to do – react in a certain way. You hear his name, and you get goose bumps because of the programmed imagery, right?”
Before He Became a Monster: A Story Charles Manson's Time at Father Flannigan's Boystown Page 18