The Wooden Nickel

by Alisha Paige

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, they may not take kindly to my words and they just might stop buying the paper.”

  “Oh,” Cliff breathed. “Well, that even makes it seem even more important, I suspect.”

  “Yes, I guess it is. But, mind you, I don’t mind writing about anything too controversial if I really feel strongly about it.”

  “Gee, Bill, how’d you wind up with this job? I mean, how’d you start out as a reporter and now you have a fancy office and you write about important topics that make people think?”

  “I bought it.”

  Cliff’s head snapped to attention as he looked up at Bill’s laughing gray eyes. Bill took a cigar out of his desk and lit it. “Care for a smoke?”

  “Why, sure,” Cliff answered, unable to believe that his future father-in-law was gonna give him a smoke and did he say that he bought it? Bought what?

  Bill snipped the end off a cigar and handed it to Cliff. Cliff put it between his teeth as Bill lit a match for him. Cliff took two puffs and Bill smiled. He had figured as much. Cliff had probably been smoking for years. He seemed to be an expert at it.

  “Bill?”

  “Yes?” Bill asked, seemingly amused with himself or his cigar. Cliff wasn’t sure what was making him smile like that, but he was darn curious enough about it.

  “What’d you buy?”

  “Oh. The newspaper,” he answered easily as he took another puff.

  Cliff choked on his smoke. “You own the town rag?”

  “Yep,” Bill replied, beaming with a cigar between his teeth.

  “Say, are you rich?” Cliff asked, awe struck.

  “Let’s just say that we’re very comfortable. Much more comfortable than most folks these days.”

  “Wow,” Cliff replied, seeing Bill in a new light and Louise too for that matter.

  Gee he felt stupid now. He could’ve used that wooden nickel much more than Louise. By the way, why was she standing in that bread line in the first place? He aimed to ask her about that right away.

  “We’re not rich by any means, son and I know firsthand what it’s like to have nothing.”

  “Is that why you wanted to help me and Hank?”

  “Partly, I reckon, but mostly because I know what it’s like to be down on your luck and you two seem like fine young boys.”

  Cliff took another puff on his cigar and stared at Bill, not knowing what to say and feeling more grown up than ever and more than a little silly.

  “Thank you for believing in us, sir. You have no idea how much this means to me and Hank.”

  Bill nodded quickly, taking another puff. “Yes, I do, son. And I wanted to thank you.”

  Cliff was puzzled as he took another puff. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “You had nothing. Just the clothes on your backs and nothing to eat and you gave my baby girl your only wooden nickel.”

  Cliff’s cheeks flushed a bright pink and his freckles glowed a sickly green. He scratched his head and was almost afraid to look again into those big gray eyes across the desk. Oh, Lord! Louise had told her Pa! Hank had been right. He was a numbskull and now her father knew it, too.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know that it weren’t any good here in Texas. Heck, I didn’t even know it had come from Washington until Hank told me later.”

  Bill raised his palm at him. “I know how the wooden nickel works, son. That’s beside the point. You gave my daughter money when you had none yourself.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you, sir, but they were in a bread line. I thought they were hungry,” Cliff explained.

  “No, no. Relax, son. I’m not insulted. I was impressed.”

  “You were?” Cliff asked.

  “Yes. And proud.”

  “Proud?”

  “Yes. Very proud.”

  Cliff beamed his best smile and for the first time in months felt almost certain that his life was going in the right direction. Boy, he never thought that a little old wooden nickel would make such an impact on his life. Where was the wooden nickel now? He’d like to kiss it!

  “Thank you, sir,” Cliff added.

  “You’re welcome, son. Okay, your first assignment is today.”

  “Assignment? Sounds like school.”

  “Well, it is. Sort of.”

  “Newspaper school?”

  “Exactly.” Bill reached in his desk and grabbed a notebook and pencil and passed it to Cliff. “I want an in depth story on the local hoboes.”

  “What?” Cliff asked, unable to believe what he’d heard.

  “You heard me, son. I want you to go to the rail yard and interview the hoboes. Ask them where they’re headed, where they came from. Get their names and ages. Ask about their families and their hopes and dreams.”

  “I can’t do that,” Cliff answered softly.

  “Sure you can.”

  “How can I? I used to be one of them myself.”

  “I know, son. That’s why it’ll make a great story. I want your perspective on it, too. Interview yourself and Hank. Tell the hoboes that you used to be one of them. That way, they’ll probably feel more comfortable talking to you, cause they can relate to you.”

  Cliff sighed deeply. How in the world was he gonna go back there and talk to those hoboes? He didn’t want to even admit that he’d been one of them. He sure didn’t want to broadcast it in the town newspaper.

  “Now, I know it will be hard at first, Cliff, but this is your first assignment. It’ll get easier. Take lots of notes and I’ll help you write the story,” Bill offered.

  “But how can I?”

  “How can you what?”

  “I used to be one of them. I don’t want to go to the rail yard, putting on airs, acting like a fancy reporter and all.”

  Bill laughed out loud and Cliff saw the roof of his mouth as his head hit the back of his chair.

  “Son, reporting is not a glamorous job. Just go ask some of my reporters. And, trust me; it’ll be easier than you think to interview them. These are hard times. Everyone is suffering one way or another. This is a way for their story to be heard. Most of them will be grateful to you for it. Oh, and I have a sack of potatoes I want you to take with you. That way you’ll be bringing them a gift and it’ll make it less awkward.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea or not.”

  Bill raised an eyebrow in question as he took another puff of his cigar.

  “Well, they might be mostly proud, like me. I don’t like taking hand outs. Heck, I only took this job cause you said I could pay you back. I don’t need no charity,” Cliff replied, puffing his chest out.

  “Any charity, son. Don’t use a double negative and listen, there’s nothing wrong with taking help from others. I would have never gotten this far without help from others, particularly my father-in-law.”

  Cliff nodded. “Yes, sir. I suspect you’re right.”

  “Good. Now, go on and head over to the rail yard. I’ll see you back here around lunch time and we’ll talk about how you’re first morning went.”

  Cliff nodded and took his hat from the hall tree before tipping it back at Bill and flashing him his best smile. Cliff walked past the printing press and noticed that others were pointing and smiling at him. He suspected that anyone that came in with Bill could expect the same kinds of stares. Bill seemed like a powerful man, but he was a kind man. A man that Cliff was glad he had met.

  Louise’s prayers must have made it to God sooner than expected, Cliff thought to himself on the way to the rail yard. Since that first day in the school yard when she promised to pray for him and Hank, things had only gotten better. They’d gotten better sleeping quarters. Louise snuck them food until her Pa caught them. And even then, things still got better. He got to see his mama and sisters for Christmas and Bill got Hank on at the TVA. He got to walk Louise to school every morning and now he was riding in a shiny Ford to work in a brand new suit and shined up shoes working as a reporter for a daily rag,
run by his future father-in-law. Boy, Louise’s prayers were mighty strong and full of goodness, too. Cliff could hardly believe it was his life he was living as he walked straight to the rail yard, in search of hoboes, just like his former self.

  ~ * ~

  Cliff’s mom let the screen door slam as she carried two sacks of groceries and hustled the girls inside and out of the January chill.

  “Get your coats off, girls. I’ll make a fire right after I read the mail.”

  It had been a particularly stressful day at the sewing factory. Ten women had been laid off with the promise of more to come by the end of the week. She was crossing her fingers that she’d be spared, but no one seemed to have a stretch of good luck for too terribly long these days. The last of her savings would be gone by the end of the month and even if she kept her job, they’d have to find a new house. The mortgage was simply too high and now days, it seemed way too big with her husband gone and now Cliff and Hank, too.

  She’d have to buy a paper even though she hated to waste the change. She had to start looking for a new place soon. Her face lit up as she opened the large brown envelope. It was almost as if God had already answered her prayers. Even He knew that she didn’t have an extra cent lying around. Tucked inside, into a perfect, long rectangle was a fresh newspaper. She slipped it out and smelled the fresh ink. Why would the newspaper be sending her one for free? Just like everybody else, they were losing business and were trying to drum up new business by teasing poor folks like her with one of their editions. If she liked it enough, maybe she’d buy a subscription. Not likely, though, food was more important these days.

  She sat down at the kitchen table and unfolded the newspaper. A frown crossed her face. What was this? This wasn’t the small town paper she was used to. It was much thicker and a small note lay folded in the top right corner, in a very familiar handwriting. Suddenly, her frown was replaced by a proud smile.

  Mama-

  Here’s my first real story. See page 10A inside. I wrote about hoboes, just like me and Hank. Don’t worry. They were real nice, regular folk like us. I hope you like it and I hope this helps out. I’ll send more soon.

  Love your son,

  Cliff

  Beneath the note lay a white envelope folded in half. With shaking hands, she opened it and gasped; dropping it onto the fresh newspaper like it was a hot potato. A crisp twenty dollar bill lay there motionless. Andrew Jackson stared back at her with his long face and she just wanted to kiss the stern look off his face. Tears fell down her cheeks as she picked up the money and sniffed it. It smelled brand new and she held it to her chest, closing her eyes, thanking God for her children and more time in the drafty old house she called home.

  She opened the paper to page 10A and saw her youngest son’s name in print. She could hardly believe it and her chest swelled at the sight of it. She devoured the article, reading it over five times before setting the paper back down. It was such a sweet story. Cliff had talked to three different hoboes and each of them had sorrowful stories to tell. One man had been a banker, another farmer and another played the saxophone. Amazingly, the musician was doing better than the others and already had a gig lined up in Washington, if he was able to ride that far on the rails. All three of them had families and each of them were sending all their earnings back home, trying to make ends meet before losing their homes, which none of them had lost so far.

  The last section of the story was about Cliff and Hank. Cliff wrote how lucky he was to be hired on as a reporter and that Hank was working on President Roosevelt’s great plan to bring electricity to the Tennessee Valley with the TVA. His last paragraph spoke of hopes and dreams for a better America.

  His mother couldn’t have been prouder. Her very own son, working on a big city newspaper. She folded the twenty dollar bill up and tucked it into the empty flour canister. Walking out to the back porch, she grabbed her last two logs and slammed the door. She tossed the wood inside the old stove and lit it, bringing instant warmth into the home. The wood crackled as she hummed to herself for the first time since her husband’s death.

  ~ * ~

  Louise’s mother carefully applied lipstick to her daughter’s lips. She felt nearly as nervous as Louise as a knock was heard at the front door.

  “I’ll get it,” Pa bellowed from the front room.

  Louise and her mother each stared at one another in horror. “He’s here,” Louise whispered beneath her first, fresh coast of red lipstick.

  “You look beautiful, dear. I can hardly believe you’re old enough to go to the Valentine Dance,” she replied as she powdered her nose.

  There was a soft knock at Louise’s bedroom door. “Louise, Cliff is here to take you to the dance.”

  “Okay, Pa. I’ll be just a minute.”

  “I’ll entertain him in the parlor.”

  “Thank you.”

  She heard her father’s footsteps disappear down the hall as she stood to look into the mirror. She wore a long sleeved red velvet dress with a pink sash across her waist. Her mother had let her borrow some stockings. They felt so smooth and satiny against her legs. She felt so grown up as she slipped into red, velvet shoes that felt more like her favorite pair of house shoes.

  Her blonde hair was piled softly on top of her head with tiny tendrils falling around her face. Her mother tucked another bobby pin into place and tightened the pink bow on top, completing the package, matching her sash and flirting nicely with the tiny curls bouncing around the edges of the velvet ribbon.

  “Okay, Mama. I’m ready,” Louise sighed softly, twirling around in her new dress. Her mother and Lily had worked on it for months.

  Lily’s beau had already picked her up and Louise guessed she was probably arriving at the dance by now. Tad was a nice boy, but not near the looker as Cliff or possessing half as much charm. His dad owned the bank in town and Lily had already said they’d be married one day, but Louise knew that Tad would probably dump her after he got a good enough taste of her snobbish behavior. Most boys did, but Louise had to hand it to Lily. For once, she had seemed like she really liked this boy, though Louise was sure it was on account of his bank account and nothing more.

  Louise felt sure that Lily was still in love with her Cliff, but fat chance. Cliff had been working for her dad for five years now and had never dated another girl and had never wanted to either. Oh, plenty of them tried. And old women, too. Louise had been shocked at the length some of them would go. Her own dad had to help Cliff get rid of women coming into the news room. Why, some of them even made up false stories for him to print as real stories. They’d come in looking for Cliff, just crying their poor old eyes out, needing to tell their story. When her Pa tried to send another reporter in to interview them, why they’d just throw a regular fit and maybe a temper tantrum and leave in a huff, saying they’d only talk to Cliff. It had gotten so bad that her Pa had to screen Cliff’s callers and usually Cliff wasn’t there no how. He was always out reporting, getting the next best story.

  Bill handed Cliff the keys to his Tin-Lizzy. Cliff had been thinking of a way to ask his boss if he could borrow it for the dance when he offered instead. Cliff wasn’t surprised. An endless supply of generosity flowed from the man and Cliff decided long before that if he was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up. Bill had told him several times how much the wooden nickel had meant to him and though it was hard for Cliff to understand that a slice of wood did wonders for his character, he accepted it and learned to live with Bill’s never ending kindness. Cliff had bought an old truck with his earnings at the newspaper, but Bill insisted they go to the dance in style.

  Cliff no longer stayed in the old barn. Bill fixed up a spare office at the newsroom for him. He had a bed, a dresser and a desk. They had both spent two long weekends knocking out a wall and adding a bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was all Cliff needed and more than he ever hoped for.

  Even though he corresponded with Hank, usually hearing from him every other month, he no longer
wanted to join the boys working for the TVA. Hank’s job was a far cry from Cliff’s cozy reporting job. Bill had said it wasn’t glamorous, but to Cliff it seemed so, much more so than toiling away in the hot sun for twelve or fourteen hours a day, then falling into bed. But Hank loved it and had made lifelong friends. He planned to stay in Tennessee after the work was completed and now with his experience, he’d never have a hard time finding a job.

  Hank even had a sweetheart and was thinking of asking her to marry him come autumn, when the work slowed some. She was a school teacher in a nearby town and her older brother was Hank’s co-worker and best friend. Hank wanted to bring her home at Christmas to meet everyone.

  For the past five years, Bill had paid for Cliff’s family to travel to his home. Last year, Cliff’s mama, Sally had refused, saying she couldn’t accept the gift again and that she felt bad that Bill was paying all of their train fares, including Hank’s. Louise’s mom, Viola took it upon herself to travel to Cliff’s hometown and talk her into it herself. She stayed for a week and the two women grew very close. Viola wouldn’t return home until Sally agreed to come to Christmas and finally she did, with tears in her eyes, thanking her for their kindness and promising to somehow pay them back. Viola just shook her head and commented on her job well done raising two fine young men and two bright, bubbly little girls.

  Over the years, the two families had grown astonishingly closer, writing and calling each other often. Ida could hardly wait for the school year to end. Each June, Mary and Cecile would ride the train into the big city and stay with them for half of the summer. The three of them were inseparable and gave Sally a much needed break

  Sally had even begun dating the previous summer. He was a widower who had lost his wife around the same time Sally lost he husband. He was childless and lived alone on a meager farm, but often checked in on Sally and the girls and took them vegetables from his very own garden. Cliff thought his mom seemed happier than ever and had even met the man once, thinking he seemed kind and considerate and much calmer then his own father who seemed forever plagued with worry and stress.