Place Called Estherville

by Erskine Caldwell

  “If you’re going to work steady,” he said, walking toward Ganus, “I might be able to help you out, after all. I don’t take a chance on everybody who comes along, but you look to me like you might be a steady reliable boy. You don’t shoot craps and spend your money on liquor and fool around with bad women, do you?”

  “No, sir, I sure don’t,” Ganus said emphatically.

  Claude watched him closely for a long time before he finally made up his mind.

  “All right, then. You go up to Dr. Lamar English’s over the post office and tell him I sent you. He may be able to do something about it for you. Just tell Dr. English I sent you and then see what he says.”

  Ganus stared at him with a perplexed expression. “Mr. Hutto, why do you want me to go to see Dr. English?” he asked. “There’s nothing ailing me. I’m not sick at all, Mr. Hutto. I only came in here to see you about getting a bicycle—”

  “Forget about being sick,” Claude told him, “and go on and do like I told you, if you want to get a bike.”

  “Do I have to be vaccinated or get the shots before I can buy a bicycle?”

  Claude chuckled. “It’s nothing like that. I think maybe Dr. English’ll work out something for you. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, I’m told. Now, go on up there like I said.”

  “But I don’t want to go to see any doctor, Mr. Hutto,” he pleaded. “I don’t have the time to waste. Mr. Harry Daitch said—”

  “You’d better stop that arguing with me and go on up the street like I told you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ganus said, backing away from him.

  He left the shop with a last longing look at the brightly enameled red-and-gray bicycle. He walked slowly up Peachtree Street toward the post office in the next block, watching Daitch’s Market on the other side and hoping the job had not yet been given to somebody else.

  It was almost nine-thirty then and he was afraid Harry Daitch would not wait much longer for him. At the side of the building he found the stairs that led up to Dr. English’s office on the second floor. He still had no idea why he was being sent to see Dr. English, but he was willing to go if a physical examination or anything else would help him get the bicycle. When he reached the top of the stairway and opened the door, he wondered if it would help any if he were to be able to complain of some imaginary illness, but the time was so short he could not think of anything that would sound convincing to a doctor. Five or six Negro women and men were sitting in a small reception room and two white women were seated in an adjoining room. In the hallway between the two rooms a nurse in a white uniform was seated at a desk. She looked up when he entered and closed the door behind him.

  “Do you have an appointment with Dr. English?” she asked immediately.

  “No, ma’m,” he replied.

  “Dr. English has a great many patients waiting to see him,” she told Ganus coolly. “Some of them are critically ill and have come ten or fifteen miles from out in the country to see Dr. English. I don’t think he can possibly find the time to see you today.”

  “Yes, ma’m,” he said, starting for the door.

  He was almost at the door when he heard the nurse calling him.

  “What is the nature of your illness—what’s wrong with you?” she said to him.

  He could still not think of any complaint that would sound convincing. “Nothing,” he replied vaguely. “I don’t have any ailment, that I know about, Miss. I feel fine. I’ve been feeling fine all morning.”

  “Then what do you want here?” she said impatiently.

  “I don’t know, exactly, Miss. But I went down to Mr. Hutto’s bicycle store to see about getting a bike, and he told me to come up here and see Dr. English. I don’t know why he wanted me to do that, unless he wants me examined, or something. I told Mr. Hutto I didn’t feel sick at all, but he said that didn’t matter and for me to come on up here just the same. I didn’t want to come, but I did just like Mr. Hutto said.”

  “Oh! Mr. Claude Hutto sent you!” she said, quickly laying aside the paper on which she had been writing. “That’s different. Why didn’t you tell me that when you first came in?” She got up. “Wait right here.”

  After several minutes she came back to the hallway and motioned for Ganus to follow her. He walked down the hall behind her to an open door, and there she motioned for him to step inside. When he walked into the office, he saw Dr. Lamar English sitting at a desk with his back to the door. Ganus waited, fidgeting uneasily in the strange surroundings, while Dr. English talked in a low indistinct voice to somebody on the phone. He was a pleasant, soft-spoken man of fifty-eight with short white hair and a trim gray mustache. He had been practicing medicine in Estherville for the past thirty years. After the town was laid out, he was one of the first physicians to move to Estherville and, although there were now four or five other general practitioners in town, he and Dr. Horatio Plowden, who had lived there about the same length of time, attended more patients than all the others combined. All his children had married and moved away, and his wife, who had always disliked living in such a small town, had divorced him when he was fifty. He lived alone with two Negro servants in a spacious, white colonial house on Cedar Street and raised pigeons in his backyard. During his early years in Estherville he, unlike Dr. Plowden, had acquired a considerable amount of valuable real estate, especially farm land in the county, and he was now one of the wealthiest men in that section of the state. Those who disliked Lamar English said that he had become rich by exacting real estate mortgages from patients who could not pay their bills, while his friends maintained that he had reluctantly accepted first mortgages rather than see hard-pressed patients go into debt to others in order to pay their bills in cash. Anyway, most of the mortgages were eventually foreclosed, and he now owned a large portion of Tallulah County farm land in addition to business property in town. When increased property taxes threatened to make him land-poor, he began selling real estate, and with the rapidly accumulating cash had begun making private loans to persons who were unable to obtain credit at the stores. He never charged interest, but instead financed a purchase by first buying it himself and then reselling it for double the original cost to him. He collected these payments in weekly installments, besides holding a chattel mortgage until full payment had been made.

  When he finally finished the conversation on the phone, he turned around in his chair.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, looking at Ganus over the rims of his glasses.

  “Ganus Bazemore.”

  Dr. English picked up a pad of notepaper and began scrawling on it with a fountain pen.

  “How old are you, Ganus?”

  “Eighteen—but Dr. English—I’m not sick or anything. I don’t want to have to take any medicine. I don’t need the shots, either. I only came up here because Mr. Hutto—”

  “I know—I know!” he said with an impatient motion of his hand. “We’ll get everything straightened out in a minute. I want to ask some questions first.” He lit a cigarette with nervous hands. “Where do you live, Ganus?”

  “I live with my Aunt Hazel.”

  “What’s her full name?”

  “Aunt Hazel Teasley.”

  “What’s her address?”

  “We all live down there in Gwinnett Alley.”

  “Which house?”

  “But, Dr. English, I don’t want some old medicine—I don’t need it,” Ganus protested. “I’m not sick at all. I feel mighty fine today. All I came up here for—”

  “Which house?” Dr. English repeated in a stern manner.

  “The fourth house on the right-hand side—the one with the two ginkgo trees in the front yard.”

  “Is she employed—and if so, where?”

  “Who? Aunt Hazel?” When he saw Dr. English nod, he shook his head. “Aunt Hazel can’t work. She’s sick in bed all the time. That’s why me and my sister moved to town late last summer to take care of her.”

  “Is anyone in your family employed at pre
sent?”

  “No, sir. My sister Kathyanne hasn’t worked steady for a long time now. She hasn’t had a real steady job since she used to work for Mrs. Madgie Pugh. She does day work, when she can find it.”

  “Well,” Dr. English said with a solemn smile, “I’m glad to hear you’re going to work, Ganus. Somebody in every family ought to work. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ganus replied eagerly. “Mr. Harry Daitch said he’d give me a job if I’d—”

  Dr. English made another motion of impatience. “I know all about it, Ganus. I talked to Claude Hutto on the phone a few minutes ago.” He leaned back in the chair. “How much money do you think you need, Ganus?”

  “You mean for the bicycle?”

  He nodded.

  “Mr. Hutto said it’d cost forty-nine dollars and fifty cents.”

  “That was before he got to thinking it over, Ganus,” Dr. English said with a faint smile. “After you left his shop and started up here to see me, he decided you ought to have some necessary extra equipment. When I talked to Mr. Hutto just now, he said you would need a battery headlight, a tire pump, a tool kit, and a few other things like that. He told me he would not be interested in selling you a bike unless all those things went along with it. I believe he’s right in wanting you to have a well-equipped bicycle. And then he said that if you didn’t take the equipment he’s already gone to the trouble of adjusting and attaching to the bicycle, there wouldn’t be any use for you to come back to see him. Of course, there’s no other store in town that sells bicycles. I advise you to take the bicycle fully equipped, Ganus.”

  Ganus nodded doubtfully. Several moments passed before he said anything. “Is all that going to make it cost more, Dr. English?”

  “Naturally. But it’ll probably amount to only twenty or twenty-five dollars extra. How much can you pay a week, Ganus? Five dollars?”

  “Five dollars a week?” he repeated uncertainly.

  Dr. English nodded.

  “I might could pay five dollars a week, I suppose, if I got the job at Mr. Harry Daitch’s grocery store. But that’s a lot of money. Mr. Harry might not pay me but five dollars a week for working for him. He didn’t say how much it’d be. I sure wouldn’t have much left over.”

  Dr. English picked up the phone and called Harry Daitch. He turned around in his chair and, with his back to Ganus, talked in a low voice for a while, and then hung up.

  “Well, Ganus,” he said, leaning back and smiling at him. “I think I’ll be able to help you out. You seem to be the kind of boy I’d like to do business with. I don’t recall hearing of you being in any kind of trouble around town. As far as I can find out, you don’t shoot craps or spend your money on liquor or fool around with bad women. I want to help you, Ganus.”

  “How—how do you mean—help me, Dr. English?”

  “I’ll arrange it so you can have that bicycle you’ve got your heart set on. Every boy, black and white, ought to have a bicycle before he’s twenty-one.” He stopped and looked out the window for a moment. “I do things like this a lot these days, Ganus. Helping people buy what they want. It looks like I spend more time at it these days than I do practicing medicine.” He turned away from the window. “But there’s a need for it—sometimes, just as much as there is for a medical prescription. There’s always somebody who wants something in this world—whether he ought to have it or not—and who’d be unhappy if he couldn’t have it. I guess that’s human nature at its best. At least, some people would say so. Anyway, there’s more money in it than in doctoring bellyaches.” He began to smile. “What else is there for a lonely old man like me to do with his money? I wouldn’t get any fun out of spending it. It’s too late for that now. Most of the best things in life have passed me by. So I might just as well make some more.” He pointed his finger at Ganus. “Anyway, you bring me five dollars every Saturday, for sure.”

  Ganus swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he agreed.

  Dr. English took a printed form from a desk drawer, marked an ‘x’ on the bottom line, and handed it to Ganus.

  “Sign it there, Ganus. I’ll get your Aunt Hazel’s signature later. Your own signature isn’t worth much to me. You’re not of legal age yet.”

  Ganus signed the paper and handed it back to him.

  “Now, don’t fail to bring me five dollars every Saturday from now on, for sure,” he said. “Don’t give Mr. Hutto any money at all. You won’t owe him any. Bring the money to me. Every Saturday. Five dollars. For sure. Don’t fail.”

  Ganus watched Dr. English put the paper he had signed on the desk.

  “Every Saturday from now on, Dr. English?” he said with a worried look. “For how long?”

  Dr. English glanced over the rim of his glasses. “How long? Oh, let’s see.” He did some figuring on the pad. “About six months will take care of it, unless you fall behind in the weekly payments, and then in that case we’ll have to add a little more to the total. That’d take longer to pay off, wouldn’t it? Anyway, you won’t be paying me any interest. I collect only what you owe me for the bicycle. However, if you fail to make a payment of five dollars every Saturday, you’ll have to turn the bicycle over to me, and then of course you’d lose all you’d paid out. If you wanted to buy it back again after that, naturally you’d have to begin paying all over again. That might take a year or more. It’s a lot better to keep up the payments, Ganus.”

  “If it’s going to take all that long to pay for it, Dr. English, I’d rather leave off the headlight and all those other things so I could finish paying for it quicker.”

  Dr. English frowned and shook his head. “No, Ganus. You might be out delivering groceries some night after dark and run into something.” He kept on shaking his head. “I don’t want you wrecking my bicycle like that. You go ahead and take the headlight and the other things Mr. Hutto wants you to have.”

  “I’ve got some wrenches of my own. I don’t have to buy the tool kit, do I?”

  “Ganus, Mr. Hutto wouldn’t like it if you took the bicycle away without the proper tools. Remember the spokes have to be kept good and tight all the time. Nobody can tighten spokes properly without a good spoke wrench.”

  “But I’d sure like to save on it somehow, Dr. English,” he said persistently, “so I wouldn’t have to pay on it for six whole months. That’s a mighty long time to pay five dollars every week. It’s half a whole year.”

  “You’ll be surprised how fast time goes when you have that new bike, Ganus. Now, go on back to Claude Hutto’s and let him fix you up like he wants to. And remember to keep that bike in good condition, too. Don’t let it stand out in the rain. Take it in the house at night. That bike belongs to me until you’ve paid for it. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it, either, because it’s mortgaged property now. I’d hate to have to turn the law loose on you, Ganus. Remember that.”

  Ganus wanted to talk some more about finding a way to shorten the length of time necessary to pay for the bicycle, but it was already after ten o’clock and he was worried about the job at Daitch’s Market. He backed out of the office and hurried down the hall. The nurse at the desk looked up as he walked through the reception room. He did not speak to her, because he was looking at the people waiting to see Dr. English, and wondering if they were really ill or if they hoped to buy an automobile or some furniture or a pair of mules. He was almost through the door when he heard the nurse calling him. He went back to the desk.

  “You can hand me the payments Dr. English spoke of,” she instructed him matter-of-factly. “I’m usually right here at this desk all day Saturday. There’ll be a lot of others coming in to make payments, so please wait your turn in line like everybody else. Thank you.”

  “Yes, ma’m,” Ganus replied, backing to the door.

  He hurried down the stairway and ran the rest of the way. On the opposite side of Peachtree Street he could see people constantly going into and coming out of Daitch’s Market, but there was no bicycle leaning against the curb and he hoped
he could still get there in time.

  Claude Hutto was waiting for him at the door when he ran inside. The red-and-gray bicycle had been lifted from its rack, and already attached to it was the battery headlight, a tool kit, and tire pump.

  “Well, I’m glad you got things fixed up with Dr. English, Ganus,” Claude said agreeably. “He just phoned me that it was all right for you to take the bike. I’m really glad to see you have such a fine wheel, and I want you to know I really appreciate this piece of business. I always like to do business with your people. I’m not like some storekeepers around town who cheat the colored just because they are colored. No, sir! I believe in giving every customer who walks into my place of business a square deal, no matter what color he is. We’d all be better off if all the storekeepers took that stand. Now, if you’ve got any friends who’ve been thinking about buying a bicycle, be sure and tell them to drop in to see me. I’ll be glad to talk it over with them anytime, if they’ve got a steady job.”

  Ganus was walking around the bike, inspecting it from all sides. “I wish I didn’t have to buy and pay for all these things on here, Mr. Hutto,” he said, looking at the chromium-plated kickstand, the sheepskin saddle cover, and all the other accessories Claude had attached while he had been in Dr. English’s office. “It sure makes it cost a lot more. I don’t think I can afford it.”

  Claude laughed easily. “You won’t notice the difference, Ganus. Besides, it’s going to make you feel mighty proud while you’re riding around town to have a bike with a handsome sheepskin saddle cover and suspended tool kit. Not to mention all the other little things that really dress up a bicycle. And here. Here’s something else you need, too.” He picked up a wire basket and hung it on the handlebar. “That’s an electrically welded galvanized wire basket, Ganus. It’s just the thing to carry groceries in and you’ll need it on your new job. I’ll add it to the bill. Don’t worry about the cost.”