by Sam Halpern
Alfred started doing a lot better about the end of tobacco setting time and helped quite a bit with getting in the hay. The crop looked good though, and we figured all the bad things had happened, then it set in raining and rained for two solid weeks. When it dried off enough we could walk through the tobacco again, we saw that half the plants were dying from wire worms. Dad talked about discing it up and doing a total reset, but we didn’t have enough plants for that and had to reset by hand, which took two weeks of bending our backs.
The Mulligans’ whole strawberry crop got mold from the wet and they lost it all, berries and plants. Fred and me got their tobacco reset and that seemed to help Alfred, who had almost gone plumb crazy.
Dad was feeling a little down and was tired, of course, but the price of hogs had gone to twenty-nine cents a pound. That really helped Alfred because he stood to make a lot more money from his hogs than he thought and said by God he didn’t need Red Bill, he’d just rent someplace else. Dad felt good too because we had near a hundred head and they were going to be at two hundred pounds by late September. They looked great until one day Dad come in for dinner through the hog lot. He was quiet and Mom noticed it.
“Is something wrong, Morris?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know yet,” he answered gruff, and didn’t look up from his food.
“Do you think something’s wrong?”
Dad kept eating quiet, then said, “I think one of th’ sows is sick.”
“What makes you think that?” Mom asked.
“She just seems listless. She ate pretty well this mornin’, but she’s actin’ strange.” He pushed the rest of his food away and got up. “M’dom, I have t’ change th’ cattle this afternoon, then I’m gonna hoe corn. Can you watch that sow for th’ rest of th’ day?”
“Sure,” Mom answered.
Dad left the house, then come back and stuck his head in the door. “If that sow looks any worse, have Samuel quit plowing and come get me, okay?”
“Okay,” said Mom.
Dad looked at me, worried. “She looks any worse, you come get me . . . right?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered, and he walked out the door and headed toward the fields.
I’d been plowing about an hour when Mom came and got me. It didn’t take a vet to see which was the sick hog because she was coughing and stretched out on her side grunting as she breathed. I didn’t know how sick she was until I tried to get her up. She wouldn’t move even after I kicked her. Dad tried to rouse her too and when she didn’t move, he called the vet.
About an hour later, the vet come and told Dad it was hog cholera. We dug a big pit and poured in slack lime and shot every hog and buried them. The next day, Alfred’s hogs come down with cholera too. Dad looked like the world fell on him, and Mom was crying and saying why did these things always happened to us? Just when we were going good something always come along and knocked us down. Alfred just talked to the wall.
At night I could hear Mom and Dad talking, and Dad said if the tobacco didn’t sell well we wouldn’t be able to buy much of a place at all.
42
For about a week, Dad was sick as a mule over losing the hogs. I could hear him and Mom talking late at night after they went to bed. At first, they talked about not buying and staying on Berman’s for another year, but Mom was against it because she said the show Nate was giving us just wudn’t good enough and Dad should be on his own place.
By early August, everybody was surprised at how good the tobacco looked. After that, Dad bounced back. Alfred bounced back some too. The bad luck wudn’t over though. One day come a really black cloud. First the wind hit, then the hail. When it quit, every stalk of corn and tobacco that wudn’t twisted by the wind was tore to pieces by the hail. Alfred went plumb crazy and Dad couldn’t eat or sleep.
Fred and me only went fishing once that whole summer. Lonnie was working every day and we never did see him. He didn’t go to church anymore. His dad took on another three acres of tobacco on the Madison County side of the river and from what Mrs. Miller told Mamie, Lonnie’s pa was going to let him keep half the money it made.
With everything that had happened I was almost as down as Dad. Then Bob come home from engineering camp and that made me feel better. One day he grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me over his head, and asked if I could go anywhere and do anything for one day, where would I go and what would I do?
“Go see th’ Reds play and take Fred and Mr. Mulligan along.”
“Done!” he yelled.
“Yippee,” I shouted, and asked if it was all right to tell Fred.
“Sure,” he said.
It was the first happy thing that happened in months and I took off, boy. I was at the barbwire gap before I remembered I didn’t ask when we were going. I was turning around to go back when Fred saw me, and came running. “Hidey, hidey,” he said, puffing as he come up.
“Hidey, Fred Cody,” I said. “What you doin’ nowadays?”
“Comin’ t’ see if you wanted t’ go fishin’. We ain’t been this whole year. I got an extry pole so you don’t have to go back for yourn.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said, and we walked back to the Mulligans’ and began digging worms. While we were digging, I could hear Alfred’s old radio blaring away with Waite Hoyt, the announcer, telling about the game between the Reds and Dodgers. Ewell Blackwell was pitching for the Reds and he was great so we went inside to listen a little.
Alfred was where he always was when he was home and a game was on, sitting on the no-back chair, his elbows on a little peeling table. In front of him was the old brown Delco-battery humpback radio. Alfred was yelling with every play and talking to the wall.
Carl Furillo come up for the Dodgers and Alfred said, “Ain’t nobody got a hit off Blackwell yet. Come on, Whip . . . I always call him, Th’ Whip,” and Waite Hoyt said, “Blackie kicks and fires, and Furillo gets around on it and there’s a drive out into deep right-center field, and that ball’s up there, it’s going . . . going . . . gone, over the right-field wall for a home run for Carl Furillo, his thirteenth of the season, and the score is tied one to—”
Alfred jumped up and screamed, “Shit-far! That dumb sonamabitch! He throwed hit right down th’ center,” and he leaped around the room, kicked over the no-back, kicked the bed, and screamed, “Shit-far” again and again, then Blackie got out of the inning.
The Reds scored a lot of runs the next inning and with Blackie pitching, it wudn’t hard to know we were going to win, so Fred and me left. Alfred didn’t though. He sat right there yelling and talking to the wall and was happy which was good because we only won about every fourth day, when Blackie pitched.
Heading down to the pond I kept trying to find the best way to tell Fred about the trip to see the Reds without showing how dumb I was about not finding out when. While we were unwinding our poles and baiting up I kind of matter-of-fact said, “Fred, how ’bout you ’n’ me and Bob and your pa goin’ t’ Cincinnati t’ see th’ Reds play?”
Fred looked at me like I was an idiot. “Lordy, yes, hun’ney,” he said, laughing.
“No, I mean it,” I said. “Bob and me are goin’ and he said it would be nice if you and your pa could come.”
Fred cocked his head to the side and stared at me, then looked down at his hook as he baited up. He threw in and looked back at me again.
“When?” he said, and this time he wudn’t smiling.
“Oh, sometime this month. We’ll run up t’ Cincinnati and see a game.” The more I talked, the more Fred stared at me because he knew I had never seen a major league baseball game and I was talking like I went to Cincinnati every day.
“Shit,” he said, finally, and moved his bobber closer to a fallen tree branch.
“I mean it,” I said, with kind of a getting-mad voice as I put my own worm in the water. “You ain’t makin’ out I’m a liar, are you?”
F
red went blank-faced for a second, then his eyes got wide. “Hun’ney, you really mean hit! Bob’s takin’ us t’ Cincinnati t’ see th’ Reds play?”
“Yep,” I answered, and grinned.
“When?” he yelled.
“Don’t know exactly yet, but Bob will tell me soon,” which wudn’t a lie.
Fred let out a “Yehoo! I can’t wait t’ tell Pa.”
We didn’t fish too long, because Fred was busting to tell Alfred, and the first time we didn’t get a bite for a minute or two he said, “Come on, hun’ney, ain’t no use us sittin’ here if they ain’t gonna bite,” even though we’d caught about twenty big fat brim.
“Yeehoo! Hot dog! When?” Alfred yelled at the wall when we told him.
“Pretty quick here,” I answered. “I’ll tell y’all soon as I know.”
“We goin’ to a doubleheader and see Blackie pitch,” Alfred said to the wall. “You just wait and see if we don’t see Blackie pitch. Hot dog!”
The game was a doubleheader on a Sunday and sure enough Blackie was going to pitch. There were a lot of us going, boy. Alfred and Fred and Bob and me and one of Bob’s buddies that Bob had to take because he owned the Jeep. It was a great Jeep. Bob’s buddy got it army surplus. It was about six years old and didn’t have sides, just a windshield, which was cracked near the bottom, with other cracks running out like a tree branch.
By eleven o’clock, we had crossed the Ohio River. I never saw such a river. It made the Kentucky look like a creek. I never saw anything like Cincinnati either. It seemed like we just went from one big road to another, with Bob and his buddy yelling and talking loud and drinking beer and whistling at girls. Alfred was laughing and talking with them and telling them all the things he done when he was their age, and Jack, that was Bob’s friend, whipping the Jeep in and out of traffic, every now and then giving out with a rebel yell.
Pretty soon we come to the ballpark and it was something. Great tall rafters two decks deep and the green field looking like the lawns in the fancy parts of Lexington. Fred and me just stood there gawking, then some guy come around and showed us where to set.
The first game was great. Blackie pitched, and we won by about ten runs, but the second game was close, with Pittsburgh leading two to one in the sixth. It started to drizzle, and the clouds got heavier. In the eighth, Pittsburgh scored six runs and Alfred went wild, screaming about the “dumb sonamabitches” and about how bad they were playing. Bob and Jack kind of scooched down in their seats, then Bob said we ought to go since we had a long distance to travel.
We had just crossed the Ohio River when it started to rain. Man, did it come down, and we didn’t have a top. Then it turned cold and Fred and me curled up together on the floor behind the seats with our teeth chattering. The further we drove the colder it got, then the windshield wipers went out and Jack had to drive with his head out the side. The lights were almost gone too, because something was wrong with the generator, so it was two in the morning when we pulled into Lexington. We stayed at Jack’s folks’ house for the night which was real nice.
The next morning, Dad picked us up. Alfred was coughing and said he had a cold.
That night, Fred come to the house. Dad answered the knock, and I heard him say, “What’s wrong, Fred?” and I was there in a flash.
It was still raining and Fred was standing at the kitchen door dripping. You could see he was scared. “Pa’s sick. He’s coughin’ like a fool, Mr. Zilski, and he’s terrible hot.”
Dad thought for a moment, then said, “He needs a doctor!”
“He said he don’t,” Fred said. “He didn’t want me t’ come here and I promised, but I’m afraid he’s gonna die. I think Pa’s gonna die,” and he was snuffling tears.
Meanwhile, Dad was thinking. “Samuel, stay here with Fred. I’ll be right back,” and he went into the bedroom. In a couple minutes, he come back and said for Fred and me to get in the car. Fred didn’t move and kind of made circles with his bare foot.
“We’ve got t’ take care of him, Fred,” said Dad. “Come on, let’s go.”
Fred shook his head. “We can’t. He’ll know I told you. I promised.”
“I understand,” said Dad. “I’ll square you with him. Come on, let’s go!”
When we saw Alfred, he was lying on the bed and talking to the wall. Dad spoke to him, but he just kept on talking about the ball game. At the first mention of a doctor, though, Alfred set up and said he didn’t want no goddamn doctor and if he saw one he was gonna die. When Dad tried to talk to him he started babbling again, so Dad picked him up and put him in the car, then the four of us and Mamie drove to Doc Culbert’s. When we got there, the doctor asked if he was going to get paid this time because Alfred’s family hadn’t paid any of their other bills.
“You’ll get your goddamn money,” said Dad, his eyes flashing. The doctor whirled around toward him. They stood like that for a few seconds with Alfred shouting stuff that didn’t make any sense. Finally, the doctor began checking Alfred over. When he finished, he told us that Alfred had to go to the hospital, that he was pretty sick.
He must of been awful sick, because that evening, he died.
43
Alfred’s funeral was two days later. Things were supposed to start at ten and Dad and I drove over. We were both wearing our dark brown winter suits and dark ties which was a bad idea because the morning was already hot.
By the time we got there the Mulligans’ yard was full of people. Cars and trucks, from pickups to Bert Raney’s two-and-a-half-ton International were strung out on both sides of the Dry Branch Road. The cattle racks had been taken off Bert’s International and it was backed up to the porch step with the driver’s door open. Standing in front of the door was Mamie wearing a black dress with her arms around Thelma Jean, who had her face pressed up against her, crying. Annie Lee was standing on the porch in her new red dress and next to her was WK leaning up against the wall fooling with his car keys. Annie Lee’s eyes stared straight ahead. I saw Lonnie and LD beside their dads and we all nodded. I kept looking for Fred but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
Nothing happened for what felt like forever, then the preacher walked out of the house followed by Fred’s uncle Charlie and three other men with the casket, which they put on the truck bed. The casket was beautiful. Charlie had worked all night shining it up with linseed oil.
The Mulligans had decided to bury Alfred on a bluff above the Miller place that Alfred had said was his favorite spot. Mr. Miller and a bunch of the men said they’d get a big rock and put it there for a headstone. Mr. Miller said that his family would keep the grave mowed.
Dad and me were walking toward our car when I looked back and noticed that all the Mulligans were in the yard except Fred. I guess they noticed it too, because Pers went in the house. Couple minutes later he come out and walked up to the flatbed and said something to Charlie and he jumped down and went into the house.
By this time everybody was at their car and you could hear engines fire up. Pretty soon, Charlie come out, and he walked up to the cab on Mamie’s side and she and Charlie both went in and stayed for what seemed a long time. I guess it seemed a long time to a lot of people because they cut their engines. Finally, Mamie and Charlie both come out of the house shaking their heads. All of a sudden, Annie Lee got out of WK’s Chevy and half walked, half run into the house. Couple minutes later she come out with Fred, who crawled up on the flatbed.
The International’s engine started and there was a roar of motors everywhere. As the truck moved a path began to clear and in a few minutes we were all strung out and heading toward the Little Bend.
We drove to where Cuyper Creek ran close to the road, then we had to cross the creek to get to the grave spot. The truck would get stuck if we tried to drive across which meant everybody had to wade the stream, which was easy since it was real low.
“Okay,” Pers said in a quiet voice, “which of y’all are pallbearers?”
Six people including Dad move
d alongside the flatbed. One of them was Bess Clark.
Bess glanced down at the creek and then gazed out through the cornfield on the other side, which was turning yellow and had sharp stiff blades, then looked back at Pers, who was leaning with one elbow against the flatbed. “Pers, why don’t we just bury Alfred on this side? Hit’s gonna be a awful tussle gettin’ him across, and hit’s a long ways t’ that bluff.”
“No you ain’t, neither!” Annie Lee screamed, standing with her hand on the coffin. “You ain’t a-burying Pa where he don’t wanta be. He’s a-goin’ t’ that bluff!”
Bess nodded, then hopped up on the truck and grabbed one edge of the casket. “Let’s get started,” he grunted, then Dad and the other men grabbed hold of the bottom of the casket and put it on their shoulders and started wading.
The heat was worse now and the corn leaves cut everybody’s hands and faces as we walked down the rows with the morning glories grabbing at our feet. Some of the pallbearers stumbled and cussed about the heat and the goddamn vines. Brother Taylor, the preacher, said for everybody to mind their tempers and show a little more respect, which they did.
At the bluff the men took turns digging. It was easy except for the heat because the dirt was sandy. Pretty soon, the grave was dug and the men dusted themselves off and stood back as Brother Taylor began preaching.
“Brothers and sisters, we gathered here t’ say goodbye t’ our good friend and father and husband, Alfred Mulligan. We all knowed him and his family for years and we all know he was good people. He’s got a son t’ carry on his name and he’s a good one too,” and he looked at Fred. Fred just stood there. Tears were running down his face and every now and then you could see him squeeze.
I felt awful and could see that Lonnie and even LD did too but they were just like me, they didn’t know what to do. We knew better than to walk up and touch Fred because he would hunch our hands off. The only thing it seemed a body could do was stand beside him. I guess it come to all three of us at the same time because we started moving over to where Fred was almost like we planned it.