MASH Mania

by Richard Hooker

  "Glad to have you aboard, Doctor," said Goofus, who looks like a toothbrush with hair.

  "Boom-boom," said Dr. Benner.

  "What?" asked Goofus.

  "Boom-boom," was the pleasant, smiling response.

  "I see in your application that you were born in Port Waldo. I didn't realize that you were from around here."

  There was no reply from Dr. Benner, who leaned back in his chair and put his size 13 British footwear on Dr. MacDuff's desk.

  "I expect you'll find Spruce Harbor rather quiet after London," offered Goofus, floundering and seeing nothing but enormous shoes.

  "Boom-boom," said his visitor.

  Confused, Goofus blurted out what is dearest to his heart. "We have staff meeting every Thursday night. Attendance at 50 percent of these meetings is mandatory."

  "Omnis Gallia in tres partes divisa est," replied Dr. Benner, who looked absentmindedly out the window at the Finestkind Clinic and Fish Market on the nearby shore.

  "What?" inquired Dr. MacDuff.

  "The rain in Spain causes wind," Dr. Benner explained. Then, finding the Medical Director speechless, he smiled, said, "Boom-boom" and left.

  Dr. Benner, before arriving in Spruce Harbor, had worked in university hospitals at a high research and clinical level. He had not experienced the nuisances and frustrations that plague even the most specialized private practitioners of surgery, particularly in a town like Spruce Harbor. A week after his initial interview with the Medical Director, Boom-Boom received a schedule for Emergency Room coverage and discovered that, once a week, he was on surgical call.

  In London Dr. Benner had been the boy wonder. He had addressed international meetings of cardiac surgeons and impressed them with concise accounts of his research and its clinical applications. In his league he was world famous, but in Spruce Harbor he was on call to sew up cuts, most of which didn't need to be sewed up.

  Dr. Benner gave long and serious thought, perhaps thirty seconds, to this problem and decided that he should discuss it with the Medical Director. He charged into Dr. MacDuff's office waving the Emergency Room schedule in front of Goofus and said, "Boom-boom."

  "What?" asked Goofus, in his usual state of non- comprehension. Clearly Dr. Benner had said, "You may take this piece of paper and place it appropriately."

  "Boom-boom," Dr. Benner said again, clearly, slowly, succinctly, malevolently. For emphasis he added, "Boom, bloody boom-boom, you absurd creature."

  "You can't talk to me that way," protested Goofus, rather tentatively, since even Goofus had begun to realize that Dr. Benner had already done it.

  Dr. MacDufFs office door was open, and by now a small but interested group of secretaries and executive nursing personnel had been attracted to the discussion. One of Dr. Benner's gifts, along with genius and physical strength commensurate with his size, was a fine, rich baritone voice, honed in countless college, university and hospital musical productions. Grasping Goofus by the shirt front with his left hand and holding him six inches off the floor, Boom-Boom gently caressed his victim's face with the Emergency Room roster and sang to him, "I have sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat."

  The boom of Boom-Boom's baritone reverberated through the corridors of the Spruce Harbor General Hospital, and by the time the serenade was over at least twenty people had gathered to watch Dr. Benner release his grasp on Goofus, who fell to the floor in a loose, frightened, indignant heap. Smiling happily, Dr. Benner walked casually out of the Medical Director's office, waved his hand at the multitude and proclaimed, "Boom-boom, everyone. Yes, indeed."

  Hawkeye Pierce, informed of the action, arrived just in time to catch Boom-Boom's exit. "Whatcha do?" asked Hawk. "You coldcock him?"

  "Hell, no. I just sang to him."

  "Look, Boom-Boom, I knew there'd be a ruckus when I saw your name on that ER roster, but maybe you oughta soften the blow for these grunts. They have office-hours mentalities, and they don't dig that we didn't bring you here to help do the scut work. When you gotta problem, for chrissake, just tell me and Trapper and we'll solve it."

  "I can't go through life letting you solve all my problems, can I?"

  "Look, Boom-Boom, that's not the point. It's just that this is a bush league compared to where you've been, and I know the route better than you do."

  "Yeah, Hawk, I know, but I'm just plain offended by a creature like MacDuff. He's outside of my experience. You know I want to live and work here, but if I have to cope with people like him, I'll leave. At the risk of how I sound, you know I can write my own ticket in cardiac surgery."

  "I know you can, Boom-Boom, but if you are going to give us a try, you're going to have to understand how things work here. The fact is they work pretty damn well. Nowadays every hospital like this, for lots of reasons, needs a Medical Director. If you can get a real pro for the job, that's ideal, but they're hard to find. Lacking a pro, the best is to go with a moron who's happy to shovel what the job calls for. Goofus fills the bill, and Trapper, Duke, Spearchucker and I have manipulated him for years. We wouldn't want to lose him. And then there's the Board of Directors. What you don't know is that in most small hospitals they have more control over clinical progress, or lack of it, than the doctors. So, who are they?"

  "I don't know and don't care," said Boom-Boom, "but I suppose I should."

  "Traditionally," continued Hawkeye, "in towns like Spruce Harbor they are a bunch of well-meaning Rotarians, businessmen who can think only in dollars an cents and who don't understand the needs of a modern hospital. We've done what doctors all over the country should do. We got Wooden Leg Wilcox in as permanent Chairman of the Board of Directors. He loads the Board with the right people, so we and Wooden Leg run the joint. Leg has the basic business smarts that we lack, and we know the area's medical needs. Between us, we get what we want. You, of course, are a luxury, but you will contribute a lot, and your very presence here will allow us, one way or another, to raise more money to keep things going. Part of the game is to make the people on the Board of Directors, think that they are really participating. This is easy. We throw something like "epicardial pacemaker" at the dumb bastards. They can't read it, much less spell it, so they figure it must be great and vote for it. That's how you got here."

  "Okay' said Boom-Boom. "I'll try to be loose."

  Even though he tried to be loose, Boom-Boom had already generated turmoil. For twelve years the Good People of Spruce Harbor's aristocracy and upper middle class, denied the opportunity to serve (i.e., control); the hospital, and feeling it their due, had been restive. The growth and success of the Spruce Harbor General and the Finestkind Clinic and Fish Market, rather than pleasing them, had in fact frustrated them. Happy and secure in successful mediocrity, an attempt at excellence for its own sake bothered them. Although they couldn't define it, they had the vague realization that if this sort of thing caught on in nonmedical areas, the status quo could get seasick.

  The Good People had endured twelve years of intimidation by four surgeons and a one-legged fish dealer. They discussed this endlessly, commiserated about it and achieved total agreement that Doctors Pierce, Mclntyre, Forrest and Jones and Mr. Wooden Leg Wilcox were an evil influence. This conclusion was reinforced by the fact that the Spruce Harbor General Hospital, in a national survey, had been selected as one of the two best hospitals anywhere in cities with population of less than 50,000. This was evil because there wasn't a prominent civic leader, industrialist, sky pilot, educator or even an outstanding Jaycee like Billy Sol Estes who could claim one little touch of credit.

  So, when Boom-Boom Benner arrived and carried on strangely, the Good People raised their antennae. The Good People had no conception of what Boom-Boom Benner was bringing to Spruce Harbor, nor was there any way that the Good People could have it explained to them. His product was beyond their comprehension and, therefore, suspect. The fact that he'd been a Rhodes scholar and that he had trained at the Massachusetts General and London Hospital cut no ice with the
Good People because "Rhodes scholar," "Mass. General" and "London Hospital" had no meaning to the Good People. To the Good People, Boom-Boom was just a new doctor who behaved peculiarly. After all, other doctors came to town and they'd been trained here and there, and what was the difference?

  The Good People heard various stories of Boom-Boom, such as his statement to the Congregational minister that the River Jordan is deep and wide but there's lots of broads on the other side. And then there was the incident with the prestigious president of Depositors Trust, George Harrington. George is on the Board of Directors of everything in Maine except the Spruce Harbor General. At a cocktail party Boom-Boom said, "George, I hear you like the broads. Is that true?"

  "What?" asked the leading citizen.

  "Yeah. Guy told me last week."

  "What on earth are you talking about?"

  "Guy told me you like young ones. I just wondered I'm the same way myself. Nice talking to you, old fellow."

  Episodes such as these crystallized the determination of the Good People, who went so far as to discuss the possibility of holding meetings to discuss holding meetings to discuss the possibility of rescuing Spruce Harbor General from the infidels. Told of this by one of his many undercover agents, Dr. Hawkeye Pierce said, "Yeah, I know. Don't sweat it. They'll spend a year having meetings trying to decide whether to have meetings. By that time it'll be obvious, even to them that they'll have to quit or make it a weekly reading of The Watchtower."

  "Huh?" said the undercover agent.

  "I figure it could go either way," said Hawkeye.

  "Huh?" offered the informant, as Dr. Pierce excused himself.

  A month after his arrival in Spruce Harbor, Boom- Boom Benner frustrated the Good People and inactivated them, it is hoped, forever. He put an artificial heart in Halfaman Timberlake. Halfaman, after his third myocardial infarction in as many years, would have died if Dr. Benner had not been in Spruce Harbor with knowledge, training and equipment available before only in a few large medical centers.

  The rapid recovery of Mr. Timberlake, a member of the hospital's Board of Directors, was particularly pleasing to the Chairman of the Board, Wooden Leg Wilcox, who said, "Jesus Christ, no way I could ever replace him." When dressed properly, Halfaman looks like a former All-American halfback who has become president of a large bank in Boston or New York. This, combined with the ability to nod his head whenever Mr. Wilcox said, "Ain't that so, Mr. Timberlake?" make him a key member of the Board.

  "Another great thing about Halfaman bein' on the Board," explained Wooden Leg one night at the Bay View Cafe, "is any time a meeting runs over an hour, the dumb bastard starts jumping around like he's got groin pheasants and that's all the excuse I need to adjourn the meetin'."

  On a Saturday eighteen days after the historic operation, while newsmen from everywhere waited to interview him, Halfaman was spirited out of the hospiptal by Wooden Leg Wilcox, who drove him directly to Spruce Harbor's only whorehouse. There Bette Bang Bang, Mattress Mary and Made Marion welcomed their all-time champion customer with, describing the welcome with restraint, open arms. Mr. Wilcox then joined Boom-Boom, Hawkeye and Trapper John at the Bay View Cafe, where the surgeons were nervously nursing martinis and looking at their watches. An hour later the call came from Bette Bang Bang, who told Wooden Leg, "He's better'n ever. He took care of all three of us, and he ain't even breathin' ha'hd."

  "Congratulations, Boom-Boom," said Hawkeye. "You did it. It will once again be possible for a hardworking whore to make a living in Spruce Harbor."

  "Boom-boom," said Dr. Benner, obviously pleased, and excused himself to return to the hospital. Then Wooden Leg had a crisis at the fish market, so Hawk- eye and Trapper John were left alone at the bar.

  "Okay," said Trapper. "Tell me the story of Boom- Boom Benner."

  A faraway look appeared in Hawkeye's eye, which, like the rest of him, was now middle-aged. "Okay," he agreed, "but only because it's raining and I can't play golf. Buy me another drink."

  Trapper ordered the drink and said, "Talk."

  "Boom-Boom," said Dr. Pierce, "is one of eight children belonging, somewhat, to Bertie and Jennie Benner over in Port Waldo, and he's the only one who can get through doors and around corners. If Bertie Benner could shoot his IQ, Palmer and Nicklaus would be driving trucks. Boom-Boom's mother, Jennie, is a lot smarter than Bertie, but she grew up in total poverty, had no education and never became adept at anything except sexual intercourse—and I hear she was pretty good. I don't know for sure where Boom-Boom came from—maybe he was a long-shot chromosomal collision between Bertie and Jennie, but I doubt it. The Benners were always "on the State," as the saying goes. I know a social worker who used to have them as a case, and I've always figured that, in his zeal, he provided us with our new heart surgeon, but it's just a hunch."

  "Anyway by the time Boom-Boom was ten years old he'd become a problem. In a more enlightened area the school system would have adjusted to him,.but in Port Waldo, no way. Christ, at ten he knew more than any of the grade school teachers, but they wouldn't let him start high school till he was thirteen. By then he knew more than any high school teacher. I think they clocked him around 170-180 on the IQ machine. There wasn't anybody for him to talk to at home, or anywhere else, but he took to hanging around Jimmy Richards' drugstore, and he learned more about pharmacy than Jimmy, so Jimmy let him run the store. When he was about fourteen he decided that talking to anybody in Port Waldo was a waste of time, so he started saying 'boom-boom' in response to everybody and everything. Along with the boom-boom he'd throw in ridiculous, meaningless rhymes. Believe me, he had the citizens some shook up, and when he tried to burn down the high school, that tore it."

  "Why in hell," asked Trapper, "did he try to burn down the high school?"

  "Looking back, I figure he wanted attention—any kind of attention. He wanted to change the game. Sure, he was a genius, but he was also a kid, and he must have decided that any change would be an improvement. He got caught. For chrissake, if he'd really wanted to burn down the high school, he could have done it."

  "What happened then?" asked Trapper.

  Hawkeye had to interrupt his story because, for thirty seconds, he was overcome with laughter. When able to continue, he said, "Well, I got this secondhand from Jimmy Richards. Nobody knew what the hell to do with him. The grunts wanted to put him in the license plate academy. At this point Doggy Moore stepped in: The reason Doggy Moore is still a more valuable doctor than you, me or Boom-Boom is that nothing escapes him and he never lets anything bad happen. So Doggy rigged it for Boom-Boom to go to the fool farm in Augusta instead of State Prison."

  Hawkeye started to laugh again.

  "What's funny?" asked Trapper.

  "They had this hearing at the Court House in Spruce Harbor. The judge, Jim Carr, our golfing friend whom we call the hanging judge, told Boom-Boom that he'd been spared the license plate academy and would go to the fool farm. Jim asked if Boom-Boom had anything to say. Boom-Boom stood up. 'Yes, sir, I do,' he replied. 'Say it,' said the judge. Boom-Boom's statement was, 'Tear my tattered ensign down. Long has it waved on high.'

  "The judge turned to a bailiff and said, 'Get that stupid sonovabitch the hell out of here.' I reminded him of that on the 16th the other day, and he blew a two-foot putt."

  "So how did Boom-Boom make out at the fool farm?" Trapper asked, and ordered another drink.

  "Oh, like a tall dog. Most of the professional personnel up there speak English with a Balkan brogue, and "boom-boom" lost something when translated into their native tongues. The only conclusion they reached was that he had a limited vocabulary. And, of course, they were confused by his religious fervor. The institution's theological program rivals, or may exceed, its psychiatric effort. Boom-Boom went to all religious services and disrupted them by getting up at five- minute intervals and chanting in a booming monotone, 'I can beat any son of a whore in the house at dominoes vobiscum.' Then he'd sit down and look very devout."

&nb
sp; "So how'd he get out?" asked Trapper.

  "Doggy Moore got him out, and I remember the day after he got out. It was a Saturday in early April the first year I was in practice. I was playing cribbage with Jimmy Richards in the back room of his drugstore. It was snowing to beat hell and I was bitching about the weather because I prefer golf to cribbage.

  " 'Spring is practically here,' Jimmy Richards said. 'Guaranteed. Sarah Williams was in and told me Halfaman Timberlake was sitting on her back fence this morning, performing the rites of spring. You know as well as I do, when Halfaman goes public, spring is upon us.'

  " 'Yeah,' I said. 'I'm aware of the legend, but I'm not convinced.'

  "Jimmy got up, went out front and came back with a sign from his window. 'Maybe this'll make you believe the sap is rising,' he said.

  "The sign announced the formation of a Kum Duble Club at the Methodist Church. 'Wonder what they'll do at their first meeting?' I asked, not really caring.