MASH Mania

by Richard Hooker

  "Yeah, everything. You don't owe me a cent. Government's glad to get rid of the stuff. Transportation's free, too. Training flight."

  "Finestkind," said Hawk. "Wonder how we're gonna get all that stuff moved and set up."

  "Christly governor," muttered Wrong Way Napolitano, who, until now, had just been nursing a highball because he might have to fly at any time.

  We all paused to ponder his straightforward lucid statement. "You are trying to tell us something, Great Stoned Eagle," said Hawkeye, "but so far, just what eludes me."

  "Call Crazy Horse, tell him get National Guard transport the stuff, set it up. Trainin' exercise."

  "Wrong Way, you do occasionally think. However, I never make phone calls. You call him. I'll talk to him." (The story of Crazy Horse Weinstein's dramatic triumph in the election of November 1974 will be told in a forthcoming volume.)

  Wrong Way and the General and all of us were quite a bit further into the office booze when the governor finally answered.

  "Hi, Horse," Hawk greeted him. "The grunts in the legislature say you're insensitive to the needs of the people. I hear the wool libbers are gonna get you, the Indians are gonna scalp you and you been excommunicated by B'nai B'rith for making some camel driver attorney general. Aside from these minor tribulations, I trust all is well?"

  I don't know the governor's precise response, but Dr. Pierce's reaction gives a hint. "Do not speak to one of your loyal supporters in such peremptory terms, particularly when I am trying to do you a favor. Here's the deal, Horse. We got some old Army hospital tents, space heaters, other stuff. We want you to get out the Guard, set it all up. Then we gonna run a self- supporting, efficient Mental Health, Psychiatric and Social Service Center. Gonna save State of Maine hundreds of thousands of dollars. Leg and Jocko raised quarter mil gonna pay off government for Mental Health Clinic we got now, turn it into new fish market and finestkind seafood restaurant on the whole coast, maybe even Last Supper Specials, two lobsters for a fin the night before surgery. Gonna make medical history, deliver super service to the unhappy and the screwed up at fraction of present cost. And here's the clincher, Crazy Horse. We gonna give you the credit."

  Again, the governor's response, while unheard, became quite clear when Hawkeye said, "May Arafat become your Prime Minister and the palefaces rape your women. Okay, just send the Guard. We won't give you credit for it."

  "That takes care of that," said Hawk, putting down the phone. "Henry, you're staying at Trapper John's house, but first we will take you to the Bay View for a couple pops and introduce you to the local citizenry."

  The subsequent events were quite upsetting to me then, although now that time has passed and my troops have done nothing too crazy for several months. I am finally able to recall that period without needing a tranquilizer. General Blake, although we'd all seen him at various meetings and in Washington in the twenty-two years since we left Korea, had never before visited Spruce Harbor. The moment we entered the Bay View, I realized that preparations had been made in his honor. Sitting at the bar, dressed like a black-headed grosbeak, was Halfaman Timberlake. Next to Halfaman, sort of draped over another bar stool, was Halfaman's shackmate and constant companion of three years, Twiceabear. This creature is a two-hundred-pound, overfed, docile, toothless and clawless (courtesy local surgeon) brown Maine bear that Halfaman rescued as a cub and has nurtured ever since. Twiceabear was eating from a large bowl of spaghetti.

  Hawkeye made the introductions. "Angelo," he said, "this general was my C.O. in Korea. Make him a nice martini. Henry, meet the guinea runs the joint, Angelo."

  "You only had them a little while, General. I've had them eighteen years. How you think I feel?"

  "You have my deepest sympathy, Angelo," the General assured him, all the time peeking at Haifa- man and Twiceabear out of the corner of an eye.

  "And now, Henry," said Pierce, "I want you to meet the Director of the Maine Audubon Society and Vice President of our hospital's Board of Trustees, Professor Timberlake."

  General Blake hesitated momentarily before extending a hand of greeting to Professor Timberlake, who, shaking the hand energetically, said, "Your daughter sleeps with snakes. This here's my friend, Twiceabear."

  Henry Blake, as in the dim past, sort of gulped like a frog and sipped his martini. "It's all coming back to me," he said. "I wonder what will happen next?"

  "Relax, Henry," counseled Hawkeye. "You know these professors. All kinda strange. Let's sit down. Trapper, Duke, Chucker, they'll be here soon."

  The door opened and, lo and behold, there stood Priscilla Poissonier and Edie with the Great Big Pair and Double Bubble Harkness, the assistant chief of police. "That's the one in the Army suit," proclaimed Edie. "He done raped me."

  Double Bubble Harkness, who is fat in both the chest and the belly and has two blue bubbles on his car, has been on a certain list of Hawkeye's because of alleged traffic violations. Double Bubble approached General Blake and said, "You are under arrest for rape, you."

  "Excuse me, Double Bubble," said Hawkeye, "with all due respect to the low IQ which is part of your job description, has it occurred to you that before arresting a Major General in the Army Medical Corps for rape, you should do a little basic investigation?"

  "The woman says the guy done it, Doctor. I know what you think of me, but I got no choice."

  "You got no choice, Double Bubble, because you are a moron. Why don't you ask Wrong Way, me and Hooker to account for the General's time since he landed in Spruce Harbor at three o'clock?"

  "Tain't up to me. I'm just answerin' a complaint."

  Spearchucker Jones arrived just in time to catch this bit. Dr. Jones has a certain prestige, power, respect, whatever, which my other nuts don't. He took over. He said, "Double Bubble, go home, take the whore and the little social worker with you and try not to bother the upper classes again today."

  "Okay, gentlemen," Spearchucker said then. "I think somebody's carried this too far. General Blake is giving us our new clinic, he took care of us in Korea, he comes to see us, somebody sets him up for rape. Man, somebody's got a twisted mind."

  "It's my fault," said Trapper. "All I did was call the whorehouse, say Henry might want to get laid, have Edie on call. Bette Bang Bang got it all screwed up, thought it was another rape job. I shoulda known better."

  "Sure," Hawkeye said with understanding, "you were trying to do the right thing. We'll forgive you, won't we, Henry?"

  "That looked like pretty good stuff," said General Blake. "Maybe -------------"

  "Later, Henry. We'll have a couple drinks and then go to Thief Island for our joyous reunion."

  In the confusion following the disappearance of Double Bubble, Priscilla Poissonier and Edie with the Great Big Pair, Halfaman and Twiceabear stealthily crept away. They had been given a very responsible and demanding assignment by Trapper John and Jocko Allcock. And, two martinis later, Major General Blake, accompanied by his loyal ex-staff, departed for Thief Island, the home of Dr. and Mrs. John Francis Xavier Mclntyre.

  By midevening the festive group, including wives, was sitting around the great fireplace sipping brandy and reminiscing when the sound of a boat was heard. Ere long we were joined by Professor Timberlake of the Audubon Society, his faithful companion Twiceabear, and Mr. Jocko Allcock.

  "The Professor and me can help ourselves, Lucinda," Jocko told the hostess, "but Twiceabear needs a large bowl of porridge. He's some used up."

  Just what Lucinda Mclntyre planned to do about the porridge we'll never know because the quiet of the night was shattered by the siren on the Spruce Harbor Police boat, which splashed to an earsplitting stop at Trapper's wharf. Out jumped Double Bubble Harkness, Priscilla Poissonier and Edie with the Great Big Pair, who ran right into the house without so much as a knock on the door. "That's him," screeched Edie, pointing at Twiceabear, "the big dude in the fur coat."

  "I swear to Christ," exclaimed Hawkeye, "I can't believe it." Crossing the room quickly, he put his arm aroun
d the accused and pleaded, "Say it ain't so, Twiceabear."

  "Arrest that dude," Priscilla Poissonier exhorted Double Bubble.

  "That bear like to eat me," mumbled the people's champion.

  "You gonna take him in, you gotta read him his rights," Spearchucker warned. "And you do have a reading problem, don't you Bubble?"

  "Huh."

  "Let him stay free on his own recognizance, Bubble," Duke suggested. "Unless yuh-all wanta tangle with a bear. Just have the judge let him know when to show up for the trial."

  "I guess that'll be okay."

  Priscilla Poissonier was horrified. "SHARC shall hear of this," she screamed in indignation.

  "Honey," Hawkeye said sweetly, "tell SHARC all about it, but we're having a quiet little reunion here. You get that bunch of dykes over here tonight, our friendly game might get rough. Now you go home and lock your doors and don't let any bears in."

  General Blake flew back to Washington the next day, and two new psychiatrists recruited by Wolfman Davis arrived in Spruce Harbor. No one doubted that the newcomers were psychiatrists because, like Wolfman, they had black beards. I was inclined to agree with Dr. Pierce who said, "Them three together look like the Olympic anarchy squad."

  Within a week many truckfuls of gravel had been deposited on the site of the new clinic to serve as the floor, the tents had been erected and the heaters installed. Wolfman moved in with his crew, three psychiatrists, six secretaries, three social workers and three psychologists who had not voted for McGovern in 1972. Wooden Leg Wilcox explained to the leftover psychologists that their best bet was to leave town, but if they wanted to they could pick shrimp for him till the new restaurant opened and then they could work as waiters because, as a concession to the times, he hoped to create a "slightly fag atmosphere."

  After two weeks the superiority of the new Finest- kind Clinic for the confused and the Downtrodden (as it was called by the surgeons) over its predecessor became obvious. The volume had already increased slightly and the efficiency tripled. I did get a larger number of phone calls from State House types complaining of certain arbitrary decisions made by the new clinic. Usually I was able to smooth the waters by asking whether the costs were climbing or subsiding. Since they were subsiding, and since public officials are sensitive to public reaction, just asking the question usually sufficed. When it didn't, I usually suggested that they present their complaints to Governor Weinstein. I did this with the knowledge that, after early doubt, Crazy Horse had recognized the value of the new clinic and blessed it.

  Courts anywhere, and grand juries, work in peculiar ways. This is a result of a variety of factors, the basic factor being that the people who manage, these situations are, to quote Dr. Pierce, "Just plain dumb." Thus it was that in early April the Spruce Harbor Gazette announced triumphantly: "Dr. Moore and T. Timberlake Indicted for Rape."

  I was, as they say, beside myself, whatever that means. I had, reasonably, assumed that this charade would be concluded long before it reached a courtroom. The idea of a seventy-seven-year-old physician and a bear being prosecuted for raping two prostitutes was preposterous. Once I got out from beside myself, I got good and mad. I have enough troubles without one of my staff being tried for rape. Pierce was the first of the conspirators I could find, and I demanded an explanation.

  "Nothing to explain. They were both arrested, as you know. Twiceabear got on the docket as T. Timberlake. It was just due process of law. Nobody did a thing, Hook. Of course, maybe we could have, but we've been dying of curiosity to see how far these numbies will carry it before the absurdity becomes obvious even to them."

  "Yeah, but for chrissake, two whores—"

  "Hold up," he interrupted. "Remember we got this young guy for D.A. You know the young lawyers like to be D.A. so they can get a reputation. Then they go into practice and use what they've learned putting the grunts in jail to keep the grunts out of jail. Most lawyers are basically unendowed with smarts. About the only difference between them and the grunts is they can read and write a little. This new D.A., I've encountered him at Industrial Accident hearings. He doesn't know the difference between a chiropractor and a board certified orthopod. And in this case, he doesn't know that Sue Ellen Crabtree and Rosemary Maginnis are Graveyard Alice and Edie with the Great Big Pair. He ain't asked, so nobody's told him. Also, Bull Benson and SHARC are on his back. Bull thinks she's gonna get enough mileage out of this case to run for the legislature. And the D.A., be figures if he can put away the area's most respected physician, he can run for Congress, the ultimate goal of all unsuccessful lawyers."

  "Yeah, but even Georgie Howell, he's the D.A., isn't that dumb. He must know who these broads pre!"

  "Well, you gotta remember, the whorehouse set is not dominant in this community. What the hell, you expect Stiff Standing Hooper, other guys who occasionally tap a strange one, are gonna go to the D.A. and say, 'Hey, boy, that Sue Ellen is a whore. I should know.'? What's more, Jocko's moved them both into his pad and spread it around they give dancing lessons."

  "But they're not really going to testify?"

  "Not really. They'll show up for the trial, but I doubt like hell if they'll have to testify. Jim Carr's gonna be the judge."

  "So what?"

  "Well, hell, you know Jim. He's one of three or four in the state got any brains. Most of the judges are just gomers can't hack private practice, kiss enough to get a permanent job for less than my income tax. Christ, I knew two of them went to Androscoggin. I had to teach the dumb bastards to spell."

  "What makes you think you succeeded?" I asked.

  "I don't think I did."

  "But what's your admiration for the legal profession got to do with Judge Carr and this case?"

  "Jesus, Hook, you know Jim. His wife died what, three or four years ago. He's been bangin' that Molly a little but he's gotta be discreet. Molly ain't too available, guy's gotta get some. Jocko fixes him up at his pad now and then. Jim knows all the girls. In fact, the only reason, probably, the trial hasn't been called off is Jim's been down on Treasure Cay the last month, gonna come into this kinda cold."

  Indeed, this was one of the shortest trials in history. The defendants were there, represented by Jim Holden. SHARC, mostly Bull Benson, was there. Graveyard Alice and Edie with the Great Big Pair were there. Judge Carr had no more than convened the court than Doggy Moore got up and said, "I done it, Judge. I'm guilty as hell."

  Judge Carr looked at Doggy, at Twiceabear, clad in a white shirt with buttondown collar and a blue-and- red striped tie. He conferred with a bailiff who told him that Alice and Edie were the complaining parties. He banged his gavel and growled, "Case dismissed." Summoning the D.A., he said, "See me in my chambers, young man." Summoning the bailiff again, he ordered, "Joe, get that bear out of my courtroom."

  The Finestkind Seafood Restaurant (Last Supper Specials, $5) opened for business on June 1, 1975. The manager and genial host, Dr. Ferenc Ovari, was pictured in multiple TV ads prior to the grand opening. His grand manner, his mid-European (Scranton?) accent, were natural assets which, by mid-July, had attracted the summer complaints in droves.

  "Rex is a born thief and a con man to boot," explained Wooden Leg. "But how much can a guy steal runnin' a Mental Health Clinic in Spruce Harbor, Maine? Runnin' a restaurant, we can use his natural skill

  Table of Contents

  SPRUCE HARBOR MEDICAL CENTER. 3

  THE MIRACLE OF HARBOR POINT. 11

  THE RETURN OF BOOM-BOOM BENNER. 20

  DRAGONS. 31

  CHRISTMAS STORY. 40

  MEANSTREAK. 49

  THE MOOSE OF MOOSE BEND.. 65

  PSYCHOANALYSIS. 76

  SOCIAL SERVICE. 93

 

 

 
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