Centerburg Tales

by Robert McCloskey

  “Now, Hercules!” shouted the sheriff, “I—”

  “I was thinkin’ of you just yesterday, Grampa Hercules,” said Uncle Ulysses, quickly changing the subject to avoid a quarrel. “I was looking at one of those old magazines over in the barbershop, and run across a picture of a man carrying a full-grown bull on his back.”

  “Wu-a-ll,” said Grampa Hercules, “that’s an old, old stunt of mine. All of us old-timers used to do it all the time! You start a-liftin’ the critter when he’s just a calf, and keep on liftin’ him every day. The critter keeps growin’ an gettin’ bigger an heavier every day, and first thing you know, yer liftin’ a mighty big hunk of animal, and it don’t seem like nothing at all!

  “Ulysses, ’re you keepin’ count of how many doughnuts we’re eatin’?” he asked. Then he turned to the children. “Now don’t be bashful, young uns, help yourselves. Lifting a horse,” he continued, “wu-a-ll, a horse is a sure enough hard thing to lift. ’Tisn’t that he’s so heavy, but the critter’s feet keep getting in the way. It takes a mighty tall man to walk up to a horse and pick ’im up off the ground. In the early days I was the only fellow in this corner of the state tall enough to turn the trick. There were plenty o’ men around in those days who could stand on a stump and get a horse up across their shoulders, but I was the only one who could do it with my feet on the ground. That brings to mind the winter that Jeb Enders and me were hauling salt down to Cincinnati.

  “We had a two-horse team, and our wagon was loaded down for a fare-you-well—lot more than we should oughta been carrying. Wu-a-ll! We was makin’ our way as best we could on this old worn-out plank road when we came to a bridge. We took one look at the old thing and knew right away that it wasn’t strong enough to hold up our heavy outfit. ‘Herc,’ says Jeb, ‘there’s ice on that creek, so let’s work the wagon across the ice.’ But I said, ‘Jeb, that ice isn’t strong enough to hold up the horses, let alone the load o’ salt. The critters will poke right through that ice and break a leg. I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll stand down there on the ice underneath the bridge and brace myself so’s to hold the old thing up while you drive across.’ Wu-a-ll! I got down there on the ice and braced myself and got my back up against those old timbers. ‘Giddap!’ says Jeb, and our outfit starts rumbling across the bridge. The old timbers creaked and groaned, but I held up the whole shebang. A team o’ horses, and a wagonload o’ salt, and Jeb too—he wasn’t what you’d call a milkweed pod, weighed two hundred or thereabouts.”

  “Look here, Grampa Herc,” Uncle Ulysses interrupted, “I’ve been wondering for thirty years, since you first told me that story, why didn’t your feet poke through the ice with all that weight pushing down on you?”

  “Yeah, Hercules,” said the sheriff, chuckling, “that’s been worryin’ me for years too.”

  “Now you fellas stop makin’ remarks and interruptin’ my story,” shouted Grampa Hercules. “Don’t give a fella a chance to finish what he’s sayin’,” he grumbled. “O’ course my feet poked through the ice when the wagon was just about halfway across the bridge, and I had to tread water till the dadblamed thing got to the other side.

  “That water was cold as a well-digger’s ankle too! I came thrashin’ my way out of the creek, and Jeb built up a fire for me to dry my boots and clothes before they froze stiff. Wu-a-ll, I pulled off my boots, and do you know, there was a couple of nice catfish, one in each boot! We sat down and ate ’em right there, while we waited for my clothes to dry.”

  “Hold on, Hercules!” shouted the sheriff, over the laughing of the girls and boys. “You’re changing the ending!”

  “Yeah,” said Uncle Ulysses, “that’s not the way you told it when I was a boy.”

  “O’ course not,” Grampa Hercules defended himself. “That story keeps getting older and changing every year, just like people. The trouble with you fellas is not enough exercise. You’re getting older and losing your sense of humor, and this story keeps getting older and better!”

  “Now don’t get mad, Hercules,” pleaded the sheriff. “We were just curious, that’s all!”

  “We didn’t mean any harm,” said Uncle Ulysses. “Here, everybody have another doughnut on the house,” he urged. “You go right ahead and tell that story just the way you want, Grampa Herc. The customer is always right, I always say. The customer is always right!”

  II. SPARROW COURTHOUSE

  Everybody had another doughnut, and Grampa Herc calmed down. Uncle Ulysses was relieved, and so was the sheriff. Their concerned expressions showed that they were thinking of the last time Grampa Herc really got mad.

  “Did you finally get the load of salt to Cincinnati, Grampa Herc?” asked Ginny Lee.

  “Wu-a-ll,” said the old man, “after I got my clothes dry, and Jeb and me had finished the last of our catfish, we set out down the road again. That old road wound itself among the hills and down through East Mortonsberg and on down through Sparrow Courthouse. Now Sparrow Courthouse, there was a town for you!” Grampa Herc chuckled. “The folks in that town were always putting on airs, tried to get their town made the capital of the state and the county seat! I declare, the whole population of the town was only about four families and about forty thousand sparrows! Wu-a-ll! Like I said, these folks were always putting on airs. They built the main street of the town wide enough for a city the size of New York, and perched their dozen or so houses and general store down both sides. And the courthouse, that was a sight, a-sittin’ like a wedding cake at the head of that wide, muddy street. Most of us settlers used to get up with the sun and put ourselves to bed when it got dark. There was hardly a watch or a clock farther west than Philidelphy, ‘ceptin’ mebbe one or two in Cincinnati. Yup, we got up at the break of day, and we went to roost with the chickens, and we ate when we got hungry.

  “But that wasn’t good enough for a fancy town like Sparrow Courthouse. They had to have a clock in that fancy courthouse steeple of theirs—sent all the way to Europe to get the thing, and hauled it over the mountains on an oxcart. Those folks were sure proud o’ that clock. They started timing everything by it. They went to bed and they got up and they ate their vittles by that clock.

  “Wu-a-ll! When Jeb and me came a-draggin’ into Sparrow Courthouse with our load o’ salt, that fancy clock was just striking eleven. ‘Jeb,’ I said, ‘we’re coming into this place just in time for lunch.’ We drove down that wide street and we noticed how the general store was closed, tight as a drum, and all the nouses and the inn were closed up, with the blinds pulled down and nary a latch string hanging out; even that fancy courthouse was closed up like a scairt turtle. Jeb and me looked at each other and right off reached for our rifles, ’cause nacherly we figgered there’d been an uprising. Wu-a-ll, we got out of the wagon and commenced to go creeping around to see how things stood. By gorry, do you know that every single cussid Sparrow Courthouser was in his bed just a-sleepin’ and snorin’ for to beat the band! Yessiree! We knew right off that it wasn’t an uprising because they all had their scalps, and if we hadn’t had our minds on Indians, we’d have known better in the first place. We’d have noticed the snoring noise even over the chirping of those forty thousand sparrows.

  “‘Peeculiar, mighty peeculiar,’ said Jeb, and I said, ‘Jeb, since we’re not in any special hurry to get this salt to Cincinnati, let’s stick around here for a spell and see what happens.’

  “Wu-a-ll, we sat there in the wagon and waited—waited clear through the afternoon, and Jeb, he commenced to get fidgity, the peeping and chirping of all those forty thousand sparrows was getting on his nerves. But we kept on waiting, and by and by when the clock struck six we commenced to see signs o’ life in the place. Folks began getting up and milking cows, hauling in wood and building fires. The inn was opening up too, so we eased ourselves over and said to the proprietor as how we would like some supper. ‘Supper!’ he says to us. ‘Supper!’ he says. ‘Why, stranger, we’re about to serve breakfast!’

  “‘Oh, pshaw!’ says Jeb, �
��do you mean to tell me you’re goin’ to serve us breakfast when it’s gettin’ dark?’

  “‘Stranger,’ says the innkeeper, ‘you just squint your eye up to that there courthouse clock. It’s a-tickin’ and a-tockin’ right on towards eight o’clock in the morning. Look,’ he says, ‘there’re the young uns making for the little red schoolhouse.’

  “That innkeeper looked at us as if he thought we were crazy, and we were almost beginning to allow as how he might be right. But, being hungry, we didn’t argue with the fella. We ate some of his ham and eggs before we got around to asking him how it come to pass it’s nine o’clock in the morning at Sparrow Courthouse, and there it was, getting dark as a licorice stick in a satchel of soot outside.

  “‘My friends,’ he says, ‘’twasn’t until shortly after we got this wonderful clock that we folks began to realize what an unusual spot we are living in. It’s nigh onto four months now since we first noticed that it was getting dark earlier every day, and getting light earlier every morning. After a couple of months it was getting dark somewheres around noon, and daybreak put in its appearance in the middle of the night. My friends,’ he says, ‘the sun has gradually worked its way around to setting every morning, and rising come evening!’

  “‘Peeculiar,’ says Jeb. ‘Mighty peeculiar, because the sun don’t go cuttin’ up that way in any other corner o’ the state of Ohio.’

  “‘Naturally not, because this is an amazing feenomina!’ says the innkeeper, sort of putting on airs, ‘and Sparrow Courthouse is the only town in the United States that’s got dark daytime and light nights! We’re thinking of signing a peetition and sending it off to the President, asking him to set up the Sparrow Courthouse National Park.’

  “‘Mister Innkeeper,’ I said, ‘if I were you, I’d sign a peetition asking to call this dark daylight of yours night, and this light night of yours day!’

  “‘Yup,’ says Jeb, ‘it must be a considerable nuisance, havin’ to keep your shades pulled tight all night to keep out the light, and to walk around with a lantern’ all day because of the dark.’

  “Wu-a-ll, one thing led to another, and first thing we knew, we were arguing with this fellow.

  “I allowed as how if I lived in Sparrow Courthouse I’d do what sleeping there was to be done in the daytime, and then get up and go about my business at night. That made him mad, it sure made him mad.

  “‘’Tain’t natural to sleep in the daytime, even if it is dark!’ he shouts at me.

  “My dander was pretty well up by then and I shouted right back, ‘’Tain’t natural to be up and skidaddling about in the dark even if it is daytime!’

  “‘Oh, pshaw!’ said Jeb. ‘’Tain’t no use arguing with him, let’s get some sleep.’

  “Wu-a-ll, after a good spell of sleeping we got up the next evening with the sparrows a-chirping and a-peeping and the sun coming up over the hills just as pretty as all get out. I sort of had an idea thumping around inside of my head, but I waited until we ate some supper before I mentioned it.

  “‘Mister Innkeeper,’ I said, ‘I’ve got it all figgered out why the town of Sparrow Courthouse is having dark daylight and light night. The sun didn’t go cutting didoes hereabouts until you got that fancy courthouse clock, so, the way I figger it, that clock is running slow!’

  “‘Oh, no,’ he said, ‘that clock is balanced perfect, stranger. Why that clock came all the way from Europe, and we hauled it over the mountains on an oxcart! It couldn’t be that clock!’ he said to me, ‘because the sun just gradually worked its way around to coming up a little bit earlier every day.’

  “‘Look here, mister,’ I said, ‘something is unbalancing your fine clock from Europe that you hauled over the mountains on an oxcart. You just squint your eye up at that clock, pointing to a quarter o’ eight. It’s as plain as day what’s discombobulating the balance o’ that clock. Why, that thing is no more in balance than a fat man and a feather on a teeter-totter! Just look at all those sparrows sitting on the hands and weighting ’em down, and a-holding ’em back so the poor clock can scarcely tick a tock!’

  “That fellow was sure surprised. ‘You get rid of those sparrows and you’ll get rid of your dark daytime and light nighttime,’ I said, and we hitched up an’ drove off with our load o’ salt, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open so far we were afraid a sparrow or two would fly in before he got it shut up.

  “Wu-a-ll, I was right about those sparrows holding down the hands of that clock. The next winter when Jeb and I drove through Sparrow Courthouse their days were just as bright as day, and their nights were just as dark as night. The innkeeper told us that they had waited another four months after we’d told ’em what the trouble was, until the sparrows had held the clock back enough to make the days come out being day, and the nights come out being night. Then they got themselves a pair of sparrow hawks and kept ’em up in the courthouse steeple to scare away the sparrows—they haven’t had a mite of dark daylight since. But do you know, those poor Sparrow Courthousers weren’t out o’ trouble yet! They were all worried about what under the sun could have happened to the whole day that was lost somewhere, on account of how the sparrows held back the clock. Jeb an’ I told ’em to bide their time for a couple years until Leap Year came around with an extra day and that would make everything come out even.”

  Grampa Hercules’ sharp eyes looked down the row of young faces in his audience and came to rest on the empty doughnut plate. Before he could demand another round of doughnuts Uncle Ulysses said, “Now that’s another story that’s been disturbing me for years.”

  “Oh, pshaw, Ulysses,” said Grampa Hercules scornfully. “That story doesn’t confuse any of you young uns, does it?” he asked the girls and boys. “See there, Ulysses, they’re not confused a mite, so don’t you go telling me a grown-up grandchild of mine can’t see it’s as plain as the nose on your face how it was the sparrows weighting down the hands of that clock! It was the sparrows that got Sparrow Courthouse all discombobulated and daytime nightwards and nightside daymost!”

  “I could never figure,” said Uncle Ulysses, “why it was, if the weight of the sparrows held back the hands of that clock when they were trying to tick their way up to twelve, like they are when it’s quarter to eight, why didn’t the weight of those sparrows push the hands down faster, when they were ticking their way down toward six, like they are at quarter past four?” Uncle Ulysses drew a diagram on a paper napkin to help explain.

  Grampa Herc sat there rubbing his chin and thinking about what Uncle Ulysses had said.

  “Hercules,” said the sheriff, “you’ll have to admit that if you add and subtract the speight of them warrows—I mean weight of them sparrows—it would make the clock run on time!”

  “There you go again, both of you!” cried Grampa Hercules. “Interrupting and making remarks and trying to ruin another story! I’ve been telling that story for more years than the two of you have been alive, and you’re the first ones to complain and as much as tell me that I’m abusing the facts!” said Grampa Herc, rolling up his sleeves. “Them’s fightin’ words!”

  “Mebbe the sparrows flew away to eat every half-hour, Grampa Herc,” Homer suggested, trying to duck the old man’s elbows.

  “That would explain everything! We’re sorry we mentioned it!” said the sheriff and Uncle Ulysses from under the counter.

  “You two fellas,” growled Grampa Herc, sitting down on his stool once more, “are just like the crazy fella eatin’ a doughnut and smackin’ his lips over every bite when all of a sudden he commences to worry himself into a case of indigestion over what’s become of the hole in the middle!”

  “Don’t take on thataway, Hercules,” pleaded the sheriff. “We were only trying to get straight on the finer points o’ your story.”

  “It’s mighty discouraging for a man to have his word questioned thataway,” said Grampa Hercules. “A storyteller’s got enough trouble on his hands nowadays trying to hold his own against Super
-Dupers and rocket ships and all kinds o’ newfangled truck. For two cents I’d stop telling folks about the experiences o’ my younger—”

  Grampa Hercules stopped short as the door opened and two strangers entered the lunchroom. “Hello, everybody!” one of them said. “This joint looks ’bout the same as ever, except you got it all cluttered up with kids!”

  “Why, it’s Mr. Gabby!” said Homer.

  “The one and only!” said Mr. Gabby. “This is my partner, Max,” he said, introducing his companion.

  “Looks like the advertising business is pretty good these days, Mr. Gabby,” said Uncle Ulysses.

  “Yeah,” said the sheriff, “we didn’t recognize you dressed in those store clothes.”

  “Pretty classy outfit, huh?” asked Mr. Gabby, flicking a bit of dust from his sleeve. “You’re looking at the new and improved Mr. Gabby in the bright new doublebreasted pin-striped package. I quit being a sandwich man in outdoor advertising. I’m an executive now. Max and me has got our own advertising company. We’re experts in packaging.”

  “Golly, Mr. Gabby, that sounds pretty important,” said Homer.

  “Important!” echoed Mr. Gabby. “Why, that’s one of the most important jobs there is! You see, when some company has got a new kind of soap, or toothpaste, or catsup, Max and me think up a classy-looking wrapper, or tube, or streamlined bottle to put it in, so’s people will buy it.”

  “I can recollect when most everything was put in barrels and kegs,” said Grampa Hercules. “I made a lot o’ barrels and kegs in my day.”

  “Barrels were all right in their day,” said Mr. Gabby, “but with modern advertising you can’t sell stuff in barrels.”

  “Barrels have no eye appeal,” said Max. “Nobody would dream of buying anything in a barrel in this Modern Age.”

  “You’re absolutely, positively right,” said Mr. Gabby. “Even if you wrapped a barrel in cellophane you couldn’t sell nothin’ in it. Besides, nobody could write their name on a barrel top and send it in to enter a prize contest or get something free.”