Grantville Gazette 35 gg-35

by Paula Goodlett (Ed)

  ****

  Someone approached Benjamin while he was drinking coffee. "Herr Leek, you are referee. Why are you allowing unfair to Jimmy Dick this way? A debate should be even."

  "Sir, you are laboring under a misunderstanding."

  "What?" asked the German. His English vocabulary was not as good as he thought it was.

  "You got it wrong. This was not a debate. It was a verbal duel, a farce, a comedy, an entertainment. I was working from a script. You heard me admit it when the audience did not know its lines. This was a show, just a show. If you want a real debate, then we'll need to do it over."

  ****

  That night, over beer, another debate was going on.

  "Where were the fireworks? Jimmy should have torn the man up," Brian complained.

  "Hey, I've already told you. Jimmy's changed," Bubba answered.

  "Yeah, sure. The leopard changed his spots."

  "It's the truth. He's changed. Ever since they started calling him a philosopher, he's been spending most of his days in the library. Then his daughter died and he wasn't around for awhile. When I saw him next-I don't know-he was different somehow."

  "Well, he still should have torn the barber up."

  ****

  Three days later, the dispatcher looked up as Lyndon brought in a bloody nose with a split lip and what would be a beautiful shiner as soon as it ripened. The dispatcher winced.

  "Hey," Lyndon said, "you should see the other guy."

  "Yeah?" she asked, "Where is he?"

  Lyndon, thinking about the serious damage the other man suffered, frowned. "He's on his way to the hospital."

  "Really? Is this one pro-Jimmy or con?" the dispatcher asked.

  "This one's con."

  "When you've got him booked, put him in the far cell," the dispatcher instructed.

  "It's getting crowded. Why not the middle one?" Lyndon asked.

  "Because we don't need another fight through the bars."

  "Did that happen?"

  "Sure did. So the pros go in the first cell, the cons in the third one and anyone else in the middle cell." Shaking her head because the whole thing seemed like a waste and a mistake, a real tempest in a tea cup that was spilling over into the broader world, she asked, "Whose idea was this anyway?"

  "Hey, they raised over ten thousand dollars for the Lions Club to buy eyeglasses for kids who won't get them otherwise," Lyndon said.

  Shaking her head again, the dispatcher said, "Look at the trouble it's causing. Are you sure it's worth it? The debate happened three nights ago and it's still being argued about. Have you seen the front page of the Times?"

  Lyndon shrugged. "Not today's."

  The dispatcher held up the front page. The headline read, "Jimmy Dick agrees to a rematch."

  "Shoot," Lyndon said. "This is never going to calm down now.

  ****

  "Hey, Debbie, how's it going?" Joseph Daoud asked as he walked into the office of the Grantville Times.

  At the sound of his voice a grin blossomed on Debbie Mora's face. "Great, and getting better. Thank you for coming in on short notice."

  "Hey, when you get a call from the chief of police telling you to meet him somewhere to see somebody A.S.A.P. then you get yourself there as soon as possible. What's up?"

  "Don't know for sure, though I think I've got a good idea. I'd rather not speculate. Let's wait for Chief Richards to get here. I guess he called me before he called you. I told him since I was brown-bagging it, I'd be in the office all day."

  A police cruiser pulled up to the curb, cruisers and emergency vehicles being the only exceptions to ban on vehicular, daylight traffic in the downtown area.

  "You saw yesterday's front page?" Deb asked Joseph.

  "Sure. You got the rematch you wanted. I've got to admit you had more of an actual debate going on in the paper than we ever did on stage. I think they could have gone on forever trying to decide just how unfair it was and to whom it was more unfair."

  "Yes, we do have quite a debate going, but I meant the headline. Besides, now the debate is pointless."

  "I liked the day before yesterday's better. 'Civil Unrest and Uncivil Disagreements?'"

  The chief came through the door. He nodded to Debbie. "Joseph, thank you for coming in early like this. We need something done and since you created this mess, I figured you ought to be the one to clean it up."

  Joseph gave an Italian half-shrug with two hands in the air about shoulder height. "If you're talking about yesterday's headline, what do you think I can do about it?"

  The chief stared right through Joseph for a full three seconds before he said, "If it stopped there it wouldn't be a problem. Unfortunately, the front page isn't the only place that is dealing with the debate. It's affecting the emergency room, the jail, and business in half the bars in town. If it were just up-timers, it wouldn't be bad at all. The pro-Jimmy people know he's is a jerk. The problem is the down-timers who seem to think he's some sort of Saint Robin Hood."

  "You have got to be kidding!" Joseph blurted.

  The chief shook his head. "Nope. A lot of the down-timers have had that exact opinion of Jimmy, ever since he helped out the Anabaptists. When he organized the armed guard to watch over that start-up church just outside of the Ring until things calmed down, he made a lasting impression with a lot of down-timers.

  "Mind you," the chief continued, "most down-timers don't have any use for the Anabaptists, but that's the really strange thing. While they don't like them, they see them as German when it comes to the anti-kraut attitude of Club 250. Somewhere they got the opinion that, while Jimmy drank at Club 250, he was pro-kraut."

  The chief took off his hat and sighed. "It isn't true, of course. Jimmy never was pro-anything, unless it was pro-arguing."

  Debbie spoke up. "Yeah, so I heard. Is it true one time he got in an argument one night and ended up in a fight and in jail; then the next night he got into it again arguing the other side and landed in jail a second time?"

  The chief broke out in a laugh which sure looked like it hurt his belly. When he caught his breath and rubbed his eyes, he said, "No. Not one single time; more like a dozen times. More than once, Debbie, oh yeah, more than once. The point is, people who don't like Jimmy are mouthing off and down-timers are telling them to shut up. Then it turns into a brawl and the down-timers aren't interested in a social fight. People are getting hurt!"

  "What do you expect me to do about it?" Joseph asked.

  "When you sponsor the rematch, you need to do things a bit differently this time."

  "I wasn't planning on sponsoring the rematch."

  The chief stared through him again. Them he said, "You are now! And this time Jimmy Dick needs to lose, which he will if it is a fair and honest debate. It must appear to be absolutely fair and honest or we will never put this to rest."

  Joseph looked perplexed. "What good would that do? You will still have strong opinions both ways when it's over."

  "Look," the chief said, "the last debate was a farce. Yeah, you put on a good show and people got their money's worth. But the real problem was letting people try and buy the outcome. Plus some of your questions were just plain silly. Do it over, do it right, do it quick and do it fair."

  "Chief," Debbie said, "you aren't the only one who has a problem. The duel put us in the black. I told my boss I'd get him a rematch and we'd do it all over again. This ruckus and rematch will keep us in the black to Christmas. The third debate will carry us to spring. Then, with any luck, enough people will be in the habit of buying a paper. If we can milk this for enough exposure, we will be able to survive. I need thirty days to run three weeks of questions and sell the ad space which goes along with it."

  "There isn't going to be a third debate. We've got to get this settled and over with. We need a clean, fair debate so Jimmy can lose and put this to rest." Chief Richards thought for a moment. "Okay. Set a date a month out. The prospects of a rematch should settle things down enough to get by until th
en. But you need to run the new format right away so people know it will be fair this time. Just one thing, if it doesn't settle down, the date will have to be moved up. Now, here is how you are going to run the next one. Drop most or all of the theatrics. It won't be as good of a show, but this is no longer about a good show. It's about the peace of the community."

  ****

  The day's headline read "Police say Rematch Will be Completely Fair and Unbiased."

  The lead article read, "This morning Chief Richards told the Grantville Times and a representative of the Lion's Club, that he personally would see to it that the rematch would be completely fair. The two sides will chose a mutually-agreeable judge. The third party judge will chose a second judge, and the popular vote will carry the weight of a judge. Each ticket sold will be printed in five sections allowing each person attending to cast five votes over the course of the event."

  The second paragraph told about ticket information with the date, the time, and the new location for the event. The high school gym should accommodate everyone wishing to attend.

  ****

  Seeing the chief in Club 250, brought some stares and muttered comments. But there he sat at a table with Jimmy, Walt and Walt's son, Evan.

  "Okay then," the chief said. "We've settled on a judge all three of us can agree will be fair-minded and even-handed. Now, if Pastor Green agrees then he will find a second judge, but you two won't have anything to do with that and most likely you won't even know who it is until the night of the debate.

  "Again, I want to stress this time it is a debate and not a verbal duel. We really do have to get this settled.

  "I've twisted the arm of the CoC to provide the volunteers so we won't have those shenanigans this time. So, let's talk about the questions."

  Jimmy lifted a beer and Walt lifted a hand, "Chief, I thought the questions were going to be chosen out of the paper like last time?"

  "In theory," the chief nodded, "yes. But I am going to vet them. For instance there will be no theological questions. As a devout Catholic, you can only answer with the official line of the church. Since Jimmy is a devout nothing, he can tear you up and there isn't any way you can come back because it's dogma."

  At the words, "a devout nothing" Jimmy looked over his horizontal beer bottle with a glare.

  The chief ignored it. "So theology is out because it isn't fair. Then there will be no cheap questions like why is Jimmy a jerk. It's not fair to Walt."

  Jimmy snorted and beer flew.

  "Not fair to Dad? How do you figure?" Evan asked.

  "First, your father has to be polite and Dickhead here doesn't. Second, Jimmy is used to cheap shots and has a whole slew of cute comebacks, like the anonymous turkeys line, ready and waiting in the bank, which are sure to be a big hit with the crowd."

  Evan started to object. "Hey, my dad has a-"

  "Thirdly," the chief said, "because I just said so. If you've got a problem with it, shut up." The chief was being high-handed and he knew it. He normally wasn't. But this was going to look completely fair. The best way for it to look fair was for it to be fair. And it would be, even if he had to be high-handed, hard-assed and arbitrary about it. It was going to be fair and Jimmy was going to lose. Jimmy couldn't possibly win a fair fight. It would be exactly fair and it would have the outcome the chief wanted.

  ****

  The seats on the gym floor cost more than the bleachers did. But this did not mean the people with the chairs got any more votes, just a better view. The chief watched as the CoC ushers moved the down-timers mostly to stage right and up-timers mostly to stage left. This being by instruction to keep the pro and cons separated as much as possible. Things had quieted down when the rematch was announced, but tensions were running high in the gym. Benjamin took the microphone needed to be heard-it was a gym after all, not a hall built with acoustics in mind. He addressed the crowd in a normal voice.

  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

  In the absence of the ringside voice several cat calls rang out.

  "People," Benjamin said, "this is not a verbal duel. This is a debate. As such there are stricter protocols than last time. Notably, inappropriate individual responses from the audience will be unacceptable. If this does not meet with your approval, see the cashier on the way out for a refund. Or not, since once again all proceeds will go to the purchase of eyeglasses for under-privileged children.

  "Mister Interlocutor, who has the first question?"

  The chief sighed.

  Lyndon asked, "What was that about?"

  "It's all down hill from here. Jimmy is toast and the problems are over. The people who care will accept an honest defeat."

  Lyndon was puzzled. "What makes you so sure he's toast?"

  "Well, it isn't a secret, but it is a little known fact. Walt studied for the priesthood when he was a very young man. He left when he decided he wanted to be a father in fact instead of in name only. That was about the time he discovered philosophy and started asking question his superiors didn't want to deal with. They started asking if he really had a vocation. So you see? Walt has a clear advantage."

  "Which is even more so because you slanted the questions."

  The chief just smiled.

  "Well, my money is still on Jimmy Dick."

  "How much do you want to lose?"

  "You're way too confident, Chief. Shall we say one dollar?"

  "You're on."

  When the first round went to Jimmy, Lyndon smirked. When the second round went to Jimmy, Lyndon chuckled. When the third and fourth rounds went to Jimmy, Lyndon kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the stage to avoid the chief's glare. Round five fell to Jimmy also. Then it seemed as if the barfly ran out of steam. The next four rounds were Walt's and Lyndon wondered if Jimmy could be grandstanding for the crowd.

  "Mister Interlocutor, unless there is a tie, who has our tenth and final question for the night?"

  "Mister Referee, the last question is from out of town. It is my privilege to read it. 'Is war mankind's greatest glory or greatest shame?' Mister Jenkins, the first response to this question is yours."

  "War is mankind's greatest shame," Walt said. Then he gave a heartfelt, well-reasoned defense of his answer lasting four minutes and forty-five seconds. Walt had been supplied with an advance copy of the questions. Jimmy had not been, though Walt did not know this. The crowd, being full of people who had seen more of war than they wanted and were sick of it, responded with applause and a standing ovation.

  "Well," the chief said, "we go to a tie-breaker. Care to go double or nothing?"

  "No, Chief. I'll be taking enough of your money as it is."

  "Mister Shaver," the interlocutor said, "is war mankind's greatest glory or greatest shame."

  Jimmy stood and took the podium. "Neither," he said. "A man's greatest glory is to love his wife and raise his children well." Jimmy started to sit down.

  The judge interrupted him. "Mister Shaver, you did not answer the question. The question is not what is a man's greatest glory. But rather, 'is war mankind's greatest glory or greatest shame.'" The judge emphasized the word mankind.

  "War is only glorious when you win with an acceptable casualty rate. Any casualty rate is unacceptable to the casualties or their families. So, since there is always at least one loser in a war, it is glorious less than half the time. Still, mankind's greatest shame is not war. Mankind's greatest shame is an uncherished child." With this Jimmy did sit down.

  No applause followed. At first there was only a dead silence and then a great deal of subdued conversation.

  The hat was passed as it was at the end of each round. But the tabs were not counted. The two judges were in agreement. The referee announced the winner at six rounds to five.

  Jimmy took the podium and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen-and yes, Benny, I mean you-" This, being a reference to when Benjamin said the same to Jimmy Dick in the first debate, got the laugh Jimmy wanted.

  With the crowd laughing, he knew
they were paying attention and that he could hold them. He had something serious he wanted to say. "A year ago a man by the name of Wilhelm Krieger came to town. He is Germany's current greatest rising-star in the field of philosophy. No one here ever heard of him. He isn't even in the encyclopedias because he didn't live long enough to get published until we changed history. He asked me the same question about war and I suspect this is the source, directly or indirectly, of tonight's last question.

  "When I had dinner with Herr Krieger, I got lucky. Joe Jenkins and Emmanuel Onofrio went with me to dine with the stuffed shirt." Again, the way he said stuffed shirt, got the laugh he needed. "The two of them, being serious philosophers, conversed with Krieger in scholarly Latin so I didn't get a chance to embarrass myself." As he expected he got his laugh. "Or Grantville." Here he neither sought nor got any laughter.

  "At the time, both were better philosophers than I will ever be. The title of Grantville's Greatest Philosopher should have gone to them, but it fell to me, and I have spent the last year trying to learn enough to at least talk the game since I will never be able to walk the walk in the footsteps of these two truly great men. And let me tell you, when a dumb hillbilly like me has to learn Latin just because he's been stuck with a title he doesn't deserve, well, it's a life changing experience. But Emmanuel Onofrio can parse Latin right fine like-" Jimmy slipped in a traditional hillbillyism to let people know that he wasn't getting uppity, "-And Joe Jenkins can jabber away in it all day long, and that's without losing his hillbilly accent. So I set out to learn it. Among the other things I learned along the way was a great deal of humility.

  "Joe has recently left Grantville and said he will not be coming back. Since he's a man of his word, we will never see him in town again."

  Jimmy looked to where he knew Chief Richards stood watching as he had all night. They made eye contact and held it. "With his leaving, we have an empty slot at the top."

  Jimmy watched the chief nod. Jimmy nodded back ever so slightly. They understood each other. Jimmy had gotten the message, loud and clear. In the opinion of the chief of police-the chief of police being one of those people whose opinions counted-Jimmy needed to be brought down at least two or three pegs. Jimmy's nod acknowledged the chief had won the day even if Jimmy had won the night.