Interviewing some of those Muckers about their story (how else would I have known about the school-bus drills, the bitter rivalries, or even where the football field really was?), I became certain I could create a novel that echoed their spirit. But it was in the letters that my characters took shape, allowing me to write in the voices of young men.
I wrote much of the novel on location, sitting in Coach Brown’s office at the abandoned gymnasium, or on the metal fire escape where that crazy tree really did grow, reading 1950 editions of the Verde Independent. Even now, you can go into the high school and visit artists who rent studio space amid the khaki-colored lockers, the staff john, and the empty trophy case. And if you walk down North Drive to the cemetery, you’ll find clusters of paradise trees by a tall house that used to be the Mexican Methodist Church (built with powder boxes by Sabino Gonzales, who inspired my character Francisco). But the shanties in El Barrio Chicano (Mexican Town) are gone, except for a few foundations. And the slag football field has become a parking lot beyond the fire hall, where the long-abandoned open pit continues to dominate the view.
I think the best view of the pit, though, is from the first pew on the left-hand side of the Holy Family Church, which still has its tin ceiling, the organist’s mirror, and that ill-fated lamb across the altar. The parish and its former priests (one left the church after making a fortune in mining stocks and married; the other was known to collect hundreds of women’s left shoes and to hide thousands in offertory money in coffee cans) helped me create the Sacred Heart of Mary and the character of Father Pierre.
I’ve watched that gaping pit (and the forty-foot-high J painted on the hill above it) slowly disappear from my rearview mirror a hundred times while driving home. But I’ll never forget how Jerome looked the night I left it after interviewing former Muckers quarterback Rusty Winslow. Watching the town prepare for the night as I looped around the old high school, I saw the lights from the old mining hospital (now the Grand Hotel) turn on first, starting up the birthday-candle glow. By the time I’d reached Cottonwood, the illumination had grown wider and brighter, and I imagined the whole town celebrating a spectacular achievement that had gone unnoticed for too many years.
Acknowledgments
A STORY BECOMES A NOVEL because so many people work hard to make it so. In my case, that’s especially true, since I’d discovered the spark of this story more than a dozen years ago, right before the trajectory of my life made several dramatic turns that could have derailed it.
By the time the final draft of Muckers had been written, I’d lived in two different countries and three states, and gone from being an ESPN announcer—single and travel-bound—to being married and a stepmom, and writing from home in (very fashionable) sweatpants.
Before all that, though, I’d collected my own boxes full of material. They would be the first items on the U-Haul trucks. I’d also written fifty pages of Muckers, sitting on the fire escape of Jerome High (which had long been abandoned) or in the auditorium next to a few chatty squatters who often gave me Dunkin’ Donuts napkins to write on when I’d run out of paper.
During that time, I was most thankful for meeting Rusty Winslow, a Jerome Mucker quarterback who became a football coach. Unassuming and courteous, Rusty kept calling me “ma’am,” his wavy hair looking like it must have in 1950, and walking with the gait of a man still proud of his town and what they’d achieved. Standing on the old field as Rusty told me about Coach Brown and pushing that school bus around or about those Wolves was the highlight of gathering golden nuggets for my novel. I’m thankful for Rusty’s stories about playing Muckers football and grateful to his wife, Barbara (Hollingshead) Winslow—they were Jerome High School classmates—for her recollections about living in Jerome.
Of course, when it came to crafting the novel, I have several people to thank for supporting me through the writing process and keeping me grounded to the finish.
Nancy Hinkel is one of those editors who authors hope to have for their entire careers. I’m told that notion is very old-school and that it rarely happens anymore, but then again, I’m married to an editor, so I do have a reference point. And I suppose with a novel set in 1950 and featuring old-time football, it’s obvious how much I value tradition and maintaining treasured relationships. I’d like to thank Nancy for gently nudging me to let go of what I had to in order to make the story better. Nancy also helped me strive for that elusive balance in historical fiction—between what really happened in the town I’d grown so attached to and what was best for my characters. Thanks also to the watchful eye of Nancy’s editorial assistants, Jeremy Medina and Stephen Brown. Is there anyone left in publishing who returns emails immediately? They do, and that means so much. Special thanks to the extraordinary copy editors Iris Broudy and Artie Bennett and to the jacket designer Sarah Hoy.
To my husband, Rich Wallace. I keep reminding myself that I’ve known this story longer than I’ve known you. But I have Muckers to thank for bringing us together. When we met in Prescott at that writers’ conference, I was trying to compose rhymes, but we talked sports and about Muckers and it felt like I’d always known you. Thank you for making sure that Red’s voice and the essence of Muckers never shifted when the stress of moving and life sometimes clouded my reference point, and for always being as excited about this story as any of yours. No one writes sports action like you do, so I appreciate how you watched over mine.
Research can be a tricky thing. It was Alene Alder Rangel, then the archivist of the Jerome Historical Society, who allowed full access to reporters like me. Without Alene, I would have never known about Mr. McDonald’s box, had access to photographs and alumni, or been able to listen to dozens of taped interviews of Jerome old-timers to get a sense of language, history, and personality. This is how I was able to put flesh on the bones of my characters, and I’m so grateful to Alene.
Getting the additional information I needed once I’d moved to New Hampshire could have been tricky also. But thanks to an archival swap program, I was able to have every 1950 edition of the Verde Independent and the Arizona Republic brought to the Keene Public Library from the Arizona State Library, Archives, and Public Records—five microfilm reels at a time. Thanks to the staff at the Keene library for never “shushing” me whenever I gasped at discovering new headlines or want ads that took my breath away. These fascinating tidbits found their way into the novel, creating their own story parallel to the main one.
To Judy Goldman, the wonderful Mexican children’s book author who breathed language into my characters Cruz and Angie, making sure that they spoke “Mexican” Spanish and that their voices and traditions rang true to their ancestry. Mexico City seemed so close, and I thank you for always responding so quickly and enthusiastically. And to Kathy Cannon Wiechman for your watchful eye when it came to continuity.
Some things just fall your way, and finding the late Barry Sollenberger’s article on the history of Jerome Muckers football was my lucky break, and how I knew I had a sports story. I never got the chance to meet Barry but am so grateful for his commitment to chronicling the history of Arizona high school football. Without Barry, much of that state’s sports history would have been lost.
And finally, and perhaps most of all, to the late Mr. Lewis McDonald, Jerome High principal and chief secret keeper of his students’ hopes and dreams. You defined the course of their lives by standing up for civil rights at a time when teachers could be fired for it. If I could, I’d write and tell you that I found it—that precious box—and cherished every letter. And that I keep copies of them close by, next to a handful of rocks I pilfered from the schoolyard. And that because of them, the Jerome Muckers won’t be forgotten.
SANDRA NEIL WALLACE, a former ESPN sportscaster, may have snagged her greatest lead yet in uncovering the inspirational achievements of the Jerome Muckers football team. She discovered the story while sifting through a box of letters and other memorabilia. The trail of letters led her to write Muckers.
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p; Wallace was named an outstanding newcomer to the children’s literature scene by the Horn Book following the publication of her first novel, Little Joe. The book was a finalist for the South Carolina Children’s Book Award and a U. S. Department of Agriculture selection for its Ag in the Classroom program. Muckers is her first book for young adults. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband, author Rich Wallace.
Visit Sandra Neil Wallace at sandraneilwallace.com.
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