by Lou Bradshaw
The Frisco Rail Road runs through the middle of it – east to west. US Highway 60 is the southern most feature, also running east to west, but curving around the town in almost a half circle. The downtown section consists of about 3 blocks where the stores and bars are. All of the downtown businesses are clustered around the train station on Front Street, almost as if they have to be in view of it to stay in business. State Street runs north of the tracks (also east and west) and connects with highway 60 on the east side and the west end. See how well that worked out.
Lincoln Avenue is the main north and south street: it’s all of 18 blocks long. It becomes a street at the highway on the south end and runs on out into the country to the north. All the other streets cross either Lincoln or State, and they’re all laid out strictly by the compass – north, south, east, and west. There are some highway businesses such as Brick’s Texaco Service Center, a few restaurants, and few other less reputable gas stations also catering to travelers.
One of the things that sets Doubling apart from most of the towns in this part of the state is that within the city limit it’s wet. You can buy liquor by the drink in any number of places. They say that started a hundred years ago because the founders saw a dry trend in the area and decided to make an oasis here. The charter was drawn up that way and got approved, and nobody has ever been able to get it changed. And many have tried. Economically speaking Doubling would be hard pressed to go dry, too many citizens of neighboring towns spend a lot of loot here. You might say that Kelley’s Saloon is a tourist attraction. How the town got its name is one our greatest mysteries.
Anyway, if you’re looking for fun on a Saturday night in Doubling and you’re not of legal age, then you better go to Springfield. Otherwise, you will spend your evening going down highway 60 from the Dog-N-Suds on east end to Crockett’s Café on the west side, with Brick’s in the middle. So there I was – circle Dog-N-Suds – pull out on the highway – stop in at the station and help out a little then head down to Crockett’s. There were a couple of parties going on, but I didn’t want of run into Nan and the Weasel so I didn’t stop at any of them.
Cynthia didn’t have a car so she wouldn’t be out cruising, unless she was with some of her girlfriends. That could mean any one of a couple of dozen different cars, and I didn’t know what to look for. I thought of going by her house, but she had quite pointedly told me that she wouldn’t be there. Besides, I didn’t like the idea of being on the same front porch with her mean-eyed old man.
Back and fourth, back and fourth, circle the Dog-N-Suds, eat a chilidog, drip it on my shirt, and cuss. Luther Bates was gassing up during one of my stops at the station. He was in a ’59 Lincoln. I sat in it, and brother you could feel the luxury just oozing. If I had a car like that I’d just pull up to any girl in the world and say get in – and she would. Old Luther had a real deal going for himself. After he left, Earl said it was a good thing that I waited on him because he wouldn’t be washin’ no nigger windshields. I told him that Brick’s policy was, “ They buy the gas – they get the service – no exceptions.” He went off mumbling that he didn’t have to like it though. I didn’t know if Brick even had a policy, but it sounded right and it stopped Earl’s mini-rebellion.
10 o’clock came and went, I closed up the station and made the night deposit then I went to Crockett’s for some pie and a cup of coffee. There were a few people there, mostly trying to sober up or looking for something to do. Most of them would still be sitting there at closing time still trying to sober up and looking for something to do. Saturday night in Doubling…. Yipee!
I was at home by 10:45 to be sure that I was there when Nan got home at 11:00. Actually, I wanted to be standing at the door with the porch light on just in case Lester tried to kiss her good night. I turned on the TV, but there wasn’t anything worth watching on either channel. There was a preacher show on one and an old movie on the other, so I just slouched around waiting.
At five after I was looking out the window. At ten after I was pacing on the porch. At 11:30 I was in my car checking out the parties in town. I went back to the house to see if she had come home, then I went out to check the parking spots. I kept thinking, “I’m going to kill that weasel bastard.”
At 12:15 I was on the porch smoking and pacing and smoking and fuming. By 12:30 I was still on the porch smoking and pacing, but I had replaced fuming with worrying. Back and fourth – back and fourth. I was responsible for her and she was missing. I didn’t loose her, but she got lost. I didn’t want to call the cops, but I was thinking about it. I thought that maybe I should call the hospitals, but maybe I didn’t want to know. I must have picked up the phone a dozen times, but was too afraid to dial. I just kept pacing, smoking, and worrying.
At 12:47 Liz’s father’s car pulled up in front of her house, and Liz and Nan got out and started across the street. I went out to meet them and raise some hell. Nan was in no mood to hear a lecture. There I stood with my mouth open and my finger raised all ready to scold, as she lifted her chin and walked right past me. I turned to follow, but Liz spun me around and whispered, “ Hold it right there, big boy! She needs a big brother right now not a preacher. God knows you’ve got no pulpit to be preachin’ from. If you go in there snortin’ like a bull and causing her any grief at all, I swear the whole town will know about that bullet in your butt before noon tomorrow. You get my drift, big brother?”
Looking, into those no-nonsense browns and hearing the tone of her voice I had no doubt that she would carry out her threat – in spades. So I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m cool… now what’s goin on …what happened?”
“She’ll tell you everything, but you’ve got to listen and don’t judge. I mean it Brickey! She’s okay, she’s not hurt in any physical way, but she’s mad-hurt. She feels guilty and she needs you right now as a friend – not a substitute parent. And let me tell you this, if you are half as good a friend to her as she is to you, then you’ll do fine.”
“Okay, okay, you put a heavy load on a guy,” I said, “Now can I go in and not judge and just listen and let her tell it?”
“You still can’t stay mad very long can you?” She said, and then she reached up and patted my cheek and said, “Nighty-night, big boy.” Then she turned and crossed the street. I turned and went up the walk to the house.
Nan was boiling water for some unimaginable reason; we always seem to boil water around here when there’s trouble. I sat down at the table and toyed with a spoon. She put some instant coffee into 2 cups, poured the hot water, and sat down across from me. “You okay?” I asked, trying to sound as concerned as I felt.
She looked up at me and those blues were already starting to fill up, then she said, “I’m okay, Lee I’m sorr…” About that time the tears overflowed and God what a flood. Between the blubbering and the sobbing I got a broken story in which she and Weasel Boy went into Springfield to the dance that I didn’t get to go to. The same dance that probably cost me the affections of Cynthia Smith, the lust of my life. I set that aside for the time being and listened to the rest of the story.
“I told him at 10:30 we had to leave so I could get home by 11:00,” she explained between sniffs and sobs, “but he wanted to stay until the band quit at midnight. So I told him that if he wouldn’t take me I’d find someone who would. There were plenty of Doubling kids there. Mickey was there and Liz among others. In fact, it was Mickey who took Lester to the emergency room at the hospital.”
I bolted straight up spilling my coffee in the process and shouted, “He went to the hospital!”
“Well just to the emergency room.” she said.
“What happened, Nan? What the hell happened?”
“When I went outside he came out with me, so I went to his car expecting to come home, but he was expecting something else.” she was saying with a mixed cry and curse in her voice.
“What! What! What!” I shouted.
“He tried to grope me!” he shouted back. “He was all over
me – up my skirt – down my blouse – all over!”
“That little son of a bitch is dead.” I growled. “Did Mickey bust him?”
“No.” she stated flatly. Then with a look of an impish angel she grinned and said, “I did.” I’m sure my mouth fell open as I digested what she had just said. Then with some degree of pride she said, “I punched that little weasel faced bastard in the nose and broke it.” At the same time showing the Rocky Marciano knockout blow, which looked like a kitten swatting a ball with a clenched fist. Good Lord, she was proud of that punch.
I laughed so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath, and tears were running down my cheeks. When I was almost laughed out, she would show me the punch again, and I’d start all over.
I seemed that old Lester went screaming and yelling around and attracted the attention of those inside, one of which was Mickey. He didn’t give a damn about Lester’s nose, but he did give a damn about Nan, since he was practically one of the family.
When Liz heard about it, she followed to see if Nan needed any help, and thank God she did. Mickey thought he had a sure thing sizzling on the burner, so when Liz showed up he went back to the dance.
Nan went on to tell me that Lester called his mother. When she got there and they were patching old Lester up, she started in on Nan. She was saying that it was all Nan’s fault, that she was trouble and not good enough for her little boy, and etc.
That was when Liz took over, and let her know what Lester had been up to. She also told her if she didn’t want an attempted rape charge and a visit from Nan’s father and brother, then she had just better shut up and take her little darling home.
I sat there with my arm in spilled coffee holding Nan’s hand, listening to the story, and just being so very proud of her and Liz.
Chapter 8
We got through the return of the folks and the rest of the weekend without the cat leaving the bag. Nan had a real struggle with her conscience – to confess or not to confess. Liz and I convinced her that all’s well that ends well, and there was nothing to be gained by laying all that onto Mom and getting Brick thrown in jail for horsewhipping a weasel.
Things soon got back to normal, sleeping in civics, smearing windshields, and playing undercover courier. Luther Bates was still showing up about once a week; sometimes Thursday sometimes Friday or Saturday. Each time he was in a different car, and each time it was a beauty. I still liked Luther’s visits and felt comfortable with him, but…there was something just not quite right. I wondered if those cars might be stolen or something, although I couldn’t imagine Luther stealing cars. But what did I really know about him? I made up my mind to give it some thought; maybe I’d talk it over with Mata Hari McCord.
William was taking a lot of heat out in Amish country. Sarah’s daddy was stirring up the righteous, and they were giving him a hard time. That old boy would sacrifice his daughter’s reputation if it meant giving William’s bunch a black eye. Sometimes I can’t understand religious folk. For instance, these two families have hated each other for generations over God’s words. And imagine if you can how many millions of gallons of blood have been spilled in the name of God through the centuries. For thousands of years, even before the Crusades, people have been slaughtering each other because of religious beliefs. The Spanish came to the new world with the intent of converting…or killing the people who lived here. Of course, the gold that was here may have accounted for some of the killing. I guess some of the history classes must have stuck – imagine that.
One day William walked into town to see me about trying to get a job. I introduced him to Brick. Brick in turn took him to meet Louie Bowles a local builder who was always in the market for day laborers. So William started working as an unskilled laborer the next day making better money than I was. Louie told Brick that he didn’t know much about building, but he was strong enough to move a wall if it was in the wrong place, and he did what he was told.
William would walk 3 miles into town every morning and back home every evening. This eliminated the mail drop and me from having to drive out to the drop. I had a feeling that William was not long for Amish country.
* * *
Hanging out is probably the one activity that is universal to young males across America, maybe even around the world, but I can’t speak for the whole world. Hanging out is a constitutional right, and if it isn’t specifically spelled out in that document then it should be. It’s a social event that means you shouldn’t do it alone. Like drinking alone it then becomes a really sad thing. Nor do you need a crowd because in a crowd there is always someone with a bad idea and….
That was what we were doing on a warm evening in late April, hanging out. Mickey and I had just tuned up his car at the station, and had gone out for a test run. Everything was in good shape, so we called it done and went our own ways. I wound up at Dog-N-Suds only to find Mickey there too. There were about a half a dozen guys already there, just hangin out. There were some jocks and some weenies, but everybody knew each other so we all mixed well. Nick (Donuts) Drago was holding court.
Nick Drago, AKA Donuts, stood out from the crowd for several reasons. The most obvious was his size at 6’3” roughly 220 lbs. Another reason was his coloring; he was dark, with black wavy hair, and a 5 o’clock shadow. He may have been tall dark and handsome, but he certainly wasn’t the strong silent type. Nick may have had his mouth shut for an hour – total in his entire life, and somewhere along the way he lost his volume control knob. Nick didn’t talk. Nick roared. But, he was one of the most likable guys you would ever meet, and a generous caring person. He was the quarterback on our football team, and played forward on the basketball team. There wasn’t any question of his athletic abilities. His only real fault was in the area of…well, intelligence. The sad truth is he wasn’t any smarter than Mickey. We called him Donuts because he once stuffed 5 glazed donuts in his mouth at one time.
There we were just hangin out being guys, talking about cars, talking about girls, mostly just talking and listening. We had no place to go but home, and we all knew that was going to happen soon because it was a school night. Most of us weren’t going to rush right home and hit the books, but the weenies were looking at their watches.
Donuts was entertaining us with some of his experiences in the art of amour, I think that’s French for sex. I wouldn’t know, not having much experience with it in any language. Anyway, our ears were tuned in, and we were listening hard, especially the weenies. From the way they were squirming and shifting about, I don’t think their ears were the only body parts that were tuned in. We were so engrossed in the stories that no one noticed the 57 Chevy hardtop pull in and stop in the middle of the drive about 20 feet from where we were standing.
There were 2 guys in the car; both seemed to be in their late teens. That car just sat there loping like it had a whole lot of cam and maybe a few other tricks as well. About the time I noticed it and nudged Mickey to take a look, the driver’s window went down. He stuck his head out like he was going to ask directions, but instead of asking anything he just said, “Hey Drago.” and motioned Nick over to the car.
Nick looked up from his story, and you could see that he recognized the driver
and wasn’t real happy to see him. “You guys hold on for a few minutes.” he told us and walked over to the Chevy. After a short conversation he said, “We’re going to run out to the overpass and discuss some business, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” The guy in the passenger seat got in the back, and Nick took over at shotgun. That engine did have a few extras by the way that hardtop squatted when he punched it.
I said to the group, “Hey, you don’t go to the overpass to have a discussion, you go there to kick some ass. Come on – let’s go.” I jumped in my car and spun out of the drive and on to the highway.
The overpass is a place where the highway crosses the Frisco tracks just east of town. There is about a 5-acre flat area along the tracks, about 200 yards from the overpass, and it is surrounded
by woods. Scattered around are some picnic tables and grills, and an electric outlet if you could climb the pole and pick a lock – which most of us could. No one knew if it was county, state, or railroad property, but it was a good place for a fight or a party because you could see anyone coming a long way off. The only real problem was there was only one way out.
As I drove out to the overpass, I could see headlights behind me, and I was thinking, “We’ll show those bastards that they can’t come into our town and throw their weight around. That thought was immediately followed by the thought, “Those guys must be pretty tough to come into our town and throw their weight around.” I didn’t recall having that kind of nerve. When I got close to the turn off, I put on my signal and made a left onto the gravel road. The car behind me kept going and there were no other lights behind it…”Oh crap!”
I pulled up about 10 yards behind the Chevy. The passenger guy was facing me and walking my way. I was climbing out of the car when I heard him say, “The first one out’s mine.”
I had just cleared the door and was almost vertical, and was starting to explain that I was the only one in the car. I don’t know how much I said or didn’t say because a beautiful flash of light and lots of smaller lights were popping off everywhere. I could feel myself falling forward, but I couldn’t get my hands up to break the fall. The beautiful lights went out.
I could sense voices – I couldn’t hear them so much as sense them. Then I could sort of hear Nick’s voice, one could never not hear his voice. He was talking to me, but he wasn’t making any sense, and he kept shaking and jabbering at me. Someone way off in the distance was doing a good deal of cussin’ and yappin’. I heard someone else say, “He gonna be alright?”