by Linda Ellen
Vic couldn’t believe it. In his hands was his actual “record”? How in the world…?
“But…what’m I supposed to do with these?” he asked, for lack of mental clarity.
John chuckled and shook his head, standing to his feet and replacing his hat firmly on his head. “Oh, you could paper the bathroom with them. Lock ’em away in a drawer. Keep ’em for posterity. Or maybe start a bon fire and roast ’em.” Making his way to the door, he glanced back at Vic with a wink. “I’d vote for the latter. Good night, ladies,” he tipped his hat to Louise and Lilly, who were sitting still with their mouths gaping open as they stared at him. “See you on the flip side,” he called as he opened the door and went out into the cold night.
Vic shook his head and turned to meet Louise’s still shocked eyes. She managed to croak, “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he did that.”
Vic snorted softly, and then in a few seconds, he was laughing and shaking his head.
“I guess its true what they say – it pays to have pals in high places.”
*
By the end of the next week, the bank loaned him the money and Vic Matthews was on his way to realizing his Bold Venture.
‡
CHAPTER 31
The Preparation, The Waiting, The Doubts
Phillips 66, an up-and-comer in the Petroleum industry, had been started as Phillips Petroleum Company by a pair of brothers, Frank and L.E. Phillips in Bartlesville, Oklahoma in 1917. In 1927, when the Phillips Petroleum Company’s gasoline was being tested on U.S. Highway 66 in Oklahoma, and it was discovered that the car had reached the amazing speed of 66 mph, the company decided that was a good omen and named the new fuel Phillips 66, later changing the name of the company to match. By the 1950’s, they had begun expanding their marketing beyond the Midwest by opening Phillips 66 stations in Texas and Louisiana – and beyond.
After viewing and rejecting several properties for sale, the Phillips 66 team chose a prime parcel of land way out on Shelbyville Road in the eastern part of the city of Louisville to begin building a new, state-of-the-art service station. It was at the edge of “civilization,” with nothing much past it but acres and acres of farmland that was planted in corn during the summer months except a drive-in theater about a mile down on the other side. The company planned to advertize that their station was the last stop out of town, so drivers would be wise to fill up – and hopefully purchase other items while they were there.
Every Sunday after church, the family of six would pile into the Oldsmobile and take a drive out to see the progress the construction team had made that week. Coming all the way from Thirty-Eighth and Herman, it was a forty-minute trip.
At first the project limped slowly along, as the rainy spring made digging in the ground difficult. It took some doing, but they managed to finish the concrete and make some headway. However, once warmer temperatures and dry days set in, the building began to rise and things really took off.
Vic had several meetings with the Phillips Reps, and many discussions with Hap. In the midst of it all, of course, he was still handling his responsibilities at Hap’s lot downtown.
Tommy was so proud of his “Chief,” he bragged to everyone who would listen that his stepfather was about to become the owner (in his words) of a “brand spanking new” service station.
Louise and Lilly were just as proud, Louise near to bursting that her husband had stepped out like he had and went after the brass ring – and caught it. She just knew that her Vic could do anything. He was truly her knight in shining armor, just as they had joked all those years ago during their date at Fontaine Ferry. Lilly had done a complete about face from the days when she seemed to dislike her son-in-law, to being one hundred percent on his team, and no one had better say one derogatory word concerning Vic in her presence, or they would certainly get an earful. The neighbors on Thirty-Eighth were in awe. To hear Lilly tell it, one would think Vic had struck gold.
However…the magnitude of responsibilities that came with the venture had slowly begun to overwhelm Vic. Sitting in the parking lot booth one bright summer day, Vic stared out a window, contemplating the soon coming grand opening of his station – Matthews Service Center. He would be responsible for every aspect of its operation. At first, he would have to man it alone…pump gas, greet customers, take care of the money, repair customers’ automobiles, inventory and order stock, and more, and it all weighed heavily on his mind. The Phillips reps warned him that to make a go of it, he could expect to be putting in at least fifteen hour days at first – until he began to make a profit and he could afford to hire help.
Idly watching people walking down the street, his distracted, tired brain noticed a military vehicle that turned the corner and wheeled to a stop in the entrance to his lot. Wondering why a large army vehicle would need to park in his lot and mentally picturing where in the crowded lot to put it, his brow furrowed as a soldier in army fatigues and cap emerged and headed his way. The happy-go-lucky loping gait seemed familiar. It took a moment before he realized it was his friend, Floyd!
With a laugh, Vic stepped out of the booth and met him at the sidewalk, enthusiastically extending his hand for a hearty handshake. Vic noticed his friend gave a slight wince as they shook hands in greeting.
“Man, what are you doin’ in town?” Vic greeted with a wide grin, adding with a nod toward the booth, “Come on in and visit awhile.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Floyd let out his trademark chortle as he and Vic made their way inside the small building and out of the sun. The interior was pleasant with a small fan rotating on the tiny desk.
Vic resettled into his chair by one window as Floyd took a seat on a stool and flashed his white-toothed grin at his long-time friend.
“I thought you was in Jacksonville, soakin’ up sunshine and chasin’ after a cute little waitress,” Vic teased, referring to details Floyd had confided in his letters and occasional phone calls. The two had kept in touch regularly all through the war and afterwards, and were current on the happenings in one another’s lives – except that Floyd hadn’t yet heard about Vic’s new venture.
“Nah, I’s back at Knox. Asked for a transfer. My new C.O. was glad ta be rid ’a me,” he added with another chuckle, but Vic saw something in his eyes that spoke of a deeper meaning. “Anyways, the Major sent me on a pers’nal errand in town, so’s I thought I’d stop by and see what’s doin’.”
“I’m so glad to see you, man,” Vic replied. Assessing his friend, he noticed his youthful face had hardened and matured over his years in the service, with a trace of gray in his hair, and that he unconsciously reached up and rubbed his right shoulder. Knowing his friend, at age thirty-eight, had not seen fighting action during the current war in Korea, Vic asked, “You hurt your shoulder?”
Floyd gave a shrug. “Wrenched it outta the socket a while back. Still gi’s me trouble now ’n then.”
Vic nodded, perusing the stripes on his friend’s jacket. “So you finally made it to Sergeant First Class, huh?” he asked, watching Floyd’s expression.
Floyd answered with his typical joviality, “Yeah, only took me fi’teen year.” Then, switching the conversation away from himself he said, “So, waz up wit’choo? You get that wife ’a yours in the family way again yet?” he added with a wink.
Vic laughed, pausing for a minute as the telephone in the booth rang and he answered it. Explaining to the caller the lot’s rates for weekly and monthly parking, he wished he could put it on a phonograph record and just play it when someone called in.
After he could finally hang up, he answered, “Can’t complain. No, she ain’t pregnant. Her and the kids are doin’ great. And plus…” he paused, his excitement concerning his upcoming venture animating his eyes, “I’m about to quit this place and start my own gig.”
Floyd’s eyes lit up. “Dat right, Chief? What kinda gig?”
Vic unconsciously sat a bit straighter as he replied, “Would you believe – I’m gonna have m
y own Phillips 66 station?” Floyd’s mouth fell open with a few colorful words and Vic chuckled, continuing, “Yep. They’re buildin’ it right now – way out at the edge of town, on that road that leads to Shelbyville. I’m gonna be the manager. They’re aimin’ to have it up and runnin’ by July or August.”
“Aw Chief, I’s happy for ya,” Floyd truthfully answered. “I always know’d one day you’d get dat Bol’ Ventcha you use’ ta dream about when we was boys back at dat CC camp.”
Vic smiled and nodded at his friend, amazed that each time they were together, the years just seemed to melt away and their friendship remained strong, standing the test of time and distance. For the next few minutes, Vic filled his friend of seventeen years in on how he had gotten the idea and the steps he had taken to get to that point.
“And de bank jus’ handed you a grand. Man oh man,” Floyd chuckled, tipping his head down and shaking his head. “Somebody up dere sho’ ’nough got yo’ back.”
“I’m a little worried, though,” Vic admitted finally, “Man…with everythin’ I’ll have to keep track of…I’m wonderin’ if I’ve got what it takes to make it all on my own.”
Their eyes met. After a moment, Floyd gave him that wink like he used to when they had been given an especially hard task at the CC camp, and leaned forward, giving Vic’s arm a friendly punch. “’Course ya can, Chief. You’ve always had what dey call, Leada’ship qualities. De maja’ saw dat right away dat first week we was in the C’s and he made you team leada’. You kept dem boys on dere toes, you did. I gots faith in ya.” He paused for a moment and then as if speaking in the prophetic, placed his hand on Vic’s shoulder, urging, “Don’chu let nobody steal yo dream.”
Vic thought for a moment of the different people who had made it a point to “warn” him of the pitfalls of having your own business; his brother Jack, for one. Also, several of the men who worked at Hap’s station had made one or two derogatory remarks, but they were always tempered with jokes or something funny. Perhaps they were, unconsciously, trying to douse the fire of his excitement? He wondered if their words had affected him more than he cared to admit, and he realized that when he tried to rest at night, or his mind was idle during the day, it was those comments that came back to roost in his head. Well, I’ll be hanged if I listen to their crap. Sour grapes is all…the beastly buzzards.
Buoyed by his friend’s words, Vic smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry ’bout that. I’ve waited too long to get my Bold Venture. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me now.”
Floyd sat back with a satisfied smile. “Dat’s more like de Vic Matthews I knows.”
For the next half hour, the two friends caught one another up on happenings in their lives, especially the trouble Floyd had experienced when his immediate C.O. at the Army Airfield in Jacksonville had retired. In his place had come a rigid, hard-nosed, by-the-book Colonel who, for reasons undefined, took an instant dislike to the happy-go-lucky Floyd. The short of it was, by mutual agreement, Floyd was given the option of transferring or enduring a hard time. Floyd wisely chose the former. Upon his arrival back at Ft. Knox, however, he had suffered an accident that had put his shoulder out of commission. His dreams of being career army were quickly coming to an end.
“So, it looks like I’ll have to be findin’ another line ’a work when dis hitch comes to an end.”
Vic shook his head in sympathy. “That’s rough, man.”
Floyd just shrugged and flashed his wide, white smile. Chuckling a few choice words, he mumbled, “Well, I look at it like dis. At least I’s still in one piece. Som’ ’a the guys I served wi’ at Pearl…well, dey ain’t around no mo’ ta complain. So, I figga’s I gots it pretty good.”
Floyd stood up then and flexed his shoulder around, working a few kinks out. “I need ta be gettin’ ’bout it,” he chuckled as he bid his friend goodbye and good luck on his venture.
With a few parting comments, and Floyd adjuring Vic to be sure and give his best to Louise and the boys, Vic watched his friend climb up into the truck and carefully maneuver it back out onto the street, and with a few jolly toots of its horn, he was gone.
His mind more at ease than it had been in weeks, Vic returned inside the shack whistling.
*
Several more weeks passed.
Summer was in full swing, and the brand new Phillips 66 station was nearing completion. On a Sunday after church, Vic and the family headed east and stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch before heading on out to the building site, unaware that a major fly was about to mar the ointment of their enthusiasm.
As Louise was chattering happily about her plans for helping on the upcoming opening day and that she was going to ask Ruth and Fleet to come out too, she suddenly gasped, one hand quickly covering her mouth in shock as they pulled onto the property.
“Oh no Vic, look!”
Vic whispered something profane and pulled up in front of the station’s nearly finished office. The construction foreman, Sam Wilkins, had spoken to him on the phone on Friday afternoon, letting him know the progress on the building. Specifically mentioned had been the large plate glass windows, which had been installed that day. Vic had looked forward to seeing them in place. They were at that moment gleaming in the afternoon sun. However…a large jagged hole ruined the center of the one near the door, and bits of broken glass lay on the ground in front.
“Kids, stay in the car,” Vic ordered as he exited the Oldsmobile. Tommy, Buddy, and Jimmy scrambled over to the open car windows, eyes and mouths agape, as their father circled the front end of the vehicle to inspect the damage to his station. His hands on his hips in disgust, Vic shook his head and moved closer to peer in through the hole. As he had suspected, a brick had been tossed through the brand new pane. It lay on the new concrete floor amidst a mess of shattered glass.
“Must have been some punks out joyridin’ and decided to cause some trouble,” he grumbled to his wife as she drew near and touched his elbow.
“Oh Vic, this is awful. Why would anybody do something like this? Do you think they stole anything? Does somebody have it out for us? Oooh, I just knew something like this was going to happen,” she whined and fretted, becoming more upset by the moment.
Vic turned, placing his hands on her arms. “It’ll be okay Mary Lou. It can be fixed. Wilkins’ll just order a replacement. Don’t get yourself all in an uproar,” he added, knowing his wife’s propensity to let things get to her. Just then, he heard Lilly’s voice, her hard-soled shoes crunching on the gravel and broken glass.
“The no-goods. In my day we’d take a horsewhip to miscreants such as those. We should have them arrested!”
Vic glanced her way as he drew his wife into his arms. “Aw Lilly, we don’t even know who did it. It ain’t like they left a callin’ card.”
“Well, still,” she sniffed disapprovingly. Jimmy tugged on her hand to be released to run around, as he usually could when they made their visits. “No, no, Jimmy, it’s too dangerous. Come on,” Lilly insisted, turning on her heel to go back and wait for her daughter and son-in-law in the car.
Fourteen-year-old Tommy drew near to stand next to his dad, feeling just as much disgust. “Wish I woulda’ seen ’em. I’d take my BB gun and…”
“You’d do no such thing, young man!” Louise snapped, flashing aggravated eyes at her son. “Then you’d be no better than they are!”
“Alright now, everybody just get back in the car. I’m gonna take a look around and see if anything else was broke or stole.”
Louise and the kids settled back in their seats, leaving the doors open for a little breeze. The tension thick, Buddy and Jimmy began to fidget and fuss. It was a hot day and the adults soon found something with which to fan themselves as they waited.
Minutes ticked by. No Vic.
Feeling impatient, Louise called out the car’s window, “Vic? Where are you? Come on!”
Several minutes later, Vic came walking from around the left side, shaking his head in an
ger. When he climbed in the car, Louise could tell by his face he had found something else. “What?” she demanded.
“They went in the men’s room and wrote on the tile walls and left sh…” he paused, dragging one hand back through his hair. “Crap on the floor. I think we oughtta go find a phone booth and call Wilkins.”
The two women and Tommy all began talking at once, each of them feeling as if the vandalism was a personal insult and attack. Vic drove about a block and pulled over to a corner phone booth, where he made a quick call to the project foreman. The man assured Vic he would head on over and make sure everything was made right, and order the new window.
“And put the locks on those restroom doors,” Vic added. The man said he’d get right on it.
When he returned to the car, the first thing out of Louise’s mouth was, “We’re going to have to find a place to live that’s closer to the station, Vic. You’re too far away. It’s ten miles from the house all the way out here! It’s like another county. We need to start looking for a place that’s closer,” she finished decisively.
Vic rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease the mounting tension. He knew she was right. He’d been thinking quite a bit about that and he wasn’t relishing the idea of having to be out at the station to open at seven in the morning, work a fifteen-hour day, and drive ten miles back home.
Glancing at his wife as he started the engine, he mumbled. “I’ll look into it.”
For Louise, things couldn’t look worse. She felt as if she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, absolutely sure something would happen to stop their plans or spoil their dreams. Now this. The frustration of the whole venture seemed to mushroom and urged her to keep hammering away at her point. She opened her mouth to do so, but changed her mind and said no more. She knew her husband was a man of few words, but when he spoke, he meant what he said. They both knew that moving the household took a lot of hard work and planning, even more now that they had three kids and schools and Lilly to coordinate.