Some Came Running

by James Jones

Clark nodded, his narrow eyes still watching Frank. “Yes, it’s bad.”

  There was a sort of respectful silence, and the two men looked at each other for a moment, each one trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

  “I wonder when they’ll get it built?” Frank said.

  “Well, it probably won’t be this summer, Frank. They’re only just beginning to buy up their right of ways now.”

  “You’d think they would have bought up all the right of way before they started the road at Israel,” Frank said.

  Clark shrugged. “Sometimes they figure to do it by sections, I guess . . . They might get it graded and the roadbed laid this summer, if the weather holds off, but they wouldn’t be able to pour till the next summer.”

  “As I see it,” Frank said, “there’s only about three places where it can go.”

  Clark grinned. “That’s right. There isn’t much room between the railroad and the college. Less than half a mile. Of course,” he said, his face sobering, “the state doesn’t like to have to go through the procedure of condemning the land and forcing people to sell, unless they absolutely have to.” He took another sip of his drink, the narrow eyes probing Frank from above it.

  “Of course, they always could run it around to the south.”

  Clark looked as if he was about to shake his head. “Yes, of course, they could always do that,” he said, and took another sip.

  “Or build one of those new modern-style overpasses over the railroad,” Frank said, “and run it north of there.”

  “They could. You have a farm out there north of the railroad, don’t you, Frank?”

  Frank made a face. “Just a little one. I took it in on a mortgage once. It’s really more of a liability than an asset,” he said.

  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about the bypass cutting your farm in two,” Clark said.

  “Well, that’s good,” Frank said. He took a deep drag on his cigar and then a swallow of his drink. “You have any idea just where it will run?” he said.

  Clark eyed him with those narrow eyes. It was impossible to tell what the bastard thought from that face of his.

  “Well, the plans,” Clark drawled, “the tentative plans, you understand—were originally drawn to run it right through the center of the strip between the college and the railroad. I’m interested myself in it being as it was from my district, you know. But of course, it’s a very flexible program and subject to change. Especially, where it concerns the bypasses, which will be breaking virgin ground where no road ever ran before.” He stopped and took another sip of his drink and looked at Frank, having said exactly nothing.

  Frank nodded at him and waited for him to go on but he didn’t. “Of course, someday they’ll have to make it a four-lane,” Frank said.

  “Yes, of course, someday they will,” Clark said and stopped again.

  “You know, it’s surprising how little interest there has been in this bypass in town,” Frank said.

  Clark made a wry face. “Well, I wouldn’t say there had been no interest,” he said. “I remember that the Jaycees and Chamber of Commerce and Rotary all got together and took me to task for letting the state build a bypass around Parkman.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I know a lot of the local businessmen were against it, but I was never one of them.”

  “I know you weren’t,” Clark said with his thin smile.

  “I think that bypass could be a fine thing for Parkman,” Frank said. “What I meant was that nobody seems to have any interest in any kind of development out there after it goes through.”

  “Well, I expect business will eventually build up out there around it.”

  “I reckon so, but it’s a funny thing. I ain’t heard a single word about anybody buildin out there, Clark. Have you?” Frank was looking at the poker game, casually. He felt Clark turn his head a little and eye him even more narrowly.

  After a moment, he said, “No. No, as a matter of fact I haven’t, Frank.”

  “I imagine Harry Shotridge probly has some such idea. He usually does,” Frank said still watching the poker game. “But if he does, I ain’t heard anything about it.”

  “If he has,” Clark said, “he hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

  “Well?” Frank said; “I ’spect they’ll all get around to figurin it out eventually,” he said, watching Bob French uncover a winning hold card. “But it seems a shame to do it that way,” he added.

  “I don’t think I’m following you,” Clark said.

  “Well, you know. When they do finally get the idea, they’ll all go about it all haphazard like, competin with each other; and there’ll be a great big bunch of jerry-built tourist cabins and tacky fillin stations all clustered up and down the road which will all be just one big eyesore and won’t probly get much business anyway. That’s what I mean.”

  Clark snorted. “Yes, I imagine that is just about what will happen.”

  “It seems a real shame for it to happen like that, don’t you think?” Frank said. “Somethin ought to be done to stop it.”

  Clark did not answer for a moment, while he, too, watched the poker game. “Well,” he said, “about the only way would be for one man or one organization to own all the land.”

  “Well, I’d never thought of that, but it’s a good idea,” Frank said. He took another long drag on his cigar. Then he rolled himself around on his stool until he was facing the other man and laid the cigar in the ashtray. He set his drink down and looked the other in the eyes.

  “I’m goin to level with you, Clark,” he said. “I love this town. I love the town and the people in it and everything about it. I’d be willin to do just about anything, Clark, to help this town and make it a better place. To keep somethin from happening like what’s goin to happen out there along that bypass someday.”

  “I love Parkman just as much as you do, Frank,” Clark said.

  “I know you do. Well; look here. I’m goin to be honest with you,” Frank said. He raised his hand. “Now I may be stickin my neck out— Because there’s not a thing in the world to keep you from tellin this to anybody you want. But I’m willin to take that chance.”

  “I’m sure you can depend on my discretion, Frank,” Clark Hibbard said. “If it’s something for the good of Parkman.”

  Frank nodded as if he actually believed that. “Well, I’ve got an idea of what to do when that bypass goes through. An idea that will not only be a major asset to Parkman itself but will be—could be—one of the finest most talked about things in this part of the state.”

  “Well, I’d certainly be glad to hear about it,” Clark said. “But, of course, if you have the slightest feeling that—”

  Frank raised his hand again. “No. No, I’m goin to tell you about it, Clark. Because I’m goin to need your help, if I’m goin to be able to do half of what I’d like to do out there.”

  “Oh?” Clark said.

  Frank nodded and went on, ticking off on the fingers of his hand all the items he had been mulling over for so long. The asset it would be to the community, the potentially perfect factory sites between the railroad and the highway, the big modern shopping center where the bypass junctioned with Route 1.

  “What I see is something like this,” he said. “A big modern ranch-style place, built in a right angle—a regular shopping center with space for eight or ten or a dozen stores, and in the center of the angle lots of parkin space, enough for at least two hundred cars. Like those places you see pictures of out in Hollywood.

  “All tied in with a beautiful big air-conditioned motel—maybe two of them—and a fine restaurant, and right next door a movie theater. And a big, ritzy filling station and garage service next to that, all of it tied in together.

  “In short, a regular autonomous community, Clark. Completely autonomous,” he said; he had asked the word of Dawn a month ago. “You know what I mean, Clark? A regular village in itself. You could even call it that: Parkman Village. Like they do them places
out in Hollywood? Yes, sir, that’d make a fine name. Parkman Village.”

  Frank was looking off over the heads of the poker players, talking calmly, but he could feel his own eyes and face beginning to get pinched and narrow in an effort to keep his enthusiasm restrained inside. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, and moved his eyes back down to Clark’s face.

  He was pleased to see a look of surprised respect there.

  “You can see what an opportunity for investment it would be,” he said.

  “Yes. Well. It would certainly be a wonderful thing for Parkman. It’s strange no one has ever thought of it before. But a place such as you’re talking about,” Clark said, his dark eyes narrowing. “That would take a great deal of money to build.”

  “The money’s the least of my worries,” Frank said. “I can get the money.”

  “Where?” Clark said.

  Frank shrugged. “I know more than one man already who wants to invest in it. Out-of-towners. That’s no problem. But you’re forgettin the third thing I mentioned.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The factories, Clark. Can’t you just see it. A string of them, all along that strip between the bypass and the railroad. Why, we’d have to enlarge the whole damned town. Add on a couple of new subdivisions. Think of all the labor that would flock in here. You know yourself how many factory sites Parkman has lost in the last four or five years, just because they wasn’t places conveniently enough located.”

  “Yes, I can see where it would be a wonderful thing. For Parkman,” Clark said. He was looking at Frank as if he had never really seen him before. “Not only Parkman. Everyone in Parkman.”

  “Of course, it would,” Frank said, “and I knew you’d see it. But the trouble is you can’t have a bunch of uncoordinated individuals rushin out there to put up cheap ass filling stations in competition with each other. No, my problem isn’t the money. That’s all taken care of. My trouble is that to build the kind of place I dream about buildin for Parkman, it’s got to be a one-man operation, with one man in charge.”

  “Or a board,” Clark said. “A board of directors.”

  Frank made a face and shook his head. “You know how boards and committees are, Clark. They never get anything done. While they were talkin about it, the mob would be makin its rush.

  “No, not a board, or a corporation. One man. Of course,” he said, “that don’t mean that other people couldn’t be silent partners and have a share in helpin to create such a grand benefit and fine service for our town. You know?”

  Clark was eyeing him very narrowly now, his long thin eyes almost slits. “In just what way could a poor politician like myself be helpful in realizing this great benefit to Parkman?” he said.

  “Well, a person who was goin to undertake doin a big thing like this for his town would need to know just exactly where that bypass was goin to run. Because this person would have to first buy up and control enough of that land that would be along the bypass.”

  Clark Hibbard rubbed his fingers back and forth across the lower half of his face. “Well, in my opinion—which of course certainly is not infallible—that bypass,” he drawled, “is going to run just about exactly where it was first planned. Now I understand all those people along there have been sounded out, and only three have said they’d refuse to sell the state right-of-way. I believe that the highway people are just waiting, hoping to get them to change their minds without causing hard feelings, but if they don’t I believe they’ll go ahead and condemn the land for fair price and take it.

  “All this, of course, you understand,” Clark drawled, “is public knowledge; at the disposal of anyone who wants to take the trouble to ask or write to Springfield.”

  “Of course,” Frank said. “But this person would have to know for sure.”

  Clark nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Of course, he would. That bypass is supposed to go—I understand—just north of the college grounds. I understand it is to curve up north to miss the college and then curve back south to the old right-of-way further west. Of course, now, I know very little about it, you understand. Only a little bit. And that just because it was in my district, you know,” Clark said, adjusting his glasses, and proceeded to marshal an imposing number of facts.

  There were it seemed only eight land owners out there whose land the bypass would cross. It was all farming country. Of these eight, only three had refused to sell the state right-of-way. One of the three dissenters was Old Lloyd Monds the livestock dealer; one of his small feeding farms was situated on the west side of Route 1 where the bypass would cross and thus he would own two of the junction corners. Old Lloyd had apparently failed to realize the value of the corners he would own because he had insisted that if he sold at all the state would have to buy the northernmost lot (the part which would be cut off from his barn) for a fair price, in addition to the right-of-way, and Old Lloyd was not even sure he would agree to sell then.

  “Well, he’s only tryin to make money off the state,” Frank put in.

  “Of course,” Clark nodded. “But the interesting thing is that he apparently doesn’t see that the road going through his place will enhance its value as much as fifteen times.” He gave his thin laugh. “A real case of what Sir Walter Scott or Charles Dickens would call penny wise and pound foolish.”

  “I guess so!” Frank said.

  Clark sat up excitedly. “You know, Old Lloyd might be a good one for you to start in on, Frank.”

  Frank nodded. “If I could make him think I didn’t know about the bypass. You know; so he could think he was takin me.

  “Always provided, of course, that I knew for sure the road would go across his place,” he added.

  There was a look of real respect—not liking perhaps, Frank thought, but still respect—on Clark Hibbard’s face for a moment, before his expression narrowed in again. “Of course, as I say,” he said, “I really know very little about it. But I do know that Old Lloyd has tried to use influence to get the road moved further north away from his place. Of course, he hasn’t any.”

  Frank could not resist shaking his head.

  Clark eyed him. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Frank,” he said finally. “The next time I’m up in Springfield, I’ll look into it for you. I’m sure I can find out definitely. And since after all it is in the public domain, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t find out for you. Is there?”

  “Of course not,” Frank said. “And especially, when it might turn out to be such a real benefit for Parkman. I was sure you’d be willin to help me out. But then I guess that’s why we elect people like you. We know they’ll help us when we need it.”

  “You know, Frank, if you start trying to buy up all that land out there, you’re almost certain to run into trouble? Have you thought of that? About the second time you approach one of those people wanting to buy their land, a lot of folks are going to start looking for your reasons.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought of that,” Frank said. He looked up at Clark. “I thought maybe you might want to buy up some of that land out there yourself, Clark. I could buy some, and you could buy some.”

  “Oh no,” Clark said and shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t do at all. People are always quick to suspect ulterior motives in a politician. They would immediately suspect me of trying to make money off the project even when I wasn’t.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Frank said. “I would never of thought of that. Well, maybe we could—”

  “However,” Clark said, “I do know a man in Springfield who would be willing as a favor to me to buy up what you didn’t buy and then resell it to you. To us.”

  “But could you trust him?”

  “Absolutely. I can personally recommend him. This chap has a sort of loosely hung organization which includes men from just about every state in the union. He could send men in here from anywhere, if we wanted. He’s a friend of Betty Lee’s father.”

  Frank nodded.

  “I suggest we leave it like
this, Frank: The next time I’m up in Springfield, in a few weeks, you can come up for a day or two as my guest. We will meet him and the three of us will get together on it, how about that? Because I’m sure some way of corporate structure could be worked out without anyone’s name having to appear on it if it wasn’t wanted.”

  “All right then,” Frank said. “That’s fine.” He stubbed out the cigar. “Because I really honestly think, Clark, that it’d be a shame to have such a project that could do so much good for our town fall through, just because a bunch of greedy bastards without any organization rushed out there to try and capitalize on it.”

  “Absolutely true,” Clark said. “They could very easily give the whole town a black eye, so that no tourists would want to stop here. By the way, Frank, there is something else—there is a state law in Illinois to the effect that along a new stretch of highway such as our bypass here in Parkman will be, no new road entrances may be made. Only those roads which are already in existence may be used as entrances to the highway. Did you know that?”

  “No,” Frank said. “No, I sure didn’t know that.”

  “This was done, of course, to prevent congestion, a rash of new buildings each with its own entrance to the freeway which would be a serious traffic hazard.” Clark took a sip of his drink.

  Frank nodded. “No, I sure didn’t know that,” he said. “But I see what you mean.

  “If a person wanted a chance to do a nice thing like this for his community, if this person owned the land adjoinin all the entrances to the freeway, he wouldn’t need to worry about ownin the rest of the land. Not really.”

  “Exactly,” Clark Hibbard said.

  “Well!” Frank said. “Well now, I think that’s a damn fine law. As I remember, there’s only three entrances to that bypass—provided it runs between the railroad and the college—and that includes the Route 1 Junction.”

  “I believe that’s right,” Clark said. He took another sip of his drink. “By the way, Frank, have you decided on a college yet for Dawnie?”

  “Western Reserve. She wants to be an actress,” Frank said.