by D M Barrett
“Preacher, you should have retreated. You’ve got to learn when to keep quiet,” Sheriff Hankins pleaded.
“I only voted ‘Present’ but tell me your concern about this situation. Is it the Hoochie-Coochie part or the gypsy part?” the preacher inquired.
“He never learns,” Sheriff Hankins said beneath his breath.
“I’ll tell you what I’m not in favor of. I’m not in favor of attacking some poor, homeless, itinerant gypsies for performing some of their cultural dances to raise some money for food,” the nurse announced loudly.
“That’s exactly why I came here to ask Preacher Mann to go out to that gypsy camp with me to properly evaluate the situation,” Sheriff Hankins explained while Preacher Mann rolled his eyes.
“Have Miss Rosie save your food?” Nurse Hankins instructed.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” the preacher opined.
“Why do you say that?” Sheriff Hankins inquired.
“Miss Rosie said the show doesn’t start till about an hour after dark,” Preacher Mann said.
“Miss Rosie? How does Miss Rosie have a dog in this fight?” Sheriff Hankins inquired.
“Years ago, they sold her a gold necklace that belonged to the Gypsy Queen, Esmeralda. They also told her fortune in which they said she would be going into a business that would be more lucrative than a bordello,” Preacher Mann explained.
“That’s ridiculous. They sold her some worthless junk and lied about a future that just happened to come true,” Sheriff Hankins said.
“A wise man said, ‘Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute,’” Preacher Mann replied.
“He means that the only thing you should say to Miss Rosie is that you need a plate of food like she got for the preacher,” Nurse Bilbrey instructed.
When Miss Rosie came to the table, Sheriff Hankins pointed to the preacher’s plate and then to himself. Miss Rosie nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
“A wise man once told me, ‘he that hearkeneth unto counsel is wise,’” Sheriff Hankins remarked.
“Who said that?” Nurse Bilbrey asked.
Sheriff Hankins replied, “Preacher Mann said it in a sermon a few weeks ago.”
The preacher smiled and kept eating. He thought to himself: I quoted Solomon but at least he listened to the sermon.
When Sheriff Hankins and Preacher Mann arrived at the gypsy encampment, they found two wagons, two teams of horses, two gypsy couples, and an elderly woman who was presumed to be the grandmother.
Preacher Mann introduced himself and Sheriff Hankins. He said that they understood that the gypsies were friends of Miss Rosie. The gypsies all nodded and invited them to sit on logs around the campfire.
“Are the children asleep?” the preacher asked.
One of the men invited the preacher to come with him to one of the wagons. He pulled back the curtain and showed him four sleeping children between five and eight years of age. It was obvious that they were ill.
“We have a doctor in town. He can help the children. We will bring him,” the preacher said.
“We have no money. Our fire provides only potato soup for food. We have kept to ourselves since we have been here hoping the children will get better,” Manfri said.
“Money is not a problem due to the children’s illness. The sheriff will bring the doctor here,” the preacher explained.
Looking at Sheriff Hankins, the preacher instructed, “Tell him we have two boys and two girls between five and eight years old. They could have scarlet fever or just strep throat. Tell Joe Scott the situation and suggest he may have to showcase his wonder drug again.”
“Is there anything else?” Sheriff asked.
“You’ll need to quarantine this area. If it’s scarlet fever, it’s highly contagious,” the preacher suggested.
“I’ll alert Deputy Kelly. He can park a patrol car on the side of Highway 70 to keep everyone away,” the sheriff replied.
“Tell Jack Wright that we have five hungry adults and four sick children. I need ten days of groceries. I’ll settle up with him in a couple of days,” Preacher Mann instructed as Sheriff Hankins stepped into his patrol car and headed toward Ferguson.
It wasn’t long before Dr. Marcus Whitman arrived to examine the children. He had Manfri remove the children, one at a time, from the colorful, covered, gypsy wagon. His wife, Leonora, assisted with the work.
At the conclusion of the examinations, Dr. Marcus Whitman said, “Preacher, you’re a damn good lawyer and a damn good preacher. I’m thankful that you’re a very poor physician.”
“Why are you thankful for my lack of medical skill and training?” the preacher asked with a smile.
“These children have bad cases of strep throat. In some cases, strep throat can develop into scarlet fever which is very dangerous and very infectious. I think that Joe Scott’s ‘wonder drug’ as you call it will get them well within a week to ten days. They won’t be infectious after their fever abates in three or four days,” Doctor Whitman replied.
“We need to tell the families,” the preacher said.
The children’s parents were very grateful for Dr. Marcus Whitman’s care and treatment. They were also very thankful for the groceries provided by Community Church.
“We have little to offer. But we would like to provide the three of you with our spirited gypsy dance,” Manfri said.
Sheriff Hankins, Dr. Marcus Whitman, and Preacher Mann were seated on logs around the campfire. Manfri’s brother, Danior, grabbed his accordion while Manfri tuned his six-string guitar. Leonora, and her sister, Selina, prepared to dance for the visitors.
“Is this what I think it is?” Sheriff Hankins asked.
“Indeed,” said Preacher Mann.
“What is it?” Dr. Whitman asked.
“It is gypsy style hoochie-coochie,” Sheriff Hankins remarked.
“If I get in trouble with Anna Mae about this, I’m blaming it on you two,” Dr. Whitman remarked.
“If I get in trouble, I’m blaming it on the preacher,” the sheriff remarked.
After a few moments of silence, the preacher said, “I’m blaming it on Jack Wright.”
“Why is he getting the blame?” Dr. Whitman asked.
“He provided the groceries that gave these beautiful women sufficient energy to perform a celebratory dance,” the preacher said.
“It’s Jack’s fault,” Dr. Whitman said.
“Jack Wright is definitely the culprit,” Sheriff Hankins opined.
Over the next few days, the children’s condition improved and the Romanov families had several long sessions with Preacher Mann. He found out that they were quite skilled at making both real and fashion jewelry.
Jack Wright offered to showcase their jewelry in his store. He made it available through Henry Wooden for wholesale in larger quantities.
The Romanov’s resisted the idea of permanent residence in Ferguson. The preacher introduced them to Floyd Baxter at the amusement company and helped them get jobs working in one of his traveling carnival units six months a year.
The men helped assemble and disassemble rides. The women told fortunes and performed other functions. The preacher never asked but assumed that they served as hoochie-coochie dancers in certain locations. The balance of the year they spent in the Ferguson making jewelry and getting their children schooled.
When pressed about why he didn’t move the gypsies into a more typical lifestyle and away from their exuberant, cultural dances, he only quoted from Isaiah 28:10 which says in pertinent part: “Precept upon precept . . . line upon line, here a little and there a little.”
10.
Mountain Justice
The preacher crossed Highway 70, the road that separated Community Church from Discount Grocery, to await a call from Sheriff Hankins. It was a short distance on the sunny morning of an early spring day.
Both Preacher Mann and Dr. Marcus Whitman were about to enter the store simultaneously. Each invited the other to take the lea
d.
“Age before beauty,” Dr. Whitman suggested to the preacher.
“You’re just afraid the Lord will send a she-bear after you,” the preacher said referring to a biblical story where some youths killed by two bears for mocking the prophet Elisha.
“I didn’t say one word about your hair or lack thereof,” the physician asserted.
“Looks like the grass is getting thin on that mountain top, too,” Preacher Mann remarked.
Eventually, the preacher relented and took the lead entering Discount Grocery. They were met with a very distasteful, sickening pungent aroma.
“How long has it been since you bathed?” the preacher asked pointedly to the storekeeper.
“It’s probably his feet,” the doctor opined.
“I got this cheese from Frankie’s cousin in Wisconsin. He works for the Chalet Cheese Cooperative in Monroe, Wisconsin,” Jack Wright said holding up a large brick of cheese.
“It ruined. You need to bury it. It’ll kill a possum and they’d spend the winter in a dead horse,” Preacher Mann exclaimed.
“It’s the Brevibacterium linens. That’s the bacteria used to ripen it. It’s the bacteria that is on your body that causes smelly feet,” Dr. Marcus Whitman explained.
“I had some a few minutes ago. You eat it with your mouth – not your nose,” Jack Wright replied.
“My nose tells me to keep that stuff away from my mouth,” the preacher said with a chuckle.
“It likely burned out his olfactory nerve years ago,” the physician said with both men laughing aloud.
“Ok. Did you two jokers need something, or is today your day to be the cheese police?” Jack Wright asked sarcastically.
“Anna Mae sent me to pick up something for the clinic but I forgot what she wanted,” the physician admitted.
“You can call her on that telephone,” Jack Wright suggested.
“Actually, I can’t. She’s in Cookeville today running errands for Joe Scott. I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” Dr. Whitman explained.
“What can I do for you, preacher?” the merchant asked.
“I’m supposed to be waiting on a phone call from Sheriff Hankins,” the preacher replied.
“Why’s he calling?” Jack Wright inquired.
“He thought a dead body had been dumped at or near Discount Grocery,” the preacher said jokingly.
Just as the preacher finished his remark, Deputy Thomas Kelly entered the store and remarked, “Smells like that dead body’s been here for at least a couple weeks.”
“Ok. I’ve heard enough. This cheese is going into the outside storage shed and I’m opening the store windows,” Jack Wright declared.
“You’ve solved the case. I’m going back to my office,” the doctor announced.
“And you’re coming with me, preacher,” Deputy Kelly announced.
“Should I get the shotgun?” the storekeeper said with a laugh.
“I’m unarmed. My pistol is in the car,” Deputy Kelly replied with a chuckle.
“Let’s go, Deputy Kelly. Before he assaults both our noses again with that block of nasty, smelly cheese,” the preacher urged.
Once seated inside the patrol car, Deputy Kelly said, “I’m supposed to take you to our Baxter office to meet Sheriff Hankins and Circuit Court Clerk Lois Porter.”
“Is this about the court file on that young man at the county work farm that’s awaiting transfer to Brushy Mountain State Prison for execution?” the preacher inquired.
“I told you all that I know, Brother Mann. But, I can say that the Sheriff was insistent that I find you and quickly get you to Baxter,” Deputy Kelly explained.
When the men arrived from their 23-mile journey west from Ferguson to Baxter, the preacher was quickly rushed inside the building. Sheriff Hankins instructed Deputy Kelly to stand and not permit entry by anyone. He placed a second deputy inside the locked front door.
“I didn’t realize that President Roosevelt was in Baxter,” the preacher said with a chuckle.
“Preacher, this is no laughing matter. This is deadly serious. I mean deadly serious,” Sheriff Hankins said abruptly.
An attractive middle-aged blond lady entered the main office from the small jail area in the back of the building. She was holding a file folder in her left hand. She extended her right hand to greet the preacher.
“Thomas Mann, this is Lois Porter our elected Circuit Court Clerk,” the sheriff announced.
“Preacher, we’ve got a short time so I’ll be brief. You need to look at this file on Jeffrey Burton,” Lois Porter said.
The preacher took the file folder from the clerk. It only contained one page which the preacher quickly read.
“This is only a one-page case action summary. Where’s the rest of the case file?” the preacher queried.
“That’s it,” she replied.
“Jeffrey Burton had been tried, convicted of murder, and sentenced to death. There’s got to be more. There should be enough paperwork to fill the trunk of Sheriff Hankins patrol car,” Preacher Mann insisted.
“There’s only that one folder. It was misfiled under Burton Jeffrey,” Lois Porter reported.
“The one witness mentioned on that page is my former chief deputy, Paul Crook. Apparently, he testified after he left to become the police chief at Watertown,” Sheriff Hankins said.
“What does he say about all this?” the preacher queried.
“We’re going to find out when we finish here,” the sheriff said.
“I’ve made you a duplicate of this page. It’s in my signature. The original entries were made by the judge,” Lois Porter explained.
“Who was the judge?” Preacher Mann inquired.
Sheriff Hankins and Clerk Porter looked at each other before the sheriff replied, “Your law school buddy, Pete Mitchell.”
“Pete Mitchell is the chancellor. He presides over equity cases. He’s not a circuit judge handling criminal cases,” the preacher responded.
“He was appointed by the governor to take Judge Charlie Moore’s place about a week before this case started. He’s been a circuit judge for about ninety days,” Lois Porter explained.
“Preacher, Lois has to get to the courthouse. We have to get to Watertown,” Sheriff Hankins said as he motioned for Preacher Mann to follow him to the front door.
* **
It was 43 miles from Baxter to Watertown and it usually took a leisure drive of about an hour and a half to get there. Using the patrol car’s lights and siren, Sheriff Hankins made the trip in just over an hour.
“Did I scare you, preacher?” Sheriff Hankins said with a slight chuckle.
“Only the driving,” the preacher remarked dryly.
The pair entered the Watertown Police Department on the public square. They were warmly greeted by Chief Paul Crook.
After exchanging introduction and pleasantries, the three men began to speak about the situation in Putnam County. It appeared grave.
“What’s your story in all of this?” Preacher Mann asked.
“About three months ago, Judge Mitchell issued a verbal arrest warrant for Jeff Burton. When I asked him the nature of the charge, he said it was an out-of-state felony charge,” Chief Paul Crook responded.
“What did Mr. Burton say regarding the arrest?” the preacher inquired further.
“He didn’t say anything. He’s deaf and I don’t know any sign language,” Paul Crook said.
“Where did you take him?” Sheriff Hankins asked.
“I took him to the county farm just like Judge Mitchell said to do,” the police chief replied.
“Did you testify at his trial?” Preacher Mann queried.
“I know nothing about a trial. I’ve told you everything that happened,” Chief Paul Crook stated.
“How did you end up in this job?” Preacher Mann asked.
“I graduated from Watertown High School. My sister teaches at the elementary school. The chief here took a job in another town. The mayor called and
offered me the position. It’s not a lot more money. But, I like it here,” the Watertown Police Chief explained.
“Have you had any other contact with either Judge Mitchell or Jeffrey Burton since you’ve been here?” Sheriff Hankins inquired.
“You two have been my only contact since I was your chief deputy, Sheriff,” Chief Paul Crook responded.
Sheriff Hankins and Preacher Mann stood to leave. Watertown Police Chief Paul Crook followed them to the door and bid farewell.
“What do we do now? Get the district attorney involved?” Sheriff Hankins asked.
“We’re going to Lebanon. We’re going to see Tennessee’s Attorney General, Robert Alan Jemison,” Preacher Mann instructed.
“You mean to tell me that you personally know the Attorney General?” the sheriff asked with incredulity.
“He was one of my law professors. In fact, he was one of Pete Mitchell’s law professors, too.” Preacher Mann replied.
Sheriff Hankins and Preacher Mann stopped at the Watertown Café to permit the preacher to make an appointment with AG Jemison. The two men agreed that they would meet at the Wilson County Courthouse in Lebanon, Tennessee.
It was fortuitous that AG Jemison spent Monday at an office in Lebanon, Tuesday at an office in Murfreesboro, and the rest of the week at the state office building in Nashville. He believed that his schedule permitted him more flexibility in dealing with his constituents.
“Are you lawyerin’ or preachin’ today, Thomas?” Attorney General Jemison asked with a laugh.
“It’s the same as last time, sir. I’m doing double-duty today,” Preacher Mann replied.
“He always was a hard worker, Sheriff,” AG Jemison said.
“We’ve got a serious problem in Putnam County,” the preacher said sadly.
“It sounds like we’ve got a crooked judge,” the AG stated flatly.
“He changed from chancellor to circuit judge for an extra few hundred dollars a year. Henry Wooden told me that Mitchell is heavy into gambling and heavily indebted. I checked with his banker, who’s my very good friend, and his property is being foreclosed,” the Attorney General reported.
