by Mark Dunn
1940
AU FAIT IN COLORADO, NEW MEXICO, AND CALIFORNIA
George and his wife Dahlia Heyman couldn’t find their son Todd. They had just finished breakfast in the dining car, each ordering and very much enjoying the Santa Fe French toast which had been recommended to them by the woman in the room next to theirs. The woman was a successful Hollywood hairdresser. The Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Super Chief, which sped with minimal stops from Chicago to Los Angeles two days a week, was the train of choice for many of the well-to-do of Tinsel Town. Not that George and Dahlia and their missing son Todd had anything to do with Hollywood themselves. They were taking the train for two reasons: to see Dahlia’s sister in Pasadena and to celebrate Todd’s fifteenth birthday.
Todd loved trains. He was especially enamored of the ATSF, one of the country’s oldest and most beloved railroads. Todd would become slightly perturbed whenever someone asked why the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad, its sleek Streamline Moderne locomotives emblazoned with the familiar, almost iconic, red-yellow-black pin-striped Indian “Warbonnet” paint scheme, did not, in fact, pass through Santa Fe, New Mexico. Without variation, Todd would explain that the civil engineers who had laid the track realized that they couldn’t surmount the mountains around Santa Fe, so they built the railway through the small nearby hamlet of Lamy instead. A smaller spur line was later constructed to take Santa Fe-bound passengers the final few miles of their journey.
Todd knew everything there was to know about the ATSF (excepting technologically abstruse engineering and design specs, and facts of a strictly proprietary nature). At the same time, Todd had been slow in certain areas of his social and psychological development. George and Dahlia had no name to give their son’s condition, unaware as they were of Hans Asperger’s groundbreaking research being conducted at the time in Vienna. Todd’s uncle Johnny merely called his nephew, with breathtaking insensitivity, “the idiot-genius.”
“I’ll search the front end of the train and you take the rear,” suggested George to his wife. The boy had excused himself to use the washroom as the three were finishing breakfast in the company of a gentleman who made his living selling microscopes for classroom application. Once Todd came to realize that their table companion knew absolutely nothing about the Super Chief beyond those items that pertained to his own traveling comfort and convenience, Todd retreated into his ATSF Railway System Time Table and only looked up to note to no one in particular that by his personal railroad chronometer (his most prized possession) the train was pulling into the La Junta, Colorado station (an operating stop only) a good one minute early.
Dahlia agreed with her husband’s plan and turned to initiate her half of the search. Both parents, though concerned, remained calm. Furthest from their minds was any possibility that Todd would have left the train even if he’d wanted to; it wasn’t due to stop again until 4:35 that afternoon (another operating stop with no discharge or receipt of passengers permitted) in Albuquerque.
As she reached the passage door, Dahlia stopped and turned back. “And we should meet back here, don’t you think?”
George nodded.
“Oh, and George?”
To which a porter, coincidentally placed between the two, replied, “Yes?”
“I beg your pardon. I was speaking to my husband,” explained Dahlia. The porter, who was trained to respond to the name “George” as tribute to the Pullman company’s founder, smiled indulgently.
Dahlia continued: “If you’re the one to find him, George, don’t scold him. I’m sure he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong.”
“I don’t scold the boy. I never scold the boy.” Then, addressing the porter: “Our son Todd has wandered off. If you find a boy unattended, would you ask him to return to our room?”
“Yes, Mr. Heyman,” answered the porter. “But he isn’t a little boy, if I recall. He’s a great big boy.”
“He is,” said George, “and getting bigger every day. Todd isn’t like other children. But, of course, you’ve probably noticed that already.”
The porter nodded. “He asked me if I’d ever worked the ‘El Capitan.’ And ‘did the ATSF need Pullman porters on trains without sleeping compartments?’ That’s an ‘all chair’ car, don’t you know. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘every train needs a porter. There are lots of things that we porters got to do.’ He said if he couldn’t be an engineer, he’d be a porter. The boy loves trains.”
“That is a fact,” said George.
“And he ain’t the only different sort of boy on this train. Mr. Bergen’s riding with us on this trip. And he’s got his wooden boy Charlie with him—got the little top hat on and everything.”
Dahlia raised her eyebrows and said, “Ahh!” She and her husband loved the Chase and Sanborn Program with Edgar Bergen and his giggly sidekick Charlie McCarthy, and Todd was especially fond of Charlie after he heard him say on the radio how much he liked going places on trains. “I’d love for Todd to get the chance to meet him.”
Neither Dahlia nor her husband George was aware that their son was doing that very thing at that very moment. Both Todd and Messrs. Bergen and McCarthy were in the train’s observation car. Bergen’s impromptu performance for the occupants of that convivial car had been suddenly and effectively co-opted by Todd’s arrival, by the sudden entrance of a teenaged boy who, dead set on meeting his friend Charlie, had proceeded without attendance to proper railroad passenger etiquette, toward a bold introduction of himself.
Here is what Dahlia Heyman saw when she walked into the observation car eight minutes later:
“Aren’t you one smart cookie!” pronounced Charlie McCarthy through his ventriloquist Mr. Bergen.
“I’m not a cookie. I’m a boy.”
“Well, bright boy, let’s see if there’s anything you don’t know about this railroad.” Charlie turned to a thoroughly engaged woman wearing a blue suit with pleated skirt, her long blond hair curled into a sausage in the back. “Care to play ‘Stump the Choo-choo Genius’, my dear?”
The woman nodded enthusiastically, her morning Bloody Mary sloshing a little out of her highball glass. “I want to go from Lawrence, Kansas—I’m originally from Lawrence, Kansas—to Flagstaff, Arizona. I absolutely adore Arizona!”
Todd took hardly any time at all to deliver his response. As his mother looked on from the lounge door, he said, “You could take the Number Three—that’s the ‘California Limited.’ It makes a flag stop in Lawrence at 10:13 in the morning. But it’s a flag stop. I’d recommend the Number Nine, the ‘Navajo.’ It stops in Lawrence at 1:48 in the afternoon. It gets into Flagstaff at 9:25 the next evening. The ‘California Limited’ arrives in Flagstaff at 6:05 the next evening. But Lawrence is a flag stop. You take your chances with a flag stop.”
The man who was seated with the woman carefully conned the timetable in his possession and then looked up in amazement. “The kid’s right. He’s exactly right.”
Charlie had been doing all the talking up to this point, but now it was Mr. Bergen’s turn. “There’s a new show on my network, NBC, that I think you’d be perfect for, son. What’s your name?”
“Todd Heyman.”
“And how old are you?”
“I’m almost fifteen.”
“Good. You’re under sixteen. They want boys and girls under the age of sixteen. You live in Chicago? The show broadcasts out of Chicago.”
Todd nodded.
“What’s the name of the show?” asked Dahlia, making her way through the car. “I’m Todd’s mother.”
“Did you know that your son is a veritable genius? Don’t you agree, Charlie?”
Charlie nodded his wooden head and said, “He’s a regular Casey Jones Einstein.”
“It’s a summer replacement show for Alec Templeton, Mrs. Heyman. It’s called Quiz Kids. I know the producer. I’ll talk to him.”
Back in their room, Dahlia shared the good news with her husband.
“What a kick!” he said. “And it’l
l shut my brother Johnny up for good—my own kid on the radio. What do you say, champ?”
“Will Charlie be on the show too?”
“No, honey,” said Dahlia gently. “Charlie McCarthy is on Chase and Sanborn with Mr. Bergen.”
“Oh,” said Todd, turning his dog-eared timetable over in his hands. He looked out the window. “Coming back, of course,” he said quietly to himself, “that lady would have to catch the Number Ten in Flagstaff at 5:40 in the morning. That might be too early. Yes, yes, that just might be a little too early.”
Todd sat and continued to ponder the blue-suited woman’s predicament as the sun-burnished mountains of northern New Mexico began to crowd the tracks of the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe Railroad.
Mr. Bergen’s show was on summer hiatus. It had been replaced during the vacation months by a new detective show, The Bishop and the Gargoyle, about a crime-solving retired Catholic bishop and his ex-con partner. Mr. Bergen was performing at a nightclub in Hollywood and invited Todd and his parents to come and see the show while they were in the area.
Dahlia asked if her sister Lily in Pasadena could come too.
“The more the merrier,” said Charlie McCarthy in his funny voice.
Mr. Bergen performed with all of his friends: Charlie, and the dim-witted Mortimer Snerd, and the geriatric man-chaser Effie Klinker. After the performance, after Bergen had deposited his fellow performers in his dressing room, he joined the Heymans and Dahlia’s sister at their table. Bergen reported that his discussion with the producer of the new quiz show for hyper-intelligent child contestants had gone well, and the man was eager to meet Todd once he got back to Chicago. Todd asked about Charlie. Was he coming back out later?
Bergen chuckled. “Charlie needs his rest, son.” Massaging his throat, he added, “We all need our rest.” Everyone but Todd nodded and laughed. Dahlia laughed the hardest; she was giddy with thoughts of her son’s impending career as a radio “whiz kid.”
“Not whiz kid, honey,” George corrected his wife. “Quiz kid.”
Todd excused himself to go to the washroom.
When Todd still hadn’t returned after five minutes, George said he would go and look for him. “He’s probably gotten himself into a long-winded discussion with the washroom attendant. Especially if the man used to be a railroad porter.”
Everyone laughed.
Ten minutes passed. George returned ashen-faced. “He isn’t in the washroom. I’ve looked all over the club.”
“Let’s check my dressing room,” said Mr. Bergen.
George and Dahlia accompanied Edgar Bergen to his dressing room. The door was open. There was Todd sitting on the floor next to a still and lifeless Charlie McCarthy, whom Mr. Bergen had draped over his divan. Next to him lay Mortimer and Effie, equally mute and motionless. Todd, his hand resting on one of Charlie’s stationary, dangling legs, was crying. These were not soft tears, but great sobs of nearly hysterical anguish.
Todd turned and looked up at his mother and father through reddened eyes. “He won’t talk to me! Charlie won’t talk to me!” And then to Mr. Bergen: “Is he dead? Did Charlie die?” As his cries grew louder and more intense, Dahlia rushed to put her arms around her son.
“Don’t be dead, Charlie!” cried Todd, now hugging both of the dummy’s legs. “Please don’t be dead!”
“But he can’t be d—” Edgar Bergen did not finish his sentence.
“Todd,” said George. “Look at me, Todd.” George’s voice was even, the words delivered in a placid, demulcent tone. Todd looked at his father.
“Number Sixty-six, Todd.”
There was family ritual in the words; they had been said before.
“What?”
George took a step toward his son. Then another. “Number Sixty-six. Fort Worth to San Angelo.”
“Charlie’s dead.”
“Number Sixty-six, son,” said the father.
“Dry your tears, baby,” said the mother.
“Train Number Sixty-six,” said Todd in a mechanical monotone. “Fort Worth, 11:05 p.m. Primrose, 11:33 p.m. Flag stop. Winscott, 11:40 p.m. Flag stop.” Todd choked back his tears, his voice becoming quieter now as George laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “Cresson, 12:01 a.m. Chapin, 12:09 a.m. Flag stop. Waples…”
1941
Under Fire in Hawaii
The Day That Hawaii Was Attacked
by Lisa Chapman
Miss King’s Class
My name is Lisa Chapman. I am eight and a half years old and I live with my mother and father and baby brother in Makalapa. That is a hill that Daddy says was lava but now it is hard and you can live on it. On Sunday Mama was making oatmeal for my baby brother and me. His name is Jeff. He has the same name as my father. But my mother and me have different names because her name is Frieda. Daddy calls her Val because they were married on Valentine’s Day and she is his Valentine. Mama was making eggs and bacon for my father. We heard some loud noises. Daddy was reading the paper. He got mad because he said they were probably blasting the lava rocks to make room for some more houses and they should not be doing this on a Sunday morning so he threw his paper down and went out on the lanai to see what was happening. Mama and Jeffie and me and Fumiyo who is our maid and cook went out too. Pearl Harbor is burning up!! cried my mother. She was pointing at the ships which you can see down the hill from our backyard. There was smoke coming from some of the ships. Daddy was pointing to the planes in the air. He said fixed landing gear. I didn’t know what he meant. Daddy said this meant that they were Japanese planes. It was Japanese fliers that were dropping bombs on the harbor.
Go get my binoculars said Daddy. When Mama came back with the binoculars, Daddy looked down at the harbor. He said I have to get down there with my men. Don’t go said my mother. She was still holding the fork she was using for the bacon. Mama doesn’t like Fumiyo to make the breakfast because she doesn’t know how to make an American breakfast. Fumiyo has only been in Hawaii for a couple of months. She tries very hard but Mama says she still doesn’t know the American ways.
I have to go says Daddy. Lock up the house and stay inside. We all went inside. In no time at all Daddy was dressed in his uniform. He kissed Mama and then he kissed my little brother Jeffie then he kissed me. Do what your mother says.
After Daddy left some planes came flying low over the house. We all got scared and Mama said Jeffie and Lisa stay close beside me. Fumiyo was standing at the window watching the planes. Get away from the window Fumiyo says Mama. Fumiyo does not always understand what we say to her. Mama pulled Fumiyo away from the window. She said she saw anti aircraft shells going up to the planes but they were not hitting them. Fumiyo looked very scared. There was a loud knock at the door. Don’t open that door!! yelled Mama to Fumiyo. Mama told Jeffie and me to go and get in hall closet. Then we heard who was at the door. It was Mrs. Hicks who lives next door. Mrs. Hicks and her husband don’t have any children. He is a navy captain like my Daddy. Let me in!! Let me in!! It’s Mabel said Mabel Hicks. Mama unlocked the door and let Mrs. hicks come in The first thing Mrs. Hicks said was Their invading the island!! Turn on the radio!! Mama turned on the radio. While it was warming up Mrs. Hicks said that she had a gun. She showed it to us. Do you have a gun, Frieda? she asked my mother. She said that we have to protect ourselves.
We have a gun but Daddy took it Mama tells to Mrs. Hicks. Push all the furniture against the door!! Push all the furniture against the door!! Mrs. Hicks shouted. We did what Mrs. Hicks said. We have to keep low and stay away from the windows. They can shoot you through the windows. Jeffie started crying he was so scared. I wanted to cry to but I tried not to. I have to be strong for my mother and brother. On the radio there was just music playing and a man was singing I don’t want to start the world on fire. That man is NOT Japanese!! said Mrs. Hicks. She was laughing in a hateful way. She was looking at Fumiyo while she was laughing. It was like she just now noticed she was here. Then my brother Jeffie threw up on the rug. He’s ju
st scared said my mother. What did that Jap maid of yours feed him?? said Mrs. Hicks. I fed him said Mama. She sounded mad at Mrs. Hicks. Then Mrs. Hicks said They are going to poison us. Mama said WHO is going to poison us, Mabel?? All the Japs on this island. This is what they do. Mama said I don’t think this is what they do. And Fumiyo will not hurt us. How do you know?? said Mrs. Hicks. Make her leave this house Frieda. Mama looked worried. She was looking at Fumiyo. Fumiyo was wiping up Jeffie’s throw up with a towel. Mama said Where will she go?? She lives here with us.
Mrs. Hicks said I don’t care where that dirty Jap goes. Her people are the cause of all this. My husband could be killed. Make her go or I will shoot her.
Mama did not know what to say. She made her lips move like she was going to speak but no words came out of her mouth. Then there was a loud explosion outside. It rattled all the walls of the house. Mrs. Hicks went over to the window. We all went to the window though Mama said we should not. The eucaliptis trees were on fire and the big pineapple field down the road. Mrs. Hicks said We cannot stay here. It isn’t safe because they will come here. A man’s voice came on the radio. He said that all doctors and nurses and defense workers should report for emergency duty. He said that Hawaii was under attack by the Japanese nation. Mrs. Hicks talked to the man on the radio. She said to the man Tell me something I don’t know. Mrs. Hicks said Let’s go. But Mama says Where do we go?? Then Mrs. Hicks said There are some caves in the hills we’ll go to them. Mama says to Mrs. Hicks Jeff wants us to stay here. Mrs. Hicks says Frieda you are a fool. Please listen to reason. But Mama just kept shaking her head.
Mrs. Hicks said that Fumiyo will slit our throats as soon as she gets the chance. She will slit our throats in our sleep. Jeffie started to cry again. And I started crying I was so scared. Fuyimo looked very scared too. Mama pointed to the door and said Get out of here Mabel!! Mrs. Hicks said You should at least keep this gun. There will be a time when you may have to use it. Then Mrs. Hicks said in a quiet voice I mean use it on yourself and the children.
