Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
About the Author
Carnies and Wildcats
Ulciscor
by Robert Spearman
Copyright © 2015 Robert Spearman
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about it.
Thanks for your support.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my parents.
You taught me, with determination anything is possible.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all my friends and family for their encouragement.
Special thanks to my advance readers:
Beth, Etta, Lewie, Mary Nell, Mary S. and Marti
Your input has been invaluable.
CHAPTER ONE
Valdosta popped up on Georgia’s map in the early 1860s as a whistle-stop railroad town fifteen miles north of the Florida line. With the Civil War ended, Savannah and Atlanta were both in ruins and folks searched for a new place to settle and many chose Valdosta. Valdosta’s one-horse town grew into a city and the new residents brought with them money and plans to build big, beautiful homes like the ones they owned before Sherman and the war.
Money rolled in.
Commerce came.
The railroad expanded.
Cotton was king.
Tobacco fields filled warehouses to the brim.
The city was growing, alive. Old residences were a constant reminder of the city’s past while the new businesses and industries opened doors to the city’s future.
Many of the stately homes still remain, but not as the residences of Valdosta’s elite or wealthy. These are now the offices of Valdosta’s lawyers, doctors, and architects.
Sitting on a block in the center of town is the requisite post-Civil War, county courthouse. Circling the courthouse in surrounding city blocks are churches and the remnants of the downtown’s once vibrant shopping area—now since revitalized with new chic restaurants, boutiques, and government offices.
A few blocks north of the courthouse is The Crescent. This grand, old home is one of Valdosta’s most famous landmarks. Its name originated from its veranda—shaped like a crescent moon. The veranda contains thirteen columns which symbolize the original colonies of the United States. No longer a residence, it serves as host for weddings and fifty-year wedding anniversaries.
North of The Crescent is Valdosta State University with its sprawling campus and Spanish architecture. Once a small women’s college it is now one of Georgia’s largest universities.
Century-old, moss-laden live oaks grow around The Crescent, the university, and stately homes throughout the old part of the city and along the city streets. These ancient trees provide giant, leafy canopies which keep areas of the city blanketed with constant shade—a needed shade during the hot, sweltering dog days of summer.
However oak trees and Spanish moss are not Valdosta’s botanical claim to fame. It is all about azaleas. Thousands of azalea bushes throughout the city yield millions of multi-colored blooms in the spring.
During the middle days of March and through the end of April the aroma of azaleas permeates the city like the perfume counters at high-end department stores. Valdosta loves its azaleas more than Pasadena loves its roses. When these flowers bloom and spread their colors and blooms throughout the city, Valdosta becomes “The Azalea City”.
But something more important to Valdosta than azaleas, old homes, and live oaks is high school football. After the azaleas lose their bloom, and the trees shed their first leaves of fall, “The Azalea City” changes its name once again to “Winnersville”. Forget the azaleas, because this is the name which makes Valdostans swell with pride. National sportswriters gave the city this name because of its reputation for being a winner at the game. For years, Valdosta High School—”The Valdosta Wildcats”—had more national and state football titles than any other high school in the United States.
The small, local county high schools had their own football programs too, but none of them matched in size to Valdosta High School. Valdosta’s big-money, social elite made sure the city school had the best facilities and coaches. A few folks living in the county sold their homes and moved to the city just so their “little Johnny” could play for the nationally-famous Wildcats.
In 1966, everything changed. The county high schools in the small towns of Hahira, Clyattville, and Lake Park merged and formed a single school—Lowndes High School. The county built this consolidated school on a huge tract of land near the interstate highway and constructed a new, modern stadium, giving birth to a crosstown rivalry. Valdosta High’s Wildcats now had local competition—the Lowndes County Vikings.
The cross-town football adversaries often mocked the students of the new county high school. Every year, during football season, signs and banners appeared around town calling the county school the “Plowboys” instead of the “Vikings”. The Plowboy name attempted to slur the new high school’s origins—most of the students attending Lowndes High School were from the rural towns and farms throughout the county.
At first the Vikings accepted their ribbing from the “city folks” with laughter. Every year they had hayrides and students wore straw farmer’s hats and overalls on Thursday night before the big game on Friday. These overall-clad Plowboys gathered and burned a stuffed Wildcat doll in a roaring bonfire.
The Vikings struggled with its football program during the first fourteen years, but in 1980 they won their first state championship. The county team earned their place as being a winner in the Wildcats’ “Winnersville”. For the first time, the Vikings had become state champs. Folks in the county were like a kid getting his first bike for Christmas—the folks in the city received a lump of coal.
Throughout the years the ribbing continued, but some of the good-natured jesting turned sour. People needed more than light-hearted joking. They wanted more—to “one-up” the other side, football was not enough. This led to practical jokes which often escalated to fights, vandalism, and even theft. Coaches’ houses rolled in toilet paper, school wal
ls spray painted, trophies swiped from the trophy cases of both schools, locker rooms pilfered and football jerseys stolen.
In November 1980, one week after the crosstown competitors squared off for their last game of the season, someone raised the stakes beyond the realm of petty vandalism and theft and committed a cruel, monstrous act. The carnival was in town with its rides, games, and sideshows and was finishing its last night in Valdosta before returning to Florida for the winter.
After the carnival had closed for the night, people leaving the back gate discovered twelve-year-old Allison Pritchard’s bloody, lifeless body in front of the back gate’s ticket booth. Her throat was cut from ear to ear. Hanging around her neck was a sign, painted in her own blood:
“We Hate Carnies and Wildcats”
CHAPTER TWO
Valdosta had its share of wealthy doctors and lawyers, but a few folks made their money in the less glorious world of buying and selling. Harvey Ridley was such a person. The Ridley family came to Valdosta from Savannah in the early 1900s, and Harvey’s grandfather opened a general mercantile store on Central Avenue in the heart of the city. Harvey’s father was not interested in selling dry goods and groceries. So when he took over the store from his father he narrowed the business’s focus from general merchandise to hardware.
Harvey Ridley graduated from the University of Georgia with a degree in business and came back to Valdosta to help his father. But he did not return to Valdosta alone. At the university in Athens he met Myrtle McAllister and fell in love. She was a beautiful, fiery redhead with a temper to match and the oldest daughter of a Scottish-Irish textile magnate in LaGrange. Myrtle had worked in her father’s business during high school before going off to college to get her “Mrs.” degree. Six months after graduation, Harvey and Myrtle married in LaGrange.
Myrtle’s father tried to convince Harvey to stay in LaGrange and learn the textile business, but Harvey felt a responsibility to his father and the business in Valdosta. Harvey and Myrtle moved to Valdosta to begin their new life together. Harvey’s father saw Myrtle was all business and put her to work managing the accounting department of Ridley’s Hardware.
The elder Ridley died a year later and young Harvey Ridley, an only child, inherited the largest hardware store in the city. Harvey expanded the company to include a wholesale department that sold to smaller hardware stores and lumber yards in South Georgia and North Florida. Three years later he opened an industrial division that sold supplies to plants and mills in the southeast.
The wholesale and industrial groups were generating more profits than the retail store. Harvey grew tired of retail. Harvey was sick of working six days a week standing on a rock-hard, terrazzo floor. He was weary of waiting for the next customer to walk in the door with their latest problem needing solving. Harvey hated retail, and he got out.
Harvey bought land in the new business park near the airport and built a ten-thousand-square-foot warehouse and distribution center. Once the building was complete, he sold the retail store in town and moved the wholesale and industrial departments to the new building. He formed a new company, Ridley Specialties and Supply.
Harvey was raking in the cash, and the company continued to grow. Myrtle wanted to start a family, so Harvey bought a huge home on three acres of land near the country club. Myrtle trained her replacement and stopped working at the office. She wanted to turn the new, big, empty house into a home. Eighteen months later Myrtle gave birth to their first child, Harvey Allen Ridley, Jr.
Allen led an unspectacular childhood. Myrtle and Harvey pampered him and gave him their endless attention, and he loved it. Things were going grand for Allen until Dottie’s birth six years later.
Allen hated her from the minute they brought the small bundle of noise, shit and pee home from the hospital. His mother had been away from him for a week while she delivered Dottie, and he hated her for that too. Allen’s hatred for Dottie grew.
Dottie was like a chubby, porcelain doll. Her hair was so blond it appeared white, and her eyes were the color of a blue, winter sky. Family, friends and strangers loved to pinch her round, chubby cheeks. Dottie giggled and smiled when someone pinched her. Most times she exclaimed “don’t do that” while turning her head to offer the other cheek, laughing the whole time. Allen hated her cuteness, her giggles. He hated everything about her.
Dottie’s “terrible twos” were more than terrible for Allen. Endless days of Dottie breaking a favorite toy of Allen’s or putting his toys in her mouth or chewing the heads off his toy soldiers.
Several times Harvey and Myrtle found Allen standing beside Dottie’s bed while she was sleeping, staring at her with a scowl on his face. As Dottie approached four, they would hear her screaming in her room for no apparent reason. For a while, it was a daily occurrence. Myrtle discovered whelps and blood blisters on Dottie’s arms and legs. At first they assumed these were insect bites. One day, Dottie screamed, and Myrtle caught sight of Allen running out of Dottie’s room.
Myrtle convinced Harvey to hire a nanny, and Myrtle’s instructions were clear. The nanny must always be in the room with Dottie if Allen was indoors. The nanny lasted six weeks and later told one of her friends, “that boy is evil, just plain evil,” but never elaborated.
Myrtle continued to go through nannies at a rapid pace until they ran out of candidates willing to take the job. In a small city like Valdosta, gossip spreads like wildfire in an autumn forest. Nannies, cooks and maids were quick to share their dirty secrets of the city’s wealthiest and prominent in their own little intelligence network.
Dottie grew older and learned to handle Allen’s painful abuse. Myrtle soon discovered that Dottie had developed a habit of scratching and biting her older brother. Allen never complained to his parents, and Myrtle suspected he enjoyed it in some sick way. Myrtle had enough, she convinced Harvey to enroll Allen in military school the start of his fifth-grade year.
Allen fought with his parents on this, but they did not change their minds. Harvey took him away to a military boarding academy for boys in the North Georgia mountains. Allen now hated his parents and Dottie but hated Dottie more, everything was her fault. The school was rough on Allen. The older boys bullied him, and the teachers were more akin to drill sergeants and slave-drivers than teachers.
Allen called his parents every weekend and pleaded to come home, always promising them he “would be a good boy”. Myrtle and Harvey could not bear hearing him cry and beg, but they did not relent, they were more concerned about Dottie’s wellbeing.
Allen stayed in the boarding school for one year. At the end of the year, Harvey brought him home. The school had summer classes, and Myrtle pleaded with Harvey to let him stay there for the summer. But Harvey was more tenderhearted than Myrtle—he just couldn’t leave his son there any longer. Allen came home, and his mother welcomed him back.
Dottie was happy to see her big brother and smothered him with sloppy kisses. Allen smiled at Dottie and patted her on the head, then picked her up and hugged her. He told Dottie that he missed her. Allen’s affection surprised Harvey and Myrtle. Maybe their family could now live in peace.
Harvey’s business continued to grow, and he bought a lake house on Ocean Pond near the Georgia-Florida state line. The house was in need of minor repairs, and the dock was in total shambles—almost ready to collapse into the lake.
Harvey hired carpenters to come do the house and dock repairs with instructions they needed to finish by the end of July. Harvey wanted to take his family there in August to enjoy the lake before school began in September. The carpenters finished a week early, and Harvey put extra cash in their final paychecks.
Allen was twelve, Dottie was six, and Dottie was to start first grade in September. It was August first, and it was Harvey’s plan to give Myrtle and the children a few weeks at the lake house before they started school. Starting “real school” made Dottie excited—this was what she called it. Dottie did not consider kindergarten “real school”.
> The first week at the lake was full of fun and frolic. Harvey and the children spent hours jumping and diving from the new dock. Harvey taught both the children to do cannonballs. Allen learned fast, but Dottie was fearful yet determined. Dottie gained her confidence and soon followed her brother, dive for dive, cannonball for cannonball. Myrtle spent most of her week reading a novel and magazines. Smiles and laughter filled the house, the happiest Harvey and Myrtle had been in a long time.
Harvey Ridley felt things were going great. He enjoyed the time with his family, but he needed to be at work. He started back to work after seven days of fun with the family at the lake. Every morning Harvey made the forty-minute drive from Ocean Pond to Valdosta. Harvey worked in the office for six hours, and after work, made a quick stop at the house in Azalea Estates to make sure everything was okay. Harvey would arrive at the lake house around six. The high, summer, evening sun gave Harvey enough time to swim or fish with Allen and Dottie while Myrtle made dinner.
Thursday of the second week, Myrtle woke up with a terrible headache. Harvey debated on whether to go to work, but Myrtle assured him they would be okay. The sky was gray and overcast. Thunderheads were building to the south.
Myrtle made the children a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. After cooking, she took a pill for her headache and slept in Harvey’s recliner. Several times she heard Dottie whining and begging Allen to go with her to the dock.
Allen was in the middle of putting a jigsaw puzzle together and had no desire to go to the lake. He hated listening to her whine and the whining just made him more determined to stay put and finish his puzzle.
Dottie kept complaining while Myrtle drifted between wake and sleep. Dottie had enough and stopped her begging. She thrust her hand into the middle of Allen’s puzzle and grabbed a handful of pieces. Dottie ran away shouting, “I guess you will listen to me now!”
Carnies and Wildcats: Ulciscor Page 1
