Song of Suzies

by Dave Balcom

  “Failure on your part to control the zealous nature of your news coverage will result in this board taking further action, including but not limited to re-considering our existing advertising contract, our printing contract and our endorsement of your annual Progress, Visitors Guide, Welcome Home and Christmas Gift Guide publications as well as your monthly Homes Magazine and your bi-monthly Finger Lakes Plus magazine.

  “We have already received notification that some of your leading advertisers are reconsidering their investments based on this coverage, and until now we have not supported such moves, but we’ll expect to see a decided change in this coverage if we are to remain so disengaged.

  “Please consider the needs of this community before continuing this unprecedented exploitative coverage.

  “Signed this date:

  “The Board”

  I considered, and he waited. “Looks like you may need some new golf partners.”

  “They’d all suggest I get a new managing editor.”

  “You could do that, if you decided you’d rather have merchant committees running your newspaper.”

  “Jesus, Jim. This is serious.”

  “Of course it’s serious, but it’s also something else. There’s more to this than just that we’re providing great coverage to a tragic story that has changed the way long-time residents are looking at this newspaper and how they’re feeling about sleepy little Lake City.

  “I can only sympathize for those poor slobs who want it all to go back to the way it was, but I’m pretty sure that toothpaste is out of the tube.”

  “Well, we certainly can’t go ahead with the plan to run the latest letter in today’s paper.”

  I felt as if I had been slapped. He saw my reaction and that made him cringe a bit. “That came out too certain, Jim. I know that letter is an intrusion into your life more than anyone else’s. And I know that you never considered not printing it. But I do think, in light of this letter, we should hold off until I can catch a better lay of the political landscape, don’t you?”

  I thought it through, but no matter the cost, I decided I couldn’t let this conversation be constrained by my fears for my job. “No, I don’t. I think you need to talk with Jake Hardy.”

  “What’s Hardy got to do with this?”

  I told him about my meeting with them at the open house on Friday night.

  He was thoughtful for a few minutes, “He’s never warmed up to me. You’d think we’d both have a lot in common, with us each running a business our fathers built. We both came in as the business climate in this area was suffering, and we’ve both adapted and survived... I respect the hell out of what I know he’s done in his business, but I’ve never felt he had any regard for what we’re doing down here.”

  “He doesn’t come across as the kind of guy who adapts and overcomes in a brief meeting. He does come across as the guy who ran the mines in ‘How Green Was My Valley.’”

  Doug was as much a vintage movie buff as I was, and he chuckled at that. “He does at that.” He sat for a minute, and then continued, “I think I’ll go down to the Chamber and talk to Elsie, the exec – you’ve met her, right?”

  “Many times. Seemed like a nice enough flack; I don’t think she’s had any trouble with me or the newsroom since I’ve been here.”

  He nodded. “She’s not the moving force down there, but I think she’s honest and sincere. I think she’ll answer a direct question.”

  “Sounds like a good place to start. What do you want to do about today’s paper?”

  He thought about it for a few minutes, and I sat there and waited. Finally he seemed to square his shoulders and said, “Go for it. People can’t think this is over just because we held a commemoration. That bastard is still out there, tweaking our nose with this filth. We owe it to our community to keep them informed.”

  I was proud of him.

  “The real question is what are you going to do with Sara and Sandy ... Is she really pregnant?”

  “Yes, and that’s what really eats at me. This bastard knew before I did.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know until yesterday afternoon. After I read it in his letter I stewed on it a while and then went home. Found Sandy decorating for a surprise party she’d planned to announce that she was pregnant. She’d only known for sure since Monday afternoon.”

  “Who is this guy? Could he be in the medical community? Does he have your phones tapped? Who is this guy?”

  “I surely don’t know, and I can’t wait to find out.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m taking Sandy and Sara to Maryland this weekend. I’ve got people ‘visiting’ her all day every day this week. She’s not alone, and she’s not leaving the house.”

  “Jim, I know you’re a hunter and everything, but ... do you have a weapon in the house?”

  “Something of an arsenal, really. And Sandy’s proficient with all of them. Right now there’s a loaded weapon in three rooms. They’re handy but they’re all out of reach for a four-year-old.”

  “Do you carry a personal weapon?”

  I thought about my military training and wondered if I could summon that if necessary. “I don’t. I have my pocket knife, but I wouldn’t call it a weapon.”

  “Do you think you should? I could help you get a permit.”

  “No, I doubt that I’d be any better off. If somebody decides to shoot me, I’m going to get shot. If they try to beat me up, it might get a bit more interesting, but I’m pretty rusty in that area.

  “I’d do better if they tried to hoodwink me.”

  He laughed at that, “I think that’s a sober attitude. I don’t think I could muster much of my youthful exuberance for fighting at this point in my life, either.”

  “Is there anything you want me to do with this?” I pointed to the letter.

  “No, but if I can’t reason with these folks, we may use that letter to let the whole community know what it is we’re fighting against and who we’re fighting for.”

  I was proud of him again.

  “I need to be back...”

  “Certainly, keep me informed and I’ll do the same.”

  24

  When I returned to the newsroom, Louise was the first to greet me, “Still with us?”

  I thought about the summons they’d all heard, so I answered her in a voice loud enough to be heard by anyone listening, which was everybody. “No big deal. We got a protest letter about our sensationalism of the Suzanne story, and Mr. Read was upset. He’s developed a plan on how to respond, and we’re directed to continue to do what we do.”

  “Who complained?” Cecily asked from behind me. “One of my advertisers?”

  I turned to her with a smile. “All of them, it sounds like.”

  She went white. “A petition?”

  “No!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “It was a letter to Doug, I’ll let him tell you.” I turned to the newsroom. “We have his support, and I’ll bet we have the support of the readers of this newspaper. So let’s get back to work and see if we can earn that support one more time.”

  As they went back to their tasks, Cecily followed me into my office and sat down.

  “Who wrote the letter?”

  I picked up the phone and dialed Doug’s number. He answered immediately. “Cecily wants to know who sent the letter. You want to tell her or have me do it? Okay.”

  I hung up, “He’s waiting for you right now.”

  She shook her head, “You know I respect your work, but you don’t seem to ever want to be more than formal colleagues. I could have just gone to him in the first place.”

  I smiled my warmest possible smile, “It’s his letter; it’s not up to me to share details of it. I would hope that respect you talk about would recognize that I have to keep true to my values even with close, trusted colleagues.”

  “I do, and I really respect the line of shit it appears you can produce at will.”

  I genuinely s
miled at that. “Hurry; Doug’s waiting.”

  She rolled her eyes and departed.

  After work, I changed into shorts and a tee, and headed for the city limits. I had been on the road for about thirty minutes as the setting sun was starting to hide in the purple and orange clouds on the horizon when I heard the sound of a jogger coming up from behind me.

  I was practicing a form, and it was natural for me to spin and strike a pose in the opposite direction. As I completed the move, I saw that the runner was the same man who had joined my walk the previous week. He was running smoothly, not hurrying, but I figured he was in the twelve-minute mile range.

  As he approached, I waved, expecting him to go on by, but he pulled up. “Hi there. I thought that was you. Mind if I join you for a bit?”

  “No, but as you might recall, I’m not a lot of company while I’m doing this.”

  “No problem. I’ve been reading up on t’ai chi, and I’m hoping to learn some basics from you. I’m interested.”

  “You should check with the YMCA; I’m willing to bet they have a t’ai chi class for beginners. I am not qualified to teach, believe me.”

  “I’m going to do that, but right now I’ll just stretch and watch you until it’s time to run again. Okay?”

  “Your call,” I grunted as I stepped into a series of ultra slow motion moves that took me in a complete circle from my starting point. The series, one of my favorites, took almost four minutes.

  “Ready?” I asked as I started into a jog. He came abreast of me and we matched stride for stride.

  “My name’s Archer,” he said. “Steve Archer.”

  “Jim Stanton,” I responded.

  “Good to meet you. Where are you from?”

  “I live here in Lake City.”

  “I know. I’ve lived here all my life. You’re not from here.”

  “That’s right. I moved here last year.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  He laughed. “Sorry. I guess I’ll stifle my nosiness. Can we talk about t’ai chi?”

  “Not now, let’s just run,” I said as I checked my watch. We were well past the city limits at this point and night was falling quickly as it does in that part of the world.

  After we stopped for my next session with my forms, we turned and retraced our steps. A rare car came at us from out of town, and I saw that Archer’s wind breaker had reflective tape in stripes to ensure he was visible.

  “That tape’s a good idea,” I gasped.

  “Makes a guy almost impossible to miss no matter how drunk a driver is.”

  I chuckled and realized I might get to like this stranger’s wit.

  When we reached my corner, we stopped for my last round of forms. Archer was stretching when he said, “I walked most of the way home last time I ran with you, and found that I was less tight the next morning. Combining this stretching, or your forms, with the runs makes some sense as long as you’ve built a base for your lungs and heart that you can live with.”

  “You talk like a personal trainer,” I gasped as I completed a more difficult series of moves that were designed to accept an aggressor’s energy and turn it into a weapon against him.

  “Hardly; just a guy who loves feeling fit. I’ve read a bit and studied a little. I’m thinking the flexibility that might come from your workout would be a real benefit when I get older.”

  I looked at him in the spill from the street light. He wasn’t wearing his hoodie tonight. He was blonde, about six feet tall and wore a mustache. I guessed his eyes were blue. I had him at one-eighty or so in weight. He was trim and fit. “How old are you, Steve?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “I wish I had been true to my forms when I was twenty-eight, but I’m getting back into some semblance of shape. My base is growing stronger, and my flexibility is improving.”

  “How long did you train in t’ai chi before you laid off?”

  “Four years or so, but it was daily training, not like this.”

  “Military?”

  “Something like that. Were you in?”

  “I just missed ‘Nam; it was winding down. Did two years in the Army but went to Germany; it was like R and R for the vets who had been in the war. Were you in ‘Nam?”

  “Nope, never saw that. I was just an Air Traffic Controller for the Navy.”

  “They made you do t’ai chi to talk to airplanes?”

  I shook my head, “Nobody can make you do t’ai chi; it’s just part of you or it isn’t.”

  “I’m gonna find out if it’s a part of me or not. When I get through my class, you might not mind my company as much.”

  I nodded, “And you may find that you’d rather focus on your forms than shoot the shit with me.”

  He chuckled, “I doubt that, Jim. I really doubt that.”

  25

  Inside the house, Sandy met me at the landing that led either down to the basement or up three steps to the kitchen.

  “You had a phone call. Doug wants you to call him at home when you can.”

  “Any clue to what he wants?”

  “No. He didn’t sound upset or anything. He asked about the baby, and was a gentleman as usual with me.

  “You want some dinner, or are you going to shower first?”

  “I’ll shower and then call Doug; what’s for dinner?”

  “Soup; vegetable beef with homemade noodles and fresh rye bread.”

  My mouth watered at the thought of it. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Doug answered on the first ring. “Stanton here,” I said.

  “Sorry to interrupt your evening, Jim, but I got some more information today about the letter, and you’re not going to like it.”

  “The new guy is the villain? I’d expect that.”

  “That’s not all, but there is somebody spewing a bunch of garbage out there that has people wondering why we never had a story like this or even an event like this before you came to town...”

  I was stunned. “Seriously?”

  “I wish it wasn’t, but it is. I can’t quite track that thought to the original source, but I’m working on it. I’m hoping it isn’t somebody I golf with, but I’m not ruling that out.”

  I thought for a minute, and felt some sympathy for the publisher who had been born, raised, and successful in his hometown only to have his neighbors start rumors about a key manager... I wondered for a minute how I would react if our roles were reversed.

  “Jim,” Doug interrupted my thought process; “It would be a mistake to judge this whole town by one rumor-spouting idiot, whoever it might be.”

  His comment gave me a hint as to how I’d handle it if I were in his place, but he continued before I could respond, “What we need to do is isolate that idiot, and the first step is to find out who it is without fear of contradiction.”

  I agreed with him, but then another thought challenged me, “Perhaps Randy and the guys in the newsroom can help, but we have to be careful not to turn it into some kind of witch hunt,” I said thinking out loud. “They have a distinctly different range of contacts from you, and all in all the newspaper’s staff should cover the necessary range, but we might want to counsel folks on how to approach it with their friends...”

  “That’s a good thought. Why don’t you pick your guys and we’ll have a meeting after deadline tomorrow. I’ll pick people we can trust from the other departments and we’ll form a task force.”

  I tried to sound a cautionary tone, “We just need to be careful that we don’t send a defensive message to the whole community...”

  “My ass! You think somebody out there can take a cheap shot at one of my managers and we’re just going to sit back and play patty cake?”

  “Whoa, Boss,” I said with a chuckle. “Nobody is going to take on the Sentinel, or the lifelong residents who work here; but targeting and trying to isolate the new editor is as common as a cold.

  “I won’t lose a minute’s sleep over this kind of rumor. We don’
t make news, Doug; we just retail it. I for one can’t wait for the day we print the whole story of Suzanne Czarnopias complete with the name of the bastard who did this and exactly what he’s done...”

  “Of course, I’d expect that kind of measured response from you, Jim; I appreciate it, really. But I want to put this rumor mongering ass in a sling, and with our resources we’ll find him or her.”

  “Let’s just be careful we don’t alienate the rest of the readership in the process, okay?”

  He chuckled. “I realize right now that’s how I’d feel if the gossip was about me.”

  That made me smile.

  He changed the subject. “Sandy sounds in good spirits; is she really that fit, or is she just displaying the Stanton line?”

  “I think she’s excited, but she’s in good shape, and the weird stuff hasn’t started yet. Hopefully it’ll be as uneventful as it was with Sara.”

  “She had an easy time with Sara?”

  “We played cribbage between contractions.”

  “Angie mentioned that we should have you join us at dinner in the next week or so; some place public and social.”

  “That’d be great anytime, but Angie might want to think twice about going out with foreigners at this point in time.”

  “Humph! You don’t get it, buddy; you’re part of the Sentinel family and Ange isn’t about to take an attack on family sittin’ down.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and on that note we agreed to touch base in the morning and hung up.

  Sandy came into the den. “Soup’s on. That sounded very cordial.”

  I explained the conversation, and she rolled her eyes. “Who knew it would take an idiotic rumor to make you part of the family?”

  “Well, I’ve been noting a change coming over the publisher in the past few months. For one thing, he’s not starting every conversation with ‘How are all the little things?’ anymore.”

  She rolled her eyes again, and turned to the chore of getting food into Sara. I chose to change the subject, “How you feelin’, babe?”