Little Town, Great Big Life

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  “Well, it is about another Oklahoma town, Elk City. Y’all know where Elk City is, don’t you?” Raised eyebrow again.

  “Yes,” Everett said, then added, so as to not sound stupid, “It’s out west on Interstate 40.” The question reminded him that he was not a native Oklahoman.

  Then Willie Lee chimed in, “Al-most to Tex-as, on what was his-tor-ic Rouu-te 66.”

  Winston’s obvious rehearsal with Willie Lee made Everett jealous. He tried to get a look at the newspaper item, but Winston kept it turned from him.

  Everett said, “Well, what about the news item? Are you goin’ to tell us today?”

  Winston drawled, “Yes, I am. This item is about Elk City havin’ their centennial celebration last year. That’s quite a feat, you know.”

  “Cen-ten-nial is one hun-dred years,” put in Willie Lee.

  “That’s correct. And you all know this is Valentine’s centennial year.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Everett importantly. “The library already has special education programs on the first Saturday of every month, and we got plans for a grand celebration the first weekend of November, the very month that Valentine was first incorporated. We’ve got a grand parade, a bluegrass festival, and the famous Red Earth dancers comin’, too. We’ll be havin’ more on all of that as it develops,” he added into the microphone.

  “Well, bein’ around for a hundred years is quite an accomplishment. I’ve been around for over ninety myself, so I know. A bang-up celebration is definitely in order.”

  Winston could sure milk it, Everett thought. There was no way he could equal Winston and all those years. Everett was just old, but Winston was an institution.

  “Well, sir,” continued Winston, “for their centennial, the Elk Citians raised money and put in a real wooden carousel. I’m talkin’ hand-carved horses…all Western themed. And they built a building, too, just to house it. Now, that’s celebratin’, wouldn’t you say, Everett?”

  “Yes…yes, it is.”

  At last Winston passed over the newspaper clipping. Everett tried to focus through his bifocals.

  Winston was saying, “I remember carousels from when I was a kid. Lots of towns had them in city parks. And I recall seein’ big ones up in Oklahoma City and down in Dallas. Do you recall those, Everett?”

  “I remember one at the state fair up in Michigan,” said Everett, which was the best he could think of.

  “Well, in the early 1900s even small towns might have a carousel. They were just real popular, but durin’ the Depression things like carousels were let go. There just wasn’t the money to keep ’em up. When things started gettin’ prosperous again, the move was to cheap and modern on everything, and everyone got cars and drove around and didn’t go so much to city parks. Pinball machines and pool parlors came in. Do you remember those, Everett?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Everett, although he really did not. He had not had the wide life that Winston had led.

  “Well, this carousel Elk City put in is the real deal. A small town like that has got them a real prize. And the idea that came to me this mornin’ was that we in Valentine should think about doin’ the same. We might not be near as big as Elk City, but we sure do have gumption. I think in celebration of Valentine’s hundred years, we should see about improvin’ our city park with a carousel. What do you all think?”

  Everett saw Winston speaking directly into the microphone, and he realized then that Winston was speaking as if all those people out there were right in front of him, and he was talking directly to each one. Winston’s eyes behind his glasses were looking far off and intent.

  Then those eyes swung over to Everett. “What do you think of that idea, Ev?”

  “Well…it would be a grand gesture.” Everett pushed his brain to work fast. What he was thinking of was the cost, and that there was a city road system in dire need of repairs, and the newly built library requiring shelving and computers, and the city pool was far too small and old. He opened his mouth to give voice to this, but Winston jumped in.

  “Yes, sir, it would be grand,” said Winston. “My thoughts exactly. Why, durin’ rodeo weekend, we wouldn’t need that little carnival merry-go-round if we had the real thing. I think we need to get the city council goin’ on this idea. How ’bout you all out there call in with what you think of the grand idea of a carousel for our town.”

  Everett stared at Winston a moment, then reached out his hand and grabbed the microphone. “What I had been going to say is that a carousel like this would be a grand gesture, but it would require a mammoth amount of money, not to mention time. You can’t just pick up a carousel at the Wal-Mart, you know. We have roads that need repair, and the swimming pool needs attention, and the library had its funding cut last year. The tax base is not here for it. Before we go pursuin’ a thing like a carousel, we need careful examination of our income, and the best use of our money and energy for the community.”

  He was pleased to find that he did not stumble over the words. He may not have been as eloquent as Winston, but he spoke his convictions.

  The next instant, Winston slapped him on the back, hard enough to push Everett forward. “You got it, buddy,” said Winston with enthusiasm. “We do need careful examination, and we don’t want to be mired down with the city government and any new taxes. The citizens of Valentine can raise the money for a carousel themselves. Keep the government out of it, and we can get things done.

  “Now, let’s have some callers. What do you all out there think? We’ll start a vote—for or against a carousel for our town.”

  Everett stared at him.

  In that minute, while watching Winston’s animation, Everett saw clearly that Winston came off looking so witty because he stole words out of other people’s mouths and twisted them around to suit him. Winston paid no attention to facts. He made his own world.

  “Put me down as a vote in favor of the carousel,” said Rosalba Garcia, calling and adjusting her stockings at the same time. “We need a merry-go-round for the kids.”

  “I’m a vote against a carousel. We have plenty of other things that need money, and we can’t hardly get those done. This is Inez Cooper. If you are gonna take any sort of real survey on this thing, you will need to keep track of the names with the vote, or we’ll have people votin’ twice.”

  Inez knew this, because she had voted several times on the panty-hose issue a couple of years ago. She had thought it all in fun, but people had sure gotten upset when Belinda Blaine had found out about Inez’s multiple votes and told it all over.

  “Miss Inez makes a good point,” Winston said into the microphone. “We might want to consider drawin’ up a petition. You could do that, Everett. You’re good at such details.”

  “Ah, well…”

  “Let’s play a little Alan Jackson for the folks, and y’all keep those calls comin’ in.”

  The phone rang again. Jim Rainwater recorded: “This is Rosalba Garcia. I called the first time. I want to vote for a carousel. Some people in this town are what you call stick-in-the-muds and do not want fun. And I want you to put what I said on the radio…air.”

  “This is Julia Jenkins-Tinsley, and I vote for a carousel, if it’s one adults can ride. I tried to get on the one at the county fair, and they told me it was just for kids.”

  “This is Lyle Midgette…heck, yeah for a carousel. That’s a merry-go-round, right?”

  “This is Gabby Smith. Hi, Willie Lee. I will see you later at school. I vote for the carousel, and my brother Fisk says to put him down, too. Bye.”

  “Hi back, Gab-by,” said Willie Lee, shyness in his voice.

  The calls trickled in all through the hour and continued right on into the Everett in the Morning show.

  At first Everett was annoyed. He had planned to discuss the serious subject of illegal immigration. He even had a telephone interview scheduled with Senator James Inhofe, but now he was kept busy with listeners calling in and talking about the carousel. It turned out that when he
did get to speak with Senator Inhofe, the senator had been informed about the carousel discussion and said, “I want to be put down as a vote in favor of the carousel, and our office will donate to the fund.” The interview ended up focusing more on the senator’s childhood experiences with carousels than it did on political matters.

  Everett was torn in his emotions. He was aggravated that the discussion revolved around the carousel, but he was thrilled to receive call-ins to his program like he’d never had before.

  By that evening, after being questioned about the facts by several people he met during the day, he finally realized that his entire purpose was to be the opposite of Winston. He was the straight man to Winston’s foolishness. The more he went against Winston’s viewpoint, the more controversy he stirred, and the more publicity he got.

  He could do it!

  Down at Blaine’s Drugstore, Belinda put out a yellow tablet with the heading Carousel, and below that For and Against. Everett came in and suggested that she needed a third column headed: How Much Will You Give?

  “Oh, people would just lie about it,” said Belinda.

  Quite quickly Fayrene over at the Main Street Café followed suit with a petition. At Andy’s suggestion, she decided to be first at fundraising and set out a widemouth old Tom’s Crackers jar, with a note that read: Contribute to a Fund for Carousel, Park and Library. She thought she would touch all the bases. Apportioning of the money could be decided later.

  Then Tate Holloway, as editor and publisher of the Valentine Voice, made the carousel idea the subject of his Sunday editorial. He said he was not ready to commit the newspaper to a certain stance yet, and he invited people to drop by his office to chat with him about it. He loved for people to come by and talk with him about things. “The coffee’s always hot,” he always ended his editorial.

  The first person to drop by the Voice and talk with Tate was John Cole Berry. The two men were good friends and both on the chamber of commerce. One thing Tate admired about John Cole was that the man had built one small convenience store up into a chain of five thriving stores, and three of those were large truck stops. John Cole knew how to make money, and what only a few knew was that the Berry Corporation also gave away a lot of money through a charitable trust run by Emma Berry. When Emma heard about the carousel idea, she told John Cole that she wanted to involve the entire company in the fundraising efforts.

  “The Berry Corporation will start the fund drive off with a five-thousand-dollar donation,” John Cole told Tate, “and we’ll match dollar for dollar the first ten thousand raised around town.”

  Tate announced this in his Wednesday editorial, when he officially brought the newspaper out in full support of the centennial carousel, as he named it.

  After that, the Community Bank put up the question on their digital sign: Do You Want a Carousel? Fund Open Here. And the bank, not to be outdone by the Berry Corporation, put in ten thousand dollars.

  The Cut & Curl put out a jar to collect money, and MacCoy’s Feed and Grain said they would match the Berry Corporation’s donation. Iris MacCoy jumped right in with this announcement on Winston’s Home Folks show.

  Vella Blaine, all the way over in France, read Tate’s editorial on the Valentine Voice Web site, and telephoned to the radio station during the Wake Up hour.

  “Am I on live now? Is that what Jim said?”

  Jim went to adjusting sound levels.

  “Yes, Miss Vella. You’re on the air. This is Winston. How are you this mornin’?”

  “Hello, everybody! This is Vella Blaine callin’ from over in France. Can you hear me okay? Jim told me not to shout.” She still raised her voice because she was on a cell phone.

  “Yes, darlin’, you’re comin’ in just fine. How are you this mornin’?”

  “It’s afternoon over here. I can’t get over how clearly I can hear you…well, I could, but now this guy over here started playin’ a guitar and singin’.” She moved the cell phone, but everyone could still hear her say, “Pardon…pardon, sir? S’il vous plaît! English…s’il vous plait, move on. I’m tryin’ to talk on the phone. Oui…merci. Now, where was I?”

  “You’re over in Nice, France,” Winston said, being funny.

  To which Vella said blithely, “No, actually, I’m not.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. Lillian and I came up here to Monte Carlo for a couple of days. Lillian wanted to see some museum or somethin’ old and educational. She never misses that stuff. I came to go to the casino. We parted company while we’re here. She likes to stay in those old hotels to get the flavor of the area and keep her pocketbook closed. I say I’ve come on vacation to have what I do not have at home. I’m stayin’ at the Monte Carlo Beach Hotel. I’m on a lounge chair in the shade, and enjoyin’ free drinks and surrounded by gorgeous young men just happy to wait on lonely ladies with money.”

  “Sounds like a time, Miss Vella.”

  “You bet it is. And just last night I was over at Le Sun Casino. I won over a thousand dollars. There’s a part of that place decorated like a circus, and they have these slot machines all arranged like a carousel. Had a beautiful top over them and ever’thing. Carousels are big over here. Just about every town I’ve been in, I’ve seen a carousel. Double-deckers, even.”

  “Double-decker carousels?” One of the few things that Winston had never heard of.

  “Yes. Now, the point of my call is that I want to be put down as a vote for gettin’ a carousel for Valentine. And I’ve decided that if Valentine puts in a carousel—and I don’t mean some little slipshod job, I want a real carousel—I will donate the money for the building to house it.”

  It was a rare moment, when Winston could think of nothing to say.

  Over at the drugstore, Belinda had been listening to her mother on the small radio behind the soda fountain counter. At her mother’s statement, Belinda choked on her coffee so hard that she had to grab a napkin to put over her mouth.

  “Hey…that’s nice of Mother Blaine,” said Lyle, who had dropped in after his night shift to hang around and help at opening the store. Thus far he had not found anything to do, though, but refill the foam cup dispenser and drink coffee.

  Jaydee Mayhall, who had been let in early, was halfway onto a stool at the counter. He froze, his eyes meeting Belinda’s and his dark eyebrows rising. He listened as Vella and Winston made a few more comments on the radio. When music came on, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the radio station.

  Winston greeted him. “Hi, there, Jaydee… Folks, this is Jaydee Mayhall on the line. He’s a local attorney and current member of the city council. Whatcha got for us, Jaydee?”

  “I’m callin’ strictly as a citizen,” said Jaydee. “I own the twenty acres adjoining the city park. It even has a small pond. I’ve been goin’ to put in a little housing development, but I would like to donate that property to the town for the express purpose of putting in a carousel park, with a pond for ducks and other activities, and gardens, and maybe a children’s train.”

  The last part just came falling out of his mouth in his effort to match Vella’s gesture and show her that he could be as generous and free-spirited as she could.

  “Whoo-weee!” Winston said. “We’re ridin’ along on a carousel now!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Best Laid Plans

  MAY WAS WELL UNDER WAY. TEMPERATURES ROSE more quickly than normal, bringing the sound of lawn mowers and hum of air conditioners to rival the chirping of birds. Blaine’s Drugstore and Soda Fountain and MacCoy’s Feed and Grain went on extended summer hours. Children began to get impatient and rambunctious, having less than a week left in school.

  Little Gabby Smith, who never gave anyone a moment’s trouble, had one day last week skipped school with Willie Lee. They had gone to the Quick Stop and bought Häagen Dazs chocolate ice-cream bars and eaten them as they walked back to school.

  While they were walking, Gabby’s father, the Reverend Stanley Smith, came driving by. “I’
ve been lookin’ for you, young lady,” he said sternly. He had to work on this. There was not much stern within him.

  The two children got readily into the car, where Reverend Smith scolded and pointed out it was illegal to skip school, and that the Bible instructed us all to obey people in positions of authority. He said this as he passed out napkins. He rather wished he had waited for the children to finish their ice cream before ordering them into the car.

  Gabby was nearing twelve years old now. She remained petite and with a halo of childish curls, but this minute she drew herself up and responded, “Daddy, I am a straight-A-plus student. I have skipped one full grade and would be in a special advanced class, if our school had one, but they do not. Today I had my lessons all done, so I took it upon myself to go on a field trip.”

  Reverend Smith had no words to answer her perfect logic, much less his daughter’s reasonable tone. His Gabby, like her sisters and their mother, was a being quite beyond him. He shifted his eyes to Willie Lee. “And you?”

  “I want-ed to go out-side. It is a nice day to be with Gabby.”

  Reverend Smith sighed. There was no beating that logic, either.

  When the good reverend faced the elementary-school principal, he said, “The children went on a field trip. They practiced using initiative and how to count change.”

  He drove away from the school a little hunched over after receiving a scolding from the principal, and also thinking about how fast the years passed and that surely only yesterday his little girl had been six years old. He thought about how Gabby had said since that age that she loved Willie Lee. He had expected her childish infatuation to fade. Especially as she matured and proved to have a genius-level IQ, and Willie Lee, well, stayed just where he was. But the pastor-father’s expectations were not being met.

  Reverend Smith found himself explaining his dilemma to Belinda Blaine across the soda fountain counter, while he drank a latte.

  “I’m not really complaining, but she will need to grow up and go to college. They’re already talkin’ with her class about preparing for college. She’s already provin’ that she will likely get good scholarships. She’s likely to have schools like Rice and Vanderbilt after her. Her mother suggests Duke, but I don’t want her that far away.”