M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

by Richard Hooker

  “Jesus, you always put me on the defensive. I want to work and do a good job but I want to play, too. I’m not a guy who’d rather work than anything else. I don’t want to own the world or be adored by my segment of it.”

  “All right then. Find another surgeon.”

  Dr. Pierce thought for another week about a new Surgeon and then wrote to Dr. Augustus Bedford Forrest of Forrest City, Georgia:

  Hey Duke,

  The last I heard you’d finished your surgical residency and taken a year of urology. Are you in practice, or what? I kid you not, Duke, I got too much surgery and we need a guy who can do urology. What’s more, I’m lonely. I have an idea for reuniting the Swampmen. You, me, Trapper John and Spearchucker. We cut it in Korea. Here, as a team, I think we could do a lot of good for the area and for ourselves and have some fun along the way.

  Face it Duke, Georgia is too hot. Sherman may return and wipe you out. Now is the time to escape to the rockbound coast of Maine. Don’t forget your golf clubs, and bring anything else you need, like wife, kids, etc.

  See you around the campus,

  Hawk

  For three weeks Hawkeye waited to hear from Duke Forrest. It was together with Duke that Hawkeye had arrived, worked at and left the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in Korea. It had been five years since Duke and Hawkeye had parted in the men’s john of Midway Airport in Chicago.

  Then at ten o’clock one morning a six-foot, dark-haired Georgian, slightly heavier than he’d been in Korea, accompanied by a large, efficient-looking bloodhound, entered the Spruce Harbor General Hospital. The first person they met was Dr. Goofus MacDuff. “Can y’all tell me how to find Hawkeye Pierce?” Duke asked.

  “I don’t think you should bring the dog into the hospital,” said Goofus.

  “When y’all know it for sure y’all write my mother a, letter. Now y’all gonna tell me how to find Hawkeye?”

  “He isn’t always here. He might be somewhere else.

  I don’t know,” said Goofus.

  Hawkeye was in the operating room. The word of

  Duke’s arrival filtered slowly to him and he left word for Duke to wait in the coffee shop. Finishing a gallbladder, Doctors Pierce and Holcombe found Duke drinking coffee at a corner table while his bloodhound ate hamburgers from a plate on the floor. Everyone watched them, half in fear, half in curiosity, and kept a respectful distance.

  Duke and Hawkeye greeted each other with a handshake and not much else. Each remembered their departure from the 4077th MASH when, momentarily, they’d had lumps in their throats and tears in their eyes.

  “This one of your kids?” Hawkeye finally asked.

  “Not exactly, but she’s better bred. This is Little Eva.”

  “Is Little Eva part of your act, or are you chasing something?”

  “We just get along good,” Duke explained. “You got an office for me? I’m a little short. I better get to work soon. My kids gotta eat.”

  “Oh excuse me, Tony. Duke, this is Tony Holcombe.”

  “Welcome, Duke. Do I understand you’re quite ready to start work?”

  “Yep.”

  “How come?” asked Hawkeye. “I mean, I wanted you to and figured you might show, but I didn’t really expect you to haul up stakes so fast.”

  “I don’t understand it either. Can we get Trapper and Spearchucker?”

  “I think so, but I’m not sure. I figured if you and I get something going, we could talk them into it.

  They’re both getting to be pretty big cats, but you never know.”

  “We got an office?”

  “Oh dear,” said Tony.

  “I’ve just moved out of a fish factory. For a while You and I and Tony are going to share an old office building. Then as soon as it’s built, maybe in a year, we’re going to move into the Finestkind Clinic and Fishmarket.”

  “Should I ask specifically about this clinic and fish market, or should I just learn as I go along?”

  “It’s fairly simple. Jocko Allcock and Wooden Leg Wilcox run a sort of surgical lottery and Wooden Leg is on the board of directors here. They are prospering and are building a large modern office building which can be expanded to accommodate all the talent we want to bring in. We will have the option of buying in or paying rent to Jocko and Wooden Leg. It’s going to be right on the shore—a place called Harbor Point. That’s a couple of miles nut of town and next to where they’re going to build our new hospital. I’d say two years away at least.”

  “Sounds okay,” said Duke. “What’s this fish market business?”

  “Oh, well, Wooden Leg has always wanted a good retail fish market so he figures he’ll have one in the clinic. He’s going to have a wharf there. The boys can bring their lobsters and clams and shrimp to the clinic. He’ll still do the filleting at his wholesale place, I hope.”

  “Ah can tell it’s going to be a real high-class operation in every way,” said Duke.

  “I sometimes wonder,” mused Tony Holcombe.

  Jocko Allcock, visiting the hospital to borrow blood for the Veterans Hospital, entered the coffee shop.

  “Duke’s ready to roll,” said Hawkeye. “He does urology in addition to general surgery. Can you find half a dozen prostates for him?”

  “No problem,” Jocko assured him.

  Word of Duke and Little Eva spread through the halls, linen closets and doctors’ loitering areas of Spruce Harbor General Hospital. Goofus MacDuff and the good guys made a lively effort to oppose Duke’s appointment to the staff. They reasoned that, given an ally, Hawkeye would be unbeatable. Their reasoning was impeccable. Duke, like Hawkeye, was certified by the American Board of Surgery. Wooden Leg Wilcox controlled the board of directors and Duke’s application for surgical privileges was quickly approved.

  Two months later Duke and Hawkeye, convinced that a neurosurgeon was a Spruce Harbor necessity, went to Philadelphia to interview Dr. Oliver Wendell (Spearchucker) Jones who had been the neurosurgeon and their friend at the 4077th MASH in Korea.

  “How we going to play it?” asked Duke.

  “Let’s get a few laughs. Maybe an act like we put on in Korea when we went to call on that General.”

  “Y’all think that’s wise? Old Spearchucker’s just been made boss of that brain factory. He might not go for it.”

  “Oh, hell, let’s have some fun. Let’s get you a sheriff’s badge and a big hat. That and Little Eva should make them sit up and take notice at University Hospital.”

  By the time they’d found Spearchucker’s office they’d attracted a small but interested crowd. Duke and Hawkeye were getting a mite nervous but Little Eva was steady as a rock. In Dr. Jones’s office they found a tall, decorative, redheaded secretary who took one look at them and burst out laughing.

  “Look, honey,” Duke protested, “you’re supposed to be scared. You ain’t supposed to laugh. We come to git us a two-hundred-and-thirty-pound buck nigra neurosurgeon.”

  “Spearchucker around?” asked Hawk.

  “He should be just about through in surgery. Would you like me to call him?”

  “Yeah,” said Hawkeye. “Tell him to get his black ass back here.”

  “Who shall I say is calling? Just two guys with a bloodhound?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the bloodhound’s name, please?”

  “Little Eva.”

  “Of course. What else?”

  Just then Dr. Spearchucker Jones called his office and was told: “Doctor, there are two gentlemen and a bloodhound named Little Eva here. They say to tell you to get your black ass back here right away.”

  “One of them talk south and one north?” Dr. Jones asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Look, Ruby. Don’t mind anything they say or do. There’s some booze in my lower desk drawer. Give it to them. I’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “Booze at eleven o’clock in the morning? Yes, sir.”

  Ruby invited her guests into the inner office and se
rved bourbon and coke. After some small talk, Ruby’s curiosity got the better of her.

  “Are you guys crazy?” she asked.

  “No, I’m Hawkeye Pierce and this is Duke Forrest.”

  “I should have recognized you. Dr. Jones has a picture of you and another doctor.”

  “Trapper John.”

  “Yes, I’ve met Trapper. He’s called several times. In fact, he took me to lunch one day.”

  “You get anything to eat?” asked Duke.

  “Trapper still work fast?” asked Hawkeye.

  “Now look. I’m very happily married to Dr. Jones’s chief resident and he’s just as big as Dr. Jones, so you keep civil tongues in your heads or I’ll have you taken care of.”

  “I’ll sic mah dog on you,” Duke mumbled.

  “Pretty tough broad,” observed Hawkeye.

  “Oh, knock it off,” suggested Ruby. “What do you guys want?”

  “We want a neurosurgeon in Spruce Harbor, Maine, and therefore we want to liberate Spearchucker from the ghetto and bring him to Spruce Harbor.”

  “Dr. Jones hardly lives in the ghetto. He’s the youngest head of a neurosurgical department in the country. Do you seriously think he’d give this up to go to some country town?”

  “Why not?” asked Hawkeye. “Wait’ll he hears about the Finestkind Clinic and Fishmarket.”

  “Yeah, wait,” said Duke.

  “Hey, Ruby,” Hawkeye interrupted. “You got nothing to worry about. If we can’t get the coon we’ll grab your husband. He must be okay or Spearchucker wouldn’t have him around.”

  Ruby seemed unable to react.

  “Little Eva is hungry,” Duke announced. “You couldn’t send out for a steak or something?”

  Dr. Oliver Wendell Jones arrived before Ruby could order lunch for Little Eva. “Well, Ruby,” he said, “I expect you’ve been subjected to sexual propositions, comments upon cities in general and Philadelphia in particular, as well as a variety of racist remarks.”

  “Hawkeye called you a coon only once, sir,” said Ruby.

  “That’s right. You folks always stick together. Hey, little white boy,” he said to Duke, “I’m glad to see you.”

  “Same here, Chucker. That’s why we came. We can’t get along without you.”

  “Let’s go to lunch,” suggested Dr. Jones. “Come along, Ruby, and get an idea of what crazy people are like.”

  Over the first martini, Hawkeye said: “Look, Chucker, let’s get it over with. You’re a big deal here in the city. Whoopee. Christ, you may be the best in one part of Philly but there’s ten guys around who could take your job and do it if you get hit by a truck. You’re living in a goddamn five-hundred-a-month apartment I wouldn’t be caught dead in and your kids are growing up with no breathing room. In Spruce Harbor we’ll see you make as much money. You’ll be providing a service that you can’t fulfill and supply here. We need a neurosurgeon. There’s no way for you to stay in the city unless you just want to be a big professor and go from meeting to meeting bullshitting everybody.”

  “You’re forgetting my color,” said Spearchucker softly.

  “How could I forget it?” asked Hawkeye. “You’re blacker’n hell, but what’s your point?”

  “Two points, Hawk. One, there’s going to be resistance to a black neurosurgeon in Spruce Harbor and two, I would be copping out if I went to Spruce Harbor. You know what I mean. I’m a nationally known ex-athlete and a neurosurgeon. If I go to Spruce Harbor I’ll get all kinds of heat. I have a responsibility to my people.”

  “Let’s take your two points, one at a time,” said Hawk. “There is no great desire in Spruce Harbor for a black neurosurgeon, but the majority of the medical profession dislike us so much that they’d accept you, even beg you to come if they thought they’d be shafting Duke and Hawkeye. In fact, Duke and I may be a trifle antagonistic when you first visit Spruce Harbor. As for the second point, that’s a matter of philosophy and we’ve been through it before. As far as I’m concerned we should be human beings first and colors second, so if you want to major in color, stay in Philadelphia. If you want to come to Spruce Harbor, you may, by example and performance, do more for human beings of all colors than you can here. It’s your pop, babe.”

  “We’ll have watermelons shipped in on the underground railroad,” offered Duke, just before Ruby kicked him in the shins beneath the table.

  Before leaving Philadelphia, Duke gave Spearchucker his briefcase and made him promise to bring it to Spruce Harbor. Dr. Jones did not commit himself but Duke and Hawkeye were pretty sure they’d lined up a neurosurgeon.

  A week later Dr. Goofus MacDuff, the Medical Director, received a letter from Dr. Oliver Wendell Jones, Chairman of the Department of Neurosurgery at University Hospital in Philadelphia. Dr. Jones’s letter stated that he had decided to leave Philadelphia and hoped to practice neurosurgery in a nonurban area of the Northeast. Dr. Jones stated that he was nonCaucasian and hinted that this was a reason for seeking escape from the city. His credentials, in fact and on paper, were more impressive than Hawkeye’s or Duke’s. Even Goofus MacDuff, nudged by a reference to football in Dr. Jones’s letter, was aware of Spearchucker Jones, all-pro fullback in 1954.

  Suddenly, to Goofus and the good guys, this letter from Oliver Wendell Spearchucker Jones looked like a great big gold nugget with which they’d bust the skulls of Hawkeye Pierce and Duke Forrest. They answered Dr. Jones’s letter and urged him to visit Spruce Harbor.

  Spearchucker’s visit to Spruce Harbor was announced in advance by the Spruce Harbor Courier.

  The Chamber of Commerce appointed a welcoming committee. The Rotary Club postponed its weekly meeting from Monday tifi Wednesday so that Spearchucker could address them.

  Lucinda Lively, Hawkeye’s new secretary — a medium in most ways like height and weight, dog-loving, sex-oozing twenty-three-year-old blonde — and Little Eva also met Spearchucker when he arrived at Spruce Harbor Airport. Spearthucker’s plane landed at 11:20 A.M. on Wednesday morning. He was welcomed by Goofus and the President of the Chamber of Commerce and the President of the Rotary Club, which Dr. Jones would address at noon. Bloodhounds have a particularly keen sense of smell. As Lucinda Lively and Little Eva followed the famous man into the small terminal, Little Eva caught a scent. She strained at her leash and, it seemed to the audience, had an overpowering desire to possess Dr. Oliver Wendell Jones. Of course Little Eva had already met Dr. Jones and considered him a friend and Dr. Jones was carrying a briefcase lent him by Dr. Duke Forrest.

  Little Eva’s effort to greet her friend was restrained by Lucinda Lively who, in fact, needed help from the audience. Dr. Jones’s reaction, later described in the Spruce Harbor Courier as one of fear and anger, was actually a barely successful effort to suppress laughter.

  The newspaper account proclaimed that “the famous Negro athlete and brain surgeon, Dr. Oliver Jones, was attacked by a bloodhound upon his arrival in Spruce Harbor,” and explained that the bloodhound was owned by Dr. Augustus Forrest, who had recently moved to Spruce Harbor from Georgia. In an editorial, the editor hoped that “racial prejudice will never raise its ugly bead in Spruce Harbor, Maine.” He added that Dr. Jones was considering the practice of neurosurgery in Spruce Harbor and urged the community to spare no effort in convincing Dr. Jones that his future lay in Spruce Harbor.

  After addressing the Rotary Club, whose members concentrated on questions about football, and after a difficult afternoon with Goofus and the good guys, Spearchucker Jones was allowed to check into his room at the Spruce Harbor Motel. Goofus, although he’d considered inviting Spearchucker to his home, thought better of it. With a great sigh of relief, Spearchucker said aloud, to himself: “What a day. I’m going to have a shower and a nice big drink of bourbon before I have to face that gang tonight.”

  “Could you make it two bourbons, Spearchucker?” said another voice.

  Before Dr. Jones could answer, Little Eva shyly but sincerely paid her respects. “I’m Lucinda L
ively, Hawkeye’s secretary,” explained the other voice from a sofa next to the TV set.

  Spearchucker assessed the quite satisfactory blonde while he fondled Little Eva and laughed. He laughed so long that Lucinda Lively had to interrupt: “Spearchucker, may I please have a drink? I hope you don’t mind my calling you that. Use of last names is considered discourteous around here.”

  “What are you doing here, Lucinda?”

  “Hawkeye sent me. I’m a problem to him. He hopes you’ll take me to bed, but I’m not going to let you.”

  “Oh. May I ask why?”

  “Nothing personal. It’s just that I’m twenty-three and I don’t plan to marry until I’m twenty-seven and I don’t want to acquire a reputation for sleeping around.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Dr. Jones.

  “What’s Trapper John like?” asked Lucinda.

  “He’s like them. Maybe worse. Why?”

  “Because I think Hawkeye’s master plan is to use me for bait so he can get Trapper to come to Spruce Harbor.”

  “Nice bait. Let’s have a drink, Lucinda. By the way, how’d you and Little Eva get in here?”

  “Oh, I have lots of ways,” said Lucinda.

  “I’m supposed to go to a staff meeting at the hospital tonight,” said Dr. Jones.

  “And a party at Dr. MacDuff’s afterward,” said Lucinda. “You’d better have three bourbons. Hawkeye and Duke and Tony Holcombe are not going to be very cordial. I guess you know that.”

  “Yes. Do they have definite plans or are they just going to be spontaneous?”

  “Well,” said Lucinda, “Hawkeye has a big bullwhip that’s been lying around his father’s barn for fifty years and Duke has a rope with a hangman’s noose on one end of it. Whip and noose are displayed, conspicuously, in their station wagons. And I heard them discussing the propriety of burning a fiery cross somewhere, perhaps in front of the motel.”

  “My God,” moaned Spearchucker. “Do you think I should cut out tonight?”

  “No. I don’t think they’re going to carry it too far. It’s just that they have juvenile minds and this gives them a chance to let their imaginations run wild. If they overdo it, they’ll spoil it and they want you so bad they can taste it.”