Family Reunion

by Nicholas Sarazen

  Weasel's hurt look gave way to a grin as Stephanie closed the door.

  "Colonel Willis?"

  "Yes, yes, be with you in just a second."

  Behind a large wooden desk in the center of the cluttered office sat the director of Severman House.

  "Bills, bills, bills," Colonel Willis said as he raised his head. "This phone bill is astronomical and I know I didn't make half the calls." He stood up. "But that's not your problem, is it? You must be Miss Kenyon."

  He was nothing like she had imagined. To her, the very title of colonel suggested steely eyes, a straight back and an icy demeanor. Colonel Willis looked to be around forty years old. He had a warm smile and crows-feet that highlighted the edges of kind, pale blue eyes. Instead of firm muscles and a flat stomach, Colonel Willis' physique was pudgy and soft, no doubt the product of the starchy foods that were the staples of the shelter's kitchen.

  "Nice to meet you, Colonel." She sat down in a chair in front of his desk. "But before we start, I was wondering. In which branch of the armed forces did you serve?"

  He smiled. "I was never in the service. You see, many of the people who pass through here have run the gamut of charitable and social service organizations. Some of those agencies use military titles for their workers. I guess I looked like a colonel to some of the boys, so they started calling me Colonel Willis. The name just stuck and I've been Colonel Willis ever since."

  "I see." Stephanie smiled as she opened her purse to get her cassette recorder. "Do you mind if I tape our interview? That way I can be sure your quotes are accurate." She also knew that after a few minutes of conversation people usually forgot about the recorder and were not as measured in their responses. When she took notes people tended to watch her as she wrote and were much more guarded about the information they would give.

  "That's fine with me. I have nothing to hide. What would you like to know?"

  Stephanie started the recorder. "Colonel, how do you respond to charges that Severman House, because of the element it attracts, poses a real and serious threat to this area?"

  Colonel Willis sat back in his swivel chair. "Miss Kenyon, I can understand the concern, but I just wish everyone had all the facts."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I've seen things in the paper saying that the crime rate is higher in areas with transient facilities. People read that and then automatically blame us for everything that happens. The problem is that people don't realize shelters are usually located in high-crime areas to begin with. Take this area. It's always been high-crime. Now it ranks seventeenth of all the districts in the city in crimes per capita. That's bad. But do you know that before this shelter opened, it ranked ninth? There's less crime per capita now, but people don't get those statistics. Besides, you can twist numbers around to support any position you want. It's like saying the crime rate goes up when ice cream sales go up. It does, but it's because they're both related to hot weather, not because ice cream causes crime."

  "But Colonel Willis, you can't deny that residents have been involved in some of the criminal activity."

  "No, I can't. But you have to understand, we have people in and out of here all the time. Things have changed over the years. We used to be able to find jobs for guys. Now there's nothing. A guy comes in here, stays a few days, we get him cleaned up, get him some decent clothes, feed him, and then he's gone. If there's trouble, you can't indict the shelter for the actions of guys who've stayed here only a few days. That would be like closing a hotel because one of the guests committed a crime. I've heard arguments that Severman House attracts so-called undesirable types. These people are out there in the city, Miss Kenyon, regardless of where they stay. We don't solicit them, they're referred to us. If they weren't here they would be sleeping on the streets, but they'd still be out there. I would think the public would feel more threatened by having some of these people wandering the streets at night than by having them stay here."

  "I see your point. But how do you respond to people who aren't necessarily opposed to the concept of shelters, they just don't want them in their neighborhoods?"

  "People complain that shelters and facilities such as ours affect property values, that homes depreciate when a shelter opens nearby. That's simply not true and I have the figures to prove it. There are no shelters in Bel Air. They're in neighborhoods like this one because that's where the poor people are. Residential properties generally don't appreciate in these areas anyway."

  The interview lasted nearly an hour--much longer than she had expected--and for every question Stephanie posed, Colonel Willis had an answer. Severman House could not have a more dedicated, more articulate spokesman. She ended the interview and was starting to leave when she remembered the slight man who had escorted her to the office.

  "By the way," Stephanie said, "I met Weasel, one of your residents."

  "Oh, yes." Colonel Willis smiled again and shook his head. "Weasel's almost become a permanent fixture around here. He has a line a mile long but he's totally harmless. He helps me out doing odd jobs and running errands. In return, I give him a little spending money."

  "He said he wanted to talk to me about a story, something that seemed to be very important to him. Do you have any idea what it might be?"

  Colonel Willis chuckled. "Who knows. He's always coming up with some preposterous tale. Be forewarned in case it's the one about the UFO."

  "The UFO?"

  "Yes, that's one of his better ones. Several months ago Weasel was telling the guys here that he'd been picked up and taken for a ride by aliens in a flying saucer. The guys started giving him a real rough time about it, so he told them he had proof. The next day he took us all out to this place near the tracks off Mission Road and showed us a big circle of scorched grass surrounded by several smaller circles. He told us that was where the flying saucer had landed. Then I remembered him coming in late the night before with the smell of gasoline all over his clothes. He's lucky he didn't set himself on fire." Colonel Willis chuckled again. "But you know, there was another time he came in telling everyone he had found a wallet with two thousand dollars in it. They wanted to see it, but he told them he had tracked down the owner and given it back to him. No one believed him, of course, but that night I got a call from the guy. Weasel really had returned his wallet, and it did have two thousand dollars in it. Weasel wouldn't take any reward for returning it, but the man was so grateful he wanted to do something, especially after he found out Weasel lived here. I mentioned that Weasel liked to fish, and the next day the guy sent over a fancy rod and reel."

  "Weasel sounds like quite a character. Well, thank you again for the interview, Colonel."

  As Stephanie reached for the doorknob she wondered if Weasel had waited for her.

  "Hi, Miss Kenyon!" The squeaky voice greeted her as soon as she opened the door. "That sure took a long time. Bet you didn't think I'd still be waiting, did you? I wasn't going to let you get away. You seem real nice and I don't want nobody but you to have this story." Weasel did not say words as much as spew them forth. In his excitement his body became more and more animated and his arms moved in accompaniment to his patter. "I've had lots of time to think while you were in there with Colonel Willis. I bet you'll like my idea."

  Stephanie had run into countless Weasels before. All they really wanted was an audience, someone to make them feel like they mattered. She didn't want to be rude, but she had a busy schedule and could give him only a few minutes.

  "Okay, Weasel, what's your story?"

  "We can't talk here, Miss Kenyon. Would you mind if we went for a walk? I don't trust some of the people around here," he cupped his hand to his mouth, "if you know what I mean."

  Weasel led the way down the hall to the porch. A few of the hecklers were still there. They said nothing as the pair came out of the house and walked toward the street, but as Stephanie and Weasel got farther away, the catcalls began anew.

  "Hey, Weasel! You gonna get it wet?" Other vulgarities foll
owed, but Weasel acted as though he didn't hear them.

  They walked for more than two blocks while Weasel rambled on about life at Severman House. Stephanie watched the small man in front of her. He walked with a slight limp in his right leg, but each time she quickened her pace to try to catch up to him he would walk even faster. He stayed about three feet ahead of her, looking back over his shoulder as he talked.

  "Where are we going?" she finally asked. "Don't you think this is far enough?"

  "Over there." He pointed to a canopied bus stop. "That ought to do it."

  "Weasel, is there a reason you're not walking next to me?"

  "There's no reason, Miss Kenyon." Weasel bowed his head. "Well, I guess there is. I figured you'd be embarrassed if anybody you knew saw you walkin' beside me. I didn't figure nobody would pay no attention if I walked in front of you."

  "Why do you think I would be embarrassed?"

  "Because you're so pretty and all dressed up and I...I..." Weasel looked down at his threadbare pants and faded paisley shirt.

  "I'm not that way, Weasel. Besides, you look fine to me. But I really am in a hurry, so what is it you wanted to tell me?"

  Weasel waited for a black woman pushing a shopping cart to pass by. When he began, his voice was soft. "You can't tell nobody, Miss Kenyon, but I'm...family."

  "You're what?"

  "I'm family."

  "You think we're related?"

  "No, I'm not saying we're kin. I'm saying I'm part of the family. You know, The Family." He waved his hands in exasperation. "Mother Earth's Family!"

  Stephanie remembered what Colonel Willis had said about Weasel's propensity for tall tales. "Weasel, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for this."

  "It's true. I really am part of The Family."

  "That's hard to believe," she said, "but even if you were a member of The Family, I don't see a story in it. But thank you for offering it to me first."

  "You don't understand, Miss Kenyon. Mother Earth's in jail, but The Family still lives on."

  "Weasel, how can The Family live on when they're in prison? In fact, different prisons."

  "I'm not talking about them, Miss Kenyon. I'm talking about the rest of us. We may be livin' all over the place, but we'll always be part of The Family."

  "But Weasel, there's still no story in it. Look, I have other appointments."

  She turned to walk away but Weasel was quickly beside her.

  "The book, Miss Kenyon. You don't know about the book."

  A gust of wind blew several strands of hair across her face. She brushed them back over her ear. "What book?"

  "The book that tells where everybody in The Family lives, what they're doin', everything. Names and addresses and phone numbers. And it's up-to-date, too."

  "Weasel, I don't mean to be discourteous, but I really do have to go now."

  "It's true, Miss Kenyon. I swear it. Looky here." He stuck a hand inside the front of his shirt and Stephanie took a step backward. He pulled out a necklace. His bony fingers turned the silver and green figurine dangling from the chain.

  "What is it?" Stephanie looked at the object. It was a peace sign. The inverted Y inside was fashioned to look like a fir tree.

  "It's my sign, from The Family. Just certain people got them. Each one's different, and each one stands for somethin'."

  Stephanie hesitated. "What does yours stand for?"

  "I can't tell you, but it proves I'm in The Family."

  "The necklace proves nothing. And that book you're talking about...you expect me to believe that people who used to be in Mother Earth's Family still keep in touch?"

  "No, Miss Kenyon. They don't even know about the book."

  "Then who keeps track of them?"

  Weasel took a deep breath. His eyes narrowed until they were barely more than slits. "Xeno. That's who." There was a trace of reverence in his voice.

  "Why would anyone keep such a book?" She still was sure Weasel was lying, but she began to consider the possibilities...all those years after The Family slayings, the evil seeds long ago scattered to the wind, and now a book that may tell where each and every Family member is, what he or she is doing. It seemed absurd, but the little man had piqued her curiosity.

  "Because we're Family. You keep track of your kin and what they're doin', don't you? So does Xeno."

  "How do you know he's not just kidding with you?" Stephanie asked.

  "Because I saw the book." He puffed out his chest. "Fact is, I'm one of the few people besides Xeno who's ever seen it."

  "Where is this book?"

  Weasel shook his head. "I can't tell you. Xeno likes me, but he might do somethin' awful if I ever told an outsider where the book is."

  Stephanie surveyed the scruffy little man before her. "All right, say I believe you. So what exactly is the story you're so excited about?"

  "Miss Kenyon, the story is that The Family lives. Ain't that story enough? Heck, I don't mean for nobody to get scared. Shoot, no. Mother Earth got all the credit for The Family, but it was always a lot bigger than her. But because of what she and some of them others did, people think we was all just a bunch of killers. That's not true, Miss Kenyon, it's just not true. Most of us didn't want that Hollyworld amusement park goin' in right next to that national forest, but we sure wouldn't have hurt nobody to stop it. But the ones who killed those movie stars thought that was the only way. It's like they say, bad apples in every bunch. But for the most part, The Family was all good people."

  Stephanie paused a moment to think.

  "Weasel, do you actually believe that? Do you really believe most of The Family members were good people?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Real good people."

  "Do you think they're still good people? I mean, if they were good people back then, they should be good people now, right?"

  "Sure they should, but what are you gettin' at?"

  "That's the story, Weasel. Don't you see? You're saying that because of the murders, the entire Family got a bad name. With that book we could prove to everyone that there were good people in The Family as well. What do you say?"

  "I don't know what to say, Miss Kenyon." Weasel seemed confused. "But you do believe me?"

  "Not until I see that book."

  Chapter 4

  "No...no, no, no." Weasel shook his head from side to side in concert with each refusal. His dark eyes widened beneath arched brows. "I couldn't let nobody see the book, not even you. You don't have no idea what Xeno might do."

  "What might he do, Weasel? It's just a book. You're making this Xeno sound like Attila the Hun."

  "I don't know who he is, ma'am, but I know Xeno and he sure ain't no honey."

  Stephanie looked at Weasel and smiled. They walked for awhile without talking and she began to take more notice of their surroundings. This part of L.A. seemed to be a dumping ground for the broken people society had swept out the back door. She watched a grizzled old man stagger by, drinking from a bottle in a paper bag. He passed close enough for her to smell the odor of his urine-soaked pants. His ankles had open, oozing sores and on his sockless feet were unlaced shoes that flopped as he walked. Another man passed them, mumbling mindlessly to himself. Across the street two men had stopped their car and were talking to a young girl dressed in a lavender tube top, purple hot pants and white leather boots. Nearby, a neon sign flickered above the red door of the Idle Hour Tavern, a bar she remembered as being the site of a recent fatal shooting.

  "You know, Weasel, it's a shame how your friends in The Family have been maligned all these years. Like you said, most people think that everyone who was associated with Mother Earth should have been put behind bars forever. But if what you say is true, the public should know the truth about the others. I could try to help them out a little, maybe write a story saying how The Family wasn't all that bad, but--"

  "You'd do that, Miss Kenyon?" Weasel's face brightened. "You'd really do that?"

  "I said I could, Weasel, but I'm not going to. It wouldn
't help anyway. People simply don't believe everything they read in the papers anymore. They want facts, and sometimes even that's not enough. People want proof, Weasel. The proof is in that book...that is, if there really is a book."

  Weasel hung his head and frowned. "There is a book, but I just can't, Miss Kenyon."

  "First of all, Weasel, I want to be friends, too. Call me Stephanie, okay?"

  "Whatever you say, Miss Stephanie. But I just don't know about the book. If Xeno ever found out--"

  "How would he? If you could get me the book for just one day, I could get everything out of it I need. You could slip it back the next day and Xeno would never know it was gone."

  "I don't know. Even if that worked, he'd still know when he read your story in the newspaper."

  "Look, Weasel, if I had the time I could track down all those people without the book. Xeno would have no idea where I got my information. Trust me."

  "Well..." Weasel hesitated while a boy on a bicycle rode past. "Just what would you be writin' about?"

  "Just what you wanted me to write about--the decent members of The Family." Stephanie couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Her mind flashed back to the stories she'd heard about those scorching days in August 1970 when headlines across the country brought the nightmarish deeds of Mother Earth and her Family into the nation's consciousness. She recalled how her mother started locking the doors at night, even though Iowa City was eighteen hundred miles from southern California.

  "I trust you, Miss Stephanie, really I do. But I trusted other people before and they let me down." Weasel's voice lowered. "You see, I ain't got much in this world. Bein' part of The Family was the best thing that ever happened to me. It hurt me a lot to hear all the awful things that people said about us. It still hurts. The killing that happened was a real shame, but it was only a few of them who done that. The Family was big, bigger than most people know. But the rest of us weren't killers. We just wanted to get back to nature and live in peace. That's the reason we joined Mother Earth's Family in the first place. I really don't know what went wrong, Miss Stephanie. All I know is I just don't want no more bad things said about us."