by Fannie Flagg
Later Ander and Beatrice entered the sack race together but two eight-year-olds beat them by more than five feet. Ander supplied all the food and the ice cream for the party, and as a special treat, had brought in a barbershop quartet from Joplin to serenade the birthday girl. After the birthday cake was cut, Beatrice opened all her presents. Ander had given her a nice ladies’ leather traveling case she had admired in Springfield. And even though it wasn’t her birthday, Elner got one too. After the party was over, Ander quietly handed Beatrice a small white box, and said, “Don’t open it until you get home, all right?”
Elner was staying in town with Beatrice that night, and after they got back to Beatrice’s room Beatrice sat down on her bed and shook Ander’s present. “I wonder what it is?”
“Well, open it up, Silly.”
When she did, to her surprise, inside was a large diamond engagement ring, with a note that read “I adore you. Will you marry me?”
“Elner, look! Ander wants to marry me. Oh no. I knew he liked me, but I didn’t realize…I mean I like him a lot…but…what am I going to do?”
“Well, you could marry him.”
“But, Elner, he has that red hair and all those freckles. What if I had children with freckles all over them?”
“I wouldn’t let freckles stop me. I had a speckled hen once, and she was my favorite. But you know me. I like Ander.”
Beatrice smiled and nodded. “He is awful cute…isn’t he?”
“Cute as a bug in a rug.”
“I sure would hate for some other girl to get him. I don’t think I want to say no, but I’m not ready to say yes. I want to go to college.”
“Then maybe you can just tell him that. But in the meantime, I’d hang on to the ring.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Beatrice. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Well, he won’t take it back. I know that.”
“How do you know?”
Elner looked up to the ceiling. “A little red birdie told me.”
“Oh, you devil, you knew about this all along, didn’t you?” Beatrice said, hitting Elner with a pillow.
Elner laughed and covered her head. “I’m not saying I did, and I’m not saying I didn’t.” But she had known. She had helped Ander pick out the ring.
Beatrice took Elner’s advice and told Ander the truth—that she really wasn’t ready to commit to anybody yet. She asked how long he was willing to wait for an answer.
Ander thought about it for a moment, then said, “Oh, just a lifetime. How long is that?”
In September, as planned, Beatrice went off to St. Louis to a two-year girls’ college, but at Ander’s insistence, she kept the ring.
Ander knew when she left that he might lose her for good, but he also wanted her to be happy.
After his wife, Nancy, had suddenly disappeared from Still Meadows, Henry Knott was feeling very lonesome. But thankfully, their three daughters, Elner, Gerta, and Ida, came out to visit often. The last time Elner had come to Still Meadows, she had Will Shimfissle with her. Henry had laughed and said to Katrina, “I wonder what she’s doing with that little peanut. I hope she ain’t thinking of marrying him.”
Katrina said, “But Will’s a very nice boy and a very good worker, Henry.”
“That’s true. Oh, well. Whoever marries Elner is getting themselves a mighty fine gal.”
—
AND SURE ENOUGH, LATER that year, Elner, a big, tall girl at five foot ten, surprised everyone in town by marrying the little skinny hardscrabble farmhand named Will Shimfissle, who stood only five foot five in his stocking feet. But as someone said, “Every sock has its mate, and little Will Shimfissle is Elner’s.”
—
THAT NEXT CHRISTMAS, TO everyone’s delight, when Beatrice came home for the holidays, she agreed to marry Ander Swensen in the spring.
When the time came, Elner was her matron of honor, and as such, Elner had to come to town and was outfitted from head to toe for the big occasion.
The wedding was lovely, marred only by the fact that the groom embarrassed himself by sobbing his way through the vows.
Later, at the reception, wearing her new high heels, Elner hobbled over to Ander and Beatrice and said, “Now that the big shindig is finally over, you two have to promise me to stay together because I can’t go through this torture again. I’ve never felt so trussed up and gussied up in all my born life. My feet are killing me. I can’t wait to get back to the farm and jerk this girdle off. Then I’m going to have Will take it out to the yard and shoot it to death.”
They both laughed. And Beatrice said, “Oh, Elner…what would I do if I didn’t have you to make me laugh?”
“You’d have to go through life being miserable, I guess.”
—
THAT SAME YEAR, SOMETHING so sweet and unexpected happened. A brand-new grammar school was built on the Still Meadows side of town, and on days when the wind was blowing just right, everyone up at Still Meadows could hear Miss Beemer ringing the school bell and the voices of children laughing and playing in the schoolyard. It was such a happy, cheerful sound.
Many summers had passed since the day Katrina joined her husband, and she knew that one of the children she heard playing must be their own grandson, Gene. On one such day, she turned and said, “Oh, Lordor, is this heaven? Surely, it must be.”
Lordor smiled. “Well, if it’s not, it’ll sure do until the real thing comes along.”
By 1930, the Great Depression had hit the country hard. Elmwood Springs, still being somewhat of a rural town, survived it better than most. Because of the Swensen dairy, the children had milk, and they had plenty of corn, wheat, and alfalfa to feed the cows and pigs. They grew their own vegetables, and a lot of people had fruit trees in their yards. Figs and apple trees did very well, and almost everybody kept chickens. They knew they were lucky. They were spared the hunger that a lot of the rest of the country suffered. The dance school still held their recitals, and Lucille Beemer saw that the town’s annual Founder’s Day pageant honoring Lordor Nordstrom continued as well. “Tradition is the hallmark of a civilized society,” she said.
As usual, in Elmwood Springs, there were more weddings and more babies born; thankfully, in that order. In 1930, the Warrens, who ran the hardware store, had a baby boy they named Macky. And in 1931, Beatrice and Ander Swensen moved into a brand-new house in town and planned to start a family as soon as possible.
That same year, Elner’s sister, Ida, married Herbert Jenkins, the banker’s son, and Ida moved from the Knott farm into town. A respectable eleven months later, she gave birth to a baby girl she named Norma.
Ida, who was prone to putting on airs since birth, had informed everyone that she had named her daughter Norma not after the popular movie star Norma Shearer, but after the lead character in the opera Norma. Ever since she married the banker’s son, she had aspired to join the highbrow set she read about in magazines.
To Ida’s everlasting dismay, her sister Elner listened to The Grand Ole Opry radio show out of Nashville. Elner still lived out in the country, which suited her just fine. Unlike Ida, Elner enjoyed herself, no matter where she was.
Thanks to her own good cooking, Elner was now a large, soft young farm woman who wore her hair swept up in a bun, and although she was a grown woman, she still had the sweet, open face of a child. She loved all animals and people. “I like anything that is living,” she said.
When Lucille Beemer died of breast cancer in December of 1932, it was a great loss for the town and the annual musical pageant. Luckily, Dixie Cahill was able to step in and take over the reins of the pageant. She added a lot more dancing, and the following year, the cardboard farm animals held by her students danced as well in the big finale. The founder’s grandson, ten-year-old Gene Nordstrom, wearing Swedish clothes and a large round black hat, was cast as his own grandfather. Everyone said that with his blond hair and blue eyes, he looked very much the part.
Later that year, when the “all-si
nging, all-dancing” film 42nd Street, starring Ruby Keeler, came to the Elmwood Springs Theater, it seemed the whole town suddenly went tap dance crazy.
That was the year Dixie Cahill first formed the Tappettes, a group of young girls who would dress in their signature blue spangled outfits, march in every parade, perform at any local county fair, attend any special occasion, and welcome any dignitary. So far, no dignitaries to speak of had shown up, yet. But they were hopeful.
It seemed that movies were getting better than ever. Every Thursday night was dish night at the theater, and popcorn was only a nickel. And with her snappy way of talking and her bleached platinum-blond hair, Jean Harlow was the new swoon girl at the movies among the younger set.
—
WHEN TWO OF THE older, more staid ladies in town, Mrs. Bell and her friend Mrs. Hazel Goodnight, attended a matinee featuring Miss Harlow, they had been shocked. When the blond bombshell, originally from Kansas City, sashayed across the screen in her long white satin gown, Mrs. Bell gasped and whispered so loudly that everyone in the theater heard her. “My God, Hazel…the girl’s not wearing underwear!”
Later, while they were sitting at the Rexall drugstore counter having their weekly hot fudge sundae, Mrs. Bell was still in a state of shock. “And she’s a Missouri girl, too. What will people think? I wouldn’t be caught dead going out in public without my girdle and bra, would you? Much less parade around on the screen for the whole world to see. I tell you, Hazel, if our morals slip any lower…I just don’t know what. Whatever happened to modesty? Why, to this day, Mr. Bell has never seen me in the altogether.”
The seventeen-year-old soda jerk who overheard her couldn’t help but wince a little. It was much more than he wanted to know.
April 1933
This morning, Elner Shimfissle was wandering around her backyard in her pink floral cotton housedress, carrying a blue and white speckled pan full of Purina chicken feed, throwing it out to her chickens and singing, “Ooohhh, in your beautiful Alice Blue gown, you’re the prettiest gal in the town…”
Elner always sang to her chickens. She believed it made them lay bigger eggs. And besides, she liked to sing. Unfortunately, she sometimes didn’t know the words and was always just a hair off-key, but the chickens didn’t seem to mind.
A few minutes later, Elner spied her husband, Will, way out in the back field on his tractor. She waved and called out to him. “Whoo! Whoo!” He saw her and waved back.
After she finished feeding the chickens, Elner walked over and hung her pan up on a nail on the side of the house, and then she heard a car drive up to the front of the house. She thought that maybe it was Ida or her friend Beatrice who had come to visit.
She quickly wiped her hands on her blue-checked apron and walked around to see who it was. It was a man she had never seen before, sitting in a big black dusty car, and he was looking at a map.
“Hey, there,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The man looked up, startled to see her standing there. “Oh, hello. We seem to be lost. Is this the way to Joplin?”
She laughed. “Oh lands, no, honey.” She went over and put her foot up on the running board and leaned in and pointed down the road. “You need to turn around and head back the other way, then turn right on the highway, at your first crossroad.”
“Oh, I see,” said the man.
Elner then noticed the girl sitting in the front seat beside him. She was wearing a cute little tam. By the look of them, Elner figured them for newlyweds and said, “I’m sorry you’re lost, but now that you’re here, come on in. Let me fix you a nice glass of iced tea or a cup of coffee before you head out again.”
The couple looked at each other quizzically, then the girl shrugged. The young man said, “That sounds awful good. We’ve been driving for quite a while, so…if it’s not too much trouble….”
“Oh lands, no. Glad to have the company. We don’t get many visitors this far out.” She walked up and opened the front door and said, “Come on in. Hope you don’t mind cats. I’m Elner Shimfissle. My husband, Will, is out in the back field plowing, and he’s gonna be sorry he missed meeting you. What’s your name?”
“Clyde. This here’s Bonnie.”
“Nice to meet you.”
As they went through the house and back to a big kitchen that smelled of bacon, about six cats scattered everywhere. Elner pointed to a white enamel table with four wooden chairs. “Have a seat. Hey, I’ll bet you kids are hungry. Have you had your breakfast, yet?”
“Well, no,” said the man, “not yet. We were thinking to have it in Joplin.”
Elner looked over at the girl. “You’re just a teeny little thing. You need to eat something or you’re liable to fall out in a faint, and I’m not going to let you leave until you do. I’ll call you when it’s ready. In the meanwhile, you two just make yourselves to home.” She looked at the girl. “I know you probably have to use the bathroom, so just help yourself, honey. I’ve even got a bar of store-bought soap in there. I used to make my own, but I got too lazy.”
—
ABOUT TEN MINUTES LATER, the couple sat down to a huge plate of bacon and eggs, freshly made hot-buttered buttermilk biscuits, and homemade preserves. “Be sure to eat them while they’re hot,” Elner said. Just as the couple sat down, a big, fat raccoon, obviously a pet, slowly waddled into the kitchen and toward the screen door and without saying a word, Elner got up from the table and held the door open while it waddled out. “See you later, Richard,” she said, then sat back down. “So you folks are headed to Joplin? I know it’s not too far, but you know, I’ve never been to Joplin. My daddy was a pig farmer, so I’m kinda scared of big cities. My sister Ida’s been there and said it was real nice.”
Between bites of the delicious biscuits and bacon, the young man became rather talkative. At first, the girl said very little, but pretty soon, she joined in the conversation. She told Elner that she had once worked as a hairdresser back home in Texas. Elner was impressed. “Oh, you don’t say? Well, that takes a lot of skill…and you’re smart to have that in your background. No matter what, you’ve always got that to fall back on. There’s a young gal in town named Tot that Ida and Beatrice go to, who does hair out on her back porch, but I don’t think she’s licensed. What kind of business are you in, Clyde?”
“Uhhh…the bank business,” he said, as he buttered another biscuit.
“Oh, my, what a coincidence. My sister Ida, the one I was telling you about, is married to a banker by the name of Herbert Jenkins. Do you know him?”
Clyde shook his head. “No…I don’t believe I do.”
“Well, anyway, his daddy owns the Elmwood Springs bank. You need to go in and say hello to him. You’re gonna pass right by Elmwood Springs on your way to Joplin. It’s a real nice little town. My sister Gerta and her husband, Ted, run the bakery. My friend Beatrice and her husband, Ander, live there, too. Ander owns that big dairy farm you passed by.”
—
AFTER HEARING ALL ABOUT her ten-year-old nephew, Gene, the Cub Scout with all the badges, they were shown an old photograph of Elner’s parents, Nancy and Henry Knott, standing beside their prize-winning pig, Dumpling No. 3. “They’re both gone now,” she said. “Both up at Still Meadows. Momma fell off the back of a wagon and froze solid, and Daddy got TB. I sure do miss ’em.”
Almost forty-five minutes later, when the couple stood up to leave, Elner said, “Wait. I’ve got a little something for you to take with you.” She went to her pantry and pulled out two jars of her homemade fig preserves from a shelf full of jars. She handed them to the girl. “Here you go, honey. Made fresh yesterday, right off my tree. I hope you enjoy them.”
The girl took them and said, “Thank you,” as they walked to the door.
“Well, listen, good luck to you two. And if you’re ever anywhere around here again, stop by and see me again, will you?”
“We sure will,” they said.
“Oh, and don’t forget to stop by the bank on your
way out. You can’t miss it. It’s right there on Main Street. Be sure and tell them Elner sent you.” As she washed the breakfast dishes, Elner was so happy to have had such a pleasant visit with such a nice young couple.
Elner had no idea until she saw their picture in the paper that the couple were the famous criminals Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker.
After the police raid of their hideout in Joplin, they’d managed to escape, but a camera with undeveloped film was found, and photos of the notorious couple brandishing guns were published by The Joplin Globe. Bonnie was shown holding a gun and smoking a cigar. Elner’s husband, Will, had been horrified when she told him that they were the same two people she had made breakfast for.
“Honey, couldn’t you tell they were cold-blooded killers?”
“Well, no, I didn’t even know she smoked. They just looked like a nice couple to me, and what I don’t understand is why would that girl want to rob and kill people when she could have made a good living fixing hair?” Then Elner had an alarming thought and looked at her husband. “Oh, Lord, Will, you don’t think the police will trace those fig preserves back to me and think I was one of their accomplices, do you?”
“Well, I don’t know, Elner. Nobody makes fig preserves like you do. They could.”
Elner’s eyes got wide.
“Just kidding, Elner. Of course not.”
The other thing Elner hadn’t known about was that the day the two had stopped at her house, they’d planned to rob the bank in Elmwood Springs on their way to Joplin to meet up with Clyde’s brother, Buck. But after meeting Elner, they had changed their minds.
Another thing she didn’t know was that Bonnie had lied about having been a hairdresser. It was Buck’s wife, Blanche, who was the hairdresser. And although it was never reported, the police had found a half-eaten jar of fig preserves at their hideout in Joplin. Elner was lucky they hadn’t checked it for fingerprints, or she would have had a visit from the sheriff for sure.
