As he listened to the agitated voice on the telephone, Roebuck again vainly tried to form letters on the frosted glass into meaningful words. The man was explaining in detail what he was going to do to someone. He had already itemized the imminent slaughter once, and Roebuck suspected he was good for at least this second telling before he got down to facts.
Roebuck held the telephone propped between shoulder and ear but with the ear piece turned well away so that the shouting was not deafening. He saw the full-time secretary laughing from behind her reception desk and joined her with a raise of his eyebrows. Placing his hand over the mouthpiece he asked, "Will you see if you can locate a file on a Ruby from Perry County? I remember going there on a case a year or two back. Might have been a haircut case. Can't remember for sure."
He gathered he was listening to one Eberson Ruby. He recalled the man as rather tall and stringy—a real mountain type. He let the memory of chewing tobacco and some other less definable odors cross his senses. As the secretary placed a slim manila folder before him, he oriented the name and the smells with one of the typical haircut complaints that had been so prevalent a few years back.
Hmmm, it had been longer than he thought, almost three years, and this had been one they had lost, too! There were few losses in haircut cases. Usually the school board folded or, if the case went beyond that, the decision was almost automatically in favor of the student.
The Newport case had never gone beyond the school board hearing because the school system had been so thoroughly prepared. The students had supported the haircut regulations, as had the administration, and the school board. It might have been possible to win a higher court decision, Earl thought, but in the local courts they would have lost every time. If the students themselves approved a dress and haircut code, it became difficult to win until an appeal to a much higher court. Even then it was not always certain. He saw that the Ruby boy had dropped out of school, neatly solving the problem for everybody. He tried to recall the members of the school board or the administrator but could not. There had been too many since then.
Eberson Ruby was coming through clearer, however. Roebuck's impression was of a violent, unreasonable man with a built-in hate for education in general and with very little use for anyone outside the Ruby family. Suddenly he remembered another unusual thing about the Ruby case. They had paid! Now he had it. Eberson Ruby claimed Rubys took no charity. He had thanked Roebuck for his services, told him he thought he did a rotten job, and paid a sum he, Ruby, thought was sufficient.
Roebuck turned his mind to the phone with renewed interest. Ruby was something out of the ordinary and therefore deserved special attention. He wished he'd finish haranguing and lay out a few pertinent facts.
+++++
It was six o'clock before Boden felt he had proceeded as far as he could in preparation of the Ruby case. He had decided to refer to the problem always as "The Ruby case" or "Ruby incident." The less Ben Troop's name came up, the better.
Boden had every intention of saving Ben Troop if it could be done. Unfortunately, the tide had run out on corporal punishment. Parents who would once have supported a teacher who felt it necessary to apply a spanking, now muttered about human rights, and others, long defeated by their own progeny and desperately hoping the schools would successfully substitute for them, prattled of stunted creativity.
So Boden found that instead of being able to stand up to any questioners and plainly say, "Tom Ruby tried to whip a teacher and got whipped instead. He'll be more careful in the future," he had to engage in psychological gamesmanship and present a clever defense to manipulate attitudes. He didn't prefer it.
The Ruby incident! Christ, in this age of privilege without responsibility, it was going to be more than an incident. Like it or not, if he failed to plan thoroughly and act with alacrity, the incident could develop into full scale warfare.
He had to stop the town's probable headlong plunge into sympathy with the Ruby boy. Fortunately, Newport had no football game scheduled for this Saturday. A debacle on the playing field, which was probable without Ruby, would feed coals to the town's discontent.
Boden felt it necessary to get the case before his school board and have a strong position taken before the big guns could be brought up by the adversary. When he thought of big guns, Boden had in mind the civil libertarians from Harrisburg. The Rubys had turned to them before and probably would do so again. He would like to have it all nailed down before the lawyers got wind of it. They could be tough.
There was a point in his favor, if he could work it to his advantage. Perry Countians resented outsiders coming in and telling them how they should act. Particularly they resented smart-assed lawyers from Harrisburg. Uh-huh, Boden thought, I can use that.
The problem was large. Besides compiling testimony, Boden had to influence the town, sway his school board, direct the local press, calm the student body, comfort the teachers' association, and get a checkrein on the Rubys. Tall orders!
He had interviewed three students from Troop's class. He chose them at random because he felt it important not to sandbag anyone. When he went before the board he could not afford having doubts creep in. He just ticked off three names on the class roster and had the students brought in.
He met the three students in his adjoining conference area. They sat nervously, suspecting why they were there, but not yet knowing what they were expected to do. He sat down with them to ease their fears of some sort of inquisition.
"Now students, you have been selected by me to explain the troubles between Tom Ruby and Mr. Troop." Boden felt he had been quite circumspect in that statement. He could easily have said, "The trouble Tom Ruby caused," Or "Why and how Tom Ruby attacked Mr. Troop."
"I picked your names from the class roster randomly. That means for no special reason. Later on I'll talk to each of you in my office but right now I want you to write out as full an explanation as you can of just what happened. I want you to write down what you think caused it and, as closely as you can, what you saw happen.
"Please do not talk to each other or show each other what you have written because it is very important that only your own thoughts and ideas get on your paper. Ok? Any questions? When you finish, bring your papers to Mrs. Krouse and she'll tell you what to do next.
"Everybody got a pencil? Ok, now don't worry about your spelling." A nervous titter. "It doesn't matter this time." More laughter.
He returned to his office and had his secretary call Bill Blue.
"Bill, this is Boden. I've got a problem."
"Ah, Mr. Boden! Good to hear your voice. How can I be of service?'
"Your column, Bill. I need your column."
"Well," came the laconic reply, "I haven't finalized for next week; what do you have in mind?"
"It isn't next week, Bill, it's tomorrow's."
"Tomorrow! Oh hell, Bob, that's impossible!" Blue's voice rose in a frantic squack at Boden's unreasonable request. "My God, the type's set and they'll be running any minute now!"
"I know, Bill, I know." Boden's voice was calming. "But listen, Bill, you know I wouldn't ask such a thing if it wasn't of the utmost importance, and if you agree to make this write-up for us, I'll call Donny right away and get him to hold the presses. I think he'll do it for this."
Boden waited, hoping and expecting that Bill Blue would have to seize the bait.
Blue's column of homespun philosophy appeared weekly in the Newport Times. His journalism was unremarkable except that his editorializing was Newport's only source of local opinion. The slickly syndicated columns and "How-to" articles vied each week for disinterest with lengthy treatises by strategically situated farm ladies who elaborated at great length on who visited whom for Sunday dinner.
The Times was, except for "Bill's Place" (the less than inspired heading for Blue's articles), a paper of homogenized blandness satisfactory to most and purchased by all—probably with the not vain hope of seeing familiar names in print.
Bill
Blue's commentaries were irregularly exasperating to enough readers to insure his column's perusal by most readers. If Blue missed the mark with alarming regularity, he at least said something.
Threateningly, Blue growled, "Well, it'll have to be important for Donny to hold the run. You know how he is about deadlines!"
Actually, Donny Benner couldn't have cared less about deadlines. He ran his paper with a careless abandon that would have shattered the soul of a city desk. Boden knew it and so did the columnist, but the comment was face saving and opened the door for Boden.
"Sure, Bill, I understand about Donny. Look, let me give you the picture and I'll call you back if there is any hang up with him."
Blue's mumbled affirmation was still less than enthusiastic and Boden wanted the writer's heartfelt support; otherwise. Blue's column might be a two-edged sword and Boden, already fighting uphill, was searching for help, not hindrance.
"It's important that you nail this problem down quickly, Bill. If you can settle the town's attitudes and direct popular thinking before the dailies get it, we'll have a chance. By next Saturday, they'll have squeezed the juice out of it and it'll be too late."
Blue's interest rose remarkably at the mention of a scoop on the city papers.
Hooked him, thought Boden. "Ok, Bill, here's the story."
Boden did not count Blue as a stupid man and he explained in detail the background, the provocations, the fight—if it could be called that—his investigation, and the possible outcome of the affair. He concluded, "Look, Bill, I don't want to lose my teacher because some bleeding hearts and a few ex-athletes lose their perspective." Then, with utmost solemnity, "I really need your help on this, Bill."
+++++
When Boden hung up, Blue spent some time sharpening pencils and carefully arranging his yellow legal sized notepads. This was his time for gathering thoughts and organizing his article. He took his time and placed his equipment just so.
Blue submitted his copy hand-printed with typewriter perfection on the lined yellow paper. He used only capital letters and never allowed his printing to touch a line. He felt the typesetters appreciated his neatness, and the slow pace of careful printing helped to order his thoughts.
Blue held no particular delusions about his weekly column. In the early days he had sometimes dreamed of wider recognition, even syndication, but he had long since retired such hopes and now aimed his writing directly at his local constituency with little regard for outside opinion. He wrote of local politics, garbage disposal problems, and social ills. Donny Benner had never edited his material and Blue's column was uniquely his own.
On rare occasions a metropolitan paper had picked up and reprinted a Blue commentary and he had, on other occasions, acted as stringer for city rags concerned with a local activity.
Blue was able to follow Boden's thinking on this Ruby mess. As a firm law and order advocate, his sympathies ran with the authority figure. He had no doubt about Boden's accuracy in reporting the situation to him. He had listened to Boden's board presentations, fire hall lectures, church discussions, and Grange talks, and he knew Boden to be honest and logical. He trusted Bob Boden.
Blue felt he could help. He recognized that some would take exception to whatever he wrote. He had enemies as well as followers, but he believed far more of the latter.
Donny Benner fell readily before Boden's assault. He agreed to hold the weekly run until Blue could submit a new column. He would reset the article and, if it looked good, move it to page one and shove something back into Blue's regular space.
This was easy for Donny to do. The Times never ran a headline and rarely featured a story. Benner found it silly to attempt blowing local happenings into a cause célèbre. The Times rarely produced the first news. As a weekly, its news was usually old stuff by Saturday. That the populace read his paper at all regularly amazed Donny Benner. He was also thankful, for without the Times providing subsistence, he would surely have had to go to work. When Donny agreed to help Bob Boden, he put himself out not at all and hopefully aided an important community figure.
Benner sprawled in his swivel chair and listened to his two pressmen complaining about the hold on the run. Let 'em gripe. They were long-time employees and had no other place to peddle their skills. Their lives were as tightly tied to the Times as his was. Their complaining was more ritual than real.
He yawned and felt mild interest in the Troop business. Maybe it would stir a few things around town and Newport could sure use some stirring.
+++++
Boden called Blue back to tell him Donny was cooperating and found Blue already preoccupied with his writing.
It wasn't easy finding people after work on Friday, but Boden again lucked out, catching the teachers' organization representative at home and willing to come back to school to discuss the Ruby problem.
His final call of the workday was made to the school solicitor. Abe Halloway spent Friday afternoons on the golf course. He called it his "prep period," which meant sharpening his shots for the weekend. The lawyer needed the time to work on his game, which might have become sloppy during the less intense golf played nearly every other day of the week.
Abe Halloway was rarely found in his law office and Boden had taken to calling him at home. Fortunately for the school system, Mrs. Halloway had laid down the law and at precisely 6:30 served their supper. Even if he had to drop out at the seventeenth hole and run for his car, Abe was present, sitting at table head. Boden always called at 6:20.
Halloway listened to Boden's five-minute description and gave his answer in terse impact sentences that insured both his prompt arrival at the dinner table and disaster to Boden's digestive tract. "Number one: your teacher may ease past the board but he will be convicted in a court of law because he used excessive force. How many times he hit the boy will be only part of the case. You cannot cut off a child's fingers because he snitched candy. You cannot smash a boy's face because he tried, only tried, mind you, to hit a teacher.
"Quiet, Bob, I'm not saying I concur. I am saying that's what a court will decide.
"Look, Bob, your school board may decide for Troop but you know the Rubys as well as I do. By now they've got some sharp Harrisburg boy on the case and they'll roll ahead with it. Unless you can turn them off, Troop has, as we used to say, had the meat!
"Ok now, you handle your board. If you want me, I'll appear, but I think the board members might resent my poking in at this time. Agreed? After the board, I'll move in and we'll work up our court case.
"But, Bob, don't get your hopes high."
Boden hung up the phone with spirits lowered. Abe Halloway knew his law. More importantly, he kept abreast of social trends and legal precedents. If he believed Troop stood little chance in court, Boden accepted that opinion. He didn't like it, but for the moment, he accepted it.
He shuffled papers until he heard the outer office door swing shut behind the teachers' representative. Boden ushered him into his office, offered one of his small cigars, and they both lit up.
The representative's name was Hightower. Like Troop, he was a social studies teacher. Unlike Ben Troop, he was maneuvering his way upstairs to the position of teachers' organization president. He diligently completed nine academic credits a year and would someday boast a doctorate.
Hightower was a joiner. He belonged to the Lions, the IOOF, and he was a Mason. He was active in church and was secretary of the county Republican Committee.
Boden didn't like him much. He could not justify his reservation of Hightower and so he restrained it. He felt toward Hightower much as a housewife might when examining a meat counter. Why one bundle of hamburger was rejected in favor of another was not always describable.
Boden considered Hightower an adequate teacher and that was of uppermost importance. Still, in a controversy, he would not have picked Charlie Hightower as his sidekick.
None of his feelings showed as he led off the discussion. Boden's reservations were personal and were nev
er allowed to interfere with school functions. "I wish to put this Ruby problem aside as quickly as possible, Mr. Hightower. I've already contacted each board member and our solicitor. The board will meet and deal with the problem tomorrow evening. You know the details, I'm sure, but in capsule form, it amounts to this: Tom Ruby took two swings at Mr. Troop and missed with both of them. Troop then hit Ruby twice, breaking his jaw and his nose.
"There was no provocation on Mr. Troop's part. I hope to keep the incident a simple case of self-defense and wish to settle it before it can be blown out of proportion and create discord in our community."
He fixed Hightower with his eyes. "To do this, I'll need your cooperation, the help of the teachers' organization, that is."
Hightower cleared his throat.
A hell of a habit, Boden thought.
"Ah, what is it you wish us to do, Mr. Boden?'
"I would like to be assured of the organization's intent to stand behind Mr. Troop's actions. Then I would like the organization to announce, as individuals, in their personal contacts, their support of Mr. Troop in this incident."
Again, the throat clearing. "Mr. Boden, are you aware that Mr. Troop has not seen fit to join our organization for the past two years?"
"Yes, I am aware of it. And as I recall, he did not join because of a policy requiring membership in the national, state, and local organizations or none. I believe he requested to join both local and state groups and was refused membership."
"Ahem, yes, that's correct, Mr. Boden. The teachers have elected to take an all or none stand in the matter of membership."
Boden refrained from comment, forcing Hightower to develop his position.
"We feel that as long as Mr. Troop has not seen fit to join us in mutual support, then we, as an organization, are not necessarily committed to defending his position."
The Didactor Page 9
