Burton and Jonny helped me to my feet and tried to brush off some of the mud. “Wow, Dad! Look at the parking sign. That coulda been you.”
The crowd had grown to about fifty by this time. People came running at the sound of the gunshot. Others came out of the bank to see what had happened. The initial shock was wearing off, and I was starting to get upset.
“Can you please tell me what that was all about?” I asked Burton.
“Sure ’nough, Reverend,” Burton explained. “You see that feller over there in my backseat? That’s none other than Frank Cavenaugh. Maybe you heard of him, Frankie the Banker? Made a name for himself about twenty years ago.”
“Sure, I remember hearing about that. He robbed about thirty banks before they caught him, isn’t that right?”
“That’s him! He’s the one who came to Boomtown twenty years ago and robbed this very same bank—he’s the reason I was made sheriff! He finally got himself arrested doing a job down south of here. He got convicted down there, served fifteen years in the state penitentiary, then got released four years ago with time off for good behavior. He’s been living here ever since.”
“But why here?”
“Frank tells me that when he robbed the bank here in Boomtown, he really liked the place. Nice people and all. He went away for fifteen years, but when he got out, he came back here. The folks were glad to have him. He’s what you call a local celebrity, the only man to ever commit a major crime in Boomtown. They let him ride in the Fourth of July parade. And he teaches classes at the library on firearms safety.”
“Firearms safety? You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“No, sir, I’m not. He’s usually a lot more careful.”
“And now he robs the bank on Mondays?”
“Oh, him and I worked that out a while ago. When he got here, about all he knew how to do was rob banks and make license plates. We didn’t need any license plates, so the town agreed to let him rob the bank. Just on Mondays, though.”
“You’re serious?”
“I told you everybody in town has a job, ’cept for Denk, of course. Frank just wanted to keep himself sharp. We figure he gives our town a little character, and in return the residents pay him a small salary to keep a roof over his head. Pretty fair deal, if you ask me.”
I doubted that Boomtown needed to pay anyone to give it any more character than it already had.
Burton took Frank to jail, where he was released the next day, promising to be especially careful in the future. From then on Sheriff Ernie tried extra hard to make it to the bank on time for his Monday appointment.
The No Parking sign was removed and installed in the lobby of the library. Visitors would see it there; someone was sure to tell the story about the Reverend Button, who was almost shot by Frankie the Banker.
I stayed inside my house for almost a month after that, except on Sundays. I kept the door locked and my head down. I even gave up shaving—afraid I might die in a horrible shaving accident. But was that the end of it? Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER 14
Fourth of July
March soon gave way to April and Easter week. At Boomtown Church, we remembered the season in typical fashion, starting with the annual children’s procession on Palm Sunday. The children marched down the aisle of the church bearing palm branches and singing the hymn “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna!” Then we held a solemn Good Friday service filled with quiet prayers and burning candles. Finally, it was Easter morning; it began with a joint sunrise service in Chang Park sponsored by all three of the town’s congregations and was followed by joyful celebrations in each of the three respective churches.
Then, in traditional Boomtown fashion, the real fun began. Everyone gathered on the museum grounds for a community Easter brunch, Easter egg hunt, and other holiday games. Children ran back and forth through the bushes and along the paths searching for eggs. The boys wore jackets and ties, and the girls were dressed in their finest Easter dresses. Parents stood in cheerful groups watching their children and enjoying a delicious breakfast cooked by the museum kitchen.
Even Denk was there with his seven children, and Walter the Butcher put in an appearance; this was the one public gathering a year they both would attend. It was quite a sight to see the two gigantic men standing silently next to one another, arms crossed, scowls on their faces, like two gnarled trees in a for-est. But their frowns were unable to dampen the mood. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky with not a rain cloud in sight. A cool breeze blew through the blossoming apple and cherry trees. Stomachs were tucked full of eggs and ham and fresh coffee and fruit juice. It was the perfect Easter Sunday.
Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the traditional Hen Grenade toss, where kids throw egg grenades at a five-foot-high paper mâché Easter Bunny piñata until it explodes and candy goes flying everywhere. It could only happen in Boomtown.
April turned to May, and before you knew it children were out of school. Like other farming communities, Boomtown followed a modified school schedule in order to accommodate families who were busy planting and harvesting crops. School didn’t officially begin until October and continued uninterrupted—except for winter break—until mid-May. Kids would be out for eight weeks until after the Fourth of July and then back in school for part of July and August. May was busy with planting the fall crops; June was set aside for bringing in the winter wheat harvest and cherry picking; August and September for alfalfa, barley, corn, cabbage, squash, turnips, apples, and more. It was always a busy time for Boomtown.
Of course, that didn’t stop anyone from making preparations for the biggest celebration of Boomtown’s year—the Fourth of July parade. In spite of everyone’s full schedule on the farms, they still made time to build elaborate floats, sew costumes, iron uniforms, practice band music, erect grand-stands and booths, bake cakes and pies, make caramel apples and cotton candy for sale, and decorate every fence with red, white, and blue bunting. The Hopontop Circus was in town for that week, and so was the Bonitelli Brothers’ Traveling Carnival. That meant rides and rodeos to go along with the blasts and booms of the huge fireworks show held on the shores of the river in Chang Park at sundown on the Fourth of July.
Of course, Chang’s Famous Fireworks Factory had been producing full tilt since January in order to meet the demand for fireworks. They were busy filling orders for as far away as New York and Florida. They also had to supply the nine tons of rockets, shells, firecrackers, Roman candles, girandoles, cherry bombs, spinning wheels, whistles, snakes, bottle rockets, fountains, sparklers, smoke grenades, gerbs, firefalls, and set pieces needed for the residents of Boomtown.
Every season, Chang’s would unveil something new and exclusive just for the townspeople: a more spectacular fountain, a louder firecracker, or a specially colored sparkler. This year Han-wu and his team had modified the rocket they’d been testing. It stood six feet high, two feet in diameter, and was filled to the top with hundreds of fireworks. It would fill the sky with a magnificent finale of shooting stars, fiery rainbows, dazzling sparkles, and ringing blasts. The huge rocket joined the rows and rows of cannons positioned on Left Foot Island. Workers checked and double-checked the arrangements while the whole town counted the hours until the big blastoff scheduled for a few days later.
Sheriff Burton Ernie was busy with his own concerns. The day after the Monday bank robbery, he was back down at the river below the fireworks factory trying to find more pages from the mysterious letter. He looked for footprints and tire tracks. He tried to find signs of digging. From there he traveled all over town searching high and low for the opening to the tunnel that had to be somewhere, but he couldn’t find it. New mounds appeared every now and then. Wood posts and boards came up missing from the Straightline Lumber Mill.
Food was taken—freshly baked pies from Gramma Edna’s windowsill, eggs from Lazy Gunderson’s hen house, and a side of ham from in front of the Red Bird. No one was seen. Nothing was heard. It was driving Burton
crazy.
Everyone else was too busy to notice. There were crops to harvest, dresses to sew, food to prepare, stands to build, circuses to attend, broncos to bust, rides to ride, and a parade to plan. Janice and the kids were caught up in the fervor. Janice was helping some of the ladies sew banners and bunting. Jonny and Sarah were wrapped up in their secret class project, a special float built by the children of Boomtown School. Ruth, as Slug Queen, would be riding with Waldo Wainwright, the Slug King, and her entire court of Slug Princesses. I had been recruited, along with Reverend Platz and Reverend Tinker, to serve as masters of ceremonies for the parade.
The floats would gather at the west end of Boom Boulevard, wind their way around the statue of Chang in the center of Town Square, and then head north along Bang Street accompanied by bands and cheerleaders and dancers and marching teams. Bringing up the rear would be the annual Founders’ Day Float, a plaster re-creation of the old city on a hill that would be blown up from the inside. This was scheduled to happen just as it reached the center of town. It commemorated the founding event of Boomtown and was always a parade favorite.
As one of the three masters of ceremonies, I was assigned a position in front of Chang’s statue where a public address system was installed. It was our job to announce each float and group as the parade passed through Town Square. I was nervous—very nervous—being surrounded by stuff exploding in my face every two seconds.
Ruth came to my rescue. “Here, Dad,” she said, handing me a Slug football helmet.
“What’s this for?”
“I knew you were nervous about all the fireworks. Waldo let me borrow this from the team.”
“Thanks. I need all the help I can get.”
“Did you want some football pads too? I can probably get some of those.”
“No, the helmet should be enough, sweetheart,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “Burton promised to keep an eye on me. And the two reverends, of course, they’ll be guarding my safety. It’s like having my own security detail.” I hoped I wouldn’t need it.
The morning of the parade finally arrived. Helga the librarian was in charge of getting everyone lined up. She hustled up and down the line, handling last-minute emergencies, encouraging the musicians, straightening ribbons and bows, and telling everyone to smile, smile, smile.
Mayor Tanaka and his wife, Kyoko, rode in the lead car waving to the crowd. A float that re-created his heroic act during the war—a battleship on fire—followed behind. Akihiro’s son stood on the back of the float firing a small, brass cannon. The blasts echoed off the sides of the buildings and rattled the glass in the windows. It was a fitting display for the start of the parade.
The Stickville Slugs marching band followed right behind, playing the school fight song. Next came Ruth and her court standing on the Slug Queen float. The float was flanked by two huge slugs covered in ivy and flowers and featured a slug “grotto” where Ruth sat on her throne. Her king, Waldo, stood on the front, holding a football, commemorating the historic win over the Giants. The three princesses in their slime-green silk dresses blew kisses and waved to potential boyfriends in the crowd. The entire Slug football team, wearing muddy uniforms, marched in their shadow.
Folks from all around—Stickville, Ainogold, East Wallop, and as far away as Wahalawamawampa and Updown—lined the sidewalks ten deep on both sides. They waved American flags and shot off toy cap guns and party favors. They cheered when the Slug Queen and Slug King rolled by and chanted Waldo’s name.
They cheered even louder at the appearance of the Hopontop trick riders, decked out in feathers and face paint and doing handstands and backflips on the backs of their horses. Archers and drum players and dancers followed nearby. Chief Knife Thrower was there, juggling four spinning knives, accompanied by the acrobats and tumblers, each wearing colorful masks and spinning around like dervishes. Eye of the Eagle shot clay pigeons and Hen Grenades as they were tossed into the air. Children from the tribe threw lit firecrackers under the feet of the dancers as they danced.
Next came Sheriff Burton Ernie waving from the front seat of his cruiser, honking his horn and sounding his siren. He preceded the proud and solemn faces of the war veterans dressed in their respective uniforms and marching in front of their VFW float. Everyone clapped and cried as the color guard of the navy, army, air force, and marines marched past. They said a silent prayer of gratitude in honor of their fallen heroes and remembered again how grateful they were to live in such a wonderful country.
I was able to look down the long procession to see the approach of the Boomtown Museum Float—always a crowd favorite. The steam-powered float was piloted by the grand-son of Dr. Losotu, who took great pleasure in yanking on the steam whistle and blowing huge gouts of steam into the air. Hovering overhead were three Sky Campers. I could see Samora and her sister and brother in each of them throwing bubble gum and penny candy down to the kids in the crowd. Some of the children from the museum’s music classes rode on the float, blowing trumpets and whistles and beating on tin-can drums and otherwise creating quite a racket.
Next came the Farmers’ Float, pulled by Fred Cotton and his tractor, stacked fifteen feet high with alfalfa hay. A banner hung on each side that said BOOMTOWN FARMERS and HAPPY 4TH OF JULY in large, bright red letters. Some of the farmers hoisted children up into the wagon where they took turns waving to the crowd through windows cut in the hay bales.
Clown cars and clowns from the Bonitelli Brothers’ Traveling Carnival whizzed around in circles just behind the farm wagon, followed by the fire engine driven by the fire chief and his crew. The marching band from East Wallop High marched by playing “God Bless America” and “The Star-Spangled Banner,” followed by their cheerleading squad and baton twirlers. The bell choir from First Presbyterian chimed their way down the street. Right behind them was the Hog Callers Club, calling SooooWHEE! SoooWHEE! They had ten sows on tethers—each was decorated with red, white, and blue ribbons.
Reverend Platz, Reverend Tinker, and I took turns announcing each float and performing group as they came near. When it was my turn, I said into the microphone, “Please turn your attention to our next float, sponsored by the Ladies Rotary Club, inspired by the famous painting by Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze, Washington Crossing the Delaware. ”
The float was actually a rowboat borrowed from Dusty Winslow and outfitted with wheels. Dusty himself stood proudly in the middle of the boat dressed as George Washington—powder wig and all—while his fellow passengers shot bottle rockets and exploding helicopters into the air. The helicopters were a stiff, cardboard propeller on a stick attached to a spinning firecracker that lifted the helicopter into the air until it exploded. I had no idea what bottle rockets and helicopters had to do with George Washington and the Battle of Trenton, but the crowd seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.
The Miners’ Float came next, a tribute to Chang and the miners who had helped build Boomtown. The current president of Chang’s Black Powder Plant, Lin Chow, was dressed up as Chang. Some of his employees were dressed as miners. They walked behind the float handing out bright red, cinnamon-flavored candy to the crowd. The candy looked like small sticks of dynamite with a black licorice “fuse” coming out of the top.
Next came the Root Beer Float. The members of St. Bernard’s Lutheran Church served ice cream and soda to the crowd as fast as they could scoop and pour. It was followed by the Back Float, sponsored by Carlson’s Chiropractic; the Goat Float, by Fannie’s Fleece and Feathers; the Coat Float, by Kellogg’s Clothiers; and the Note Float, by Boomtown Music.
The noise of the crowd was soon overwhelmed by the banging, clonking, clinking, bonking sound of the Bangonbuckets Band, led by Gus Odegaard, owner of Gus’s Gas-N-Go. His “band” was open to anyone who wanted an excuse to march in the parade, regardless of musical ability. All a “musician” was required to do was bring a bucket or a frying pan or a tin can and something to hit it with. I could see Gus marching proudly at the front of his band, beating on his
collection of metal containers with a huge ladle.
If that weren’t loud enough, along came the folks from Chang’s Famous Fireworks Factory. Strings of firecrackers burst underneath the feet of the lion dancers in their brightly feathered costumes. The women were dressed in traditional silk robes. Some wore masks or had their faces painted white or were costumed as ancient Chinese deities. They rang chimes and bells and waved to the appreciative crowd. Their children ran back and forth shouting, “Gung hay fat choy!” which meant “Wishing you prosperity.” They threw sample packs of fireworks to the spectators and small bags of candy wrapped in silver and pink ribbon.
The parade group consisted of about sixty Chinese men, women, and children, about half of the Chinese Americans who lived in Boomtown. From the platform I caught a glimpse of Fie-tann, manager of the fireworks factory. He and Lin Chow sat on the town council and were among those who continued to maintain Chang’s companies following his untimely death.
They had built a tightly knit Chinese community around the factories. They always put on a great show during the annual parade, and they sold herbs and teas and rice and fireworks at the Saturday Farmers’ Market. Everyone applauded as they passed by, knowing that these families were a lasting part of Chang’s legacy and essential to the success of the town.
As the parade drew to a close, the noise level grew louder and louder because everyone anticipated the grand finale, the destruction of the Founders’ Float. Just in front of it were the floats built by the students from Boomtown School, another highlight of the parade. Jonny had been the prime instigator of the design of the school’s float.
“How about a fire-breathing dragon with fire coming out of its mouth and everything?” he had suggested.
“Yeah, that’d be swell!”
Boomtown Page 18
