Again pass on my love to Ma amp; affecktion to Sally. For you too now as I think of it.
Your brother,
Rip
New York September8, 191-
Dear Willie,
Now that I have ate bohunk food I see why they was so eager to cross the ocean amp; come over here to get away from it is why. The stuffed cabbage was not too bad amp; there was beer to wash it down but what is done to pork chops is a caution I tell you. You could smell em coming before they was out of the kitchen they had that much garlic on em. I was a blame fool to let Laslo order for me.
Well even he made heavy going. My eyes was watering fit to kill as I made shift to eat em. If Ma hadnt always taut me to clean my plate I would of gived up after the 1st bite. Ma never tried eating these tho which is lucky for her. I like to died.
When we got back to the hotel we stunk up the lobby good.
Two of our ballplayers who was in there lit up cheroots amp; I mean big ones the second we walked in. Between the smoke amp; us a sweet young thing which had been makin eyes at Doc our shortstop passed out altogether. It was what they call a sensation.
Just then Gyoola amp; his boy Zoltan come out of the elevator. I went over to say Hello thinking as how bein bohunks their own selves they wouldnt mind what I smell like. amp; Gyoola does say Hello nice as you please. But Zoltan his eyes rolled up in his head amp; for a second I thot he was going to faint like the lady if thats what she was. Then he kind of run away from me. I dont think his Pa knew what to make of it amp; I surely didnt. Laslo his eyes got very big but he didn’t say nothin.
Here is another funny thing. A good half a dozen of the fellows on the team say they seen a bat flapping round their winders in the middle of the night. Me I call that right peculiar on account of bats not much favoring towns amp; especially not one the size of New York.
I didnt see no bats. This morning I turned to Laslo amp; said Probably we scared em away the way we stunk last nite. amp; without batting an eye which is a joke I guess he says Probably. These furriners amp; almost furriners is peculiar people.
Love to you and Ma,
Rip
P.S.- I will be home in time to help with the harvest so dont you worry about that none.
New York September 9, 191-
Dear Willie,
Well it was a big day for this here hotel room yesterday. Lazlo got to start when Del our reglar 2nd baseman turned up sick. I dont know what was rang with him but he was pale as a fish-belly. You could see the spot where he must of cut hisself shaving under his chin just like a coal on a snowbank. I hope it aint catchin.
But about Lazlo. He sure dont seem tired. He got 2 hits amp; stole a base amp; was robbed another time amp; played good in the field. We lost again 2–1 but it was not his fault.
Nor mine neither. The mgr throwed me in in the 5th when we was down 2–0 already but had 2 men on so he batted for Graver who had started. Not that it helped on account of the pinch batter hit into a double play. But I pitched 4 innings amp; did not give up a run amp; would have got a win if our hitters had been good for anything.
Which reminds me of somethin that right ticked me off. Remember how I said the other day how Zoltan would hop around amp; cheer for us in his little Brownie suit? Well he didnt do no cheerin for Lazlo even tho they is both bohunks. Means he was quiet all day seein as how the rest of them didnt do nothin like I said.
After the game I says somewhat to Lazlo about it but he dont seem the least bit fazed. He says His rootin I can do without. You make heads or tails of it for I cannot.
Your Brother,
Rip
Detroit
September 11, 191-
Dear Willie,
Seems as how Lazlo amp; Gyoola amp; Zoltan is filling up all my letters but there has been another dustup among em since I rote you last. The latest hoorah commenced on the train between New York amp; here. It might not of happened if Lazlo had not got hisself likkered up. He is fond of whiskey but not much for holding it.
I had a few myself but having started on corn squeezins no store-bought whiskey can shift me which I know you will understand. I was takin Lazlo back to our Pullman when who shd we run into but Gyoola. My roomie like to spit in his eye. He rears back and comes out with Do you know what kind of unnatural monster your son is?
Your drunk says Gyoola which was true amp; Your crazy which I did not think too far off either. But Lazlo goes Crazy am I amp; shouts something in that furrin tongue o theirs. Gyoola gapes at him like a new-caut fish amp; says You are crazy sharper this time. But Lazlo comes back in that old country lingo amp; pretty soon they was slangin each other for all they was worth if the noise ment anything. I wish I knew what they was sayin cause it sounded lively.
Then Lazlo ups amp; swings on him which proves Gyoola was rite on account of Gyoola would make 3 of him. I give him credit Gyoola didnt swing back he is a gentleman. I got my arms round my roomie at last amp; hauled him to bed.
By the time he was in the bunk he got the upper this trip he had went from fightin drunk to cryin drunk carryin on about how Gyoola is a fine fellow but deseeved amp; changelings amp; I dont know what all. His yams what I could make out of em is wilder than anything I ever heered old Jacob tell who was a slave before the States War.
Well when I climed into the lower they was somethin in the bed with me. I thot it was roaches but it was cloves of garlic I found when I pulled one out. I says How did this get here and Lazlo answers back I put em there amp; you leave em. I want no track with your heathen superstishun I says amp; do you know what he does next? He hands me down a crucifix like the Papists use amp; says Take this then. Thank you I will keep the garlic I tell him amp; he shuts up.
More of the team is down with whatever it is Del has. If it hadnt come on so sudden Id call it hookworm. They are all washed out amp; listiess like people with the worm suckin on em. But I heered somewheres the yankee parts o the country dont have hookworm so it cant be that.
It is a terrible thing to happen to us because with Ty and Wahoo Sam and the rest the Tigers whale the ball against the best of teams amp; how are we supposed to stay with em with half the players sick amp; the rest draggin? If we lose they will blame the pitchers they always do.
Love to you and Ma and your Kate,
Your brother Rip
P.S.-Got your telegram in New York. I am glad to hear Sally says she is proud of me.
Detroit
September 12, 191-
Dear Willie,
I am commencing to wonder if maybe I am the crazy one amp; not Laszlo after all. It is on account of what I seen or rather didnt see in the hotel this morning. It is a fine place much fancier than the ones we stayed at in Boston or New York. One wall of the lobby is a mirror I suppose to make it seem bigger then it is not that it needs to because it dont.
We come in erly in the morning draggin our tails some because tho you can sleep in a Pullman its not near as good as a bed. Players amp; reporters amp; such was mingled with porters totin our bags amp; a few o what the Reverend would call scarlet wimmin. You neednt mention them last to Ma or Sally either.
Anyways to make a long story short while we was all checkin in amp; the clerks was yellin for bellhops amp; the like I happen to look round in the mirror to see if my new Panama which you must see was strait on my head. It was but what should I spy in the glass but a little boys suit without a little boy in it if you iake my meaning. There was nothin like that in our crowd only Zoltan smiling at me. His teeth is uncommon white amp; long amp; sharp. Like I say he was smilin but not real frendly like I didnt think.
I says If that dont beat all amp; point out what I seen to Laslo who was standing by me cause were roomies as you recollect. And he looks too amp; dam me if his eyes dont near roll back in his head. But when he catches Zoltan lookin our way he makes out like everything is alrite. Hes good. Remember me not to play poker against him.
Nobody else seemed to notice nothin amiss.
When we was up in o
ur room Laslo rounds on me amp; says this is the last proof now do you see what sort of feind it is? It is a vampire. What on earth is that I ask amp; he tells me more then I bargined for. Seems this vampire crechur is a kind o blood-suckin hant the bohunks has which ifn you fail to kill itll leech a man to death.
We got to kill it Laslo says all rile up. I says Well that may be a good idear but how do you aim to go about it? It dont sound easy from what he says amp; I know from old Jacob as how hants is never easy to be rid of. But bein a bohunk hisself Laslo has a skeme which may work.
I hope so. The Browns is ragged enuf with all the blood in em amp; purely hopeless without. The Tigers done trounced us today amp; look like doin it again tomorrow. We had 3 reglars out o the lineup. This has got to stop so I am with Laslo all the way tho there is likely to be some risk. But no hant is a match for a good Southern man. I will tell you how we done in my next letter.
Love to you from yr Brother
Rip
P.S.-If it goes rong give the picture of me in uniform to Sally to remember me by. Dont read this part to Ma. The more I think the scareder I get.
Detroit
September 14, 191-
Dear Willie,
The Lord be praised the deed is like they say done. Laszlo and I is well tho the thing turned out much more tighter than either one of us reckoned it wld. What we done was take down all the garlic amp; other heathen charms Laszlo been usin to keep the hant away amp; the crucifix too amp; wait for it or rather Zoltan I mean to pay us a call. Nite before last he didnt either on account of he suspected a snare or because he was eatin somewheres else. The whole team is so peaked these days I couldnt cipher out which ones was fed on last.
Well we left the hoodoos down again last nite amp; sat up waiting for whatever was going to happen. We did not want to be caut napping for sure! As we had done this the nite before too amp; slept a little of the day, I confess I was yawnin.
Then lookin out the winder I seen the bat what had been seen round before. I reckon thats what it was anyways for it seen me too amp; flied closer. I just had time to give Laszlo the sign amp; let him get out of sight longside the winder afore it come up.
I dont quite know how to tell what happened next. I was lookin into its eyes amp; its like I heered a voice in my head saying Let me in let me in. And I couldnt of said No even if I wanted to which at the time I didnt. That vampire hant charmed me with them red opticks of it’s just like a snake charmin a bird down out of a tree for it to swaller.
Laszlo said after I was like a machine when I up and opened the winder. I dont hardly recollect one way or the other. All I remember is them eyes. In my head I heered that voice again Give me your neck it was sayin. amp; I twisted my chin to one side like a shote which dont know its about to be slaughtered.
Then its like there was a scream only it werent a noise at all only in between my ears. Laszlo had sprang out from where he was hidin amp; landed the hant a smart one with his crucifix. We didnt know what that would do neither him or me but we found out right quick. They was a thump a real one this time amp; insted of the bat at my neck there was Zoltan on the floor naked as the day he was bom only I reckon he werent bom at all when you think about it.
He was still part hant tho. I had thunk his teeth was long before well now he had a set the bobcat we ketched last winter would of been proud of. He was smilin like a wild crechur amp; I got to tell you them eyes still dragged at me somethin fierce.
Not at Laszlo. I reckon the cross saved him. Maybe them Catholics is not as rong as we think. Anyways he hauls out a railroad spike amp; slams it into Zoltan’s chest. I heard that shreek again in my mind amp; I reckon in Laszlo’s too on account of his hands was shakin but he did not let go. He shoved that spike in harder amp; deeper.
Zoltan’s mouth was open so wide I thot itd go clean round to the back of his head. I was moving like a man in a dream still but when Laszlo cussed at me I done the last thing we planned out which was fling a whole garlic down his I mean Zoltan’s trap. I dont know if that shifted him or the spike but then he give a last riggle amp; his eyes well if they was lamps youd say they was blowed out. All a sudden I was alrite again.
Laszlo and me the both of us yelled then on account of it wasnt no little boy on the spike any more but a bat the same size Zoltan had been amp; just as dead too. amp; then the bat melted away like snow in a thaw amp; there was nothin on the rug excepting the spike which Laszlo had dropped and the garlic.
So its done I reckon. I wish I eld sleep for a week but we got a game tomorrow. I bet we whup em too.
Your Brother safe amp; sound,
Rip
Detroit
September 15, 191-
Dear Willie,
Well whup em we didnt I am afraid. The Tigers they is a good team amp; that Ty runs amp; hits like a madman amp; you cant pitch around him either or Sam or Bobby will kill you if he dont. So we lost again.
But the boys which was most bloodsucked are looking better amp; so I have no douts things will get better soon. amp; heres a funny thing. Nobody remembers nothin about Zoltan amp; what he was doing to em but for me and Lazslo.
Come to that nobody remember nothin about Zoltan at all. Laszlo amp; me we run into Gyula at breakfast amp; was not sure what to say or nothin. Finally Lazslo asks him Hows your son amp; he looks at my roomie like he was off his head amp; says I aint got no son nor never did. Lazslo amp; me look at each other amp; press it no farther I can tell you.
amp; you remember how Zoltan was in the dugout with us and all? Well his little uniform is plumb disappeared amp; nobody knows where it has gone nor misses it neither. When I asks the mgr What become o the batboy he gives me the same look Gyula done gave Lazslo amp; says This team aint never had no batboy.
Thats what you think I says But dont worry he done flied out for the last time. amp; I laughs amp; laughs even tho hes reamin me up one side amp; down the other. Sometime there aint no point in tellin people things anyhow is all I can say.
Your loving Brother,
Rip
THE LAST REUNION
This story sprang from the research that produced the novel The Guns of the South. Indeed, Captain Thorpe briefly appears in the novel. He truly was captain of Company A of the Forty-seventh North Carolina and did write its regimental history. He was, in fact, still alive in the 1920s, when he did more historical work on the regiment He may even have attended the Confederate reunion at Richmond in 1932.
The train pulled to a stop. “Richmond!” the conductor shouted. “All out for Richmond!” The man in the long gray coat with the brass buttons slowly got to his feet, made his way down the aisle. A porter walked behind him with his bags. People waited respectfully until he had passed, then began filing out after him.
The conductor touched a finger to the brim of his cap in salute. “Watch your step as you get out, General. Let me give you a hand, suh.”
John Houston Thorpe waved away the offered assistance. “If I can’t manage a couple of steps, young fellow, you may as well bury me. And I’m no general. I’m proud I was a captain, and I’ve never claimed anything more.”
Taking some of his weight on his stick, he descended from the passenger car without difficulty. Richmond in June was warm and muggy, but so was Rocky Mount, North Carolina, from which he’d come. The weather was not what made his shoulders sag for a moment; it was the weight of the past.
He’d come through Richmond in 1863 with the rest of the Forty-seventh North Carolina, hot and eager to join Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia in the great invasion of the North that would set the Confederacy free forever. He’d been dapper and handsome, with slicked-down black hair and a thin little mustache of which he’d been inordinately proud.
Now-how had sixty-nine years slid by? Inside, he felt like a dashing youth still. The body that moved only slowly, the thick spectacles, the gnarled hand he often cupped behind one ear-
were they truly his? Surely it was the world that had changed, not himself.<
br />
A flashbulb exploded in front of his face, filling his vision with purple spots. No flashbulbs when he’d been here before; in those days, having a photograph taken meant standing solemn and statue-still until the long exposure ended. He nodded. Yes, it was the world that had changed.
“Welcome to Richmond, General!” the fellow behind the flash camera shouted. “Have you come here other times since the end of the war?”
“Never once,” Thorpe answered with a sort of pride. “But now, I thought, if I don’t come now-when shall I have another chance?”
“What do you think of the city, General?” the man asked.
As his eyes cleared, Thorpe saw the fellow had a press tag tucked into his hatband-a reporter, then. “I’m no general,” he repeated, a bit testily: a reporter was supposed to know such things. “What do I think of Richmond? I’ve not seen much yet, but it strikes me as a big city. Of course, it did that a while ago, too.”
The laugh that once rang musically was now a rusty croak, but he loosed it all the same. When he’d first come north to Richmond, not a town in North Carolina had held as many as five thousand inhabitants; no wonder the Confederate capital, then near forty thousand, seemed to him a metropolis swollen past belief. These days Rocky Mount was on its way to being a city of the size Richmond had been then. He wondered why he failed to find it large. Perhaps because he and Rocky Mount had grown together. But his town had grown up, while he… somehow he had just grown old.
From behind him, the porter said, “You come on with me, suh. I’ll take you to the cab stand.” The colored man picked up his suitcases again and raised his voice: “Make way fo’ the general here! Make way, folks!”
And people did clear a path. Following in the porter’s wake, Thorpe reflected that the illegitimate promotion people insisted on foisting on him was worth something, at any rate, if it got him through the crowded train station so easily. He laughed again.
Departures Page 19
