By Day or By Night

by M. Glenn Aldridge

  ***

  When I returned to school I listened to all the kids talking about what had happened. What I found to be really strange was that, I think, the only kids talking were the one's who hadn't actually seen Dale Shaw hangin' on that fence. The kids that saw him, like I did, didn't seem to speak about it. Maybe they thought they shouldn't, like it would be in poor taste, or maybe ? just maybe ? they couldn't. Couldn't bring themselves to repeat such a horrible thing? But something told me, late at night in their beds, they were rehashing what they saw over and over again; just like me.

  I can't really remember everything that was said about Dale; maybe I've blocked it out, kind of a way of not having to face it all. But there are several things that do stick in my mind, like:

  I walked up on a group of kids and they were talkin' about how Dale Shaw deserved what he got. I remember they went into great detail about what he looked like hanging from the oil well. Of course they got most of the facts wrong as none of them actually saw him there. Dale wasn't actually hanging from the oil well; he was hanging from the fence that surrounds the oil well. But real facts didn't stop them from spewing out their thoughts. Basically their story was that Dale Shaw was hanging by the neck (from a rope) on the back end of the oil well, and that every time the oil well went up and down he would scrape the ground and then be lifted up to hang.

  How wrong could they be? Hell that oil well was more of a landmark than a real oil well anymore. I'll bet that thing hasn't moved in over ten years. Pardon my French, but how wrong could they be!

  But they didn't stop there ? oh no. They had to find a reason for what happened to; although no one really knew what happened yet ? and that included my Daddy. The group of kids discussed and discussed, argued some as well, but seemed to come down to one idea for why Dale had been hung from the oil well. That reason was so absurd it really made me understand that saying about how "a human is smart but humans are stupid", you know meaning a person is smart, but you put several of them together and all reason and common sense goes out the window; sort of like mob mentality. Daddy really agrees with that.

  Anyways, the kids decided Dale Shaw was hung from the oil well because ? get this! ? because he was poaching deer. Doesn't that sound like a good reason to hang someone from an oil well? Well maybe to some folks it actually might, but surely not to most. But then again is there any good reason to hang anyone from an oil well? It all started to bother me when I almost started thinking he was even hung from the oil well at all. They repeated the miss information so much I almost started to believe he was hanging from the oil well, instead of the fence. I could just see him teeter-tottering back and forth, up and down, scraping the ground and such. I have to admit to visualize that scenario was even worse than the reality of what I saw. It was ? well ? more sensational than what really happened. I wondered if some of the kids in that group would grow up to be journalists. They certainly already had a way of sensationalizing things down. Now all they needed was a bachelor's degree and a smug attitude. But what do I know about it? Just what Daddy says at the dinner table, that's all.

  Goodness, even the teachers were talkin' about the incident. Of course they brought in all these counselors to help us with our feelings about the event. I suppose that was a good thing, but it also just seemed to prolong the shock of the whole thing.

  At least the teachers seemed to get their facts straight; or should I say straighter? As a matter of fact, if I remember correctly, the teachers didn't actually talk that much about the actual site of Dale. I mean they didn't talk much about what everybody saw that day. Instead they focused on words and phrases like: terrible tragedy, we're safe, it'll be ok, healing, it's ok to cry, it's ok to be scared, do you have nightmares?, are you upset, can we help you, do you feel anxious about what happened, do you think you can move past this? You know stuff like that.

  Now I know the teachers and counselors were just doing their part ? doing their jobs ? to help us kids move past the incident, but I really just felt like they were blowin' smoke. Maybe it's because I figured most of them hadn't seen what I saw, although I'm sure several did 'cause I hear a lot of people actually saw Dale hangin' there, or it was just their almost robotic way of approaching the situation; but I just didn't find them believable. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they didn't want that bad thing to happen to Dale Shaw, or to anyone for that matter. And I'm also sure they wanted us kids to move past the event without too much mental damage, but it just seemed to me like they were going through the motions. Seemed to me like the teachers and counselors had received some "word from the top" or mandate or something that said: you guys go out there and calm everybody down, whether they want to or not.

  If I had to sum up what I heard at school about the Dale Shaw world's only Main Street oil well incident, it would have to be: half truths and conjecture. Conjecture c-o-n-j-e-c-t-u-r-e, conjecture ? another one of my recent spelling words brought to life right before my eyes ? and especially ears.

  Coming To Terms

  As I heard the Mayor Joe Tolson told his wife Betsy

  "Betsy ? I tell ya ? somethin' like this can have a bad impact on a town." Mayor Tolson wasn't being overly dramatic. He knew from experience what something like the "World's Only Main Street Oil Well Crucifixion", as it came to be known (thanks to the Pawhuska newspaper's headline), could do to a small town.

  Joe Tolson knew how something like that could ? well ? could put the fear of God into folks. It also, in the blink of an eye, took away our most well known landmark. No longer would Barnsdall be the town that has the world's only Main Street oil well, but instead it would now be the Main Street oil well where that kid was crucified. That's what our great landmark would now be.

  No more would folks drive through Barnsdall and take a picture by the oil well ? well not for the same reasons anyways. Now strange people with morbid fantasies and gothic ways would congregate around the oil well, on their way through town, in a ritualistic ? sick sort of way. This incensed Mayor Tolson.

  "Can Joe? It already has. Have you heard what folks are saying?" Betsy knew first hand what was going on; being said in town. She hoped her husband could put a stop to it ? meaning heal the town quickly and get past this. She was probably asking too much.

  "Yes dear, I've heard what folks are saying. I try to tell them that time heals all wounds, but they know something like this takes more than words and time to fix. We need to catch who did it ? and quick!" Mayor Tolson, being the politician that he is, usually feels very good about deflecting responsibility from himself to another ? in this case to law enforcement. If they would just hurry up and find the killer then everything would be fine. Everything would be back to normal and Barnsdall could go back to being just another small town in rural America; instead of the spot of a Main Street oil well crucifixion.

  "Do you think they'll catch the person that did this soon?" Betsy sounded pessimistic.

  "Betsy ? I have my doubts that they'll catch him at all." Mayor Tolson made no bones about assuming it was a man that committed the act. Surely a woman wouldn't or couldn't have done this horrible thing? He's a bit of a male shovenist pig really, but in this case he was probably right?

  "What are we going to do about all this media coverage and how it's negatively impacting our town?" Betsy knew this would push her husband's buttons a little, but asked anyway.

  "We ? what do you mean we Betsy," Joe sounded a little testy.

  "Ok Joe, then what are you going to do about it?" Betsy didn't even bother to tone down her sarcasm.

  "It's just moderate at this point; it's not too far out of hand. Only the small towns 'round here and a little Tulsa coverage. It'll pass." Joe sounded very sure of himself.

  "Moderate! Joe please."

  "Moderate ? that's right Betsy, believe me it could be a lot worse."

  "Well I can't imagine it getting much worse than it ?" Joe interrupted his wife of nearly thirty year
s.

  "What I'm more concerned about than the media coverage is how people seem not to trust each other anymore; like everybody's a suspected murderer." Mayor Tolson was quite artful at changing the subject. Betsy didn't really even notice that once again Joe had shifted her "moderate" attack on him to other things. He made such a smooth transition; a skilled political mind.

  "I know what you mean Joe, I've seen that too." Betsy was now in agreement with Joe, instead of ridiculing him. This made Joe Tolson happy ? you know manipulating people that away.

  "It's a terrible thing Betsy ? just terrible," Mayor Tolson feigned concern while he was really more annoyed with the "proletariats", as he calls them, than concerned about the town folk.

  "It sure is Joe," Betsy consoled Joe with a hand on his shoulder.

  Joe tried to move off the subject, but Betsy was too involved herself in the whole Main Street oil well crucifixion thing to stop talking now.

  "So how are you going to resolve all this Joe?" Betsy said in a soft voice.

  "All this?" Joe was really just stalling while he thought up a good politically appropriate answer for his wife. Mayor Tolson rarely switches off from what he believes is his life's calling, or at least a means to an end; politics.

  "You know Joe, how people are scared, how they don't trust their neighbors. How Janie down the street is dead sure her neighbor Bob Anderson is the killer. She's done burned a bridge with him blabbing that opinion all over town. I think she's just crazy, but some others believe her for some reason. It's started to get hard on Bob and that's just wr ?" Joe interrupted his wife again.

  "Now Betsy ? just calm down sweetheart," Joe now took his turn to put a hand to a shoulder; he even went a step further and gave her a long hug. "It'll be alright hon, it'll be alright. Once Police Chief John Long does his job and catches the guy that did this, things will calm down a whole bunch."

  "Or guys," said Betsy with sadness in her voice.

  "Guys?" Joe pretended not to understand but he really did.

  "We have to think there could have been more than one murderer," replied Betsy as she slowly pulled back from Joe's hug.

  "We do?"

  "I think so."

  "No we don't," said Joe sternly.

  "Well my understanding of what happened kinda shows the possibility that it could have taken more than one person to ? well to kill that boy and hang him up like that. I mean I thi ?" Mayor Tolson interrupted.

  "Betsy let's not borrow trouble now, we don't know there was more than one person. I don't think conspiracy theories are helpful at this point." Joe said this very softly as if he were a parent reading a bed time story to a child. He noticed it calmed Betsy.

  "You're probably right Joe," replied Betsy, bending to her husband's will. Or maybe it was just common sense.

  "Ok then," said Joe as he moved onto other subjects.