She opened the screen door and saw a neat, nice, almost new-looking young man in a white shirt. “Come on in. Can I fix you a sandwich?”
He stepped in and took the iced tea. “No, ma’am, thank you but this is all I need. I’m fixing to go on a lunch date as soon as I get to town. She says we are going to go to something called a cafeteria.”
“Oh lucky you, my sisters Ida and Gerta tell me it’s quite the place. I haven’t been there yet but I’m going one of these days, whenever I can talk Will into dressing up. He won’t get dressed up unless it’s for a funeral, so I guess I’ll have to wait till somebody dies to get a meal there. Ida says they’ve got a pink pig running in a circle, so be sure and see that.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” He handed her the empty glass and was about to leave when it occurred to him that as long as he was here it wouldn’t hurt if he fished around in his pocket for another card. “Mrs. Shimfissle, I’m thinking of running for a political office someday. I don’t know for what yet but let me give you my card.” He went through all his pockets but was unsuccessful. “I can’t find one . . . but anyway, if you ever see the name Hamm Sparks on a ballot, I sure would appreciate your vote. Can you remember that?”
“Your first name’s Ham? Like a Christmas ham? Like the meat ham?”
“Yes, ma’am, only it’s spelled with two m’s.”
She repeated it. “Hamm. . . . Well, it’s unusual but easier to remember than Billy or John, I’ll say that for it.”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s my mother’s family name. She was a Hamm before she married.”
“You don’t say. My mother was a Nuckle with an N before she married, and my daddy was a Knott with a K out of Pennsylvania. . . . They said the people that got invites to the Nuckle-Knott nuptials thought it was pretty funny.”
He laughed. “I guess so.”
She said, “It’s a good thing they didn’t have a boy and called him Nuckle. That would have made a name, wouldn’t it . . . Nuckle Knott. But then,” she mused, “we went to school with a boy with the first name of Lard, only it was spelled Laird but they called him Crisco all his life anyway. I don’t think he ever married, or leastways I never heard if he did. He used to sell buttons.”
Hamm opened the door to escape. He knew from past experience that these farm women were starved for company and would talk for hours to a total stranger. “Well, thanks for everything, Mrs. Shimfissle,” he said as he hurried out the door and down the back steps. She followed him and opened the door. “Hey, wait a minute—I forgot your last name.”
He turned around and called out, “Sparks, ma’am, Hamm Sparks.”
“Sparks? Like electrical sparks?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as he waved over his shoulder and ran for the car.
Aunt Elner Saves the Day
AFTER THE SALESMAN left Elner called her sister Gerta Nordstrom and told her she had just met a man named Hamm. Gerta laughed and said, “Next you’ll be telling me you met a woman named Egg.” There were three Knott sisters, Elner, Gerta, and the youngest, Norma’s mother, Ida. Despite the fact that everyone in town knew all three had been raised on a midwestern farm, sometime after she had married Herbert Jenkins, Ida suddenly started dropping little hints here and there that she was descended from a fine old southern family who had fallen on bad times. By 1948 she had alluded to her aristocratic forebears so often that she began to believe it. This delusion about her background had started nine years ago, after she had seen the movie Gone with the Wind a dozen times at the Elmwood Theater. She was convinced she recognized Tara and therefore must have lived there in a previous incarnation. It never occurred to her that “Tara” was only a movie set or that her recently acquired southern accent was only a poor imitation of an English girl doing a poor imitation of a southern accent. The only real southerner in town was a seventy-eight-year-old widow lady named Mrs. Mary Frances Samples, born in Huntsville, Alabama. She too had been adversely affected by the movie. As if losing the War Between the States was not bad enough, she had been completely devastated when it was announced that Tallulah Bankhead, a true daughter of the South and a fellow Alabamian, had not been cast as Scarlett O’Hara. Mary Frances Samples vowed never to see another movie as long as she lived. She said her only consolation was that “at least the role did not go to a Yankee girl.”
Mrs. Samples aside, Ida was bound and determined that her daughter, Norma, was going off to college in the Deep South. It might be too late for Ida to fulfill her rightful destiny as a daughter of the Confederacy, but she secretly envisioned herself in her later years visiting Norma and sitting on the veranda of her large plantation home in Virginia, being waited on hand and foot. A vision Norma did not share. All she ever wanted to do was marry Macky Warren and settle down in Elmwood Springs and start a family. Norma and Macky had been girlfriend and boyfriend since the seventh grade. And on the night of the senior prom, when he gave her an engagement ring, nobody was surprised. But Ida was at once adamantly against it. In fact would not hear of it. “I like Macky,” she said, “but no daughter of mine is marrying a little small-town hardware-store owner’s son.”
“I will, too!” said Norma.
“Over my dead body,” said Ida. “Besides, you are not marrying anybody until you finish college.”
Norma looked to her father for help but he had not stood up to his wife in years. Doomed! For a while Norma and Macky became the local Romeo and Juliet. Everybody took sides. Ida on one side and everybody else on the other.
Living so far out in the country, Norma’s aunt Elner had not been aware of the tragedy of her niece and her boyfriend until one afternoon when the two drove out to see her. Norma was miserable and teary and Macky just sat stoically, trying to be brave. “Aunt Elner, if she makes me go to that stupid college and leave Macky here alone, I swear I’ll just kill myself. She’s going to make us waste four years of our lives because of some whim.”
Macky looked at Norma. “I’d go with her if I could but I can’t with my daddy being so sick—I’ve got to stay here and help him run the store.” Then he looked over at Elner and asked earnestly, “Mrs. Shimfissle, what would you think if we were to elope? Would you be willing to come with us?”
Elner was taken aback at this request. “Oh no, Macky, you don’t want to do that. Just give it a little while longer, I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“What if she doesn’t?” asked Norma.
“I believe she will. But let’s just hold our horses and wait and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”
After they left, Elner stood in the yard and smiled and waved good-bye until they were out of sight. Then she went inside and picked up the phone.
“Ida, this is your sister. Now, what’s all this mess about you not letting Norma marry the Warren boy?”
“I didn’t say she couldn’t marry him, Elner. I just said not now.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I want her to go to college first, where she will get an education and at least have a chance to meet boys from the nicer families. I know she doesn’t think so now but in the long run I know she will be happier and better off if she at least dates a boy from her own kind . . . maybe someone from a fine old southern family with a similar—”
Elner, not letting her finish, snapped, “Oh, Ida Mae, give it up. You are not from some fine old southern family. Your grandfather was a German pig farmer from Pennsylvania and everybody knows it. Up to now, Gerta and I have always babied you and let you carry on with all your silly little airs because we thought it was cute but I can’t stand by and see you ruin Norma’s life over your foolishness, so you just stop all this nonsense right now.” Then she hung up.
Ida stood with phone in hand and her mouth open. Elner, the oldest sister, had practically raised her when their mother died and had rarely if ever spoken harshly to her in her life. Still, Elner said later, “I hated to do it, but drastic times calls for drastic measures.”
The next day Elne
r was way back in the yard picking butter beans when she heard the phone ringing. Whoever was calling would not hang up, so she figured she better get it in case someone was dead. When she picked it up an excited young Norma was on the other end.
“Aunt Elner?”
“Hey.”
“You are not going to believe what happened. Mother said I could marry Macky and not have to go off to school.”
Aunt Elner pretended to be surprised. “Well, I’ll be . . . What did she say?”
“She told me that if I wanted to ruin my life and destroy my chances of happiness forever that I had her permission—isn’t that great?!”
“Oh, honey, I just couldn’t be happier for you,” she said while emptying the butter beans from her apron into a bowl. “I told you she’d come around.”
“You did. Anyhow, we’re going down to the church this afternoon and set up the date.”
“Good. Best to move fast before she changes her mind. You tell little Macky I’m glad it worked out.” A little while later, after Elner had her beans cooking on the stove, the phone rang again. This time it was Macky. “Mrs. Shimfissle, I just called to thank you. I know you must have done something to get Norma’s mother to change her mind.”
“No no, honey, she has her own mind. She did that all by herself.”
“Just the same, if you had not said something, and I know you did, it’s no telling what that crazy woman might have done to break us up.”
“I’m just glad it’s all going to work out. . . . And, honey . . . I know Ida’s caused you and Norma a lot of trouble but try not to be too hard on her. With all of her faults, I don’t think she means to hurt people. She’s just desperate to be somebody she’s not and doesn’t know how to go about it.”
“I’ll try,” Macky said, “but it won’t be easy.”
“Good, because don’t forget: For better or for worse, she’s your mother-in-law now.” There was a long silence on the other end before Macky said good-bye.
Elner turned to her cat Sonny and said, “Uh-oh, I may have just killed that marriage with my big mouth.”
But she hadn’t. The wedding went off. Ida somehow managed to pull herself together, at least until the honeymoon, but hope springs eternal. On the off chance that Macky should suddenly become wealthy in the hardware business, for one of her wedding presents she gave Norma the book How to Handle Household Servants and Staff by Vivian Clipp.
Progress
She was in her kitchen doing a last-minute check of the show when she heard Mother Smith call out, “Dorothy!” She looked up and it was 9:28. Dorothy rushed down the hall with the papers and with Princess Mary Margaret running behind her, barking frantically. “Here I am!” she said as she ran through the door at the last minute. She waved at the sizable audience in the room. “Hello, sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat down just as the red light came on and the theme music started.
“Good morning, everybody. . . . It’s another beautiful day over here and I hope it’s just as nice where you are . . . but first, before I say another word, if you are wondering why I sound a little funny this morning, I want you to know that I have not been in the kitchen hitting on the cooking sherry.” Mother Smith played one bar of “How Dry I Am.” Dorothy laughed. “The reason I sound this way is I was up at Dr. Orr’s this morning and got a filling and the Novocain has not worn off yet and so, with that disclaimer, on with the show.
“Independence Day is just around the corner, so hurray and three cheers for the red, white, and blue. Glenn Warren down at the VFW post says that all the food they will be serving on the Fourth of July will be red, white, and blue—red beets, mashed potatoes, white-meat chicken only, blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream. Let’s just hope the watermelons cooperate this year and turn bright red, too. Also don’t forget that the Pony Man will be in town next Wednesday, so if you want to have your child’s picture made, he will be over in the vacant lot behind the church from twelve to four.”
Dorothy smiled at her audience. “And we are happy to have some visitors with us this morning. Mrs. Ida Jenkins is here with seven of her out-of-town Garden Club members, who are visiting all the way from Joplin. Welcome, ladies. As you all know, Ida is the mother of our precious little newlywed, Norma Warren. And being a mother myself, I hope you won’t mind me bragging a little on my own. We are so happy for Anna Lee, who has just been accepted at the Chicago School of Nursing, which is our own Nurse Ruby Robinson’s alma mater and I know she is as proud of Anna Lee as we are. How fast time goes by . . . it seems like only yesterday that Norma and Anna Lee were getting ready for their first dance recital. It seems like the whole world is changing right before my eyes. Doc just informed me last night that two new business establishments are going up outside of town. One is a drive-in Tastee-Freez that is going to be built in the shape of an igloo, complete with a polar bear on top. The other is an overnight motor court called the Wigwam Village, made out of individual cement wigwams. As if that’s not enough excitement, there is a rumor that a new Howard Johnson’s motel is in our near future. At the rate Elmwood Springs is growing, pretty soon we won’t even be able to recognize our own town!
“And speaking of growth, I want to remind all of you in the Raymore and Harrisonville area that Cecil Figgs Mortuaries and Floral Designs has just opened two new branches close to you . . . open twenty-four hours a day for your convenience. And remember, Cecil Figgs is my only sponsor that really does not want your business but is always there when you need him. . . .
“Now here’s Beatrice Woods to sing a song that is certainly apropos for us this morning, ‘There’ll Be Some Changes Made.’ ” Two and a half minutes after doing her Golden Flake Pancake Mix commercial and giving out a recipe for green tomato pickle relish, Dorothy glanced up at the wall and said, “Oh dear, I see by that mean old clock that it’s time to go. I had some births and deaths to announce but births and deaths will just have to wait until Monday. So until then, this is Neighbor Dorothy with Mother Smith on the organ saying we loved visiting with you this morning, so come back and visit with us again, won’t you? And remember, you’re always welcome at 5348 First Avenue North.”
As she had said, Dorothy was glad, of course, that Anna Lee had decided to become a nurse, but at the same time she was not happy thinking about her going so far away from home. Lately, she would sometimes sit and stare at Anna Lee, her eyes filled with tears. To think that she would soon be losing her little girl.
Gospel Grows
NOT ONLY WAS Elmwood Springs changing, the whole country seemed to be taking a giant leap forward. More and more people were buying their own homes. New radio stations were being built everywhere. Thousands of radios, cars, washing machines, refrigerators, and stoves were being sold every day. More roads were being paved, and new inventions put on the market faster than you could shake a stick at them. Electric dishwashers, electric can openers, electric everything—all you had to do was push a button. By 1960, they said, they would even have robots that would do all your housework. According to Dorothy, if things continued at this pace, housewives would soon be on Easy Street.
But nothing was changing faster than gospel music. During the war years, with so many rural people migrating from the country to the large cities to work in factories, it had suddenly found its way out of the small backwoods country churches of the South and Midwest. People’s addresses may have changed from Alabama and Georgia to Detroit or Chicago but not their taste in music. They wanted to hear what they were used to and gospel was popping up on radio stations everywhere, gaining a brand-new audience in the North, and the crowds of fans soon outgrew the small church and school auditoriums and moved into the large auditoriums of the big cities and ballparks. New songs were being written by the hundreds. Even Time magazine acknowledged the existence of a growing and lucrative “Gospel Tin Pan Alley.” Southern gospel was now being heard all over the country and even as far away as Canada and some of the groups were getting more famous by the day.
> The better-known groups had their radio shows and recording and publishing companies and traveled to personal appearances in big black limousines. But not the Oatmans. They traveled in the same old beat-up car and still mostly sang in country churches and at all-night sings. Ever since he had been saved again, Ferris believed that this new popularity was causing gospel music to drift further away from the church and dangerously close to show business. He felt the devil was slipping hip-wiggling and bebop rhythms into gospel, tempting groups and luring good Christians away from the Lord with the idea of making a fast buck. He preached to anyone who would listen that singing gospel not church related was sinful. After losing his own brother Le Roy to the lure of honky-tonk and hillbilly music, he was frightened that his boys Bervin and Vernon might be tempted to run off as well, so he would allow the family to sing on radio shows that featured only gospel.
One was a fifteen-minute broadcast the Blackwood Brothers did twice a day over station KMA in Shenandoah, Iowa. Their pianist, Cat Freeman, was an old friend of Ferris’s. Cat and his sister Vestal Goodman (now singing with the Happy Goodmans) had all grown up together in northern Alabama and had picked cotton together as kids, so it was a happy reunion. As it turned out, it was also a reunion between Dorothy Smith and the Oatman family. Dorothy was up in Iowa that weekend to visit with her friend and fellow radio homemaker Evelyn Birkby and to participate in the big home-demonstration show at the Mayfair Auditorium in Shenandoah.
Dorothy had just given her “Decorating Cakes for All Occasions” talk and was backstage watching Adella Shoemaker speak and demonstrate how to choose wallpaper when someone handed her a note.
Dear Mrs. Smith,
I seen a poster at KMA that you are here and so are we. I would love to talk with you after the show if you got the time.
Minnie Oatman