BOBBY HAD FINISHED his high school equivalency test in the army and he had been home about four months when he finally decided that he would go to college after all and try to get a degree in something. In what he did not know. At one time Doc had hoped he would follow in his footsteps and become a pharmacist but, considering how bad Bobby was at math and chemistry, that was obviously out. He guessed maybe he would take business administration but he still was not sure about it. A week before he was to leave he was out on the porch thinking about it when he looked up and saw old Miss Henderson, his sixth-grade teacher, home from her summer vacation, slowly coming up the front steps of the house. “Hello, Robert,” she said, a little winded. “Your mother told me you were home.”
He jumped up, surprisingly happy to see her. “Hello, Miss Henderson, how are you?” he said and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
“Just fine,” she said, sitting down. She said, “You’re headed off to college, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am, Missouri State.”
She started to rummage around in her purse, looking for something. “I wanted to stop by before you left and give you a little present I had for you. I had hoped to give it to you when you graduated from high school but you had already left for the army so I thought I’d bring it to you now.”
She handed Bobby a slightly frayed package that had clearly been wrapped for a long time. Bobby was thoroughly surprised. “Thank you, Miss Henderson.” As he was unwrapping it, she said, “You know, Bobby, you may not have known it, but you were always one of my favorite pupils.”
“Me?” he said. “You’re kidding.”
Inside was a beautiful leather miniature map of the world with a written note attached that said Yours for the taking. Good luck in all you do. Miss Henderson.
Bobby was overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say, Miss Henderson, except thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You know, Miss Henderson, I always thought I must have been the dumbest one in your class.”
She smiled. “Well, you may not have made the best grades and you were not the easiest boy to keep quiet, but you had that one thing most of the others didn’t—you had a curious mind. And a curious mind is what we teachers look for.”
Bobby, who had been caught so off guard, suddenly remembered his manners. “Oh, sorry, Miss Henderson—can I get you some iced tea or anything to drink?”
“No, I can’t stay. But your mother also tells me you are struggling a little trying to decide what you are going to major in, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just hope I don’t flunk out.”
She nodded. “Having had you as my student for two years and knowing you as well as I do, all I can advise is for you to be sure to study something that you really like, Bobby, a subject that can hold your interest—and if you do, I know you will do just fine.”
“Thank you, Miss Henderson,” he said as she walked back down the stairs, “and thank you for the map.”
He thought about what she said, but he was interested in everything in the world and it was still hard to pin down to one thing. He still had not made up his mind until he arrived on campus and reread all the options available. Everyone was surprised when he called home and announced what he had chosen. The only person who was not surprised at the news when she heard it was Miss Henderson. As far as she was concerned, American history was perfect for Bobby.
However, in the romance department, many times when a person does not know what is bad for them, they often do not know what is good for them, either. Bobby started dating Lois Scott, an English major, in his sophomore year after more or less playing the field. He had met her through a friend and, as it turned out, she was from Poplar Bluff and they had a lot of friends in common. Her mother had even been to his house to see his mother’s radio show and had exchanged letters with her. On their first date Lois took him out on the tennis court and beat the socks off him. She was smart, attractive, had a great sense of humor, beautiful red hair, and most important, she was crazy about him.
The Christmas holidays of 1955 came rolling around and on the morning of December 23 a proud Macky Warren stood outside the hardware store and waved at his daughter, Linda, as she marched by with Dixie Cahill and sixteen other little girls in costumes, all wearing jingle bells, headed over to be on Dorothy’s Christmas show. Norma and Aunt Elner were already sitting in the audience, waiting along with Ernest Koonitz and the handbell choir from the Methodist church. Ed, the barber, had already made up his first batch of eggnog and Bess and Ada Goodnight were dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus and over at the grammar school giving out presents, as usual. There was a new tree at the house but it was decorated with the same old ornaments, and the lights they always had, the same cream-colored cardboard candles with the blue lights, were in every window. Anna Lee and her husband, William, who was now a practicing dermatologist in Seattle, Washington, and their little girls had already arrived to spend Christmas at home. The only thing different this year was that Bobby was bringing Lois Scott home for Christmas.
Outnumbered and Hog-tied
DOROTHY HAD TAKEN to Lois in two seconds, in the mysterious way women do when they know the perfect daughter-in-law has just walked in the door. The next thing Bobby knew they were all chummy and were sharing little secrets with each other. And it was not only his mother; everybody liked her right away—Mother Smith, Anna Lee, and Doc. Jimmy even remarked, “Now, that’s more like it.” At the end of the visit they had all said that she was the perfect girl for him, and that they made a perfect couple. All this “perfect” talk began to irritate him and scare him at the same time.
He did not want to be the perfect couple. Bobby wanted a stormy, passionate relationship like the ones he had seen in the movies. It was because she was so perfect for him that he did not trust it. He also knew that once he made a commitment, Lois was not the kind of girl you could fool around with and he was beginning to suspect that his own mother would take her side against him. He felt like a big fish that had to have just a few more jumps out of the water before he was reeled in for good and he could feel everybody trying to pull him in. So he made a decision. One night before she went into the dorm, he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “You know, Lois, I was thinking. Since we are both going home for the summer, I wonder if it might not be a good idea if we were to start seeing other people for a while. We can still go out but maybe if we take a little break it might give us a chance to find out how we really feel about each other.”
She seemed perfectly calm to him.
“Fine, Bobby, if that’s what you want to do.”
He quickly added, “We don’t have to, of course—it’s just something to think about.” As she got out of the car he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Once inside the dorm, she, of course, cried all night. The next day he was handed a letter by one of Lois’s sorority sisters, who glared at him with disgust. “Here,” she said. “And I thought you were nice!” She marched off and he opened the envelope and read the short note inside.
Do not call me. Do not write me. I do not want to see you.
Lois
When he went home that summer and told his mother what had happened, she did not say anything but he could tell she was not pleased and for some reason seemed to blame him.
He called Anna Lee in Seattle to talk it over.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with Lois. She’s acting crazy.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing. I just told her I thought we should think about seeing other people for a while.”
“I see.”
“I can’t marry somebody just because Mother likes her.”
“I know.”
“I have to be the one to make the decision, this is my life.”
“You’re right, Bobby, you have to do what you think is the best for you.”
“Anyhow, I need to get out of here for a while. Can I come out there and see
you?”
“Of course you can. You know you are always welcome anytime, and stay as long as you like. The girls would love to see you, and so would William and I.”
“Thanks, Anna Lee.”
Bobby was in Seattle with Anna Lee for a month. He went out with a few girls Anna Lee and William had set him up with and they had been fun. One pretty nurse was a lot of fun. But he always went back to his sister’s house feeling lonely and feeling like he had just cheated on Lois and his mother. One night around three A.M. he sat up in bed and broke out in a cold sweat. A thought had hit him like a ton of bricks. What if Lois had met someone else and he had lost her? He immediately went into a panic, jumped up, put his clothes on, and ran out the door to find a pay phone so he would not wake the entire house. He ran up the street; he had to get her back before it was too late. What had he been thinking of? By the time he found a phone his imagination had her already married with two children, even though it had only been a few months since he had seen her. He called her parents’ house and was so relieved to hear her voice and know that at least she had not married anyone else yet and he still had a chance. She did not hang up on him and listened to what he said about what a fool he had been and how he wanted to get married right away, how sorry he was he had put her through anything, and how he had never been surer of anything in his life. But after he had poured his heart out, there was a definite coolness in her response. She informed him that now she was not really sure how she felt about him anymore and now she needed more time to think.
More panic. He ran back to Anna Lee’s house, packed in the dark, left a note, and headed for Poplar Bluff. Now he had the drama and the conflict he had wanted but it was not like it was in the movies. This was terrible. He might lose her forever. When he thought he could not have her he wanted her more than life itself. She had a student-teaching job and two days later he was standing outside the school when she came out, hoping that just the sight of him would change her mind, but it did not. Of course she was more beautiful than he had ever remembered, more everything than he’d remembered, but it took him a long time to convince her that he was a changed man, that he was sure he would never doubt the way he felt about her again. He was shameless. He even had his mother call and plead his case. “Lois, it’s Dorothy,” she said. “I know you have to do what is best for you but if you care anything at all about this son of mine”—at this point she glared at Bobby, who was standing there—“although I don’t know why you should after the way he has acted, you better come over here and take him off my hands because he’s not going to be of any use to himself or anybody until you do.”
Finally he got her back and after all that, just like a man, the night before his wedding he wondered if he was doing the right thing after all and was it too late to back out now, all the things you think right before you jump off a mountain. But his best man calmed him down with these few words of wisdom. “You stupid jackass,” Monroe said. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Yet the next day, after Mother Smith played “Here Comes the Bride” and Anna Lee and her three little girls started the wedding procession, he felt like he wanted to leap through a glass window and run. Then he saw Lois coming down the aisle. She looked at him and smiled and Bobby almost fainted when he realized that this beautiful woman was actually going to marry him.
Cecil Saves the Day
In 1956 Betty Raye had just had another little baby boy and was enjoying life as a wife and mother, even though they still lived in a rented house. Hamm was saving money to make a down payment on it and buy it. Everything was going along according to plan until, after serving only two years as state commissioner of agriculture, he found himself becoming angrier and more frustrated by the day with the way the small farmer was being ignored. He drove all the way to Jefferson City, the state capital, to have a meeting with the governor but was told, as usual, that something had come up and that he would have to reschedule. This was the fifth time this had happened. That day he walked over and stood outside the huge governor’s mansion and stared at it. It’s not all that big, he said to himself. That day he made up his mind. He was finally so fed up with not having any power to do anything that he decided to enter the Democratic primary for governor of the state of Missouri. Despite Betty Raye begging him not to.
It was not only Betty Raye who thought it a bad idea. Everybody tried to tell him he was a fool to think he could launch a gubernatorial campaign out of nowhere and with no money but he had made his mind up and he refused to listen. “Betty Raye,” he said, “honey, if you just go along with me just this one time, I promise you if I lose I will get out of politics for good. But I can’t give up without even trying.” All she would have to do is just pose for one picture with him and the kids, and after that she would not have to be involved and would never have to appear in public. He would do the rest.
What could she do? She loved him. So Hamm Sparks entered the primaries with nothing more than a good reputation with farmers, a name that sounded vaguely familiar, and a willingness to work night and day if he had to. He was convinced he did not need flashy billboards or fancy campaign headquarters with a staff of political advisers and so-called experts. He said his headquarters would be the back roads and small towns across the state. All he had to do to get his platform across was look people in the eye and tell it to them like it was. Tell them they needed someone who would be on the side of the veteran, the workingman, and the small farmer. “Why, there are smart people all over this state who can make up their own minds and not be led into the polls like sheep by some big-city political machine. All I need to do is find them and explain how they’re being taken advantage of by the big mules running the party in Kansas City.” This sounded good but after running up and down the state for over a month in a field of twelve hopefuls, he was running dead last. Most people in the state had no idea who he was and he did not have a snowball’s chance in hell of even making it through the primaries if he could not do something about that—and fast. He had already gone through their savings. He scrambled around and got some backing from a few friends but the kind of money he needed to get his name and platform out to the public was much more money than Rodney Tillman had. More than anyone he knew or had ever met . . . or so he thought.
Just four hundred miles away, in the six-room Kansas City apartment he shared with his mother, Cecil Figgs was preparing to go to work. He stood at his dressing table and carefully attached a small toupee to the front of his large round head and placed a fresh flower in his lapel and was ready to face the day. When he walked into his large, thickly carpeted office at the funeral home, he found a note from his assistant telling him that his first appointment of the day was going to be ten minutes late. He picked up the newspaper on his desk. Usually he just skipped straight through to the obituaries to check his ads but a picture of Sparks jumped out at him. He was listed as one of the remaining candidates running for governor. Cecil Figgs supposed Hamm would probably not remember meeting him four years ago at Ferris Oatman’s funeral but Cecil had never forgotten the day he’d met Hamm Sparks. When the funeral had concluded, Hamm had walked up to him at the reception afterward and introduced himself as Betty Raye Oatman’s husband, shaking his hand vigorously and telling him what a good job he had done. He then shoved a business card at him, patted him on the back, and said, “Mr. Figgs, if you’re ever in the market for a good tractor or a combine, be sure and give me a call,” and walked away.
Cecil had been dumbfounded. Was Hamm insane? He was the last person on earth that would ever be in the market for a tractor. Cecil could have been highly insulted and offended at such an outrageous assumption but there was something so genuinely earnest and sincere about the man that instead of tearing Hamm’s card up, he put it in his pocket. For some unknown reason he had been very affected by the hunky little guy.
Although Cecil had been busy dealing with all the details, he had watched Hamm out of the corner of his eye, walking around
the reception with nothing going for him but a bad blue suit, a two-dollar haircut, and sheer nerve, trying so hard to mingle with the governor and his staff. Hamm had more or less been ignored of course, but the little guy hung in there. That afternoon something unexpected happened to Cecil. He did not know what it was about Sparks but he found that he had developed a sort of odd affection for this complete stranger. He had felt sorry for him in a way and yet at the same time admired him. Maybe it was because he had noticed Hamm trying to hide the fact that the sleeves of his jacket were too short when he shook his hand or maybe it was that he reminded him of another young man he had known and liked years ago. Whatever it was, because of this strange attachment he had formed to Hamm Sparks, when he saw his picture in the paper, wearing the same bad suit with the same bad haircut, he felt compelled to look him up and try to help him if he could. And nobody needed more help at the moment.
Hamm had no real staff except for his old friends who stopped by every once in a while and Rodney Tillman. His campaign office at the moment was a small one-room storefront that used to be a lamp store before it went out of business. The amenities consisted of a desk, four metal folding chairs, and a phone, plus three old dusty lamps that had been left behind.
Cecil picked up the phone and called Hamm to set up a meeting and was somewhat surprised that Hamm seemed to remember him. Cecil did not seem to understand that he was a man that very few people would forget meeting. How many men in Missouri wear purple flowers in their lapel and a bad hairpiece the color of root beer?
A few days later Cecil walked into the campaign office, looked around the messy, dingy room, and shook his head. The first thing he said to Hamm was “Oh, honey, you need a better place than this.” Cecil cleaned off a chair, sat down, and said: “Listen, if you expect to stay in this thing, you are going to have to get a decent place to work out of and some better advertising. Now, I have a lot of money and if you are really serious about staying in this thing, I’m willing to back you.”