John Fitzgerald GB 06 Return of (2 page)

“I see what you mean,” Papa said. “By the time the boy saved enough money working for Mr. Nicholson to go to an academy, he would be so old that he would be ashamed to go. It would take him several years.”

“The Leeds boy isn’t the only one in this town to suffer,” Mamma said. “I was talking to Mrs. Smith at the Ladies Sewing Circle meeting last week. I mentioned Sweyn D. and Tom D. would be leaving for school soon. She said that she and her husband had tried every way they could to send their son Seth to an academy but just couldn’t

make it.”

“So that is why he tried to sell that vacant lot where the

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kids play,” Papa said. “He put an ad in the Advocate but told me the best offer he received was a hundred and twenty-five dollars.”

“It meant so much to them,” Mamma said, “because Mr. Wilson told them he would hire Seth as a clerk in his hay, grain, and feed store if he got an eighth grade education. Instead the boy will no doubt end up working at some menial job like his rather. It just isn’t fair.”

“I wonder,” Papa said, “how many boys and girls there are in town like Sammy Leeds and Seth Smith who are being deprived of making something of themselves because we don’t have an academy here in Adenville.” Then he leaned forward in his chair and spoke to Tom. “T.D.,” he said, “how many boys do you know like Sammy and Seth who would like to get a higher education but whose parents can’t afford it?”

Tom looked up from the domino game which he was winning easily. “A few,” he said. “For one, Parley Benson. He wants to become a veterinary. He’s always hanging around old Doc Stone and bringing the vet any animals he finds who need help. Doc Stone said that if Parley went through the eighth grade he’d take him on as an apprentice and make a veterinary out of him. But Parley told me his folks can’t afford to send him away to school. I guess he’ll end up a bounty hunter like his father, and that is going to be tough on him because he loves all animals.”

Papa leaned back in his rocking chair. “You and your mother have given me an idea,” he said. “The way things are, parents who can afford it send their children away to Mormon, Protestant, and Catholic boarding school academies. But if we had a nondenominational academy right here in Adenville they would enroll their children in it. And

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there must be quite a few people like the parents of Seth Smith, Sammy Leeds, and Parley Benson who can’t afford to send their children away to school but who could afford a tuition of thirty or forty dollars at an academy here in town. Add these students to the do/en or so who would otherwise be sent away to school and the tuition money would pay for a teacher.”

Mamma shook her head. “That still leaves an academy to be built,” she said.

Did that stop Papa? Heck no. He had an answer for everything.

“I’m sure, Tena,” he said, “there are enough public-spirited citizens who would donate the money, material, and labor to build an academy if they knew for certain we could enroll about thirty students. I’ll see Mayor Whitlock first thing in the morning and then talk to Bishop A^ien and the Reverend Holcomb. This will have tor be a united effort of

Mormons, Protestants, and Catholics.”

h.

The next morning during breakfast Mamma reminded Tom and me that she wanted the vegetable garden weeded.

“I’m going to weed the garden myself,” I said, “and Tom is going to do my share of the chores.”

Papa stared at me as if I had a cabbage for a head and then looked with suspicion at Tom.

“Just how did you connive your brother into weeding the garden in exchange for doing his share of the chores?” he demanded. “If I catch you backsliding you are going to regret it.”

“Who is backsliding?” Tom asked looking as innocent as a little baby. “J.D. told me yesterday that he wanted to weed the garden to punish himself. Out of the goodness of

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my heart I told him that I would do his share of the chores.”

“Punish himself for what?” Papa asked.

I was afraid Tom would tell and get me into more trouble than himself. “I did something that I shouldn’t have done,” I said. “I’m so ashamed that I want to punish myself for doing it.”

Mamma looked at Papa. “Maybe he broke a neighbor’s window playing ball or something,” she said.

“No, I didn’t,” I said.

“Then what did you do?” Mamma asked.

“I can’t tell you because it’s personal,” I said.

Papa saved me. “Let’s respect the boy’s privacy,” he said, “as long as we know he wasn’t forced into weeding the garden byT.D.”

Boy, oh, boy, that brother of mine was something. He looked Papa right in the eye.

“You don’t have to say it, Papa,” Tom said. “I know you are sorry you accused me of backsliding, and I accept your apology.”

I began weeding the garden after breakfast while Tom and Frankie did the chores. When they finished, Tom saddled up Sweyn’s mustang, Dusty, and went for a ride. Eddie Huddle came over to play with Frankie-They started pitch-ing horseshoes-I could hear them yelling and laughing and having fun as I pulled weeds. Oh, to be a little kid again, I thought, too little to know the difference between a weed and a vegetable.

Howard Kay and Jimmie Peterson came into the back yard as I stood up to relieve my aching back. Howard had a disappointed look on his pumpkin face. Jimmie hitched up his pants, which were too big for him. He didn’t have any younger brothers to wear his hand-me-downs, so his mother

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always bought him clothing that; was one size too big.

“You told us to come over and play basketball this morning,” Jimmie said.

For Christmas I’d been given the first basketball and backboard anybody in Adenville had ever seen. Papa had nailed the backboard to our coal and wood shed on the alley side-

“I forgot I had to weed the garden,” I said.

“Shucks,” Howard said.

Then I got a brilliant idea. “Help me weed the garden,” I said, “and then we’ll play.”

Jimmie hitched up his pants again. “If we help you weed your garden will you help us weed our gardens?” he asked.

It wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all. Jimmie’s mother ran a boardinghouse and had a vegetable garden three times as big as ours.

“Forget it,” I said. “The basketball is in the coal and wood shed.”

By this time more kids were coming down the alley. In a few minutes I could hear the happy shouts of kids playing basketball and of Frankie and Eddie playing horseshoes. But there were no happy shouts tor me. I was just a slave doomed to pull weeds while other kids had fun. And that afternoon while other kids were swimming in the nice cool river, I was still pulling weeds in the hot sun, my shirt wringing wet with sweat. Instead of happy shouts there were only groans com-ing from my lips because of my aching back.

The next day was Sunday. Bishop Aden announced dur-ing church services that there would be a town meeting in the Town Hall on Monday evening at eight o’clock. Rever-

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end Holcomb made the same announcement at the Community Church. That afternoon Papa and Sweyn went to the Advocate oflue and printed handbills urging all adult citizens to attend the meeting. Monday morning Tom and I tacked tlie handbills to trees and light posts and put them in store windows on the east and west sides of town. For my money if anyone didn’t know about the town meeting he had to be deaf, dumb, and blind.

Only adults were admitted to the meeting, but Papa told us about it during breakfast on Tuesday morning. The parents of thirty-three boys and girls had promised to enroll them at the Academy and pay a tuition fee of from thirty to forty dollars.

Papa told the audience the tuition money was just to pay a teacher’s salary, and he called for donations to build and furnish the Academy. He began the donations by pledging five hundred dollars. Then Bishop Aden pledged the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would donate the land upon which to build the Academy and alsw pledged one thousand dollars. Mayor Whitlock, who was also president of the Adenville Bank, pledged five hundred dollars. Mr. Monaire, a big sheep rancher, pledged five hundred-I guess Mr. Pearson, who was a big cattle rancher, didn’t want a sheepman outdoing a cattleman and he pledged five hundred. Mr. Daniels, the owner of the Fairplay Saloon, and Mr. Harper of the Whitehorse Saloon each gave five hundred dollars. And there were quite a few people who pledged from ten to one hundred dollars, and just about every able-bodied man in town volunteered to work for nothing to help build the school. Mayor Whitlock then made a motion that one Mormon, one Catholic, and one Protestant be elected as a board of directors to run the Academy. Bishop Aden, Papa,

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and Mayor Whitlock were elected. Mayor Whitlock became the chairman of the board of directors, Bishop Aden the treasurer, and Papa the secretary. Papa said Bishop Aden was leaving for Salt Lake City the next day to order the furniture, books, and school supplies, and also to arrange to hire a teacher,

“And.” Papa said as he finished, “Mr. Jamison is working on blueprints for the building, and construction will start tomorrow.” Then he looked across the table at Tom- “So, T.D., you won’t be going to the Catholic Academy in Salt Lake City after all.”

Tom had a funny expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or happy about it-

“Can they have the Academy ready by the time school starts?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Papa said. “School won’t start this year until Monday, September the fifth.”

Mamma was smiling. “It is going to be wonderful hav-ing Tom D. home,” she said to Papa.

Papa nodded. “After all the trouble he got into at the Jesuit Academy in Salt Lake City last year,” he said, “it is going to be a relief having him where we can keep an eye on him.”

All I can say is that for my money Papa had better keep a sharp eye on The Great Brain.

I’d seen many bees, as they were called in those days-We had barn-raising bees and house-raising bees where neighbors and friends pitched in to help a newly married couple build a house or barn. And we had corn-husking bees where friends and neighbors helped harvest corn, and any

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fellow who found a red ear of corn got to kiss the girl of his choice. We had a church-raising bee when the Community Church was built. But I’d never seen one like the Academy-raising bee.

It began on Wednesday morning. All the kids in town were on hand to watch after doing their morning chores. Mr. Jamison, the town’s best carpenter and contractor, was boss-ing the job. Men were digging the trench for the foundation when we arrived. Women were spreading two picnic tables with baked beans, baked ham, fried chicken, bread and butter sandwiches, pies, cakes, and other good things to eat-Some Mormon women arrived with lemonade, cider, and cold milk in crocks. Mr. Daniels, the proprietor of the Fairplay Saloon, delivered a keg of beer, and so did Mr. Harper of the Whitehorse Saloon.

By noon the trench for the foundation of the building had been dug and some of the wooden forms for the concrete completed. The men working stopped to eat .and drink, but only their wives and children could remain and eat after the men did. We had to go home for lunch. Just before we left, wagonloads of gravel and cement began to arrive.

Papa told us during lunch that he would be working on the Academy during the afternoon. “Mr. Jamison has decided to use two crews,” he said, “one in the morning and a different one in the afternoon because so many men volunteered to help.”

The Advocate office wasn’t the only place of business that had a sign reading, CLOSED AT NOON—WORKING ON THE ACADEMY, that afternoon. I saw the same sign on several places of business.

Mr. Jamison was ready to start pouring concrete for the

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foundation when we arrived. Papa and Danny’s father, Mr. Forester, were given long sticks that Mr. Jamison called puddlers.

Frankie pointed at Papa. “Why is Papa pushing the stick up and down in the concrete?” he asked.

“To get the air out of the concrete so there won’t be any air bubbles,” Tom said, “and to help settle the concrete.”

There was food for the afternoon crew too, and two more kegs of beer arrived from the saloons. That was one afternoon when not one kid in town went swimming. We watched until the last wheelbarrow of concrete had been poured for the foundation.

Papa told us during supper that it would take all night and all the next day and night for the concrete to cure.

Frankie looked at him. “Is the concrete sick?” he asked-

“No,” Papa said, laughing. “To cure concrete means to wait for it to dry and harden.”

The next morning Mr. Jamison was using only men with saws. They cut two-by-fours into studs, joists, and rafters until noon. There was nothing more that could be done on the Academy until the next morning when the forms on the concrete foundation could be removed. We watched the men begin building the frame for the Academy the next morning but went swimming that afternoon.

Fellows like Parley, Sammy, and Seth were very happy for the opportunity to get a seventh and eighth gr-.de education. But it sure as heck made a few kids unhappy. Take a fellow like Danny Forester.

“I’m going to be a barber like my father,” he told us at the swimming hole that afternoon. “My folks think I ought to get an education now that there’s an academy right here in Adenville. But who needs more than a sixth grade

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education to learn how to give shaves and haircuts?”

Even Tom with his great brain couldn’t answer that one.

I know it sounds silly, but I felt both happy and sad about the Academy. I was sad knowing Tom would blackmail and swindle me every chance he got instead of being at the Academy in Salt Lake City. I was unhappy knowing he had not really reformed and that sooner or later he would be caught swindling somebody who would tell. That would not only break Papa’s and Mamma’s hearts but also revoke his suspended sentence, and none of the fellows would have anything to do with him. I was happy knowing fellows like Parley, Seth, and Sammy would have a chance to make something of themselves. And I guess I was happy knowing Tom would remain at home, because with all his faults I loved him.