Folk Liar of the Ozarks

v CLIMAX II--A BLASPHENY IN THE GROUND

This is my kick off on the novel named what you see above. It will take considerable time to write it but the outline is embedded in my brain, and has been for a long time. For those of you who have followed my writing, Bulldog Martin will be here again along with Johnny Frog , old men now but both of them remember the old days and both are great story tellers.
Climax will change now. New people, people with money, retirement checks from far away places.
I will post the book chapter by chapter.

Although it shamed him, Jack Craven had transferred all of his considerable assets to his wife’s name. His car, a new Cadillac was the very item that brought him down or at least would have except that he had taken remedial action of a most severe nature and now on paper, he was a pauper. Technically the car belonged to his friend Garner Redpath a greater Memphis Cadillac dealer but when J C first got the car it belonged to General Motors Corp and was setting in Garner Redpath’s sales lot interest free. But Redpath who knew better had trusted his old friend Jack Craven who had lied to him again and he, Redpath was embarrassed. If J C would return the car or pay for it right away all would well and J C would be forgiven. But Jack Craven, always the fox had gone to ground and left no trail. He was not in Memphis, neither was he at his home in West Memphis Arkansas. He might be up in the hills at Climax Arkansas. It was a matter of face saving. Jack Craven was always on a deal, always just a few days from closing and he was good for his debts even if he was a little late. With cars it was different. Craven had always driven a current model Cadillac car without actually owning one. Jack Craven eschewed car payments on the grounds that any Cadillac dealer who was dumb enough to sell him a car on credit would be better of for experience.
But right now Jack was reduced to actually hiding in the backwoods to elude one collector for sure and possibly more. His business was a mess. He knew that and he regretted it but taking the long view his current situation was temporary.
Shedding himself of all his assets wouldn’t serve his interests for long. Too many people would recognize the ruse and come after him with bated breath. His bogus pauperism would serve him for a few weeks at most.
He had finished his part of a really big deal, a huge deal and his commission would make him a rich man by ordinary Arkansas standards but not rich enough, not even close. Jack wanted to be big rich, not just cotton patch rich. He knew those delta planters. “Hell fire, he had been one of those himself. He had wanted the planter’s life back then, back when he was a boy. Even then he understood the risks or thought he did. In fact being big in cotton put a man deep in debt and kept him there, always with access to money as long as he kept planting, kept on burying cotton seed in that fine delta dirt and watching the plants emerge and grow, always with one eye on the sky because the weather was an unreliable partner providing at times loving nurture or ruin and no matter which nothing about planting was fun to Jack so he quit while he was ahead.
Jack was a lawyer, an attorney at law and perfectly capable in that field and he enjoyed it, even had a private practice for a while but it was exactly like he had feared. “Ah could stay busy, get all the law business I could handle but ah nevah could gethah that money up fast enough to ‘mount to much. I always looked to the land. I’d buy a fouty heah and a fouty theah, buyin’ an sellin’ makin’ mo money theah than ah evah could with that piddlin little ole law office.”
* * *
Garner Redpath was Jacks friend and would remain so. Jack was sure of that, but he would take his car away if he could find it. Redpath had certain standards of his own which did not include allowing Jack Craven to get too far ahead of him.
Jack doubted that anyone would find him at Climax. Some of his associates knew that he had, with some frequency traveled up to Climax to visit his widowed mother who after raising her children, three boys and three girls in Marion Arkansas, had moved to La Clair County where her husband had acquired more than a thousand acres of land, some simply by paying the state a few dollars of back taxes and some by actual purchase at less than five dollars an acre----- “watch ‘em now, they’ll try to slip in an extry forty if you don’t, har har”------ and was still buying when one day he died in mid-stride falling face down in a Crittenden County cotton patch leaving her a widow of means the extent of which was known only to her.
The old man’s passing redirected the imaginings of at least a score of enemies who were left to nurse their outrage and who had hoped to at least see the elder Craven prosecuted but better shot, just plain shot and forgot about.
The Widow Craven lived in a big old rustic house which she had improved by bringing black men from west Memphis and installing a large luxurious bathroom for herself and two more for her guests the cause of secret ridicule amongst the people of La Clair County most of whom had never seen a flush toilet and couldn’t imagine anyone actually wanting to defecate in the house. Several layers of rugs were placed hither and thither about the floors giving the old house a homey comfortable feel much enjoyed by her grandchildren during their frequent visits.
There the Widow Craven lived out her days in genteel isolation to the wonderment of the inhabitants of La Clair County who held her in great esteem calling her Miz Craven and wondering at the audacity of such a nice lady having a cabinet filled with bottles of whiskey openly displayed right there in her living room.

Jack Craven visited his Momma’s house at Climax with some frequency but no one had ever heard him express any fondness for the place. More recently those that knew about his infrequent visits to the backwoods believed that his only interest was to hide there.
Jack and Garner Redpath had always lied to one another with such predictable regularity that it was impractical for either man to resent the others lies but now somehow the outrage had leaked out and every car dealer and every car salesman in Memphis knew that Jack Craven had slicked Garner Redpath out of a new Cadillac which wasn’t important except for Redpath’s embarrassment which could never be rectified, not entirely but it could be, must be stopped at once. Redpath wanted his money, had insisted on it. In past days Jack could treat these matters like a joke and get away with it because he and Redpath went a way back together. Together they had boosted a great deal of money by leasing worn out equipment, scrap iron really, dozers, front end loaders even a drag line to the federal government. They could muster eight signatures six of which appeared to belong to six separate illiterates, by using left hand, left foot, right foot and by keeping secret records on which foot and which hand. But that was during the war, back when the government was easy to fool in matters pertaining to the levies along the Mississippi River. They had pulled it off with only a little help from a particular Arkansas Senator Siman Battersea who shared the spoils generously. Both men hated Battersea “the greedy thieving bastard” but they continued to support the senator as they hoped for the day when he allowed his mind to wander providing them an “open shot” but the senator was still far away comfortably ensconced on the bank of the Potomac growing richer every day while they labored in the fields of foul commerce.
That area of Memphis known as auto row on Union street near fourth avenue was the natural habitant for every level of car people from car washers and fixers of flats on up through the echelons including salesmen, quickie loan shysters and finally the new car dealers all there crowned by REDPATH CADILLAC glistened with a lot filled with new units, carpeted show rooms with soft almost inaudible Musac. Jack Craven knew everyone who labored there and the acquaintance was mutual. Next to bankers he believed those to be the sharpest the most resourceful, the most enterprising men in Memphis. The most successful salesmen on Memphis’s auto row were utterly ignorant of ethical behavior. Those that had some notion of honesty saw it as an impediment, an obstacle to be ignored. Word had spread amongst that notorious fraternity that Jack Craven had “took his friend Garner Redpath down for a new Cadillac.” Technically the story was untrue but it was close enough to fetch up a great deal of hilarity and to occasion several wagers. Garner Redpath had denied the story
but failing to squelch it he had launched a search for Jack Craven but struck out.
This time Jack had used every ruse right down to the point where he had to get out of Memphis which meant go to Climax where he would at least have a roof over his head and a telephone which was still listed in his mothers name a blessed, blessed telephone even if it was on a party line and thus often unavailable.
Jack preferred Memphis above all other places but he was largely unwelcome there. He lived in West Memphis which was a fine place for living and it was just across the river in sight of the bluff city where cotton was king and where there was plenty of action.
But right now he was literally hid out at Climax Arkansas. If the collectors happened to learn about his Climax connection they would pick up the Cadillac and leave stranded, a-foot and embarrassed. Over the years a number of close calls had sharpened his wits making him a difficult mark for the repro men and now he felt fairly secure at his mama’s house.
He was surprised to see an undersized red car approaching from the direction of Climax. He was further surprised when he recognized Garner Redpath emerge from the little “half pint” car.
“Aw shit Garner. How’d you find me?” he asked, disconsolate now.
“Dammit Jack. I ‘bout had to. That Cadillac belongs to me. I got to stop you befo you make me into a plumb damn fool. I cain’t keep on furnishing you a new Cadillac car, I’ll be the laughin’ stock of Mephis.” Garner Redpath seemed at once determined and apologetic.
“But you’re alone. Did you plan to go back to Memphis ridin’ one and leadin’ one. What kind of a car is that, a Crosby? asked Jack.
“Don’t make fun of your car. I aim to loan that to you. It’s an Opal, runs good. I ain’t so put out with you that I’d leave you a-foot, not yet anyway but you’re pushin’ me. Just hidin,’ is that all you’re doin’ up here. Ain’t you gonna offer me a drink?”
“Sho, sho come on in. I’m aimin’ to build a city heah. I need yo hep.”
“Hep? A city? I ain’t heah to lern about any crazy scheme. Any direction from heah is forty miles of the wust roads in the state an’ nobody knows that bettah than you. An’ that Black Rivah Bridge is so scarry that sensible try to not think about it. I’d say that a man that plans on building a city heah is crazy. You’ve always been et up with ambition. What is the population of Climax rhat now. Say less than three hundud about?
“Us have a drank. I’ll explain it late’ah” said Jack.
“Redpath turned his back and unzipped “scuze me, I got to piss like a Russian goat. Ain’t no ladies heah is they I hope.”
* * *
Seated there on rustic porch looking across a small field which sloped eastward to a branch that barely flowed and forming placid little pools, shallow and clear, where minnows, miniature blue gill, craw fish and innumerable varieties of water bugs and small amphibians had entertained Craven children for a decade.
“A city huh? Heah at Climax Arkansas. You mean a place where people live an’ actually make a livin’? Jack, it’s impossible. Redpath took a pull off his beer and sat looking quizzically at Jack. “Jack you’re not crazy. Some Mephis people think you are but I don’t an’ I never have. But, first things first, We been friends for a long time. I let you drive off in a new Cadillac that I had in my flo plan. So you drive around in a fine car that ain’t neither one of us paid for yet but the otha day G M made me pay fo it so now it’s mine an’ I want it back. Now be real. I come to get my car that you are welcome to keep. I’ll swap it to you right now fo for American money. That’s the way it works. So I drive all the way up here to the backwoods of Arkansas to get my car and you bein’ my friend which in and of itself questions my sanity, I further erode my already doubtful sanity by bringing you a little car to use which you insult me by proposing that you are here planning to build a city, now consider that. You cain’t even pay fo a car. Build a city, think about it. Still I’m one of, no I’m the only person in the world that knowin’ what I know wouldn’t declare you certifiably crazy, not actually insane, but some class of crazy just the same”
Garner Redpath had always been suspicious of Jack Craven but the friendship had lasted for more than a decade and their association had at times been downright frightening but neither man had ever been arrested or charged with anything illegal, not even as much misdemeanor: a miracle. From his chair on the porch he heard Craven on the phone.
“Hello Margie. Is Thurmond theah yet? Not yet huh, expectin’ him? Alright good. When he gets theah fry up a bunch of stuff, enough fo three of us including him. Tell him to come down an’ eat with me and my friend, no you don’t know him, his name is Redpath. By supper time won’t neither one of us be able to drive. You do that? Thanks Hon, bye.
Returning to the porch Jack said “I got to tell you somethin.’ I don’t really want to tell you. If you tell anybody else I’ll shoot you. I have made the biggest deal of my life a really big deal. I sold the Greenberry land, all of it, mo than a hunnerd thousand acres. Nothin’ left to do but the closing which will be any day now, big family scattered all ovah the country, mostly up east. Some of ‘em as black as a stack of black cats, some are white far as I can see and passin’ as far as I know. It’s been one hell of a job. I been working on it mo or less for ten years. Lately I was so busy on that deal that’ I got behind on some stuff that’s all. Now, that’s a fact, I’m just this close” signaling with his thumb and fore finger, “look heah now, this close to bein’ well to do. Bring yo drink, oh hell bring the bottle. You want anotha beer?
Towards the back of the house in a gloomy room with only one small window Jack Craven had assembled a collage of aerial photographs covering a large expanse of the area with the town of Climax shown in the North West corner. The Craven land was neatly outlined in red, Most of the land was delineated in black along with the name of the owner and the acreage.
“Theah it is” said Jack Craven, “theah is Osage Village. Theah is my work for the rest of my life-----my mansion, my golf courses” he took a long drink from the bottle of scotch----my airport, my evah thang. Fuck that bunch country club sons of bitches in Mephis. He turned and held a steady gaze into the eyes of Garner Redpath. “Don’t worry ‘bout that car. Go find us a Chevy or a Ford dealership. You’re good at runnin’ a dealership. Make the best deal you can an’ call me. God damn that Mephis bunch to hell.”
“Jack, are you that deep in the scotch already?”
“Maybe I am, maybe so but evah word is the truth. I been workin’ on this for a long time. It’s pay back time. An’ don’t worry. I ain’t puttin’ a goddam penny of my own money in it. You said yo self that I ain’t crazy.”
“Thurman arrived with two cardboard boxes of food.” He was a tall semi-bucktoothed cowboy type with a perpetual smile and a relaxed attitude. “Hey Jack” he said and started setting food containers on the table.
“One mo week Thurmond, you gonna start callin’ me Mr. Craven when my ship comes in.” said Jack.
“Aw shit, I’ll start right now if you want me too. Don’t mean shit to me” said Thurmond reaching into the liquor cabinet and removing a bottle of Jim Beam. He unscrewed the cap and holding it at arms length before the window squinting. “That’s what makes me so wild” he said as he took a chair and commenced drinking.”
* * *
“We’ll ride the Cadillac on back togethah. Leave that lit‘ll Opel heah fo right now. Don’t that Bridge across Black Rivah botha you?
“ A little but I’ve done it a hunnerd times---evah since Mama moved up heah. It gits easier but abody don’t evah git plumb used to it. Evah body dreads that scary son of a bitch. There is anotha way, lots futhah but most folks prefur it. Jack explained.
The next morning they started back to Memphis. Garner spoke first. This heah country is discouragin.’ It puts me in a gloomy mood. Damn li ‘l ole plank shacks, no paint. Looks like the only kind of folks you got here is po folks. Damn timbah cut ovah an’ all covered with this red dust, jes look how it’s gathered up on the car already. An’ rocky; some of the ground ain’t good fo nothin’ but to hold the world togethah. You tell me wheah I’m wrong. It’s depressin’ to me an’ you fixin’ to build a city heah you say? Is it too late fo’ me to back out?”
Cain’t back out now. It’s this atomic age, that’s what. Right now I mean today the fed’l govahment has got tons of money that they don’t know what to do with. Evah body workin’ payin’ taxes, th’ rest of th’ world blowed all to hell by us an’ needin’ worlds of stuff, us furnishin’ them with evah thang. Nope these roads will be paved, that ole bridge will be pulled down an’ replaced an’ I will be up an’ runnin’ sellin lots an’ buildin’ houses. Prosperity is comin’ heah an’ Jack Craven Inc. will get all the credit for it. I’ve got a thousand acres of land an’ that won’t be half enough, golf courses an all that, you know.” Jack boasted.
“Well, I doan know. You scare the plumb damn hell out of me th’ way you talk.”
“Yeah but you promised. A promise made is a debt unpaid, right? Garner?
“No---- hell no. Breakin’ a few promises ain’t nothing up agin bein’ po again. I ain’t runnin’ out on you today though, I’ll be talkin’ to you aftah you get yo big deal closed. See how much nerve you got when you get that money stashed away in a Mephis bank. Aftah a man gets a-holt of a nice batch of money he gits conservative as hell--- probably change yo outlook too. We’ll see. How much futhah is it to that goddam bridge?” said Garner expressing his dread.
“Not too far now. Did I evah tell you ‘bout the time I went into the rice well drillin’ business.?” Asked Jack.
“Don’t start no long story now, Ah cain’t concentrate for dreadin’ to cross
that damn bridge, that is if we get acrost it” said Garner.
“Let me tell you ‘bout that ole bridge. “ ‘cordin’ to what people say that bridge was designed to carry a wagon and team with one bale of seed cotton, Evah body agreed that that was the heaviest thing possible an’ I guess they was right back then.
The drove in silence except for the sound of gravels striking the floorboard. Occasionally one would hit with alarming force evoking a period of hopeful listening by both men. “Garner, you are the car expert here, a Cadillac dealah. There ain’t nothing under a car that a few gravels can tear up is there?” Suddenly to their left a two story red brick court house came into view andJack steered left around a sharp curve and slowed considerably as the bridge came in sight. Garner Redpath’s body stiffened, he pushed his feet forward and held them hard against the cars firewall. Mercy he said, Lord have mercy on this po sinner. I don’t reckon my prayers will hep any God dammit and with all his might, eyes squeezed shut and his hands made into a steeple he softly repeated “now and evah let us pray.”

* * *
The bridge at Powhatan Arkansas was old but just how old nobody knew. It was not built like an ordinary bridge with a level floor and a high superstructure that inspired confidence in the bridge and pride in the government as well. Back in the early days of Arkansas hope, pride, confidence and other things of that order were in surplus. Experienced bridge builders were not. Four huge cylinders were rafted upstream to Powhatan a set into the ground like four giant strategically placed fence posts, two on each side of the river and alone, sufficient or not, those four cylinders supported the bridges main span.
It was a long bridge built not in the shape of an arch but rather in the shape of a bow and thereby gaining some of the weight bearing benefit on an arch but that was not enough to pacify an astute traveler, not now, not in 1950. The floor was of planks placed at ninety degrees to the side rails which were not visible to the traveler, an oversight but it was never corrected. Generations of bridge users were born, lived and passed on after enjoying a full life all the while wondering but never discovering what it was that supported those planks.
Below the bridge and upstream there was an old fashioned current propelled ferry. I never saw it in action but grass did not grow in that immediate area. That ferry was in use. Some people were smart enough and self respecting enough to stay off that damned old bridge.
Mounted atop each of the four giant cylinders was a metal tower of about twenty five feet height whose purpose was to guide a cable from the lowest and farthest part of the bridge up and across the tower thence down almost to the guard rails along the side and continuing upward and onward crossing another tower which was of course mounted atop another giant cylinder to the farther end of the bridge. Altogether it was a splendidly handsome contrivance but it served no beneficial purpose. Early Arkansans favored utility above good looks because function was the prize and once achieved good looks came along so willingly and so easy to lead that it wasn’t even noticed most of the time anyway. And the towers supported those little pencil sized cables and guided them past one point where each cable was lightly anchored to the side rail and anyone could tell that “hit’s jist fer looks”
“Jack, right now I’m swearin’ to you and to God almighty that I ain’t nevah comin’ this way again. Just savin’ an hour or two ain’t worth it. Don’t most Mephis folks ‘void that thing.” Garner was adamant. They had crossed the river and now they were driving along on what apparently was a very long ramp with gum trees along each side within arms reach. Below them depending upon several factors they might be passing over dry land or very deep water where only cypress and trees thickets of gum trees grew. They passed alongside the guard rails which wouldn’t deflect a bicycle and ascending down and onto solid ground where the two lane asphalt picked up and the land was open fields of row crops including corn, cotton, soy beans but mostly of rice, rice and then more rice as they sped across the Arkansas Delta country at a blazing fifty miles per hour.
Within sight of cropland on the opposite side of the Black River from the once active river town of Powhatan Arkansas from where the bridge seemingly cast at once from the top of the bluff high above the flowing river. Generally travelers on either side admitted that their first sighting of the bridge was terrifying and that they wanted to back out and go home not trusting those huge rusty cylinders presumably buried in the earth anchored in bed rock filled or at least partially filled with cement provided whatever strength was there but there were other deficiencies, plenty of them to dissuade almost any traveler.

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“An you say that you are used to doin’ that, It don’t seem natural” said Garner Repath.”

“Sho, sho I guess so. I got mo or less used to it. I started tellin’ you about my little run at the rice well b’ness. A shirt tail relative of mine is always comin’ up with ways to git rich. On this occasion he had a scheme to drill rice wells hydraulically-----sounded purty good to me. He had already designed a machine, claimed he could build it out of army surplus stuff that he could buy in Mephis for a song and sing it his self is what he claimed. So I put up the money, I forget the exact amount, not much, not much an’ that was a good thing the way it turned out. We carried water out to wheah we aimed to drill a test well along with all the machinery, you know, the whole damn lash up. Pipes an’ stuff like that even some lumber an’ some nails. He fooled me that time. He actually assembled that stuff an’ I was surprised an’ maybe even pleased at how business like it looked.
So I had two white kinfolks an’ two blacks all good workers an’ off we went. He was right, water would wash that dirt and sand right out of the way. ‘Fo long that first pipe was mashed down in the ground. They unhooked an’ hooked up anotha pipe. It looked like a winnah to me. I went on back to Mephis. Next mawnin’ we all went back out theah to drill some mo’ an’ when we got out theah there was a great huge hole in the ground I guess fowty foot deep an’ down theah in that hole was that diesel engine an all that pumpin’ machinery. They had pumped, hollowed out a damn hole under they selves big as a good sized house ---- caved in durin’ the night---- ended my well drillin’ business.
“One time I had a little ground hog sawmill” said Garner Redpath. “Worst way in the world to make a livin’ even fo a man who can actually do it” said Redield.
We can get a cold be-ah down heah at Truman, that sound alright?” asked Jack.
* * *

Silas Greenberry was born near Marked Tree Arkansas in eighteen forty five, to a white slave master by the same name and a slave woman named Silvy. According to the Greenberry family the boy was much favored by the father who was childless. It is said that Silas Greenberry’s mother Silvy was light complexioned and her son could have passed as white but he chose to live out his long and successful life Poinsett County Arkansas. It is said that his father never denied his paternity, that he had seen to the boys education and that he had set him up to farm and in the end he had bequeathed him thousands of acres, some under plow but the larger part was forest.
He was a good farmer and he had a marvelous head for business. He expanded his farming operation. He was accommodating and enormously enterprising. The courthouse records reflect the activities of an accomplished trader. He stepped up and displayed excellent leadership during a big flood when the Mississippi river spread over the delta. It was his energy and tireless effort that kept animals and people alive and enough corn to feed them. He was selfless and according to the tales that are still repeated, white men accepted his leadership without question. Silas Greenberry raised a large family none of whom elected to live in Arkansas. By nineteen fifty the family had agreed to sell their holdings. Jack Craven had established a position of trust with the family leaders and was given the exclusive right to find a buyer and make the sale. It was a near miracle of diplomacy and organization and it proved once and for all that not only was Jack Craven a visionary but also a far thinking business man. He was the real article and that fact did help him in his dealings with bankers all through the central section of the nation. But that was not enough. He could not attract buyers to Osage Village, not in the numbers required to prosper there.

* * *

“You know how I always tinkered with the land business. I been buyin’ a fowty or mabe eighty acres here an’ theah, clean them up, eventually sell ‘em-----do alright with ‘em, nothin big, just simple little deals on the side that’s all.”
“I reckon evah body in Mephis knows about the Greenberry land up theah in Poinsett County, a thing of beauty---bigah, lots bigah than we knew about, well managed------ cotton, rice, beans, timber a fine operation: thousands of acres.” Jack Craven explained.
“And the deal is done, all closed an’ the last papah signed?” said Garner Redpath.
“Aaats right--- closed, signed sealed an’ delivered. I ain’t been paid yet but soon now. My money is in escrow in South Bend Indiana. It is a done deal. I ain’t exactly a rich man but you can say I’m purty well off. Lookin’ fo’ an airplane.”
“Ain’t you got one already?” asked Garner Redpath.
“Sho I got an old Stinson, ‘bout half afraid of it an’ it’s too slow an’ I expect to be busy, in a hurry all the time.”
“Busy buildin’ a city you mean” said Redpath.
“Thas right, my own by god city” said Jack Craven
Tuck 4582 words. Jan 20 2011
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Jack Craven stuck hard to his plan. He closed the Greenberry deal and collected his commission and tucked it into a West Memphis bank where he knew it would hardly be noticed. He squared up all his personal business and started shopping for a new Beach Craft. One day during the summer of nineteen fifty two Jack Craven saw a crop duster pancake into a corn field. He walked over to the wreck and found the pilot standing outside the crashed plane. He was scratched, skinned up but otherwise unhurt.
“You alright?”
“Lucky again.”
“You dustin’ for the Maryland brothers?
“I was but I quit. Swore I would if I ever dumped one” said the pilot extending his hand “I’m John Springer formerly a crop duster, currently unemployed.”
“You’re all right it seems like. By now sombody’s comin’ out heah to scrape you up. Let’s get the hell out of heah, come on.” Said Jack. In a short time they were in Jacks Cadillac. “Ambulance comin’------a couple of cars. You want to see them or just go on.”
“I better see them I guess. But no matter what I’m all done dustin.’ I’ve had a good long run. I’ll find a job driving airplanes for somebody” said Springer in resignation.”
“You go on over there an’ let those folks know you’re alright. I’ll wait an I’ll run you ovah to yo car. Let’s talk. I’m jack Craven.”
I’ve heard of you before Mr. Craven. I’ll be right back. Won’t take long”
said the hapless pilot.
John Springer, a single man was settled in one of Cravens’s shacks in Osage village. At first the two traveled from city to city in Jack Cravens old Stinson three seater. Graven was not altogether secret about his business. He was in quest of money, lots of it. He followed every lead and when he had no lead he would make cold calls, always expecting to be turned down but his tenacity carried him through. In those occasions when he was successful they would return to Climax in the old Stinson, Craven pulling on a fifth of scotch and expounding on some past misadventure in which he had lost money and later as he neared the last of the scotch he would commence to dwell upon past wrongs suffered at the hand of one “Pompous son of a bitch” or another or taking a shot gun approach on “that whole goddam bunch of Mephis country club motha fuckahs” and his new pilot John Springer came to understood the depth of his resolve the very foundation of his tenacity. He never told a soul convinced as he was that Mr. Cravens employees thought he was the very embodiment of virtue.

* * *
Mr. Craven heard of Ralph Darling from Margot Burgan a female real estate broker in Memphis who had fallen upon bad times and anyway she hated the business and by consequence she also hated Memphis and practically every other place and person on the planet.
Darling was a veteran of the Florida land scams of the twenties where he had lived large and accumulated a sizable bankroll. He had avoided arrest by escaping Florida driving away in his big Auburn automobile and never looking back until he reached Los Angeles loaded with money, enthusiasm and confidence. He tried for years to break into the movie business. He was sure that he a born, actor would prosper there. He was correct in many details but there was already an ample supply of young men all of whom were accustomed to poverty and who would befriend and advise Ralph or anyone else who could buy lunch.
Ralph was surprised at the difficulty of breaking into the film business so he sought employment in the real estate business where he was quite competent, more than competent in fact. He continued to direct his abundant talents to the movie business with no positive results at all while his earnings from the land business was spent maintaining his connections in the film business. He was good looking, well dressed affable and in fact quite charming but luck did not favor him. Luck did favor a number of his friends who did penetrate the film business and became quite well off. Ralph targeted them and sold them track after tract of desert land from which they all profited hugely and they were grateful.
The Great Depression did slow him down a bit but he survived in good spirits but he was broke. His assets consisted of an impressive number of good suits and a collection of monogrammed shirts, various accessories items of high quality, and box of expensive cigars. That was all. He was still affable and well dressed but even he could see that his good looks were fading and that in fact he had grown fat.
He was particularly well acquainted with Mary who owned the apartment building in which he lived and in fact she occupied the largest apartment in the building. It was a fine building excellently located and he had learned that Mary owned it free and clear her late father having bequeathed it to her. He also learned that Mary’s mother had preceded her father to the great beyond and of course Mary was lonely. Ralph knew about that too. By now you know that Mary was uncommonly destitute of beguiling features. Ralph knew that, Mary knew it and every inhabitant of the building and a great many other people knew it. So they married and Ralph retired.
And so one day in nineteen fifty two or fifty three Jack Craven appeared at his door and they proceeded to con one another resulting in a deal the details of which were never revealed but we know that Ralph and Mary Darling rented a respectable painted house in Climax and Ralph was given the title of project director of Osage Village while Jack Craven continued to fly around the country in search of money only now John Springer was driving a new Beach Craft air plane.
The folks of Climax thought it was crazy. Of course they did. “I Be dam if he ain’t built a dam acrost that branch an’ made a lake. They claim they’re actual sellin’ lots, claim them lots on that lake brings nearly two thousand dollars apiece. They done built a road right straight up the hill and lots up there in the woods bring five hunnerd dollars, a-course I don’t reckon they sell many.
* * *

To his disbelief Ralph Darling learned that Osage Village had never held a grand opening. A big deal like this and never a grand opening, he had never heard of such a thing. But on the other hand he welcomed that and other less obvious examples of managerial ineptitude believing that Osage Village was a plum ripe to be plucked. He arranged for extensive newspaper and radio ads focused largely on the Memphis market but not forgetting the people of La Clair. He planned a barbecue with hot dogs, burgers and soft drinks. He made arrangements for a country band and started a crew building a speakers platform. A hundred or more folding chairs were borrowed. He found an inviting spot not too far from the sales office and in his dealings with Jim Overton who was in charge of all the machinery and the workers as well Ralph overestimated his own influence.
“I’ll fix this place like you want it but you need to understand that I don’t work for you” said Overton so nonchalantly that Ralph could hardly believe his ears.
“Now you look here. I’m the project manager. Every body here works for me” he declared. Overton seemed entirely unaffected and replied.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you are. I’ve never really been hired yet. I like Jack Craven and I’m tryin’ to help him out. I’ll work with you but not for you. Remember that.” and he strolled away.
Of course Jack Craven had already tried the Memphis papers with almost no results at all. It was a costly experience. Also the idea of filling the gut of every backwoodsman in La Clair county and beyond with store bought food and soda pop while providing them with country pickers which he could get by the dozen for free was to him a perfectly silly idea. Lots of Memphians visited Climax with some regularity and his salesmen had combed through them with such fervor that some of them couldn’t or wouldn’t tolerate Darlings rude salesmen and stopped visiting Climax and all the others had suggested with some force that they be left alone. Mr. Cravens confidence in Ralph Darling was diminished but he was too busy hunting money to fire him right then.
A year passed. The venerable former sheriff Alfred Bulldog Martin was acquainted with Mr. Craven as was the former Ford dealer and life long gambler Johnny Frog. They often met often under a maple tree on the Court house lawn. There were others there. Dominoes were the principal game. Neither of them participated. They were students of the passing scene what little of it there was.
“Stock laws have changed things” said Bulldog laughing. He could remember when big trucks were stopped on the main street of Climax by sows feeding their families.
“People want’s good roads. Good roads equals fast cars which naturally means stock laws stock laws. It means car wrecks too which we was already gittin’ more of than we needed. I’ve seen you put old boys that had had got plumb drunk in their wagons an’ jest let their teams takem’ home. Now ain’t that right.”
“Oh shore, but that’s been a long time ago. If Mr. Jack Craven was to get that Osage Village thing goin big the town is ruint, but I don’t know a soul that thinks that’s possible. Folks don’t come here to live, they’re born an’ raised here, then they go off to work, ever body knows that” mused Bulldog. Mr. Craven checked an’ he told me that the population of La Clair County increased up ‘till the first World War and then started shrinkin’ declinin’ he called it. I think that’s right.”
“These new paved roads will finish us off. Oh I know the court house will still be here. They will allus be a Climax I reckon.” Said Frog adding “Nobody makes whiskey no more not as I know of.”
* * *
Ralph Darling outfitted all five of his salesmen with a bright red shirt. A giant sign was erected SEE THE MAN IN THE RED SHIRT. He hired pretty high school girls to make burgers and dispense hot dogs. Soda pop was iced down in barrels and tubs. There were banners and enough folding chairs to accommodate the elderly and the sick lame and lazy a well. The crowd started arriving early. Ralph noted that mostly they arrived in mud splattered pick up trucks but there were a few ton and a half trucks rigged for logging. Many of the pick up trucks were equipped with special sideboards, racks, for hauling livestock.
It was gloomy Saturday in mid April but it did improve and become more cheerful a little later. At exactly noon the band arrived and to Ralph Darling’s surprise the musicians seemed to be personally acquainted with half the visitors. He was overheard muttering the term “red necks” enraging Jim Overton.
Ralph spent his day marveling at the quantity of R C Cola and Orange flavored soda pop that was consumed practically excluding of all others. The visitors seemed uniformly democratic in that they sampled at least one hot dog and one hamburger but more likely several of each. The band spent a great deal of time tuning their instrument and eliminating the electronic squeals and squawks that emanated from the sound system.
All the salesmen were local men carefully chosen by Ralph Darling because they had considerable experience on the car lots and real estate offices in other more sophisticated localities. Each of them were personally acquainted with at least a third of the guests and collectively the salesmen knew that every guest thought the very idea of selling lots was silly and to suggest that they actually buy one would be an insult, fighting words almost. Ralph Darling was appalled. He pressured the salesmen who remained silent smiling but refusing to make even the slightest move to sell. “You’ve got a lot of people here but there’s not one deal in the whole bunch” Said Ben Ferguson “forget it Mr. Darling. These hill people think this whole Osage Village thing is silly. They’ll drink your sody pop an’ eat barbeque ‘cause they were invited to. They’re keeping they’re end of the bargain the way they see it. They wish you well. Some of ‘em know Mr. Craven. They wish him well too but they damn sure don’t want a lot and there ain’t a salesman among us that can put one on ‘em.”
Jack Cravens Beach Craft came in from the north and made a quiet landing. A while later Craven himself arrived in his Cadillac with John Springer driving. Craven was immaculate. Smiling he mixed with the crowd with back slapping and hand shaking he made his way to the microphone “Heah Bill, hep me git this thing right. I want to speak to the folks.”
Then addressing the crowd “I cain’t commence to tell you how glad I am that you took the time to come out to visit with us today. Has evah body had plenty of refreshment?” Shouts whistles arm waving and an unexpected guitar riff in the key of A. ‘Ya’ll need to see what we’re doin’ out here an’ we want to know that we want to be a good neighbor. This has been yo county for a long time an if we cain’t be a good neighbor then we ain’t got any right to be heah.”
“Now it takes time to build a city. Evah body knows that. We are gainin’ on it on it evah day, growin’ hirin’ mo men, buyin’ equipment an’ we done sold a lot of property. I reckon most of you are aware of how bad the roads are out to the east ‘tween here and Mephis but people keep on comin’ and the word is spreadin’ all ovah America. But we have got a new bridge down at Portia an’ that old “skeer you to death bridge at Powhatten is already wrecked out an’ gone. Now ever bit of that is good for La Clair County. Again I thank you for comin’ out. Ya’ll go ahead an’ eat an’ drink all that that stuff up if you can.”
He left the platform and mixed with the people. He knew a fair number of the country men and almost all of those who lived in Climax. He was full of charm and easy grace. Every person who spoke to him directly and even those who were close enough to share the sound of his voice felt honored and grateful. They did not congregated crowding around him but instead they stood awe stricken, flattered and grateful for just a few words with the great man. Most important, they believed.
* * *
In fact J C was fearfully near the end. The law required that he represent himself fully and truthfully when borrowing money. He simply ignored those requirements except that many lending institutions who would after hearing his presentation, supply him with the appropriate documents, help him with every entry and finally instruct him to carry said documents back to Osage Village and return it to them by mail. Craven would never, never apply by mail. Mail fraud was a federal offense. “Winters in Leavenworth are long and cold” he would joke.
But his money problem was critical. He had no place else to go. He had included graphics in his presentation and had used it with tolerable success but now he had no place to go except his own siblings who had disapproved of his conduct even back to his college days and before. But he would humble himself, supplicate himself before his brothers, both of them and beg for money and he knew that they would have mercy on him but it wouldn’t be enough. Between them there wasn’t enough money to carry him for the long term. Jack Craven had created an extremely expensive Frankenstein, a monster with a terrific balance sheet, and still the company was chronically broke.
“Even with a stack of goddam land contracts knee high an’ I can’t borrow money, not even at that pissy little ole bank of Climax. Arkansas banks won’t even consider me. Hell, they know that Climax land is practically worthless, all of it a man wants for ten or fifteen dollahs an acre top. There was that last resort, he had no choice.
* * *

Ralph Darling had struck out and he knew it. He also knew that for the time being Jack Craven would continue to search for money simply because he had no choice but as for himself he had outlasted his usefulness if in fact he had enjoyed such a time there in Osage Village. He had studied the situation from top to bottom to the very best of his ability and he had ascertained that the earth, the entire planet did not contain enough suckers to make Osage Village a paying proposition. He often thought fondly of Los Angeles, of mornings, the muted assurance of passing cars, of coffee and cigars and the tender ministrations of his grateful spouse.
He had longed to be back in the game and he had let that get the best of him. How he longed for another taste of his salad days. For years it was beyond his grasp and he knew it. Lately he had refreshed some acquaintances from the old days, old actors, some still working and all were quite well off. He, Ralph Darling had contributed towards their wealth by persuading them to buy tracts of desert land which had appreciated abundantly and they remembered him fondly never dreaming that he in his regret cast greedy eyes upon their affluence and comfort.
* * *

On a dismal day in January Ralph was idle as usual. He had stopped dreaming of success. Nothing of note had happened in years. Margot was in place to answer the occasional phone call. A flashy two toned Oldsmobile pulled in and a good looking young man stepped out and without hesitation he purposefully strode down the walkway. He greeted Margot with a smile and a beautifully modulated voice and introduced himself as Bruxton Rappaport. “Could I speak with the most senior officer on board” he asked. His smile continued. Miss Margot beheld a young man, well turned out and vaguely military of bearing but loose and self assured. “He’ll appreciate the company. Behind you and on your right, follow the blue smoke road” she said “his name is Darling, Ralph Darling.”

He tipped his forehead with his fingers in salute and smiling he turned and entered Ralph Darlings open office closing the door behind him.
Mr. Darling, my name is Bruxton Rappaport. I’ll get right to the point. I’d like to spend the summer with you----I sell lots, people call me Rappy.
With obvious effort Ralph shifted forward and extended his hand. “If I may Mr. Rapaport, where are you from.”
“Most recently Chicago, I move around a lot---heard about Osage Village and it occurred to me that I might enjoy relaxing in the Ozarks for a while” said Rappy pleasantly. He continued to smile.
“I don’t need relaxed salesmen. I’m looking for real go getters.”
“Mr. Darling, let me explain myself. I know how to do this. I’m here to show you how, no nice way to say it. I know that this deal is going tits up. I know the lot selling business inside and out. It’ll take most of the summer to do it. I don’t want to be the boss, not interested in authority. I want to write my own deal but that’s just between us. I’ll teach your salesmen how to do it. Here, look at this” said Rappy. He removed from his jacket pocket a folded sheet of plain typewriter paper bearing a neatly typed message.
Dear Mrs American lady
As a result of you signing the enclosed card our publicity department has authorized me to present you with a beautiful tree covered cottage site in Osage Village. Osage Village is located at Climax Arkansas in the scenic Ozark
mountains. The only cost to you is $45.83 to cover closing cost and title transfer.
To receive a deed to your vacation site you and your spouse must present this letter to our publicity dept within thirty days.
Ralph’s face reddened with anger as he read. “Who the hell are you and what kind of chicken shit deal do you think this is. Jack Craven owns this place. Just mention bait and switch and he’ll kick your ass all the way back to Chicago.”
“Oh I think not. Craven can’t support this place. He’s on the ropes. We can save it. I didn’t come here with my hat in my hand to beg for a job. We know about Jack Craven’s integrity to just to mention a little chicken shit. The neatest way to do this is for you to shut up and go along. By the time Craven catches on he’ll like it. He’ll also be too far in to turn back. Look here Darling, this’ll make you and Craven both rich, I mean mortally rich. On the other hand you might not be here. Matter of fact this entire enterprise will fall apart and rot.”
“And who is we that you so glibly mention” asked Ralph.
“You don’t need to know----maybe someday, maybe not.” said Rapaport. He was no longer smiling. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You’ve got tonight to think it over and get used to the idea. I’ll lay it out to you. Actually it’s a lot of fun if you like money.” Rappy stopped by Margot desk. “Are you a single woman, available at least in theory.”
Margot cleared the ashes from her cigarette “Why sir! she said light heartedly. “I have brassieres older than you.”
“That’s alright if it’s true, so be it. Today I am only marginally interested in brassieres if at all. I am interested in your wise old eyes, more specifically the wisdom there in that can only be accomplished by attention to detail over a considerable span. No my dear Margot, I suggest that you drive your own car to the town of Division, which as I was forewarned is the nearest oasis. I am staying there in a motel of that very same name the Oasis. I shall live there for the foreseeable future. There in my room are several bottles of ardent spirits. Attached and under the same management is a dinky little restaurant where excellent steaks of various sizes are available. Let us sup and break bread together-------- my treat.”
“Didn’t you say that Rappy is ok.” Margot shot back.
“Rappy will be fine now and ever” he laughed “room number seven any time, the sooner the better. Try not to be real late.”
* * *
She came early arriving just as the January sun was sinking behind the distant hills. She stood and pecked lightly. “It’s open, come in” he answered. He greeted her with a smile and “what kept you. Shall we share a drink?” Indicating a bottle of Scotch, I provide, you pour provided your answer is affirmative.” She tossed her bag and jacket onto the bed and started to prepare drinks.
“So, if amour is not your objective lets get right to the point.” She asked flippantly. She moved his drink across the table and seated herself opposite him with only a cheap lamp between them. “I want you to keep this in mind always. During our conversations now or any other time do not compromise yourself. If telling me troubles you, then don’t do it. I am here to help Jack Craven’s business. Nobody has ever tried this before, not on the scale that Craven envisions. Doesn’t matter, he will fail even if he had an ocean of money, he’s doing it wrong. My people are interested in him and his deal but not unless he can get sales, lots of sales. Do you know how many lots he has sold up to now?
“Around two hundred and seventy five” was he reply.
“Cash or credit, percentage, you ever look at that?” he asked
“About half and half, that’s close. I’m not even sure that the cash sales are really sales, more like loans from friends secured with lots, good lots, on the lake, water front, around three thousand each. A few people know about that. Lots of people know how crunched Jack is for money.”
“You see, the locals never expected him to last long. They’ve seen people come and go, fail, as far back as they can remember. The Climax folks work when he needs them and wait for the axe to fall like it always has before. This is hard country and none of them have much. They don’t expect much. Rappy, just look at the ground here, rocks and more rocks, all white and shinny but hardly any topsoil. It’s ugly to me especially during the winter.
“How much and acre for this wooded land” asked Rappy.
“A lot of it was free for the taxes but between Jack and his daddy they got all of that, mostly off to the southeast, way back there. I want to change the subject. My last involvement with a male person left me feeling deeply resentful. I have placed my hopes in you. He claimed that my pussy is old and no good.”
“What the hell are you talking about” he asked then added “why would you say something like that to me” then looking her squarely in her eyes he asked “what action do you recommend.”
“Why, I need at least one more opinion, maybe repeated which would be so very beneficial to my self esteem and reduce that big jerks opinion to atoms. I need that. Later I might think of something else about Osage. I’ll try.
An hour and a half later “Steak time, I do believe that you are a buck well spent. Wake up now.” And later in the restaurant smoking and waiting for their food she said “no need for you to concern yourself about me, I’m fireproof as long as we last unless of course I made a really huge mistake. If there are any great huge secrets I don’t know of it or them. Just ask me.”
“We’ll have plenty of time together, working but together. If Darling is hard headed I will have to do a tune up on him and soon, like tomorrow morning. There is a flower show coming up in Memphis You and I will get space reserved there. I’ll do the first show or two to train salesmen. It’s their job but I’ll have to start us up. That is a salesman’s job. Call it prospecting call it anything you want but its right at the heart of the business. That’s how we get our mailing list.
It was a busy time.

Ralph Darling was puzzled but not particular surprised. He had suspected for a long time that J C Craven was in serious financial trouble. In fact Craven had never been anything like well financed at any time unless he counted his own money which in fact he had been forced to use on a few occasions but he had repaid himself every time ---- “so far” he thought but he could feel the noose tightening “so what is new, “I knew what I was getting into when I started.”
He and his wife Genny had moved into the old stone house where a drunken abortionist had lived until to the Craven’s relief the Doctor’s family removed him and committed him to a far away rehabilitation facility. Of late J C’s money raising efforts had become so abundantly unrewarding that he was stymied and searching his very soul for a new approach. Essentially he was in seclusion but his wife Genelda was not. She spent most of her time trying to cheer him just as she had done before during a few particularly harrowing episodes.
Certain business men in Climax had agreed to help in that they would extend credit to Osage Village as far as they could, backed by nothing but Jack Craven’s promise that when they were against the wall he would pay a substantial part of his debt. The implication was that ‘we are all in this together.’ Climax needs Osage Village.” Jack Craven had 1.8 million in the Merchants bank in West Memphis, by far the most money he had ever owned and he had promised Genelda that he would keep that money separate and inviolate, and that together they would seek to increase it if only modestly by means of risk free investing. Even as the pressures increased in numbers and likewise in volume he had not given in. What he thought of a fairly substantial fortune for an ordinary hustler like himself would barely cover the indebtedness of Osage Village. The blue funk continued. J C Craven slept a lot, ignored the business altogether and seldom ventured beyond his own doorstep. But one day in late spring events would literally yank him out of his melancholy. Absent any deliberate contribution of his own he was presented with a way not only to placate his creditors but also a road to what was apparently wealth without end.
He realized in an instant that he would accept the new method and he also recognized that when he was younger and less experienced that he would not have seized upon a scheme so utterly unscrupulous but that was then. And now he had only to face the new method and deal with a new set of emotions which difficult as they would appear J. C. would handle them by adjusting his own already adjustable ethics to an even lower standard and he would go about it with style and grace.
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During late winter and early spring Osage Village was a busy place. Additional lots were laid out and staked. Most remarkable was a section of lots that measured only twenty five by one hundred feet and were located a distance away from the regular lots. Rappy explained that the small twenty five foot lots that almost no one would take them as a gift were gift lots and would be so designated while the larger lots which were almost a quarter acre in size would become known as improved lots. He explained that the small gift lots did not include rights and privileges to the promised amenities in Osage Village as did the larger improved lots. Rappy further explained that the smaller utterly worthless gift lots had no electricity and never would have it whereas all of the improved lots included electricity and rights to every single amenity including those still not built which was almost every single one of them. A salesman who actually awarded a gift lot lost face with his fellow salesmen and suffered unspeakable ridicule. Occasionally an Out would insist that he or she not only had a right to a $45.83 free lot and could not be dissuaded. That seldom happened. A dozen gift lots would last a long time.
All Osage employees learned new words like cul-de-sac and shill. Salesmen quit using words like client or customer and substituted the word out as in how many outs have you had today or maybe I believe that was the ugliest out I’ve ever had ---- or the dumbest or almost anything except human. With time the customer was almost completely dehumanized at least mentally. To acknowledge human qualities in a recalcitrant out was a sign of weakness. “Don’t let him go back home with your money in his pocket” was the byword and everyone knew it. And, oh yes, misrepresentation came into the salesmen’s vocabulary replacing the word lie which was never used again by real estate salesmen in Osage Village and usage of that word was noticeably reduced by the people of Climax. Those and a great many other sales devices evolved over the years but for pure efficiency nothing ever came close to the old fashioned misrepresentation, what we called lying before Osage Village caught a-holt.
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Rappy claimed to be “busier than a one armed paper hanger.” Margot was brainy and willing even eager to help the company survive. She grasped the essence of a large bait and switch operation. She had a fair understanding of how to arrange for space at the Memphis flower show and how to forward Osage Village’s business there. “It don’t sound like aerodynamics to me” she said to Rappy who promptly agreed and added “but you would be surprised. Some people don’t get it.”
The Osage crew handled the show well enough. They collected more than nine thousand address cards all filled out sometimes by whole families children and all, sometimes by unaccompanied ladies or couples the idea being that a flower show should in principal at least be attended by upscale home owners who could be persuaded to buy a worthless lot in Osage village on time payment and send a check to Jack Craven and that given the passing of a reasonable amount of time, people in the thousands could be so baited and persuaded making J C Craven “mortally rich according to Rappy but solidly disbelieved by all the others including the salesmen.
The cards where hurried back to Osage Village in three partially filled canvas bags creating a veritable storm of activity focused on extracting from that unorganized mish mash the card signed by the most influential female in each family group represented by a legible card completed by her and bearing the families name and address in her own hand. That work was performed by idle salesmen who labored splendidly believing that at last there was a way to produce customers by the dozen and believing also that given ‘outs’ in abundance that they would sell lots commensurate in number and that happy day would at last arrive and Climax would realize prosperity so manifestly deserved but so long denied.
It was a crude operation, primitive and cumbersome. Scattered throughout the body of every letter were empty spaces deliberately provided and required completion by typewriter, certain items of information such as names and dates. The recipient, the addressee would feel those indentations and at once surmise that the entire letter was typed and that she, mostly females was the lucky winner, had chanced to own land in a popular resort within only a two o three hour drive. Later it was ascertained that a thousand letters would lure at least forty individuals to Osage Village and that at least 30% percent of the arrivals would indeed purchase an improved property and be a member of what they were told was an exclusive club and eventually some one thought of it and they were presented a slick membership card to show to their friends.
In preparation for the first mailing there was typing to be done, ever letter required some typing. There was the folding and stuffing and stamps to be affixed all done with hopeful attitudes and finished gratefully. Rappy alonf with a salesman or two transported the letters to the Climax post office where the aging postmaster received enthusiastically as he pointed out that nothing like that had ever happened before and that he was required to submit a particular form to central headquarters or something like that but he was happy to do it and looked forward to doing it again if it was ever necessary. Rappy had timed the mailing to produce results in ten days the first weekend in April. He settled teaching Margot how to book future shows and hired a young woman to learn along with her.
They started arriving early on the appointed Saturday. The parking lot was quickly filled to overflowing as dozens of prospective customers started parking on the entrance roads and still they came. Soon girls were typing contracts. Rappy loved to sell lots. He did it with such speed and dispatch that the other salesmen marveled but there was no time to study his style. Outside the back up of people who came to claim their free lots was amazing. The ogled the hill people who ogled back as they drove along the entrance road in their dilapidated pickup trucks and their aged Chevies and Model A fords squeezing past the shiny Memphis cars and the dressed up Memphis women resting on their blanket and folding chairs in the pleasant April air.
Bruxton Rapaport had known that his best efforts to organize and produce a smooth opening day. He was prepared for failure. He knew he would fair because all things considered the opening would be sheer pandemonium if the mailing was successful. The results exceeded his optimistic forecast. It was awful but the sheer madness of it caused the ‘outs’ to practically insist that the be allowed to buy an ‘improved’ lot and get in on the ground floor.
A Wild eyed Jenny Craven who has left the house on an ordinary errand and found the parking lot full and the entrance road practically blocked with cars bearing Memphis tags. Instantly enraged, she thoughtlessly started trying to drive them away threatening them, charging trespass and “how dare they congregate on her property” only to face puzzled looks and a few of them offered her their letters all bearing the name of Jack Craven and she knowing that Jack Craven hadn’t signed anything at all in weeks was further enraged and also dismayed to the point of surrender. She returned to the Craven house and much as se hated to she did inform Jack of the situation. Together they commiserated until that evening when Lycurous Ames the company book keeper came to the house and told the hapless pair that the sales office was quite literally doing a land office. “They’ve almost sold out of lots. It’s a sight to see” said Ames. “I’ll try to straighten it up and get back to you. It’s a salesman named Rapaport that done it” he finished.
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They had done a splendid job all considered But “what else could it possibly have been, really better than I expected,. a big crowds help sales every time and that’s a fact. Even a good experienced crew can’t deal with a crowd. No one knew or would even attempt to guess at the volume, gross sales. Ralph Darling had deposited the whole of it watches, finger rings and all into a pillow slip and ever one was impressed by the size of it. Darling took the bag, lit a fresh cigar and went home.
“Any scotch at your house Old Crow?” asked Bruxton Rapaport.
“Whats this Old Crow stuff? Is it possible that you were speaking to I? she asked.
“A term of endearment darling from me and me alone, all others must refrain, about that bottle?”
“I have one and I’ll share it. What a hell of a day.” As she flipped the light switch and they left.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The next day, Sunday seemed positively slow by comparison. Sales were made, some property owners returned to ask questions and some needed reassurance to help them through their time of buyers remorse. A few new salesmen had enjoyed such a high degree of success during that fabulous that they now considered themselves seasoned salesmen, processors of freshly revealed talent. Everyone was in a state of euphoria. Only Bruxton Rapaport knew about the hard times ahead, the difficulties of choices of every description. But he did know and he knew that he would not participate and that once the money started to roll in Jack Craven would be up to the job. Rappy knew that in fact J C had done a splendid job already. He felt a friendly acceptance within the local population. Already Jack Craven was known and liked in and around Climax. He had always met, visited with the people always treated them as equals or nearly so. The hill people did not consider themselves equal to J C. Not a single one of them would have made such a claim and nor did a single one of them envy him in any way. Instead they wanted him to be successful. They wanted more and more people to buy lots and they didn’t object if a few Yankees chose to build a house and live there in Osage Village for a while. The knew “a right smart” about Yankees including the certain fact that they didn’t know how to live in the hills and that it was easy to separate a Yankee from his money; that was a fact. Ether a Yankee was just ignorant or he had lots of money and didn’t need to be careful with it or both. Either way they always left after a year or two. You could bet on that
Bruxton Rapaport had some understanding of the problems that accompanied the business of bait and switch land development in rural areas although his experience did not extend into the very backwoods. But that day, that fateful Saturday when he witnessed dozens of Memphis residents literally scramble to buy what they were promised would be ‘developed’ lots even after being insulted by the presentation of a so called gift lot and learning that they weren’t winners at all but could be just by signing a hastily typed contract which was in part a promissory note in an amount varying from four hundred dollars to perhaps three thousands of them and thereby start being a certifiable loser but feeling like a winner. And that was the magic of it. “A person can over think it.
It is the lure of just becoming a land owner so easily, bragging rights I guess you could say, and then some of them feel the fool with no way out but to buy a lot but mostly it’s greed. No telling what the salesmen promise them.
“Here, drink” said Margot “I sure never saw anything like it. Those poor girls, having to type all those contracts, keeping money in a sack and making change, I wouldn’t have, no I didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Rappy how big is this thing?
“It’s all up to the man Craven. That’s what it comes down to, many, many millions. There are possibilities without end, things no one has thought of; that’ll come. There will be weeping and moaning and gnashing of teeth. Craven will need managers, good ones, men who are heartless and greedy. He’ll find ’em too, has too.
“And you’re available to, right?”
“Wrong, I’m a vagabond, never stay long in the same place. After tomorrow I be just a lot salesman. I’ll be fun to watch Craven scramble. He’ll be busier than the proverbial one armed paperhanger. I will be a spectator. I don’t know Jack Craven but I assume he’s the kind of guy who’d rather make a blunder than to ask advice of a smart ass from Chicago, but that’s alright. He’ll get it done, he is bound to be a greedy bastard, I’d bet on that.
To here, sent to Jef Hodges to read only T March 9
There was only a few Sunday sales and the crew was glad. They were in a stage of exultation. Not one salesman has failed to score on Saturday but Rappy had taken the lead early and held his position throughout the day and not only kept the lead but also managed to look like he was the man in charge of the place and was only spending a friendly moment with an eager buyer. On Sunday he took one early out, sold another lot and left the property.
Ralph Darling contained his euphoria but only just. It was happy days again except when he allowed his mind to drift to the fact that this new found flood of business had nothing to do with him. He recalled those long ago halcyon days of thirty years ago when in Florida he often on particular days debated whether to work or shoot pool or maybe go to the track. There had been business to be done every day but he knew his way around a pool table too and although he was much less able with a racing form he simply disliked working more that two days a week.
And he had been back to Florida, back to the low wet land where he knew for sure he had sold some of those tracts, abandoned, almost certainly never revisited by the original and only buyer, already and covered with head high weeds where broken sidewalks were disappearing, into the ooz. “Ah those were the days” he remembered in his remorseless reverie. Was it possible to see it again?” So far his time in Climax and Osage Village were singularly unrewarding right up until today, that first magic Saturday, that sudden time when after he, the old pro had lain awake nights searching for almost lusting for a method that elusive solution a way to bring willing buyers to La clair County Arkansas and then a youngster a man alright but too young to have collected sufficient experience and more importantly the wisdom to motivate large numbers of people but he Bruxton Rapaport did it as evidenced by those dozens of shiny Memphis cars that had swarmed to and almost blocked the Osage entrance road bringing eager buyers every one insulted by their prize, an ugly little so called gift lot, a postage stamp sized dot of ground worthless and useless but mysteriously they were not insulted at all but instead they seemed almost eager to be transported to a larger slice of earth but no more attractive and likewise just as worthless where they would not just willingly but eagerly, even hurriedly had over some amount of filthy lucre and become owners of record at the La Clair County courthouse. And not all cash either, no indeed they also signed a promissory note wherein they agreed to send Jack Craven a sum of money every month for at least five years else he Craven will reprocess that fine larger but worthless lot and find another individual or more likely a married couple who will repeat that same transaction becoming owners of land fit only as a building site where no building site was needed and never would be. And so the salesmen of Osage Village sold lots manufactured by Jack Craven just as other salesmen sold automobiles, depreciable sheet metal chariots that would at least provide transportation for a few years whereas a beautiful tree covered cottage site in Osage village served no purpose whatever and most usually never woud. built in Detroit.
And there they sat after spending a riotous day, Rappy the cool purveyor of home sites, the confidence man par-excellent who wasn’t excited or even surprised by the days activities. He had seen it before. Apparently that is whad he did for a living and already a new way of thinking had infected Climax and the infection would spread and permeate the entire community and beyond “oh hayell yes, he’s a good feller but he cain’t sell lots worth a shit” the new measure of a man.
Rappy, why do they do it? I mean those folks don’t need a damn lot in Osage Village. It didn’t even bother them that the lot they won was worthless and that the one they bought was only a little better? What is it? I mean it, I want to know what drives it? Morgot was serious genuinely puzzled.
“Maybe the shrinks know, not me. And anyway they buy for different reasons. I believe that good old honest American greed is at the core of it. I just want to sell lots for a while, that’s all. Tomorrow we’ll take the loot over to Craven and that’ll change the world as Climax knows it” steady as a rock, he smiled and sipped his drink. “Well now old Crow, I’m off to my little nest in Missouri.
Tomorrow is the big day.”
And so that was Saturday night. Sunday was quiet and even before the sun was low they knew that the last ‘out’ had flown away to Memphis. Ralph Darling had become downright possessive of the fat pillowcase. The amount, the total of the contents was easily ascertained but no one did it and the typists left at the first opportunity, all aglow and much encouraged by the days success but they were tired and they understood that their day was finished .
Two cars left the office and in tandem they drove slowly to the Jack Craven house. Margot had called earlier. Expected as they knew they were, still all except Bruxton Rapaport dreaded to face Jack Craven money or no. Mrs. Craven met them at the door and walked with them into the dining room where Jack Craven sat in a Captains chair, resplendent in a fine gray suit. His salt and pepper hair neatly combed. He stood and greeted the group. Ralph Darling introduced Rappy. J C was his usual gracious self but the Mrs. was stiff and guarded. Ralph Darling emptied the pillow slip onto the dining table and stepped back. “That is the story” he announce “uncounted,” no total but of course we have records, contracts are in order. We had a fine week end” he said trying to appear nonchalant with his unlit cigar tilted. His elation showed through. Jack Craven seemed unaffected. “Ah was mo’ or less watchin, lot of traffic a-cose. Now dammit, I’m disappointed; yall set down. Genny, would you get us some glasses an’ a bottle----Scotch I think---ain’t had a drink in months, ya’ll know how I been feelin.’ Now this thang that ya’ll have done is a low an’ sorry way to do business. Evah body knows that. Now ya’ll have gone on ahead and proved that it works even up heah a hunnerd and thirty miles from Mephis bad roads an’ all. Now how much money is heah and what the hell do these watches and fingah rings mean?
Darling spoke “There is six or seven thousand dollars there. I calculate that to be about six or seven percent of the weekend sales, just two days. I wanted you to see it just like it is. Mr. Rapaport here seems to have oversold a few outs. Made ‘em into to such enthusiastic buyers that they made their down payment the only way they could. May be junk, who knows, who really cares. They may pay for their lot, may not, same as all the others. We have signed contracts.
Drinks were poured and. Genny took the remaining Captains chair. Her manner validated her authority, her place at the table. “It’s trashy. I don’t like it at all.”
“Yo comments Mr. Rappaport” said J C.
“Sure, my opinion you mean.” Jack Craven nodded in assent. “This is about money” said Rappy. “If there is another way to do this I don’t know of it. Money is important because the people who have it are important. I won’t even try to defend bait and switch on moral grounds. It works, that’s all. It will make you rich. It’s illegal in some states but not this one. Good grief. From grocery stores and butcher shops all the way up to auto makers and insurance companies: they all do it in one form or another legal or not. This weekend we produced signed contracts, maybe seventy five or eighty thousand dollars of them. You can do that again and again if you want to, your call Mr. Craven.”
Jack Craven sipped his scotch. He was at ease, strangely so. His hand encircled his glass, he passed his gaze around the room avoiding eye contact until finally he met Genny’s gaze an said “Momma Mr. Rappaport is right. You say no an’ we’ll go on back to Mephis. Ain’t no use fo you to be involved though. I don’t like it eathah. It’s a low an’ sorry way to sell but les’ fo-get that an’ go on ahead.
“Genny sat straight as a post. All could see that she was opposed in principal. Finally she spoke “That right” she said “I will not be part of this business, or accept any position in management. I will sign no contract nor commit myself in any way unless it is absolutely essential but neither will I stand in my husband’s way. I will be a supportive as I can under the circumstances. It goes without saying that my hope is that the venture will succeed.”
“Mr Rappy, can we talk tomorrow along with Mr. Darling of course: about nine in the morning, he was issuing orders now.” Himself again” thought Margo “or will be tomorrow morning.”
There in that old rock house so recently vacated by a drunken abortionist, now furnished with Jenny Craven’s scubby, ready to discard furniture, and generally run down condition the, decision was firmed up and Jack Craven declared himself as the man in charge.
That is how when and where that Climax lost it’s soul. Not a soul, not a single one of them had the slightest idea, had any notion whatever of the import attendant of what at the time seemed like a simple fairly easy way to sell some lots and ease the crushing pressure of Jack Cravens persistent search for money.
Just a simple little letter written by a young Jewish guy from Chicago who planned to spend the summer, collect his unpaid commissions and drive away And that is what he did. By the next summer only a few remembered his name. He did bid a hurried emotionless goodbye to Margot Burgun.
He met that one time with Ralph Darling and Jack Craven. The meeting was only modestly beneficial to them. “you know the basics of doing a show, of collecting your mailing list. Your salesmen know the basics of selling. They have a lot to learn and that will take time. Avery Lockwood is a competent accountant, both of you know that. You need a lot of things, office space comes to mind. None of that is my business and I won’t get involved.”
In fact Bruxton Rapaport did visit Jack Craven’s office once leaving. Jack was himself, his charm was in full glow and he seemed enormously pleased with himself. He held no ill will for Rappy but he did want him to leave and the sooner the better. J C didn’t want Rappy to get credit for the powerful bait and switch letter that by summers end try as they did had only commenced to produce dividends. ”Leavin’ us huh? Why won’t you stay with us, Cordin to my records right heah we don’t owe but a few dollas in unpaid commissions. I know, I done checked an’ found out that yo deal is that you get paid on evah sale whethah it pays of or not.”
“Maybe not” said Rappy but I might have ”you needed me. You still need stuff but I think you’ll work your way through it. Your problem is money, still money. Here I my card, tuck it away there in your desk. Call me when you need me. You’ll know. We may never meet again but when you get that certain feeling call me.”
“You mind tellin’ me whea you goin? Asked J C.
“No not at all. I’m going to South Carolina, the low country, Beaufort maybe, might hang around Charleston for awhile. I like that country. Good luck to you and happy selling.” Rappy was standing then, both men were smiling. Their firm handshakes ended and Rappy left.
Jack Craven loosened the tension from his frame as he sat thinking “Now I can start. I cain’t afford to have a wandering Jew take credit fo’ what’s goin’ on heah. This is my work, my vision and my by god sweat an’ risk. An’ now I can go ahead on an’ let the nation know what Osage Village is, wheah it is an’ bring ‘em heah too. END CHAPT ONE Tuck 3/28/11

CLIMAX II--A BLASPHENY IN THE GROUND

This is my kick off on the novel named what you see above. It will toke considerable time to write it but the outline is embedded in my brain, and has been for a long time. For those of you who have followed my writing, Bulldog Martin will be here again along with Johnny Frog , old men now but both of them remember the old days and both are great story tellers.
Climax will change now. New people, people with money, retirement checks from far away places.
I will post the book chapter by chapter.

Although it shamed him, Jack Craven had transferred all of his considerable assets to his wife’s name. His car, a new Cadillac was the very item that brought him down or at least would have except that he had taken remedial action of a most severe nature and now on paper, he was a pauper. Technically the car belonged to his friend Garner Redpath a greater Memphis Cadillac dealer but when J C first got the car it belonged to General Motors Corp and was setting in Garner Redpath’s sales lot interest free. But Redpath who knew better had trusted his old friend Jack Craven who had lied to him again and he, Redpath was embarrassed. If J C would return the car or pay for it right away all would well and J C would be forgiven. But Jack Craven, always the fox had gone to ground and left no trail. He was not in Memphis, neither was he at his home in West Memphis Arkansas. He might be up in the hills at Climax Arkansas. It was a matter of face saving. Jack Craven was always on a deal, always just a few days from closing and he was good for his debts even if he was a little late. With cars it was different. Craven had always driven a current model Cadillac car without actually owning one. Jack Craven eschewed car payments on the grounds that any Cadillac dealer who was dumb enough to sell him a car on credit would be better of for experience.
But right now Jack was reduced to actually hiding in the backwoods to elude one collector for sure and possibly more. His business was a mess. He knew that and he regretted it but taking the long view his current situation was temporary.
Shedding himself of all his assets wouldn’t serve his interests for long. Too many people would recognize the ruse and come after him with bated breath. His bogus pauperism would serve him for a few weeks at most.
He had finished his part of a really big deal, a huge deal and his commission would make him a rich man by ordinary Arkansas standards but not rich enough, not even close. Jack wanted to be big rich, not just cotton patch rich. He knew those delta planters. “Hell fire, he had been one of those himself. He had wanted the planter’s life back then, back when he was a boy. Even then he understood the risks or thought he did. In fact being big in cotton put a man deep in debt and kept him there, always with access to money as long as he kept planting, kept on burying cotton seed in that fine delta dirt and watching the plants emerge and grow, always with one eye on the sky because the weather was an unreliable partner providing at times loving nurture or ruin and no matter which nothing about planting was fun to Jack so he quit while he was ahead.
Jack was a lawyer, an attorney at law and perfectly capable in that field and he enjoyed it, even had a private practice for a while but it was exactly like he had feared. “Ah could stay busy, get all the law business I could handle but ah nevah could gethah that money up fast enough to ‘mount to much. I always looked to the land. I’d buy a fouty heah and a fouty theah, buyin’ an sellin’ makin’ mo money theah than ah evah could with that piddlin little ole law office.”
* * *
Garner Redpath was Jacks friend and would remain so. Jack was sure of that, but he would take his car away if he could find it. Redpath had certain standards of his own which did not include allowing Jack Craven to get too far ahead of him.
Jack doubted that anyone would find him at Climax. Some of his associates knew that he had, with some frequency traveled up to Climax to visit his widowed mother who after raising her children, three boys and three girls in Marion Arkansas, had moved to La Clair County where her husband had acquired more than a thousand acres of land, some simply by paying the state a few dollars of back taxes and some by actual purchase at less than five dollars an acre----- “watch ‘em now, they’ll try to slip in an extry forty if you don’t, har har”------ and was still buying when one day he died in mid-stride falling face down in a Crittenden County cotton patch leaving her a widow of means the extent of which was known only to her.
The old man’s passing redirected the imaginings of at least a score of enemies who were left to nurse their outrage and who had hoped to at least see the elder Craven prosecuted but better shot, just plain shot and forgot about.
The Widow Craven lived in a big old rustic house which she had improved by bringing black men from west Memphis and installing a large luxurious bathroom for herself and two more for her guests the cause of secret ridicule amongst the people of La Clair County most of whom had never seen a flush toilet and couldn’t imagine anyone actually wanting to defecate in the house. Several layers of rugs were placed hither and thither about the floors giving the old house a homey comfortable feel much enjoyed by her grandchildren during their frequent visits.
There the Widow Craven lived out her days in genteel isolation to the wonderment of the inhabitants of La Clair County who held her in great esteem calling her Miz Craven and wondering at the audacity of such a nice lady having a cabinet filled with bottles of whiskey openly displayed right there in her living room.

Jack Craven visited his Momma’s house at Climax with some frequency but no one had ever heard him express any fondness for the place. More recently those that knew about his infrequent visits to the backwoods believed that his only interest was to hide there.
Jack and Garner Redpath had always lied to one another with such predictable regularity that it was impractical for either man to resent the others lies but now somehow the outrage had leaked out and every car dealer and every car salesman in Memphis knew that Jack Craven had slicked Garner Redpath out of a new Cadillac which wasn’t important except for Redpath’s embarrassment which could never be rectified, not entirely but it could be, must be stopped at once. Redpath wanted his money, had insisted on it. In past days Jack could treat these matters like a joke and get away with it because he and Redpath went a way back together. Together they had boosted a great deal of money by leasing worn out equipment, scrap iron really, dozers, front end loaders even a drag line to the federal government. They could muster eight signatures six of which appeared to belong to six separate illiterates, by using left hand, left foot, right foot and by keeping secret records on which foot and which hand. But that was during the war, back when the government was easy to fool in matters pertaining to the levies along the Mississippi River. They had pulled it off with only a little help from a particular Arkansas Senator Siman Battersea who shared the spoils generously. Both men hated Battersea “the greedy thieving bastard” but they continued to support the senator as they hoped for the day when he allowed his mind to wander providing them an “open shot” but the senator was still far away comfortably ensconced on the bank of the Potomac growing richer every day while they labored in the fields of foul commerce.
That area of Memphis known as auto row on Union street near fourth avenue was the natural habitant for every level of car people from car washers and fixers of flats on up through the echelons including salesmen, quickie loan shysters and finally the new car dealers all there crowned by REDPATH CADILLAC glistened with a lot filled with new units, carpeted show rooms with soft almost inaudible Musac. Jack Craven knew everyone who labored there and the acquaintance was mutual. Next to bankers he believed those to be the sharpest the most resourceful, the most enterprising men in Memphis. The most successful salesmen on Memphis’s auto row were utterly ignorant of ethical behavior. Those that had some notion of honesty saw it as an impediment, an obstacle to be ignored. Word had spread amongst that notorious fraternity that Jack Craven had “took his friend Garner Redpath down for a new Cadillac.” Technically the story was untrue but it was close enough to fetch up a great deal of hilarity and to occasion several wagers. Garner Redpath had denied the story
but failing to squelch it he had launched a search for Jack Craven but struck out.
This time Jack had used every ruse right down to the point where he had to get out of Memphis which meant go to Climax where he would at least have a roof over his head and a telephone which was still listed in his mothers name a blessed, blessed telephone even if it was on a party line and thus often unavailable.
Jack preferred Memphis above all other places but he was largely unwelcome there. He lived in West Memphis which was a fine place for living and it was just across the river in sight of the bluff city where cotton was king and where there was plenty of action.
But right now he was literally hid out at Climax Arkansas. If the collectors happened to learn about his Climax connection they would pick up the Cadillac and leave stranded, a-foot and embarrassed. Over the years a number of close calls had sharpened his wits making him a difficult mark for the repro men and now he felt fairly secure at his mama’s house.
He was surprised to see an undersized red car approaching from the direction of Climax. He was further surprised when he recognized Garner Redpath emerge from the little “half pint” car.
“Aw shit Garner. How’d you find me?” he asked, disconsolate now.
“Dammit Jack. I ‘bout had to. That Cadillac belongs to me. I got to stop you befo you make me into a plumb damn fool. I cain’t keep on furnishing you a new Cadillac car, I’ll be the laughin’ stock of Mephis.” Garner Redpath seemed at once determined and apologetic.
“But you’re alone. Did you plan to go back to Memphis ridin’ one and leadin’ one. What kind of a car is that, a Crosby? asked Jack.
“Don’t make fun of your car. I aim to loan that to you. It’s an Opal, runs good. I ain’t so put out with you that I’d leave you a-foot, not yet anyway but you’re pushin’ me. Just hidin,’ is that all you’re doin’ up here. Ain’t you gonna offer me a drink?”
“Sho, sho come on in. I’m aimin’ to build a city heah. I need yo hep.”
“Hep? A city? I ain’t heah to lern about any crazy scheme. Any direction from heah is forty miles of the wust roads in the state an’ nobody knows that bettah than you. An’ that Black Rivah Bridge is so scarry that sensible try to not think about it. I’d say that a man that plans on building a city heah is crazy. You’ve always been et up with ambition. What is the population of Climax rhat now. Say less than three hundud about?
“Us have a drank. I’ll explain it late’ah” said Jack.
“Redpath turned his back and unzipped “scuze me, I got to piss like a Russian goat. Ain’t no ladies heah is they I hope.”
* * *
Seated there on rustic porch looking across a small field which sloped eastward to a branch that barely flowed and forming placid little pools, shallow and clear, where minnows, miniature blue gill, craw fish and innumerable varieties of water bugs and small amphibians had entertained Craven children for a decade.
“A city huh? Heah at Climax Arkansas. You mean a place where people live an’ actually make a livin’? Jack, it’s impossible. Redpath took a pull off his beer and sat looking quizzically at Jack. “Jack you’re not crazy. Some Mephis people think you are but I don’t an’ I never have. But, first things first, We been friends for a long time. I let you drive off in a new Cadillac that I had in my flo plan. So you drive around in a fine car that ain’t neither one of us paid for yet but the otha day G M made me pay fo it so now it’s mine an’ I want it back. Now be real. I come to get my car that you are welcome to keep. I’ll swap it to you right now fo for American money. That’s the way it works. So I drive all the way up here to the backwoods of Arkansas to get my car and you bein’ my friend which in and of itself questions my sanity, I further erode my already doubtful sanity by bringing you a little car to use which you insult me by proposing that you are here planning to build a city, now consider that. You cain’t even pay fo a car. Build a city, think about it. Still I’m one of, no I’m the only person in the world that knowin’ what I know wouldn’t declare you certifiably crazy, not actually insane, but some class of crazy just the same”
Garner Redpath had always been suspicious of Jack Craven but the friendship had lasted for more than a decade and their association had at times been downright frightening but neither man had ever been arrested or charged with anything illegal, not even as much misdemeanor: a miracle. From his chair on the porch he heard Craven on the phone.
“Hello Margie. Is Thurmond theah yet? Not yet huh, expectin’ him? Alright good. When he gets theah fry up a bunch of stuff, enough fo three of us including him. Tell him to come down an’ eat with me and my friend, no you don’t know him, his name is Redpath. By supper time won’t neither one of us be able to drive. You do that? Thanks Hon, bye.
Returning to the porch Jack said “I got to tell you somethin.’ I don’t really want to tell you. If you tell anybody else I’ll shoot you. I have made the biggest deal of my life a really big deal. I sold the Greenberry land, all of it, mo than a hunnerd thousand acres. Nothin’ left to do but the closing which will be any day now, big family scattered all ovah the country, mostly up east. Some of ‘em as black as a stack of black cats, some are white far as I can see and passin’ as far as I know. It’s been one hell of a job. I been working on it mo or less for ten years. Lately I was so busy on that deal that’ I got behind on some stuff that’s all. Now, that’s a fact, I’m just this close” signaling with his thumb and fore finger, “look heah now, this close to bein’ well to do. Bring yo drink, oh hell bring the bottle. You want anotha beer?
Towards the back of the house in a gloomy room with only one small window Jack Craven had assembled a collage of aerial photographs covering a large expanse of the area with the town of Climax shown in the North West corner. The Craven land was neatly outlined in red, Most of the land was delineated in black along with the name of the owner and the acreage.
“Theah it is” said Jack Craven, “theah is Osage Village. Theah is my work for the rest of my life-----my mansion, my golf courses” he took a long drink from the bottle of scotch----my airport, my evah thang. Fuck that bunch country club sons of bitches in Mephis. He turned and held a steady gaze into the eyes of Garner Redpath. “Don’t worry ‘bout that car. Go find us a Chevy or a Ford dealership. You’re good at runnin’ a dealership. Make the best deal you can an’ call me. God damn that Mephis bunch to hell.”
“Jack, are you that deep in the scotch already?”
“Maybe I am, maybe so but evah word is the truth. I been workin’ on this for a long time. It’s pay back time. An’ don’t worry. I ain’t puttin’ a goddam penny of my own money in it. You said yo self that I ain’t crazy.”
“Thurman arrived with two cardboard boxes of food.” He was a tall semi-bucktoothed cowboy type with a perpetual smile and a relaxed attitude. “Hey Jack” he said and started setting food containers on the table.
“One mo week Thurmond, you gonna start callin’ me Mr. Craven when my ship comes in.” said Jack.
“Aw shit, I’ll start right now if you want me too. Don’t mean shit to me” said Thurmond reaching into the liquor cabinet and removing a bottle of Jim Beam. He unscrewed the cap and holding it at arms length before the window squinting. “That’s what makes me so wild” he said as he took a chair and commenced drinking.”
* * *
“We’ll ride the Cadillac on back togethah. Leave that lit‘ll Opel heah fo right now. Don’t that Bridge across Black Rivah botha you?
“ A little but I’ve done it a hunnerd times---evah since Mama moved up heah. It gits easier but abody don’t evah git plumb used to it. Evah body dreads that scary son of a bitch. There is anotha way, lots futhah but most folks prefur it. Jack explained.
The next morning they started back to Memphis. Garner spoke first. This heah country is discouragin.’ It puts me in a gloomy mood. Damn li ‘l ole plank shacks, no paint. Looks like the only kind of folks you got here is po folks. Damn timbah cut ovah an’ all covered with this red dust, jes look how it’s gathered up on the car already. An’ rocky; some of the ground ain’t good fo nothin’ but to hold the world togethah. You tell me wheah I’m wrong. It’s depressin’ to me an’ you fixin’ to build a city heah you say? Is it too late fo’ me to back out?”
Cain’t back out now. It’s this atomic age, that’s what. Right now I mean today the fed’l govahment has got tons of money that they don’t know what to do with. Evah body workin’ payin’ taxes, th’ rest of th’ world blowed all to hell by us an’ needin’ worlds of stuff, us furnishin’ them with evah thang. Nope these roads will be paved, that ole bridge will be pulled down an’ replaced an’ I will be up an’ runnin’ sellin lots an’ buildin’ houses. Prosperity is comin’ heah an’ Jack Craven Inc. will get all the credit for it. I’ve got a thousand acres of land an’ that won’t be half enough, golf courses an all that, you know.” Jack boasted.
“Well, I doan know. You scare the plumb damn hell out of me th’ way you talk.”
“Yeah but you promised. A promise made is a debt unpaid, right? Garner?
“No---- hell no. Breakin’ a few promises ain’t nothing up agin bein’ po again. I ain’t runnin’ out on you today though, I’ll be talkin’ to you aftah you get yo big deal closed. See how much nerve you got when you get that money stashed away in a Mephis bank. Aftah a man gets a-holt of a nice batch of money he gits conservative as hell--- probably change yo outlook too. We’ll see. How much futhah is it to that goddam bridge?” said Garner expressing his dread.
“Not too far now. Did I evah tell you ‘bout the time I went into the rice well drillin’ business.?” Asked Jack.
“Don’t start no long story now, Ah cain’t concentrate for dreadin’ to cross
that damn bridge, that is if we get acrost it” said Garner.
“Let me tell you ‘bout that ole bridge. “ ‘cordin’ to what people say that bridge was designed to carry a wagon and team with one bale of seed cotton, Evah body agreed that that was the heaviest thing possible an’ I guess they was right back then.
The drove in silence except for the sound of gravels striking the floorboard. Occasionally one would hit with alarming force evoking a period of hopeful listening by both men. “Garner, you are the car expert here, a Cadillac dealah. There ain’t nothing under a car that a few gravels can tear up is there?” Suddenly to their left a two story red brick court house came into view andJack steered left around a sharp curve and slowed considerably as the bridge came in sight. Garner Redpath’s body stiffened, he pushed his feet forward and held them hard against the cars firewall. Mercy he said, Lord have mercy on this po sinner. I don’t reckon my prayers will hep any God dammit and with all his might, eyes squeezed shut and his hands made into a steeple he softly repeated “now and evah let us pray.”

* * *
The bridge at Powhatan Arkansas was old but just how old nobody knew. It was not built like an ordinary bridge with a level floor and a high superstructure that inspired confidence in the bridge and pride in the government as well. Back in the early days of Arkansas hope, pride, confidence and other things of that order were in surplus. Experienced bridge builders were not. Four huge cylinders were rafted upstream to Powhatan a set into the ground like four giant strategically placed fence posts, two on each side of the river and alone, sufficient or not, those four cylinders supported the bridges main span.
It was a long bridge built not in the shape of an arch but rather in the shape of a bow and thereby gaining some of the weight bearing benefit on an arch but that was not enough to pacify an astute traveler, not now, not in 1950. The floor was of planks placed at ninety degrees to the side rails which were not visible to the traveler, an oversight but it was never corrected. Generations of bridge users were born, lived and passed on after enjoying a full life all the while wondering but never discovering what it was that supported those planks.
Below the bridge and upstream there was an old fashioned current propelled ferry. I never saw it in action but grass did not grow in that immediate area. That ferry was in use. Some people were smart enough and self respecting enough to stay off that damned old bridge.
Mounted atop each of the four giant cylinders was a metal tower of about twenty five feet height whose purpose was to guide a cable from the lowest and farthest part of the bridge up and across the tower thence down almost to the guard rails along the side and continuing upward and onward crossing another tower which was of course mounted atop another giant cylinder to the farther end of the bridge. Altogether it was a splendidly handsome contrivance but it served no beneficial purpose. Early Arkansans favored utility above good looks because function was the prize and once achieved good looks came along so willingly and so easy to lead that it wasn’t even noticed most of the time anyway. And the towers supported those little pencil sized cables and guided them past one point where each cable was lightly anchored to the side rail and anyone could tell that “hit’s jist fer looks”
“Jack, right now I’m swearin’ to you and to God almighty that I ain’t nevah comin’ this way again. Just savin’ an hour or two ain’t worth it. Don’t most Mephis folks ‘void that thing.” Garner was adamant. They had crossed the river and now they were driving along on what apparently was a very long ramp with gum trees along each side within arms reach. Below them depending upon several factors they might be passing over dry land or very deep water where only cypress and trees thickets of gum trees grew. They passed alongside the guard rails which wouldn’t deflect a bicycle and ascending down and onto solid ground where the two lane asphalt picked up and the land was open fields of row crops including corn, cotton, soy beans but mostly of rice, rice and then more rice as they sped across the Arkansas Delta country at a blazing fifty miles per hour.
Within sight of cropland on the opposite side of the Black River from the once active river town of Powhatan Arkansas from where the bridge seemingly cast at once from the top of the bluff high above the flowing river. Generally travelers on either side admitted that their first sighting of the bridge was terrifying and that they wanted to back out and go home not trusting those huge rusty cylinders presumably buried in the earth anchored in bed rock filled or at least partially filled with cement provided whatever strength was there but there were other deficiencies, plenty of them to dissuade almost any traveler.

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“An you say that you are used to doin’ that, It don’t seem natural” said Garner Repath.”

“Sho, sho I guess so. I got mo or less used to it. I started tellin’ you about my little run at the rice well b’ness. A shirt tail relative of mine is always comin’ up with ways to git rich. On this occasion he had a scheme to drill rice wells hydraulically-----sounded purty good to me. He had already designed a machine, claimed he could build it out of army surplus stuff that he could buy in Mephis for a song and sing it his self is what he claimed. So I put up the money, I forget the exact amount, not much, not much an’ that was a good thing the way it turned out. We carried water out to wheah we aimed to drill a test well along with all the machinery, you know, the whole damn lash up. Pipes an’ stuff like that even some lumber an’ some nails. He fooled me that time. He actually assembled that stuff an’ I was surprised an’ maybe even pleased at how business like it looked.
So I had two white kinfolks an’ two blacks all good workers an’ off we went. He was right, water would wash that dirt and sand right out of the way. ‘Fo long that first pipe was mashed down in the ground. They unhooked an’ hooked up anotha pipe. It looked like a winnah to me. I went on back to Mephis. Next mawnin’ we all went back out theah to drill some mo’ an’ when we got out theah there was a great huge hole in the ground I guess fowty foot deep an’ down theah in that hole was that diesel engine an all that pumpin’ machinery. They had pumped, hollowed out a damn hole under they selves big as a good sized house ---- caved in durin’ the night---- ended my well drillin’ business.
“One time I had a little ground hog sawmill” said Garner Redpath. “Worst way in the world to make a livin’ even fo a man who can actually do it” said Redield.
We can get a cold be-ah down heah at Truman, that sound alright?” asked Jack.
* * *

Silas Greenberry was born near Marked Tree Arkansas in eighteen forty five, to a white slave master by the same name and a slave woman named Silvy. According to the Greenberry family the boy was much favored by the father who was childless. It is said that Silas Greenberry’s mother Silvy was light complexioned and her son could have passed as white but he chose to live out his long and successful life Poinsett County Arkansas. It is said that his father never denied his paternity, that he had seen to the boys education and that he had set him up to farm and in the end he had bequeathed him thousands of acres, some under plow but the larger part was forest.
He was a good farmer and he had a marvelous head for business. He expanded his farming operation. He was accommodating and enormously enterprising. The courthouse records reflect the activities of an accomplished trader. He stepped up and displayed excellent leadership during a big flood when the Mississippi river spread over the delta. It was his energy and tireless effort that kept animals and people alive and enough corn to feed them. He was selfless and according to the tales that are still repeated, white men accepted his leadership without question. Silas Greenberry raised a large family none of whom elected to live in Arkansas. By nineteen fifty the family had agreed to sell their holdings. Jack Craven had established a position of trust with the family leaders and was given the exclusive right to find a buyer and make the sale. It was a near miracle of diplomacy and organization and it proved once and for all that not only was Jack Craven a visionary but also a far thinking business man. He was the real article and that fact did help him in his dealings with bankers all through the central section of the nation. But that was not enough. He could not attract buyers to Osage Village, not in the numbers required to prosper there.

* * *

“You know how I always tinkered with the land business. I been buyin’ a fowty or mabe eighty acres here an’ theah, clean them up, eventually sell ‘em-----do alright with ‘em, nothin big, just simple little deals on the side that’s all.”
“I reckon evah body in Mephis knows about the Greenberry land up theah in Poinsett County, a thing of beauty---bigah, lots bigah than we knew about, well managed------ cotton, rice, beans, timber a fine operation: thousands of acres.” Jack Craven explained.
“And the deal is done, all closed an’ the last papah signed?” said Garner Redpath.
“Aaats right--- closed, signed sealed an’ delivered. I ain’t been paid yet but soon now. My money is in escrow in South Bend Indiana. It is a done deal. I ain’t exactly a rich man but you can say I’m purty well off. Lookin’ fo’ an airplane.”
“Ain’t you got one already?” asked Garner Redpath.
“Sho I got an old Stinson, ‘bout half afraid of it an’ it’s too slow an’ I expect to be busy, in a hurry all the time.”
“Busy buildin’ a city you mean” said Redpath.
“Thas right, my own by god city” said Jack Craven
Tuck 4582 words. Jan 20 2011
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Jack Craven stuck hard to his plan. He closed the Greenberry deal and collected his commission and tucked it into a West Memphis bank where he knew it would hardly be noticed. He squared up all his personal business and started shopping for a new Beach Craft. One day during the summer of nineteen fifty two Jack Craven saw a crop duster pancake into a corn field. He walked over to the wreck and found the pilot standing outside the crashed plane. He was scratched, skinned up but otherwise unhurt.
“You alright?”
“Lucky again.”
“You dustin’ for the Maryland brothers?
“I was but I quit. Swore I would if I ever dumped one” said the pilot extending his hand “I’m John Springer formerly a crop duster, currently unemployed.”
“You’re all right it seems like. By now sombody’s comin’ out heah to scrape you up. Let’s get the hell out of heah, come on.” Said Jack. In a short time they were in Jacks Cadillac. “Ambulance comin’------a couple of cars. You want to see them or just go on.”
“I better see them I guess. But no matter what I’m all done dustin.’ I’ve had a good long run. I’ll find a job driving airplanes for somebody” said Springer in resignation.”
“You go on over there an’ let those folks know you’re alright. I’ll wait an I’ll run you ovah to yo car. Let’s talk. I’m jack Craven.”
I’ve heard of you before Mr. Craven. I’ll be right back. Won’t take long”
said the hapless pilot.
John Springer, a single man was settled in one of Cravens’s shacks in Osage village. At first the two traveled from city to city in Jack Cravens old Stinson three seater. Graven was not altogether secret about his business. He was in quest of money, lots of it. He followed every lead and when he had no lead he would make cold calls, always expecting to be turned down but his tenacity carried him through. In those occasions when he was successful they would return to Climax in the old Stinson, Craven pulling on a fifth of scotch and expounding on some past misadventure in which he had lost money and later as he neared the last of the scotch he would commence to dwell upon past wrongs suffered at the hand of one “Pompous son of a bitch” or another or taking a shot gun approach on “that whole goddam bunch of Mephis country club motha fuckahs” and his new pilot John Springer came to understood the depth of his resolve the very foundation of his tenacity. He never told a soul convinced as he was that Mr. Cravens employees thought he was the very embodiment of virtue.

* * *
Mr. Craven heard of Ralph Darling from Margot Burgan a female real estate broker in Memphis who had fallen upon bad times and anyway she hated the business and by consequence she also hated Memphis and practically every other place and person on the planet.
Darling was a veteran of the Florida land scams of the twenties where he had lived large and accumulated a sizable bankroll. He had avoided arrest by escaping Florida driving away in his big Auburn automobile and never looking back until he reached Los Angeles loaded with money, enthusiasm and confidence. He tried for years to break into the movie business. He was sure that he a born, actor would prosper there. He was correct in many details but there was already an ample supply of young men all of whom were accustomed to poverty and who would befriend and advise Ralph or anyone else who could buy lunch.
Ralph was surprised at the difficulty of breaking into the film business so he sought employment in the real estate business where he was quite competent, more than competent in fact. He continued to direct his abundant talents to the movie business with no positive results at all while his earnings from the land business was spent maintaining his connections in the film business. He was good looking, well dressed affable and in fact quite charming but luck did not favor him. Luck did favor a number of his friends who did penetrate the film business and became quite well off. Ralph targeted them and sold them track after tract of desert land from which they all profited hugely and they were grateful.
The Great Depression did slow him down a bit but he survived in good spirits but he was broke. His assets consisted of an impressive number of good suits and a collection of monogrammed shirts, various accessories items of high quality, and box of expensive cigars. That was all. He was still affable and well dressed but even he could see that his good looks were fading and that in fact he had grown fat.
He was particularly well acquainted with Mary who owned the apartment building in which he lived and in fact she occupied the largest apartment in the building. It was a fine building excellently located and he had learned that Mary owned it free and clear her late father having bequeathed it to her. He also learned that Mary’s mother had preceded her father to the great beyond and of course Mary was lonely. Ralph knew about that too. By now you know that Mary was uncommonly destitute of beguiling features. Ralph knew that, Mary knew it and every inhabitant of the building and a great many other people knew it. So they married and Ralph retired.
And so one day in nineteen fifty two or fifty three Jack Craven appeared at his door and they proceeded to con one another resulting in a deal the details of which were never revealed but we know that Ralph and Mary Darling rented a respectable painted house in Climax and Ralph was given the title of project director of Osage Village while Jack Craven continued to fly around the country in search of money only now John Springer was driving a new Beach Craft air plane.
The folks of Climax thought it was crazy. Of course they did. “I Be dam if he ain’t built a dam acrost that branch an’ made a lake. They claim they’re actual sellin’ lots, claim them lots on that lake brings nearly two thousand dollars apiece. They done built a road right straight up the hill and lots up there in the woods bring five hunnerd dollars, a-course I don’t reckon they sell many.
* * *

To his disbelief Ralph Darling learned that Osage Village had never held a grand opening. A big deal like this and never a grand opening, he had never heard of such a thing. But on the other hand he welcomed that and other less obvious examples of managerial ineptitude believing that Osage Village was a plum ripe to be plucked. He arranged for extensive newspaper and radio ads focused largely on the Memphis market but not forgetting the people of La Clair. He planned a barbecue with hot dogs, burgers and soft drinks. He made arrangements for a country band and started a crew building a speakers platform. A hundred or more folding chairs were borrowed. He found an inviting spot not too far from the sales office and in his dealings with Jim Overton who was in charge of all the machinery and the workers as well Ralph overestimated his own influence.
“I’ll fix this place like you want it but you need to understand that I don’t work for you” said Overton so nonchalantly that Ralph could hardly believe his ears.
“Now you look here. I’m the project manager. Every body here works for me” he declared. Overton seemed entirely unaffected and replied.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you are. I’ve never really been hired yet. I like Jack Craven and I’m tryin’ to help him out. I’ll work with you but not for you. Remember that.” and he strolled away.
Of course Jack Craven had already tried the Memphis papers with almost no results at all. It was a costly experience. Also the idea of filling the gut of every backwoodsman in La Clair county and beyond with store bought food and soda pop while providing them with country pickers which he could get by the dozen for free was to him a perfectly silly idea. Lots of Memphians visited Climax with some regularity and his salesmen had combed through them with such fervor that some of them couldn’t or wouldn’t tolerate Darlings rude salesmen and stopped visiting Climax and all the others had suggested with some force that they be left alone. Mr. Cravens confidence in Ralph Darling was diminished but he was too busy hunting money to fire him right then.
A year passed. The venerable former sheriff Alfred Bulldog Martin was acquainted with Mr. Craven as was the former Ford dealer and life long gambler Johnny Frog. They often met often under a maple tree on the Court house lawn. There were others there. Dominoes were the principal game. Neither of them participated. They were students of the passing scene what little of it there was.
“Stock laws have changed things” said Bulldog laughing. He could remember when big trucks were stopped on the main street of Climax by sows feeding their families.
“People want’s good roads. Good roads equals fast cars which naturally means stock laws stock laws. It means car wrecks too which we was already gittin’ more of than we needed. I’ve seen you put old boys that had had got plumb drunk in their wagons an’ jest let their teams takem’ home. Now ain’t that right.”
“Oh shore, but that’s been a long time ago. If Mr. Jack Craven was to get that Osage Village thing goin big the town is ruint, but I don’t know a soul that thinks that’s possible. Folks don’t come here to live, they’re born an’ raised here, then they go off to work, ever body knows that” mused Bulldog. Mr. Craven checked an’ he told me that the population of La Clair County increased up ‘till the first World War and then started shrinkin’ declinin’ he called it. I think that’s right.”
“These new paved roads will finish us off. Oh I know the court house will still be here. They will allus be a Climax I reckon.” Said Frog adding “Nobody makes whiskey no more not as I know of.”
* * *
Ralph Darling outfitted all five of his salesmen with a bright red shirt. A giant sign was erected SEE THE MAN IN THE RED SHIRT. He hired pretty high school girls to make burgers and dispense hot dogs. Soda pop was iced down in barrels and tubs. There were banners and enough folding chairs to accommodate the elderly and the sick lame and lazy a well. The crowd started arriving early. Ralph noted that mostly they arrived in mud splattered pick up trucks but there were a few ton and a half trucks rigged for logging. Many of the pick up trucks were equipped with special sideboards, racks, for hauling livestock.
It was gloomy Saturday in mid April but it did improve and become more cheerful a little later. At exactly noon the band arrived and to Ralph Darling’s surprise the musicians seemed to be personally acquainted with half the visitors. He was overheard muttering the term “red necks” enraging Jim Overton.
Ralph spent his day marveling at the quantity of R C Cola and Orange flavored soda pop that was consumed practically excluding of all others. The visitors seemed uniformly democratic in that they sampled at least one hot dog and one hamburger but more likely several of each. The band spent a great deal of time tuning their instrument and eliminating the electronic squeals and squawks that emanated from the sound system.
All the salesmen were local men carefully chosen by Ralph Darling because they had considerable experience on the car lots and real estate offices in other more sophisticated localities. Each of them were personally acquainted with at least a third of the guests and collectively the salesmen knew that every guest thought the very idea of selling lots was silly and to suggest that they actually buy one would be an insult, fighting words almost. Ralph Darling was appalled. He pressured the salesmen who remained silent smiling but refusing to make even the slightest move to sell. “You’ve got a lot of people here but there’s not one deal in the whole bunch” Said Ben Ferguson “forget it Mr. Darling. These hill people think this whole Osage Village thing is silly. They’ll drink your sody pop an’ eat barbeque ‘cause they were invited to. They’re keeping they’re end of the bargain the way they see it. They wish you well. Some of ‘em know Mr. Craven. They wish him well too but they damn sure don’t want a lot and there ain’t a salesman among us that can put one on ‘em.”
Jack Cravens Beach Craft came in from the north and made a quiet landing. A while later Craven himself arrived in his Cadillac with John Springer driving. Craven was immaculate. Smiling he mixed with the crowd with back slapping and hand shaking he made his way to the microphone “Heah Bill, hep me git this thing right. I want to speak to the folks.”
Then addressing the crowd “I cain’t commence to tell you how glad I am that you took the time to come out to visit with us today. Has evah body had plenty of refreshment?” Shouts whistles arm waving and an unexpected guitar riff in the key of A. ‘Ya’ll need to see what we’re doin’ out here an’ we want to know that we want to be a good neighbor. This has been yo county for a long time an if we cain’t be a good neighbor then we ain’t got any right to be heah.”
“Now it takes time to build a city. Evah body knows that. We are gainin’ on it on it evah day, growin’ hirin’ mo men, buyin’ equipment an’ we done sold a lot of property. I reckon most of you are aware of how bad the roads are out to the east ‘tween here and Mephis but people keep on comin’ and the word is spreadin’ all ovah America. But we have got a new bridge down at Portia an’ that old “skeer you to death bridge at Powhatten is already wrecked out an’ gone. Now ever bit of that is good for La Clair County. Again I thank you for comin’ out. Ya’ll go ahead an’ eat an’ drink all that that stuff up if you can.”
He left the platform and mixed with the people. He knew a fair number of the country men and almost all of those who lived in Climax. He was full of charm and easy grace. Every person who spoke to him directly and even those who were close enough to share the sound of his voice felt honored and grateful. They did not congregated crowding around him but instead they stood awe stricken, flattered and grateful for just a few words with the great man. Most important, they believed.
* * *
In fact J C was fearfully near the end. The law required that he represent himself fully and truthfully when borrowing money. He simply ignored those requirements except that many lending institutions who would after hearing his presentation, supply him with the appropriate documents, help him with every entry and finally instruct him to carry said documents back to Osage Village and return it to them by mail. Craven would never, never apply by mail. Mail fraud was a federal offense. “Winters in Leavenworth are long and cold” he would joke.
But his money problem was critical. He had no place else to go. He had included graphics in his presentation and had used it with tolerable success but now he had no place to go except his own siblings who had disapproved of his conduct even back to his college days and before. But he would humble himself, supplicate himself before his brothers, both of them and beg for money and he knew that they would have mercy on him but it wouldn’t be enough. Between them there wasn’t enough money to carry him for the long term. Jack Craven had created an extremely expensive Frankenstein, a monster with a terrific balance sheet, and still the company was chronically broke.
“Even with a stack of goddam land contracts knee high an’ I can’t borrow money, not even at that pissy little ole bank of Climax. Arkansas banks won’t even consider me. Hell, they know that Climax land is practically worthless, all of it a man wants for ten or fifteen dollahs an acre top. There was that last resort, he had no choice.
* * *

Ralph Darling had struck out and he knew it. He also knew that for the time being Jack Craven would continue to search for money simply because he had no choice but as for himself he had outlasted his usefulness if in fact he had enjoyed such a time there in Osage Village. He had studied the situation from top to bottom to the very best of his ability and he had ascertained that the earth, the entire planet did not contain enough suckers to make Osage Village a paying proposition. He often thought fondly of Los Angeles, of mornings, the muted assurance of passing cars, of coffee and cigars and the tender ministrations of his grateful spouse.
He had longed to be back in the game and he had let that get the best of him. How he longed for another taste of his salad days. For years it was beyond his grasp and he knew it. Lately he had refreshed some acquaintances from the old days, old actors, some still working and all were quite well off. He, Ralph Darling had contributed towards their wealth by persuading them to buy tracts of desert land which had appreciated abundantly and they remembered him fondly never dreaming that he in his regret cast greedy eyes upon their affluence and comfort.
* * *

On a dismal day in January Ralph was idle as usual. He had stopped dreaming of success. Nothing of note had happened in years. Margot was in place to answer the occasional phone call. A flashy two toned Oldsmobile pulled in and a good looking young man stepped out and without hesitation he purposefully strode down the walkway. He greeted Margot with a smile and a beautifully modulated voice and introduced himself as Bruxton Rappaport. “Could I speak with the most senior officer on board” he asked. His smile continued. Miss Margot beheld a young man, well turned out and vaguely military of bearing but loose and self assured. “He’ll appreciate the company. Behind you and on your right, follow the blue smoke road” she said “his name is Darling, Ralph Darling.”

He tipped his forehead with his fingers in salute and smiling he turned and entered Ralph Darlings open office closing the door behind him.
Mr. Darling, my name is Bruxton Rappaport. I’ll get right to the point. I’d like to spend the summer with you----I sell lots, people call me Rappy.
With obvious effort Ralph shifted forward and extended his hand. “If I may Mr. Rapaport, where are you from.”
“Most recently Chicago, I move around a lot---heard about Osage Village and it occurred to me that I might enjoy relaxing in the Ozarks for a while” said Rappy pleasantly. He continued to smile.
“I don’t need relaxed salesmen. I’m looking for real go getters.”
“Mr. Darling, let me explain myself. I know how to do this. I’m here to show you how, no nice way to say it. I know that this deal is going tits up. I know the lot selling business inside and out. It’ll take most of the summer to do it. I don’t want to be the boss, not interested in authority. I want to write my own deal but that’s just between us. I’ll teach your salesmen how to do it. Here, look at this” said Rappy. He removed from his jacket pocket a folded sheet of plain typewriter paper bearing a neatly typed message.
Dear Mrs American lady
As a result of you signing the enclosed card our publicity department has authorized me to present you with a beautiful tree covered cottage site in Osage Village. Osage Village is located at Climax Arkansas in the scenic Ozark
mountains. The only cost to you is $45.83 to cover closing cost and title transfer.
To receive a deed to your vacation site you and your spouse must present this letter to our publicity dept within thirty days.
Ralph’s face reddened with anger as he read. “Who the hell are you and what kind of chicken shit deal do you think this is. Jack Craven owns this place. Just mention bait and switch and he’ll kick your ass all the way back to Chicago.”
“Oh I think not. Craven can’t support this place. He’s on the ropes. We can save it. I didn’t come here with my hat in my hand to beg for a job. We know about Jack Craven’s integrity to just to mention a little chicken shit. The neatest way to do this is for you to shut up and go along. By the time Craven catches on he’ll like it. He’ll also be too far in to turn back. Look here Darling, this’ll make you and Craven both rich, I mean mortally rich. On the other hand you might not be here. Matter of fact this entire enterprise will fall apart and rot.”
“And who is we that you so glibly mention” asked Ralph.
“You don’t need to know----maybe someday, maybe not.” said Rapaport. He was no longer smiling. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You’ve got tonight to think it over and get used to the idea. I’ll lay it out to you. Actually it’s a lot of fun if you like money.” Rappy stopped by Margot desk. “Are you a single woman, available at least in theory.”
Margot cleared the ashes from her cigarette “Why sir! she said light heartedly. “I have brassieres older than you.”
“That’s alright if it’s true, so be it. Today I am only marginally interested in brassieres if at all. I am interested in your wise old eyes, more specifically the wisdom there in that can only be accomplished by attention to detail over a considerable span. No my dear Margot, I suggest that you drive your own car to the town of Division, which as I was forewarned is the nearest oasis. I am staying there in a motel of that very same name the Oasis. I shall live there for the foreseeable future. There in my room are several bottles of ardent spirits. Attached and under the same management is a dinky little restaurant where excellent steaks of various sizes are available. Let us sup and break bread together-------- my treat.”
“Didn’t you say that Rappy is ok.” Margot shot back.
“Rappy will be fine now and ever” he laughed “room number seven any time, the sooner the better. Try not to be real late.”
* * *
She came early arriving just as the January sun was sinking behind the distant hills. She stood and pecked lightly. “It’s open, come in” he answered. He greeted her with a smile and “what kept you. Shall we share a drink?” Indicating a bottle of Scotch, I provide, you pour provided your answer is affirmative.” She tossed her bag and jacket onto the bed and started to prepare drinks.
“So, if amour is not your objective lets get right to the point.” She asked flippantly. She moved his drink across the table and seated herself opposite him with only a cheap lamp between them. “I want you to keep this in mind always. During our conversations now or any other time do not compromise yourself. If telling me troubles you, then don’t do it. I am here to help Jack Craven’s business. Nobody has ever tried this before, not on the scale that Craven envisions. Doesn’t matter, he will fail even if he had an ocean of money, he’s doing it wrong. My people are interested in him and his deal but not unless he can get sales, lots of sales. Do you know how many lots he has sold up to now?
“Around two hundred and seventy five” was he reply.
“Cash or credit, percentage, you ever look at that?” he asked
“About half and half, that’s close. I’m not even sure that the cash sales are really sales, more like loans from friends secured with lots, good lots, on the lake, water front, around three thousand each. A few people know about that. Lots of people know how crunched Jack is for money.”
“You see, the locals never expected him to last long. They’ve seen people come and go, fail, as far back as they can remember. The Climax folks work when he needs them and wait for the axe to fall like it always has before. This is hard country and none of them have much. They don’t expect much. Rappy, just look at the ground here, rocks and more rocks, all white and shinny but hardly any topsoil. It’s ugly to me especially during the winter.
“How much and acre for this wooded land” asked Rappy.
“A lot of it was free for the taxes but between Jack and his daddy they got all of that, mostly off to the southeast, way back there. I want to change the subject. My last involvement with a male person left me feeling deeply resentful. I have placed my hopes in you. He claimed that my pussy is old and no good.”
“What the hell are you talking about” he asked then added “why would you say something like that to me” then looking her squarely in her eyes he asked “what action do you recommend.”
“Why, I need at least one more opinion, maybe repeated which would be so very beneficial to my self esteem and reduce that big jerks opinion to atoms. I need that. Later I might think of something else about Osage. I’ll try.
An hour and a half later “Steak time, I do believe that you are a buck well spent. Wake up now.” And later in the restaurant smoking and waiting for their food she said “no need for you to concern yourself about me, I’m fireproof as long as we last unless of course I made a really huge mistake. If there are any great huge secrets I don’t know of it or them. Just ask me.”
“We’ll have plenty of time together, working but together. If Darling is hard headed I will have to do a tune up on him and soon, like tomorrow morning. There is a flower show coming up in Memphis You and I will get space reserved there. I’ll do the first show or two to train salesmen. It’s their job but I’ll have to start us up. That is a salesman’s job. Call it prospecting call it anything you want but its right at the heart of the business. That’s how we get our mailing list.
It was a busy time.

Ralph Darling was puzzled but not particular surprised. He had suspected for a long time that J C Craven was in serious financial trouble. In fact Craven had never been anything like well financed at any time unless he counted his own money which in fact he had been forced to use on a few occasions but he had repaid himself every time ---- “so far” he thought but he could feel the noose tightening “so what is new, “I knew what I was getting into when I started.”
He and his wife Genny had moved into the old stone house where a drunken abortionist had lived until to the Craven’s relief the Doctor’s family removed him and committed him to a far away rehabilitation facility. Of late J C’s money raising efforts had become so abundantly unrewarding that he was stymied and searching his very soul for a new approach. Essentially he was in seclusion but his wife Genelda was not. She spent most of her time trying to cheer him just as she had done before during a few particularly harrowing episodes.
Certain business men in Climax had agreed to help in that they would extend credit to Osage Village as far as they could, backed by nothing but Jack Craven’s promise that when they were against the wall he would pay a substantial part of his debt. The implication was that ‘we are all in this together.’ Climax needs Osage Village.” Jack Craven had 1.8 million in the Merchants bank in West Memphis, by far the most money he had ever owned and he had promised Genelda that he would keep that money separate and inviolate, and that together they would seek to increase it if only modestly by means of risk free investing. Even as the pressures increased in numbers and likewise in volume he had not given in. What he thought of a fairly substantial fortune for an ordinary hustler like himself would barely cover the indebtedness of Osage Village. The blue funk continued. J C Craven slept a lot, ignored the business altogether and seldom ventured beyond his own doorstep. But one day in late spring events would literally yank him out of his melancholy. Absent any deliberate contribution of his own he was presented with a way not only to placate his creditors but also a road to what was apparently wealth without end.
He realized in an instant that he would accept the new method and he also recognized that when he was younger and less experienced that he would not have seized upon a scheme so utterly unscrupulous but that was then. And now he had only to face the new method and deal with a new set of emotions which difficult as they would appear J. C. would handle them by adjusting his own already adjustable ethics to an even lower standard and he would go about it with style and grace.
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During late winter and early spring Osage Village was a busy place. Additional lots were laid out and staked. Most remarkable was a section of lots that measured only twenty five by one hundred feet and were located a distance away from the regular lots. Rappy explained that the small twenty five foot lots that almost no one would take them as a gift were gift lots and would be so designated while the larger lots which were almost a quarter acre in size would become known as improved lots. He explained that the small gift lots did not include rights and privileges to the promised amenities in Osage Village as did the larger improved lots. Rappy further explained that the smaller utterly worthless gift lots had no electricity and never would have it whereas all of the improved lots included electricity and rights to every single amenity including those still not built which was almost every single one of them. A salesman who actually awarded a gift lot lost face with his fellow salesmen and suffered unspeakable ridicule. Occasionally an Out would insist that he or she not only had a right to a $45.83 free lot and could not be dissuaded. That seldom happened. A dozen gift lots would last a long time.
All Osage employees learned new words like cul-de-sac and shill. Salesmen quit using words like client or customer and substituted the word out as in how many outs have you had today or maybe I believe that was the ugliest out I’ve ever had ---- or the dumbest or almost anything except human. With time the customer was almost completely dehumanized at least mentally. To acknowledge human qualities in a recalcitrant out was a sign of weakness. “Don’t let him go back home with your money in his pocket” was the byword and everyone knew it. And, oh yes, misrepresentation came into the salesmen’s vocabulary replacing the word lie which was never used again by real estate salesmen in Osage Village and usage of that word was noticeably reduced by the people of Climax. Those and a great many other sales devices evolved over the years but for pure efficiency nothing ever came close to the old fashioned misrepresentation, what we called lying before Osage Village caught a-holt.
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Rappy claimed to be “busier than a one armed paper hanger.” Margot was brainy and willing even eager to help the company survive. She grasped the essence of a large bait and switch operation. She had a fair understanding of how to arrange for space at the Memphis flower show and how to forward Osage Village’s business there. “It don’t sound like aerodynamics to me” she said to Rappy who promptly agreed and added “but you would be surprised. Some people don’t get it.”
The Osage crew handled the show well enough. They collected more than nine thousand address cards all filled out sometimes by whole families children and all, sometimes by unaccompanied ladies or couples the idea being that a flower show should in principal at least be attended by upscale home owners who could be persuaded to buy a worthless lot in Osage village on time payment and send a check to Jack Craven and that given the passing of a reasonable amount of time, people in the thousands could be so baited and persuaded making J C Craven “mortally rich according to Rappy but solidly disbelieved by all the others including the salesmen.
The cards where hurried back to Osage Village in three partially filled canvas bags creating a veritable storm of activity focused on extracting from that unorganized mish mash the card signed by the most influential female in each family group represented by a legible card completed by her and bearing the families name and address in her own hand. That work was performed by idle salesmen who labored splendidly believing that at last there was a way to produce customers by the dozen and believing also that given ‘outs’ in abundance that they would sell lots commensurate in number and that happy day would at last arrive and Climax would realize prosperity so manifestly deserved but so long denied.
It was a crude operation, primitive and cumbersome. Scattered throughout the body of every letter were empty spaces deliberately provided and required completion by typewriter, certain items of information such as names and dates. The recipient, the addressee would feel those indentations and at once surmise that the entire letter was typed and that she, mostly females was the lucky winner, had chanced to own land in a popular resort within only a two o three hour drive. Later it was ascertained that a thousand letters would lure at least forty individuals to Osage Village and that at least 30% percent of the arrivals would indeed purchase an improved property and be a member of what they were told was an exclusive club and eventually some one thought of it and they were presented a slick membership card to show to their friends.
In preparation for the first mailing there was typing to be done, ever letter required some typing. There was the folding and stuffing and stamps to be affixed all done with hopeful attitudes and finished gratefully. Rappy alonf with a salesman or two transported the letters to the Climax post office where the aging postmaster received enthusiastically as he pointed out that nothing like that had ever happened before and that he was required to submit a particular form to central headquarters or something like that but he was happy to do it and looked forward to doing it again if it was ever necessary. Rappy had timed the mailing to produce results in ten days the first weekend in April. He settled teaching Margot how to book future shows and hired a young woman to learn along with her.
They started arriving early on the appointed Saturday. The parking lot was quickly filled to overflowing as dozens of prospective customers started parking on the entrance roads and still they came. Soon girls were typing contracts. Rappy loved to sell lots. He did it with such speed and dispatch that the other salesmen marveled but there was no time to study his style. Outside the back up of people who came to claim their free lots was amazing. The ogled the hill people who ogled back as they drove along the entrance road in their dilapidated pickup trucks and their aged Chevies and Model A fords squeezing past the shiny Memphis cars and the dressed up Memphis women resting on their blanket and folding chairs in the pleasant April air.
Bruxton Rapaport had known that his best efforts to organize and produce a smooth opening day. He was prepared for failure. He knew he would fair because all things considered the opening would be sheer pandemonium if the mailing was successful. The results exceeded his optimistic forecast. It was awful but the sheer madness of it caused the ‘outs’ to practically insist that the be allowed to buy an ‘improved’ lot and get in on the ground floor.
A Wild eyed Jenny Craven who has left the house on an ordinary errand and found the parking lot full and the entrance road practically blocked with cars bearing Memphis tags. Instantly enraged, she thoughtlessly started trying to drive them away threatening them, charging trespass and “how dare they congregate on her property” only to face puzzled looks and a few of them offered her their letters all bearing the name of Jack Craven and she knowing that Jack Craven hadn’t signed anything at all in weeks was further enraged and also dismayed to the point of surrender. She returned to the Craven house and much as se hated to she did inform Jack of the situation. Together they commiserated until that evening when Lycurous Ames the company book keeper came to the house and told the hapless pair that the sales office was quite literally doing a land office. “They’ve almost sold out of lots. It’s a sight to see” said Ames. “I’ll try to straighten it up and get back to you. It’s a salesman named Rapaport that done it” he finished.
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They had done a splendid job all considered But “what else could it possibly have been, really better than I expected,. a big crowds help sales every time and that’s a fact. Even a good experienced crew can’t deal with a crowd. No one knew or would even attempt to guess at the volume, gross sales. Ralph Darling had deposited the whole of it watches, finger rings and all into a pillow slip and ever one was impressed by the size of it. Darling took the bag, lit a fresh cigar and went home.
“Any scotch at your house Old Crow?” asked Bruxton Rapaport.
“Whats this Old Crow stuff? Is it possible that you were speaking to I? she asked.
“A term of endearment darling from me and me alone, all others must refrain, about that bottle?”
“I have one and I’ll share it. What a hell of a day.” As she flipped the light switch and they left.
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The next day, Sunday seemed positively slow by comparison. Sales were made, some property owners returned to ask questions and some needed reassurance to help them through their time of buyers remorse. A few new salesmen had enjoyed such a high degree of success during that fabulous that they now considered themselves seasoned salesmen, processors of freshly revealed talent. Everyone was in a state of euphoria. Only Bruxton Rapaport knew about the hard times ahead, the difficulties of choices of every description. But he did know and he knew that he would not participate and that once the money started to roll in Jack Craven would be up to the job. Rappy knew that in fact J C had done a splendid job already. He felt a friendly acceptance within the local population. Already Jack Craven was known and liked in and around Climax. He had always met, visited with the people always treated them as equals or nearly so. The hill people did not consider themselves equal to J C. Not a single one of them would have made such a claim and nor did a single one of them envy him in any way. Instead they wanted him to be successful. They wanted more and more people to buy lots and they didn’t object if a few Yankees chose to build a house and live there in Osage Village for a while. The knew “a right smart” about Yankees including the certain fact that they didn’t know how to live in the hills and that it was easy to separate a Yankee from his money; that was a fact. Ether a Yankee was just ignorant or he had lots of money and didn’t need to be careful with it or both. Either way they always left after a year or two. You could bet on that
Bruxton Rapaport had some understanding of the problems that accompanied the business of bait and switch land development in rural areas although his experience did not extend into the very backwoods. But that day, that fateful Saturday when he witnessed dozens of Memphis residents literally scramble to buy what they were promised would be ‘developed’ lots even after being insulted by the presentation of a so called gift lot and learning that they weren’t winners at all but could be just by signing a hastily typed contract which was in part a promissory note in an amount varying from four hundred dollars to perhaps three thousands of them and thereby start being a certifiable loser but feeling like a winner. And that was the magic of it. “A person can over think it.
It is the lure of just becoming a land owner so easily, bragging rights I guess you could say, and then some of them feel the fool with no way out but to buy a lot but mostly it’s greed. No telling what the salesmen promise them.
“Here, drink” said Margot “I sure never saw anything like it. Those poor girls, having to type all those contracts, keeping money in a sack and making change, I wouldn’t have, no I didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Rappy how big is this thing?
“It’s all up to the man Craven. That’s what it comes down to, many, many millions. There are possibilities without end, things no one has thought of; that’ll come. There will be weeping and moaning and gnashing of teeth. Craven will need managers, good ones, men who are heartless and greedy. He’ll find ’em too, has too.
“And you’re available to, right?”
“Wrong, I’m a vagabond, never stay long in the same place. After tomorrow I be just a lot salesman. I’ll be fun to watch Craven scramble. He’ll be busier than the proverbial one armed paperhanger. I will be a spectator. I don’t know Jack Craven but I assume he’s the kind of guy who’d rather make a blunder than to ask advice of a smart ass from Chicago, but that’s alright. He’ll get it done, he is bound to be a greedy bastard, I’d bet on that.
To here, sent to Jef Hodges to read only T March 9
There was only a few Sunday sales and the crew was glad. They were in a stage of exultation. Not one salesman has failed to score on Saturday but Rappy had taken the lead early and held his position throughout the day and not only kept the lead but also managed to look like he was the man in charge of the place and was only spending a friendly moment with an eager buyer. On Sunday he took one early out, sold another lot and left the property.
Ralph Darling contained his euphoria but only just. It was happy days again except when he allowed his mind to drift to the fact that this new found flood of business had nothing to do with him. He recalled those long ago halcyon days of thirty years ago when in Florida he often on particular days debated whether to work or shoot pool or maybe go to the track. There had been business to be done every day but he knew his way around a pool table too and although he was much less able with a racing form he simply disliked working more that two days a week.
And he had been back to Florida, back to the low wet land where he knew for sure he had sold some of those tracts, abandoned, almost certainly never revisited by the original and only buyer, already and covered with head high weeds where broken sidewalks were disappearing, into the ooz. “Ah those were the days” he remembered in his remorseless reverie. Was it possible to see it again?” So far his time in Climax and Osage Village were singularly unrewarding right up until today, that first magic Saturday, that sudden time when after he, the old pro had lain awake nights searching for almost lusting for a method that elusive solution a way to bring willing buyers to La clair County Arkansas and then a youngster a man alright but too young to have collected sufficient experience and more importantly the wisdom to motivate large numbers of people but he Bruxton Rapaport did it as evidenced by those dozens of shiny Memphis cars that had swarmed to and almost blocked the Osage entrance road bringing eager buyers every one insulted by their prize, an ugly little so called gift lot, a postage stamp sized dot of ground worthless and useless but mysteriously they were not insulted at all but instead they seemed almost eager to be transported to a larger slice of earth but no more attractive and likewise just as worthless where they would not just willingly but eagerly, even hurriedly had over some amount of filthy lucre and become owners of record at the La Clair County courthouse. And not all cash either, no indeed they also signed a promissory note wherein they agreed to send Jack Craven a sum of money every month for at least five years else he Craven will reprocess that fine larger but worthless lot and find another individual or more likely a married couple who will repeat that same transaction becoming owners of land fit only as a building site where no building site was needed and never would be. And so the salesmen of Osage Village sold lots manufactured by Jack Craven just as other salesmen sold automobiles, depreciable sheet metal chariots that would at least provide transportation for a few years whereas a beautiful tree covered cottage site in Osage village served no purpose whatever and most usually never woud. built in Detroit.
And there they sat after spending a riotous day, Rappy the cool purveyor of home sites, the confidence man par-excellent who wasn’t excited or even surprised by the days activities. He had seen it before. Apparently that is whad he did for a living and already a new way of thinking had infected Climax and the infection would spread and permeate the entire community and beyond “oh hayell yes, he’s a good feller but he cain’t sell lots worth a shit” the new measure of a man.
Rappy, why do they do it? I mean those folks don’t need a damn lot in Osage Village. It didn’t even bother them that the lot they won was worthless and that the one they bought was only a little better? What is it? I mean it, I want to know what drives it? Morgot was serious genuinely puzzled.
“Maybe the shrinks know, not me. And anyway they buy for different reasons. I believe that good old honest American greed is at the core of it. I just want to sell lots for a while, that’s all. Tomorrow we’ll take the loot over to Craven and that’ll change the world as Climax knows it” steady as a rock, he smiled and sipped his drink. “Well now old Crow, I’m off to my little nest in Missouri.
Tomorrow is the big day.”
And so that was Saturday night. Sunday was quiet and even before the sun was low they knew that the last ‘out’ had flown away to Memphis. Ralph Darling had become downright possessive of the fat pillowcase. The amount, the total of the contents was easily ascertained but no one did it and the typists left at the first opportunity, all aglow and much encouraged by the days success but they were tired and they understood that their day was finished .
Two cars left the office and in tandem they drove slowly to the Jack Craven house. Margot had called earlier. Expected as they knew they were, still all except Bruxton Rapaport dreaded to face Jack Craven money or no. Mrs. Craven met them at the door and walked with them into the dining room where Jack Craven sat in a Captains chair, resplendent in a fine gray suit. His salt and pepper hair neatly combed. He stood and greeted the group. Ralph Darling introduced Rappy. J C was his usual gracious self but the Mrs. was stiff and guarded. Ralph Darling emptied the pillow slip onto the dining table and stepped back. “That is the story” he announce “uncounted,” no total but of course we have records, contracts are in order. We had a fine week end” he said trying to appear nonchalant with his unlit cigar tilted. His elation showed through. Jack Craven seemed unaffected. “Ah was mo’ or less watchin, lot of traffic a-cose. Now dammit, I’m disappointed; yall set down. Genny, would you get us some glasses an’ a bottle----Scotch I think---ain’t had a drink in months, ya’ll know how I been feelin.’ Now this thang that ya’ll have done is a low an’ sorry way to do business. Evah body knows that. Now ya’ll have gone on ahead and proved that it works even up heah a hunnerd and thirty miles from Mephis bad roads an’ all. Now how much money is heah and what the hell do these watches and fingah rings mean?
Darling spoke “There is six or seven thousand dollars there. I calculate that to be about six or seven percent of the weekend sales, just two days. I wanted you to see it just like it is. Mr. Rapaport here seems to have oversold a few outs. Made ‘em into to such enthusiastic buyers that they made their down payment the only way they could. May be junk, who knows, who really cares. They may pay for their lot, may not, same as all the others. We have signed contracts.
Drinks were poured and. Genny took the remaining Captains chair. Her manner validated her authority, her place at the table. “It’s trashy. I don’t like it at all.”
“Yo comments Mr. Rappaport” said J C.
“Sure, my opinion you mean.” Jack Craven nodded in assent. “This is about money” said Rappy. “If there is another way to do this I don’t know of it. Money is important because the people who have it are important. I won’t even try to defend bait and switch on moral grounds. It works, that’s all. It will make you rich. It’s illegal in some states but not this one. Good grief. From grocery stores and butcher shops all the way up to auto makers and insurance companies: they all do it in one form or another legal or not. This weekend we produced signed contracts, maybe seventy five or eighty thousand dollars of them. You can do that again and again if you want to, your call Mr. Craven.”
Jack Craven sipped his scotch. He was at ease, strangely so. His hand encircled his glass, he passed his gaze around the room avoiding eye contact until finally he met Genny’s gaze an said “Momma Mr. Rappaport is right. You say no an’ we’ll go on back to Mephis. Ain’t no use fo you to be involved though. I don’t like it eathah. It’s a low an’ sorry way to sell but les’ fo-get that an’ go on ahead.
“Genny sat straight as a post. All could see that she was opposed in principal. Finally she spoke “That right” she said “I will not be part of this business, or accept any position in management. I will sign no contract nor commit myself in any way unless it is absolutely essential but neither will I stand in my husband’s way. I will be a supportive as I can under the circumstances. It goes without saying that my hope is that the venture will succeed.”
“Mr Rappy, can we talk tomorrow along with Mr. Darling of course: about nine in the morning, he was issuing orders now.” Himself again” thought Margo “or will be tomorrow morning.”
There in that old rock house so recently vacated by a drunken abortionist, now furnished with Jenny Craven’s scubby, ready to discard furniture, and generally run down condition the, decision was firmed up and Jack Craven declared himself as the man in charge.
That is how when and where that Climax lost it’s soul. Not a soul, not a single one of them had the slightest idea, had any notion whatever of the import attendant of what at the time seemed like a simple fairly easy way to sell some lots and ease the crushing pressure of Jack Cravens persistent search for money.
Just a simple little letter written by a young Jewish guy from Chicago who planned to spend the summer, collect his unpaid commissions and drive away And that is what he did. By the next summer only a few remembered his name. He did bid a hurried emotionless goodbye to Margot Burgun.
He met that one time with Ralph Darling and Jack Craven. The meeting was only modestly beneficial to them. “you know the basics of doing a show, of collecting your mailing list. Your salesmen know the basics of selling. They have a lot to learn and that will take time. Avery Lockwood is a competent accountant, both of you know that. You need a lot of things, office space comes to mind. None of that is my business and I won’t get involved.”
In fact Bruxton Rapaport did visit Jack Craven’s office once leaving. Jack was himself, his charm was in full glow and he seemed enormously pleased with himself. He held no ill will for Rappy but he did want him to leave and the sooner the better. J C didn’t want Rappy to get credit for the powerful bait and switch letter that by summers end try as they did had only commenced to produce dividends. ”Leavin’ us huh? Why won’t you stay with us, Cordin to my records right heah we don’t owe but a few dollas in unpaid commissions. I know, I done checked an’ found out that yo deal is that you get paid on evah sale whethah it pays of or not.”
“Maybe not” said Rappy but I might have ”you needed me. You still need stuff but I think you’ll work your way through it. Your problem is money, still money. Here I my card, tuck it away there in your desk. Call me when you need me. You’ll know. We may never meet again but when you get that certain feeling call me.”
“You mind tellin’ me whea you goin? Asked J C.
“No not at all. I’m going to South Carolina, the low country, Beaufort maybe, might hang around Charleston for awhile. I like that country. Good luck to you and happy selling.” Rappy was standing then, both men were smiling. Their firm handshakes ended and Rappy left.
Jack Craven loosened the tension from his frame as he sat thinking “Now I can start. I cain’t afford to have a wandering Jew take credit fo’ what’s goin’ on heah. This is my work, my vision and my by god sweat an’ risk. An’ now I can go ahead on an’ let the nation know what Osage Village is, wheah it is an’ bring ‘em heah too. END CHAPT ONE Tuck 3/28/11

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