40StudeDude
03-10-2006, 06:54 PM
Serial: A work appearing in parts at pre-determined intervals. More at installment.
Installment. Issued as part of a consecutively published and indefinitely continued series. Serials and installments used on major radio stations in the 1930’s, 1940’s and some of the 1950’s. Radio programs such as Dick Tracy (1934-1948), The Shadow (1931-1954), Amos n’ Andy, (1930-1952), Fibber McGee & Molly, (1935-1959), The Great Gildersleeve (a spin-off from Fibber McGee, 1941-1950), Buck Rogers (1932-1941) and in 1940, Superman rode the airwaves into everyone’s home three times a week in the serial until 1951. There were countless other serials on the radios back in the day…way before television ever found its way into homes. Families gathered around the radio to listen to a serial much like today’s families gather to watch a certain continuing television program…
This serial requires your intrigue, your imagination, your sound effects and your indulgence.
PART TEN –Things fall into place
Sam shoved the scraps of steak and plate to the center of the table, tossed the fork and knife onto it, scrunched his chair back, stretched out his long legs and took the last swig from the long neck, emptying the bottle…felt good to get away from the office. Seems that’s all he’s done for the last few weeks, well, more like the last few months anyway …better than 75/80 hours a week…and even the weekends. Now that winter was coming on, things would quiet a bit…no more wild teen-age woodsies, no more skinny dipping in Milford Pond and no more drunken BBQ’s in the back yards around town and the neighbors getting into fist fights over something stupid...ahhhhh, summertime. Good ol’ summer time. Yep. Not gonna miss it rite now.
Hmmmm, that beer sure tasted good…think I need another…yep, definitely need another…where’s Billie?
One of the bar’s patrons pushed his way between Sam’s chair and the wall…knocked Sam’s dark blue coat onto the sawdust/ciggie butt covered floor. Sam bolted upright, about to tell him to hold on, but he could see the drunk was having trouble maneuvering the rest of the tables and chairs…and he didn’t even bother to look back at Sam…or say he was sorry, just kept on shuffling, headed for the john. Sam got up off the chair, picked up his coat and brushed it off. That old fart better not let me see him get into his pick-up tonite, or slide it out onto the hiway, he’ll be spending some quality time in the jail. He didn’t notice the small scrap of paper he’d hung onto was close to slipping out of the pocket.
Sam felt someone looking at him and gazed around all the way around the room. In the dim lite it was hard to actually see faces, but his focus fell on lovely Billie, she nodded her pretty brunette head at him, smiled and glanced over to where Blackie was sitting. Ahhhh yes, Blackie needed to chat with me. Guess I won’t get that beer after all. Sam nodded. Billie grabbed a tray and headed for Blackie’s table. Sam stood up, stretched, picked up his jacket, shoved the small scrap of paper back into the pocket and headed for the back room…and the beer cooler.
“Say Sheriff,” Blackie started when he entered the cooler, “Got a question fer ya. Ya know I ain’t got much ‘round here-‘bouts anymore, what with getting laid off down ta the cannery and all, but I mite have some inframation you mite jest be intrasted in…an’, les’ jest say, if’n thet inframation was worth any cash, mebbee a re-ward or sech, I’d be able to get it, wouldn’t I?”
“Probably, Blackie,” Sam said, “but I’ve got a question for you. Why in hell are we meeting like this in a walk-in cooler? I don’t need an introduction to winter, it’s right around the corner…and I can wait
“Yeah, well, I knowed thet, Sheriff, but I like my skin all in one piece. Don’t need anyone seein’ me talkin’ to you.”
“That sounds serious, Blackie, what you going on about?”
“Stolen cars, Sheriff, lots of ‘em, right here in town.”
“What?” Sam zipped up his coat. “Are you sure? Where?”
“Cain’t tell you thet, just know what I heared…an’ jus’ don’t wanna get caught as a rat, nor skinned like one.”
“And what exactly did you hear?”
“Ya know, them new fellars ‘round here all think we’re nuthin’ but a buncha dumb hick farmers anyways. Some of them newcomers ‘round here bin talking, bragging like, ‘bout how dumb us locals are…and how lazy the local law is, they’s sayin’ they can cut up cars and ship parts outta here with no worries. Ya knowed that Sheriff? Sayin’ cuz they ain’t even on yore radar…you look but don’t see. An’ I really don’t know but…mebbee you already know ’bout this cuz I don’t think yore one bit lazy, or stupid, I jes’ thot I’d ask and see if there was any re-ward money for thet kind of inframation.”
“Well Blackie, thanx for your vote of confidence in my ability to do my job…but I don’t know anything about stolen cars…or a reward for any information, but we’ll make sure there is some cash for you if what you tell me is the truth…and it all works out.” Sam rubbed his ears, even his fingers were beginning to get cold. “Tell you what, Blackie, you go back out to your table, get yourself a couple more beers, I’ll buy…kill ‘em off and then act like you’re drunk. Billie will phone me and I’ll come in and arrest you. We’ll make it look official, keep it all above board so you can keep your skin…tomorrow, maybe you can fill me in on who, what and where…maybe take me out to where you heard this stuff is going on…if you can remember it.”
“I can sleep in a nice warm jail bed tonite, Sheriff, and get a couple of squares tomorrow?” Blackie’s chin was going mile-a-minute, shivering…his gray beard was shaking like he’d spent the past week sleeping in the cooler.
“Well, if we can make it look like I’m taking you in, we’ll be OK…and I’ll even spring for the meals tomorrow…if…and this is a big if, Blackie, if you’re telling me the truth…and not simply after a couple of meals.”
“I ain’t fibbin’ one bit, Sheriff, I’m tellin’ ya what I heared. I don’t know if there’s any stolen cars ‘round here…I ain’t seen ‘em…jest heared them new guys braggin’.”
“OK go, get out of here…back to your table. Wait, you’re shivering way too much, head for the john first, warm up a bit in there before you go back to your table…don’t want anyone looking at you while you’re shivering your nuts off. They’d be questioning that for sure.”
Sam stepped out of the cooler, waited about fifteen minutes until he saw Blackie stagger to his table. His fingers were warming up nicely. No sense going out the front door now…hope no one is paying attention. He headed for the back door.
Once outside, he walked around to the cruiser, opened the door and slid in…fired the engine and backed out…almost ran under the bumper of the jacked-up old Ford 4 X4 Lew was driving. Lew laid on the horn. The sheriff slammed on the brakes…
Sam looked around to see who and what was honking…saw who it was and rolled down the window. “Lew, damittalltohell, what the hell you doing, trying to wreck my new cruiser”
“Sorry Sheriff,” Lew yelled out the window of the truk, “I need to talk to you.”
“Hang on, I can’t hear a damned thing. Shut that noisy thing off.” Sam turned the cruiser off and climbed out. Lew did the same. The small piece of paper the sheriff had pulled off the windshield finally slid the rest of the way out of his jacket pocket, did a couple of turns mid-air in front of the sheriff…and fluttered toward the truk…“Lew, quik, grab that piece of paper.”
Lew took a couple of swipes at it, knocked it to the ground and stepped on it. He bent and picked it up. “Got a bit of muck on it, this important?”
“Don’t really know…found it stuck on my windshield tonite, when the cruiser was sitting in front of the station.”
Lew turned the piece of paper over, swiped some mud from it and read it. “Sheriff, this is where the race is going to be held.”
“Huh? How do you know that?”
“Hell, Sheriff, everyone knows that…that’s the only straight stretch of highway around here…and least a half mile long, maybe three-quarters…plenty room for shut down…most of the kids around here have been using that as the local ¼ mile for a long time. You didn’t know that?”
“Can’t say as I did, you know that I didn’t grow up around here…moved in here a few years ago…probably more than a few other things I don’t know about this area…” the Sheriff said, “…but you’re certain that’s what that means? If so, now I can catch those boys…guess we’d better get some sort of plan laid out for that then.”
Lew smiled, knowing now where the race is to be held, maybe he’ll get his big chance to impress the local voters yet.
“Hey, what’d you come down here for,” Sam asked. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah, Tommy is in town, ehhrrr, Stick…I was having some supper over at Gloria’s place about six and saw him come in for a burger…he didn’t see me, I was in the rear booth. He met up with some other guy…heard them talking about Milner’s place, asked old man Maxwell for directions and that both of them were going out there. Now what do you suppose they’d be going out there for?”
“Don’t know…but why don’t you and I take a run out there, maybe we can catch Stick at something illegal…I’d sure like that. And while we’re driving out there, maybe we can lay out some plans about catching them boys drag racing Friday nite…figure out how to end that race before it’s begun.”
* * *
What in the wide world of sports is Blackie jacking his jaw about? Think he’s telling the truth…or just needing enuff money to stock his refrigerator? And how ‘bout that Lew…guess for sure he’s a local guy if he understood that note the sheriff found…looks like the sheriff has at least one other person on his side that doesn’t want that race to happen Friday nite. Think?
Kinda strange that Stick came into town, isn’t it? If I was him, I’da stayed way out of town…but then again, when he was in the hospital, he didn’t know Lew was a law enforcement officer …if I knew that, I sure wouldn’t go back to my home town…
Lemmee see now…only a few more weeks til spring…well, at least in this part of the country, we usually get hammered with snow, hard, about now…guess we’ll wait and see…so, don’t forget to pull up an empty five gallon lacquer thinner can next Friday nite…got a feeling that race is getting closer…any bets on the outcome?
One more thing, bring a couple cases and a four/five bottles of wine…them paper cups are still around here somewhere….may need some Yukon Jack too.
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
R-
Copyright 02-2006, RAJetter/Aden Rush
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…the book, by R.A. Jetter describes a 16 year-old’s life in the late fifties up to the mid 1960’s…and what it was like to get into illegal drag races and fist-fights…it’s a series of 26 episodes, with each episode described in how and why, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
High speed car stories set in the 1960’s.
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about drag races, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
Coming Soon: Fast Cars, 4-speeds and Fist-fights.
Installment. Issued as part of a consecutively published and indefinitely continued series. Serials and installments used on major radio stations in the 1930’s, 1940’s and some of the 1950’s. Radio programs such as Dick Tracy (1934-1948), The Shadow (1931-1954), Amos n’ Andy, (1930-1952), Fibber McGee & Molly, (1935-1959), The Great Gildersleeve (a spin-off from Fibber McGee, 1941-1950), Buck Rogers (1932-1941) and in 1940, Superman rode the airwaves into everyone’s home three times a week in the serial until 1951. There were countless other serials on the radios back in the day…way before television ever found its way into homes. Families gathered around the radio to listen to a serial much like today’s families gather to watch a certain continuing television program…
This serial requires your intrigue, your imagination, your sound effects and your indulgence.
PART TEN –Things fall into place
Sam shoved the scraps of steak and plate to the center of the table, tossed the fork and knife onto it, scrunched his chair back, stretched out his long legs and took the last swig from the long neck, emptying the bottle…felt good to get away from the office. Seems that’s all he’s done for the last few weeks, well, more like the last few months anyway …better than 75/80 hours a week…and even the weekends. Now that winter was coming on, things would quiet a bit…no more wild teen-age woodsies, no more skinny dipping in Milford Pond and no more drunken BBQ’s in the back yards around town and the neighbors getting into fist fights over something stupid...ahhhhh, summertime. Good ol’ summer time. Yep. Not gonna miss it rite now.
Hmmmm, that beer sure tasted good…think I need another…yep, definitely need another…where’s Billie?
One of the bar’s patrons pushed his way between Sam’s chair and the wall…knocked Sam’s dark blue coat onto the sawdust/ciggie butt covered floor. Sam bolted upright, about to tell him to hold on, but he could see the drunk was having trouble maneuvering the rest of the tables and chairs…and he didn’t even bother to look back at Sam…or say he was sorry, just kept on shuffling, headed for the john. Sam got up off the chair, picked up his coat and brushed it off. That old fart better not let me see him get into his pick-up tonite, or slide it out onto the hiway, he’ll be spending some quality time in the jail. He didn’t notice the small scrap of paper he’d hung onto was close to slipping out of the pocket.
Sam felt someone looking at him and gazed around all the way around the room. In the dim lite it was hard to actually see faces, but his focus fell on lovely Billie, she nodded her pretty brunette head at him, smiled and glanced over to where Blackie was sitting. Ahhhh yes, Blackie needed to chat with me. Guess I won’t get that beer after all. Sam nodded. Billie grabbed a tray and headed for Blackie’s table. Sam stood up, stretched, picked up his jacket, shoved the small scrap of paper back into the pocket and headed for the back room…and the beer cooler.
“Say Sheriff,” Blackie started when he entered the cooler, “Got a question fer ya. Ya know I ain’t got much ‘round here-‘bouts anymore, what with getting laid off down ta the cannery and all, but I mite have some inframation you mite jest be intrasted in…an’, les’ jest say, if’n thet inframation was worth any cash, mebbee a re-ward or sech, I’d be able to get it, wouldn’t I?”
“Probably, Blackie,” Sam said, “but I’ve got a question for you. Why in hell are we meeting like this in a walk-in cooler? I don’t need an introduction to winter, it’s right around the corner…and I can wait
“Yeah, well, I knowed thet, Sheriff, but I like my skin all in one piece. Don’t need anyone seein’ me talkin’ to you.”
“That sounds serious, Blackie, what you going on about?”
“Stolen cars, Sheriff, lots of ‘em, right here in town.”
“What?” Sam zipped up his coat. “Are you sure? Where?”
“Cain’t tell you thet, just know what I heared…an’ jus’ don’t wanna get caught as a rat, nor skinned like one.”
“And what exactly did you hear?”
“Ya know, them new fellars ‘round here all think we’re nuthin’ but a buncha dumb hick farmers anyways. Some of them newcomers ‘round here bin talking, bragging like, ‘bout how dumb us locals are…and how lazy the local law is, they’s sayin’ they can cut up cars and ship parts outta here with no worries. Ya knowed that Sheriff? Sayin’ cuz they ain’t even on yore radar…you look but don’t see. An’ I really don’t know but…mebbee you already know ’bout this cuz I don’t think yore one bit lazy, or stupid, I jes’ thot I’d ask and see if there was any re-ward money for thet kind of inframation.”
“Well Blackie, thanx for your vote of confidence in my ability to do my job…but I don’t know anything about stolen cars…or a reward for any information, but we’ll make sure there is some cash for you if what you tell me is the truth…and it all works out.” Sam rubbed his ears, even his fingers were beginning to get cold. “Tell you what, Blackie, you go back out to your table, get yourself a couple more beers, I’ll buy…kill ‘em off and then act like you’re drunk. Billie will phone me and I’ll come in and arrest you. We’ll make it look official, keep it all above board so you can keep your skin…tomorrow, maybe you can fill me in on who, what and where…maybe take me out to where you heard this stuff is going on…if you can remember it.”
“I can sleep in a nice warm jail bed tonite, Sheriff, and get a couple of squares tomorrow?” Blackie’s chin was going mile-a-minute, shivering…his gray beard was shaking like he’d spent the past week sleeping in the cooler.
“Well, if we can make it look like I’m taking you in, we’ll be OK…and I’ll even spring for the meals tomorrow…if…and this is a big if, Blackie, if you’re telling me the truth…and not simply after a couple of meals.”
“I ain’t fibbin’ one bit, Sheriff, I’m tellin’ ya what I heared. I don’t know if there’s any stolen cars ‘round here…I ain’t seen ‘em…jest heared them new guys braggin’.”
“OK go, get out of here…back to your table. Wait, you’re shivering way too much, head for the john first, warm up a bit in there before you go back to your table…don’t want anyone looking at you while you’re shivering your nuts off. They’d be questioning that for sure.”
Sam stepped out of the cooler, waited about fifteen minutes until he saw Blackie stagger to his table. His fingers were warming up nicely. No sense going out the front door now…hope no one is paying attention. He headed for the back door.
Once outside, he walked around to the cruiser, opened the door and slid in…fired the engine and backed out…almost ran under the bumper of the jacked-up old Ford 4 X4 Lew was driving. Lew laid on the horn. The sheriff slammed on the brakes…
Sam looked around to see who and what was honking…saw who it was and rolled down the window. “Lew, damittalltohell, what the hell you doing, trying to wreck my new cruiser”
“Sorry Sheriff,” Lew yelled out the window of the truk, “I need to talk to you.”
“Hang on, I can’t hear a damned thing. Shut that noisy thing off.” Sam turned the cruiser off and climbed out. Lew did the same. The small piece of paper the sheriff had pulled off the windshield finally slid the rest of the way out of his jacket pocket, did a couple of turns mid-air in front of the sheriff…and fluttered toward the truk…“Lew, quik, grab that piece of paper.”
Lew took a couple of swipes at it, knocked it to the ground and stepped on it. He bent and picked it up. “Got a bit of muck on it, this important?”
“Don’t really know…found it stuck on my windshield tonite, when the cruiser was sitting in front of the station.”
Lew turned the piece of paper over, swiped some mud from it and read it. “Sheriff, this is where the race is going to be held.”
“Huh? How do you know that?”
“Hell, Sheriff, everyone knows that…that’s the only straight stretch of highway around here…and least a half mile long, maybe three-quarters…plenty room for shut down…most of the kids around here have been using that as the local ¼ mile for a long time. You didn’t know that?”
“Can’t say as I did, you know that I didn’t grow up around here…moved in here a few years ago…probably more than a few other things I don’t know about this area…” the Sheriff said, “…but you’re certain that’s what that means? If so, now I can catch those boys…guess we’d better get some sort of plan laid out for that then.”
Lew smiled, knowing now where the race is to be held, maybe he’ll get his big chance to impress the local voters yet.
“Hey, what’d you come down here for,” Sam asked. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah, Tommy is in town, ehhrrr, Stick…I was having some supper over at Gloria’s place about six and saw him come in for a burger…he didn’t see me, I was in the rear booth. He met up with some other guy…heard them talking about Milner’s place, asked old man Maxwell for directions and that both of them were going out there. Now what do you suppose they’d be going out there for?”
“Don’t know…but why don’t you and I take a run out there, maybe we can catch Stick at something illegal…I’d sure like that. And while we’re driving out there, maybe we can lay out some plans about catching them boys drag racing Friday nite…figure out how to end that race before it’s begun.”
* * *
What in the wide world of sports is Blackie jacking his jaw about? Think he’s telling the truth…or just needing enuff money to stock his refrigerator? And how ‘bout that Lew…guess for sure he’s a local guy if he understood that note the sheriff found…looks like the sheriff has at least one other person on his side that doesn’t want that race to happen Friday nite. Think?
Kinda strange that Stick came into town, isn’t it? If I was him, I’da stayed way out of town…but then again, when he was in the hospital, he didn’t know Lew was a law enforcement officer …if I knew that, I sure wouldn’t go back to my home town…
Lemmee see now…only a few more weeks til spring…well, at least in this part of the country, we usually get hammered with snow, hard, about now…guess we’ll wait and see…so, don’t forget to pull up an empty five gallon lacquer thinner can next Friday nite…got a feeling that race is getting closer…any bets on the outcome?
One more thing, bring a couple cases and a four/five bottles of wine…them paper cups are still around here somewhere….may need some Yukon Jack too.
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
R-
Copyright 02-2006, RAJetter/Aden Rush
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…the book, by R.A. Jetter describes a 16 year-old’s life in the late fifties up to the mid 1960’s…and what it was like to get into illegal drag races and fist-fights…it’s a series of 26 episodes, with each episode described in how and why, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
High speed car stories set in the 1960’s.
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about drag races, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
Coming Soon: Fast Cars, 4-speeds and Fist-fights.