40StudeDude
03-17-2006, 08:13 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 ELEVEN
“You know Zack Franklen, don’t you Lew?” The sheriff asked while climbing up and into the old 4 X 4. “Damn, I don’t remember this old P.O.S. being jacked up this high…you change the altitude on this thing?”
“No sir, I just put gas in it…had an empty tank…I had to spring for a whole tankful.”
The sheriff grinned. “That’s OK…seems you and Dorree used up all of mine in the cruiser the other nite.”
“Ulp…uhm, how’d you…uh…find out, Sheriff?” Lew stuttered and stammered…he could feel his face beginning to get red.
“Oh hell, Lew, I’ve known for a couple of days…you let it slip the other day…besides, no one goes out to Hanging Tree Road simply to run a bunch of wild party-ers off…even I don’t do that…it’s too damned far out in the country for anyone to give a shit about making some noise out there. No one’s close enuff around to hear anything anyway. Besides, Lew, there’s not much I don’t know about the important people around here.”
Lew started the truk, double clutched it into first gear, mashed the throttle and banged thru some of the deeper puddles, splashing water all over and bouncing the sheriff around on the seat.
“You pissed at me Lew? The sheriff asked. “The way you’re driving sure seems like it.”
Once out of the bar’s parking lot and headed east on the highway, Lew slapped the gears in the old 4 X 4, double clutching it up into second and third, each time the truk made a forward lunge the sheriff braced himself against the dash. Lew contemplated what the sheriff had just said…figured he must be one of important ones then? “Uhm, no, not pissed Sheriff…but am I gonna get fired now cuz I’m taking Dorree out?”
“Well, I haven’t really decided what to do with you…and Dorree,” Sam said, turning his head so Lew couldn’t see him smirk…wanted him to think he was mad as hell. “You know damn good and well it’s against policy…and you did it anyway…I’ve got a real problem here, Lew.”
“Yessir, I understand, sir,” Lew said, “…and I’m really sorry for trying to pull the wool over your eyes, hide that whole thing.”
The old Ford’s tires zinged on the hiway, the heavy duty tread whining as loud as the engine roared…it was hard to have a conversation in the cab…almost shouting at each other above all the noise the old 4 X 4 made.
“Let me ask you something Lew…and I want an honest answer -- what would you do in my shoes? Take your time, don’t make a hasty decision.”
“Nothing to think about, Sheriff…I guess it would depend on how good those two particular people are…I mean, if they didn’t do their jobs correctly…and they didn’t respect the man they work for…didn’t put in extra hours…and long hours on the job, weren’t there when the Sheriff needed them and everything they ever did was wrong and not worth a shit, then I’d fire them right away.”
“Didn’t take you long to answer that, Lew…you been thinking about that way before I asked the question?”
“Yessir, I’ve been playing that one nite over and over in my mind, trying to figure out how to explain it to you and not get fired. Now it looks like I may get fired anyway.”
“That’s what I like about you Lew…your honesty. Guess there’s always extenuating circumstances to every problem, isn’t there?”
“Yessir, these days, nothing is as blak and white as we’d like to believe it is. Maybe it used to be years ago…not no more. We’re heading out to Milner’s place, right? You want me to go in the back way or take the regular road?” Lew glanced over at the sheriff.
“There’s a back way to Milner’s acreage?”
“Comes out up on the hilltop, back side of the farm, up on the ridge…you can look right down on the equipment building…not many people know that road is there…it’s not well traveled. That’s the way I went the other nite when I saw all the lights on in the building…I did notice a few cars parked there also…thot it was strange but figured maybe John was having a party for his wife.”
“John got laid off from the cannery a few weeks ago, like most everyone else in this town. Don’t think he’d have any extra cash for a party of any kind, huge…or small. Take that back way to up there…something smells fishy.”
“Smells fishy?
“Yeah, smells fishy…ya know? Stinks. Something ain’t right, something else going on up there maybe we don’t know about…and maybe we should…understand now?”
Lew slammed on the brakes. The old truk nose-dived, got all sideways in the road. Sam braced himself against the dash, not knowing what was going to happen. Lew manhandled the huge steering wheel, tossed the Ford into a 180…huge tires bawled, blue smoke rose from them, swirling and lazed around the hood of the truk after it got going in the opposite direction.. Lew double-clutched it, forced the tranny into second and let the clutch out, slammed Sam against the dash and then back into the seat. Two seconds later Lew had the old truk straightened out and they were headed back the way they’d just come.
“What? We just miss a deer or something? I didn’t see nothing out there…what the hell just happened?” Sam asked…easing his hands up off the dash, knuckles bled white.
“Road was behind us…quikest way I know of getting turned around.”
“Next time give me a little warning, willya? Where’d you learn how to flog this big old truk around like that…doubt I can even do that with the cruiser.”
“Used to race stock cars over at Playland…drove for a couple of teams my last year in Hi School…then really had fun doing it that summer I got out…didn’t know what I was going to do after hi school…go to school…or enlist. That was 1973…Viet Nam was still going strong. Dad & Mom didn’t want me to enlist…was afraid I’d be killed in Viet Nam.”
“Well, can’t say I blame them…how’d you get around it?”
“College…kept my grades at the top…got into law…took courses around that. Figured the FBI would take me if my grades were good. CIA mite not be too bad…but found out they were into too many covert operations around the world. I’d avoided Viet Nam cuz of Mom and Dad, figured they’d want me to stay around here… so, no CIA.”
“Army Infantry would have drafted you, right?” Sam asked, knowing full well the answer.
“Yessir. But I wasn’t going to enlist in the Army anyway…I wanted the Navy…they’ve got a great NCIS department. Could’ve been happy doing that for the next twenty, get a pension.”
“I did the Marines, only six years tho…was an MP…probably the best years of my life.”
“Now I understand why you’re in law enforcement, sheriff.”
“Not for long, Lew.”
“Wha…what do you mean, Sam?
“I mean when this term is over, I’m moving on…heading to the west coast…I won’t seek re-election. Let me tell you something…my brother got me this job…he’s got lots of influential friends, pulled a few strings…got the previous sheriff here fired…wasn’t doing a good job anyway and I was appointed, not elected.”
“Whoa, I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. You know, these farmers around here don’t pay much attention to appointments…or elections…if you’re doing a good job and there’s no scandal, you’re able to keep your job.”
“I guess…,” Lew said, not believing what he’s hearing. His mind took off…going mile-a-minute, thinking about the possibilities of running for sheriff…and getting elected…distinct possibility now…especially if Sam isn’t going to run for another term. Wow! Sheriff Lew Blake…I like the sound of that.
Lew, now you can run for sheriff, unopposed!”
“Wha…? Uh. How’d you know?”
“Told you I don’t miss much, Lew. Now, how much farther to Milner’s place?”
Lew glanced outside and back into the cab of the truk, almost totally confused and not paying attention to the surroundings…he woke up just in time to make a hard right and start up a narrow, dark rutted road. He was flabbergasted…didn’t have any clue the sheriff was onto his plan about running for his job. Just before the white pinpoints of stars in the blakness of the heavens cleared the trees, Lew killed the headlights and slowed. Another fifty feet and he stopped. “We’re here.”
“Grab those binoculars from behind the seat, Lew.
There’s two pair, bring them both,” the sheriff ordered. “We’ll both get to see what there is to see down there.”
* * *
Ah-haaa…looks like there may be something illegal going on down at Milner’s farm after all…the sheriff is fixing to bust someone…and then get those guys for drag racing, that’d be a bonus, rite??
And poor Lew…the sheriff sure surprised him with that one…both of them little items…Lew didn’t see either one of them coming at all, did he? Think he’ll make a good sheriff? And what of Dorree now…will she work for a new sheriff? Or will the two of them get serious…and if Lew’s got the sheriff’s deal all wrapped up for the next election…maybe she should think of latching onto Lew, permanently? That can’t be all that bad, eh?
Hold on a minnit, now…what of Billie, the barmaid…she’s sure got the hots for Sam…hate to see Sam disappoint her Friday nite…but shit’s been known to happen, ya know?
Oh, and by the by, this ain’t really over and done with yet…better plan on checking back in next Friday nite…
Hey, bring another keg, or three with you, willya?
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,
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 …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
Available August 2006: Fast Cars, 4-speeds & 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 ELEVEN
“You know Zack Franklen, don’t you Lew?” The sheriff asked while climbing up and into the old 4 X 4. “Damn, I don’t remember this old P.O.S. being jacked up this high…you change the altitude on this thing?”
“No sir, I just put gas in it…had an empty tank…I had to spring for a whole tankful.”
The sheriff grinned. “That’s OK…seems you and Dorree used up all of mine in the cruiser the other nite.”
“Ulp…uhm, how’d you…uh…find out, Sheriff?” Lew stuttered and stammered…he could feel his face beginning to get red.
“Oh hell, Lew, I’ve known for a couple of days…you let it slip the other day…besides, no one goes out to Hanging Tree Road simply to run a bunch of wild party-ers off…even I don’t do that…it’s too damned far out in the country for anyone to give a shit about making some noise out there. No one’s close enuff around to hear anything anyway. Besides, Lew, there’s not much I don’t know about the important people around here.”
Lew started the truk, double clutched it into first gear, mashed the throttle and banged thru some of the deeper puddles, splashing water all over and bouncing the sheriff around on the seat.
“You pissed at me Lew? The sheriff asked. “The way you’re driving sure seems like it.”
Once out of the bar’s parking lot and headed east on the highway, Lew slapped the gears in the old 4 X 4, double clutching it up into second and third, each time the truk made a forward lunge the sheriff braced himself against the dash. Lew contemplated what the sheriff had just said…figured he must be one of important ones then? “Uhm, no, not pissed Sheriff…but am I gonna get fired now cuz I’m taking Dorree out?”
“Well, I haven’t really decided what to do with you…and Dorree,” Sam said, turning his head so Lew couldn’t see him smirk…wanted him to think he was mad as hell. “You know damn good and well it’s against policy…and you did it anyway…I’ve got a real problem here, Lew.”
“Yessir, I understand, sir,” Lew said, “…and I’m really sorry for trying to pull the wool over your eyes, hide that whole thing.”
The old Ford’s tires zinged on the hiway, the heavy duty tread whining as loud as the engine roared…it was hard to have a conversation in the cab…almost shouting at each other above all the noise the old 4 X 4 made.
“Let me ask you something Lew…and I want an honest answer -- what would you do in my shoes? Take your time, don’t make a hasty decision.”
“Nothing to think about, Sheriff…I guess it would depend on how good those two particular people are…I mean, if they didn’t do their jobs correctly…and they didn’t respect the man they work for…didn’t put in extra hours…and long hours on the job, weren’t there when the Sheriff needed them and everything they ever did was wrong and not worth a shit, then I’d fire them right away.”
“Didn’t take you long to answer that, Lew…you been thinking about that way before I asked the question?”
“Yessir, I’ve been playing that one nite over and over in my mind, trying to figure out how to explain it to you and not get fired. Now it looks like I may get fired anyway.”
“That’s what I like about you Lew…your honesty. Guess there’s always extenuating circumstances to every problem, isn’t there?”
“Yessir, these days, nothing is as blak and white as we’d like to believe it is. Maybe it used to be years ago…not no more. We’re heading out to Milner’s place, right? You want me to go in the back way or take the regular road?” Lew glanced over at the sheriff.
“There’s a back way to Milner’s acreage?”
“Comes out up on the hilltop, back side of the farm, up on the ridge…you can look right down on the equipment building…not many people know that road is there…it’s not well traveled. That’s the way I went the other nite when I saw all the lights on in the building…I did notice a few cars parked there also…thot it was strange but figured maybe John was having a party for his wife.”
“John got laid off from the cannery a few weeks ago, like most everyone else in this town. Don’t think he’d have any extra cash for a party of any kind, huge…or small. Take that back way to up there…something smells fishy.”
“Smells fishy?
“Yeah, smells fishy…ya know? Stinks. Something ain’t right, something else going on up there maybe we don’t know about…and maybe we should…understand now?”
Lew slammed on the brakes. The old truk nose-dived, got all sideways in the road. Sam braced himself against the dash, not knowing what was going to happen. Lew manhandled the huge steering wheel, tossed the Ford into a 180…huge tires bawled, blue smoke rose from them, swirling and lazed around the hood of the truk after it got going in the opposite direction.. Lew double-clutched it, forced the tranny into second and let the clutch out, slammed Sam against the dash and then back into the seat. Two seconds later Lew had the old truk straightened out and they were headed back the way they’d just come.
“What? We just miss a deer or something? I didn’t see nothing out there…what the hell just happened?” Sam asked…easing his hands up off the dash, knuckles bled white.
“Road was behind us…quikest way I know of getting turned around.”
“Next time give me a little warning, willya? Where’d you learn how to flog this big old truk around like that…doubt I can even do that with the cruiser.”
“Used to race stock cars over at Playland…drove for a couple of teams my last year in Hi School…then really had fun doing it that summer I got out…didn’t know what I was going to do after hi school…go to school…or enlist. That was 1973…Viet Nam was still going strong. Dad & Mom didn’t want me to enlist…was afraid I’d be killed in Viet Nam.”
“Well, can’t say I blame them…how’d you get around it?”
“College…kept my grades at the top…got into law…took courses around that. Figured the FBI would take me if my grades were good. CIA mite not be too bad…but found out they were into too many covert operations around the world. I’d avoided Viet Nam cuz of Mom and Dad, figured they’d want me to stay around here… so, no CIA.”
“Army Infantry would have drafted you, right?” Sam asked, knowing full well the answer.
“Yessir. But I wasn’t going to enlist in the Army anyway…I wanted the Navy…they’ve got a great NCIS department. Could’ve been happy doing that for the next twenty, get a pension.”
“I did the Marines, only six years tho…was an MP…probably the best years of my life.”
“Now I understand why you’re in law enforcement, sheriff.”
“Not for long, Lew.”
“Wha…what do you mean, Sam?
“I mean when this term is over, I’m moving on…heading to the west coast…I won’t seek re-election. Let me tell you something…my brother got me this job…he’s got lots of influential friends, pulled a few strings…got the previous sheriff here fired…wasn’t doing a good job anyway and I was appointed, not elected.”
“Whoa, I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. You know, these farmers around here don’t pay much attention to appointments…or elections…if you’re doing a good job and there’s no scandal, you’re able to keep your job.”
“I guess…,” Lew said, not believing what he’s hearing. His mind took off…going mile-a-minute, thinking about the possibilities of running for sheriff…and getting elected…distinct possibility now…especially if Sam isn’t going to run for another term. Wow! Sheriff Lew Blake…I like the sound of that.
Lew, now you can run for sheriff, unopposed!”
“Wha…? Uh. How’d you know?”
“Told you I don’t miss much, Lew. Now, how much farther to Milner’s place?”
Lew glanced outside and back into the cab of the truk, almost totally confused and not paying attention to the surroundings…he woke up just in time to make a hard right and start up a narrow, dark rutted road. He was flabbergasted…didn’t have any clue the sheriff was onto his plan about running for his job. Just before the white pinpoints of stars in the blakness of the heavens cleared the trees, Lew killed the headlights and slowed. Another fifty feet and he stopped. “We’re here.”
“Grab those binoculars from behind the seat, Lew.
There’s two pair, bring them both,” the sheriff ordered. “We’ll both get to see what there is to see down there.”
* * *
Ah-haaa…looks like there may be something illegal going on down at Milner’s farm after all…the sheriff is fixing to bust someone…and then get those guys for drag racing, that’d be a bonus, rite??
And poor Lew…the sheriff sure surprised him with that one…both of them little items…Lew didn’t see either one of them coming at all, did he? Think he’ll make a good sheriff? And what of Dorree now…will she work for a new sheriff? Or will the two of them get serious…and if Lew’s got the sheriff’s deal all wrapped up for the next election…maybe she should think of latching onto Lew, permanently? That can’t be all that bad, eh?
Hold on a minnit, now…what of Billie, the barmaid…she’s sure got the hots for Sam…hate to see Sam disappoint her Friday nite…but shit’s been known to happen, ya know?
Oh, and by the by, this ain’t really over and done with yet…better plan on checking back in next Friday nite…
Hey, bring another keg, or three with you, willya?
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,
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 …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
Available August 2006: Fast Cars, 4-speeds & Fist-fights