Let's Have an Election

Mr. Jack Long pulled his pickup truck to a stop in front of the little building which was headquarters for our one-man police force and a meeting place for the town council. A cardboard sign propped against the front of the building displaying the words Polling Place announced the building’s purpose for the day.  A special election was being held to elect a replacement for Mayor Paul Vinson who had vanished three weeks earlier. The same night he disappeared, so did the wife of  Preacher Rod, pastor at the Holiness Church. And to top it off, the town’s police car came up missing the same night, along with the precious few dollars in the town’s treasury. The County Sheriff and State Police had been on the case for almost three weeks but hadn’t found a clue to any part of this mystery.
   Mr. Jack told me to stay in the cab of the truck and that he’d be back shortly. He got out and helped the two men and one woman down from the back up the truck where they’d been sitting on CoCola crates. As he helped them down, I heard him speak directly to each person: “I appreciate your support in the election; don’t forget now after you vote to come on by the house and have some of my barbecue.” He followed the last person he helped down into the building.
   Mr. Jack has dabbled in politics as far back as I can remember, but I don’t recall that he ever won an election or held a political job – but he did come close a time or two. Two years ago he ran for county commissioner and lost by three votes, which would have been a respectable showing, except the man who beat him had been in a coma for five years. He came close to getting on the school board about three years ago when the head of the board said he planned to appoint Mr. Jack to replace a member who was retiring due to bad health. But the member got better and decided not to retire after all. Mr. Jack just laughed both times, like he always does when hard luck strikes at his political ambitions, and it sort of looks like he takes his politics with a grain of salt.
   But Mr. Jack got serious about being mayor just two days after Mayor Vinson disappeared. That day he told the vice mayor he ought to call a town meeting to decide what to do about replacing the mayor. The vice mayor was against it at first but finally agreed. Three members of the town council, which was enough for an official vote, and about twenty five people showed up at the meeting. After the vice mayor called the meeting to order, Mr. Jack got up and made a strong case for holding a special election. One of his main concerns, he said, was settling the insurance claim on the police car and money that were missing and buying a replacement car. He believed these matters ought to be handled by a duly elected mayor.
   Mrs. Vinson, the wife of the mayor, said that for all we know, Mayor Vinson might just show up any day and give a good explanation for his disappearance. Mr. Jack brought up the disappearance of the preacher’s wife the same night that the mayor disappeared, and Mrs. Vinson said it might just be a coincidence. When he brought up the missing police car and money, she said that also might be coincidence. Mr. Jack said he sympathized with Mrs. Vinson and respected her for being loyal to her husband, but that her coincidence theory was mighty far fetched. Two or three people got up and argued that we ought to hold off on calling an election out of respect for the mayor who had always been good for the town. But Mr. Jack was dead set on calling an election and he countered the argument of everybody who spoke out against it, and after awhile opposition talk just died down.
   The council members went into a little side room to discuss the matter and to hold a vote in secret. When they came out the vice mayor said they’d voted two to one to hold an election in two weeks. He didn’t say how each member voted, but I will mention here that one of Mr. Jack’s sons was one of the council members present and voting. Right then and there Mr. Jack announced that he was a candidate for the mayor’s office. He went on to say that everybody in town was welcome at a gathering at his house on the afternoon of the election and that there’d be plenty of barbecue. He didn’t say so, but we all knew he meant all the white folks were welcome. After all, none of the colored folks were registered to vote. Mr. Jack said we ought to ask Molly Tarpley [chairman of the election board] to announce the election results at his gathering. Nobody objected to that, and the vice mayor adjourned the meeting.
   Nobody ran against Mr. Jack for mayor, but the town’s election laws allow for write-in votes, and he campaigned hard, like it was a tight race between him and some invisible opponent.  I guess maybe he wanted to get a landslide win, or what some politicians might call a mandate He said he talked personally to every registered voter, and he even tacked up 'Vote For Mr. Jack'  flyers on a few telephone poles and handed out some campaign stuff. And all day he hauled voters to the polls. By my count, he hauled 30 of the 80 registered voters to the polls, and I only rode with him about half of the trips he made.
   Mr. Jack came out of the building, got in the truck and started the motor “Thank goodness, that’s the last of the voters,” he said as he backed away from the building.
   “Did you ask them if they wanted to ride around your house,” I asked.
   “They knew I was in a hurry to get home, so they said they’d walk,” he said.
   “I meant to ask earlier about the mayor’s wife,” I said. “Did she vote?”
    “Mrs. Vinson told me yesterday she didn’t plan to vote,” he said. “She still thinks we shouldn’t have called the election so soon after the mayor’s disappearance. But the election’s done now, and it can’t be undone. Molly says she’ll have the votes tallied in about fifteen minutes. That don’t give us much time.”
    About the time Mr. Jack’s house came into sight, I asked him, “what’s the first thing you plan to do when you’re sworn in as mayor?”
   “Go to Miss Maud’s café and have me an RC Cola and a Moon Pie,” he said.
   “I mean the first official thing you plan to do,” I said. “Like when do you do aim to get that old ditch behind the Methodist Church cleaned out, like you told Reverend Timothy you would, and when do you aim to get the road scraped that runs by the Christian Church, like you told Reverend Matthew you would?”
    “A politician can’t do everything he promises when he’s electioneering,” he said. “People would get to expecting too much and that would be bad for all the politicians. I plan to hold off on doing any of the things I promised till I can get the road scraped that runs down by the Baptist Church. That road needs scraping bad.”
   As we pulled up in the front yard of Mr. Jack’s house, I could see that the back yard was full of people, mostly standing around in little groups.
   “Looks like about the whole town turned out,” I said.
   “Yeah, election gatherings have always been big around these parts,” he said, “and most folks won’t turn down free barbecue for any occasion.”
     I followed Mr. Jack to the barbecue pit where several men were standing around, talking mostly about fishing, and watching Jasper Jenkins who was looking after the pig.
    “It’s a fine looking pig,” Mr. Jack, Tom Morton said. Jasper says he ought to be ready to take up pretty soon now.”
    “That right, Jasper?” Mr. Jack asked. “We want to be ready to eat right after Molly gives us a rundown on the election, and she’ll be getting here any time now.”
    “Yes sir, Mr. Jack,” Jasper answered, looking up from where he’d been tending the coals. “I’ll be taking the pig up right shortly.” Jasper was considered one of the best in the county at barbecuing and was always a welcome sight at a gathering.
    “Tom Morton spoke up again: “We been talking about how good it is of you to invite all the town folks around to your place to help you celebrate the election, and we want you to know we appreciate it. We also got to wondering what would be the first thing you’d do as mayor.”
   Mr. Jack chuckled. “Like I just told Buck, I plan to have me a RC Cola and a Moon Pie.” With that Mr. Jack turned and walked toward the front porch where his wife Bessie was making a big batch of ice tea.
    After Mr. Jack got to the porch and was busy talking with his wife, I told the others what he’d told me he planned to do when he got to be mayor. We all had a good laugh because we knew that Mr. Jack’s house was on the same street as the Baptist Church. In fact, we could see the church from where we were standing at the barbecue pit. The men got to talking about sports, and pretty soon there was a heated argument about whether the town’s high school basketball team had a chance at winning the regional tournament this year.
   I heard the unmistakable high-pitched voice of Molly Tarpley and looked up to see her coming around the house toting a brief case and talking with Joann Pearce, the other member of the election committee. Mr. Jack came out of the house just as the two women reached the back-porch, and I heard him say, “how’s it going Molly? I hope you’re all set because the pig’s just about ready to take up.
   “Yes, sir, Mr. Jack, I guess I’m just about ready,” Molly said. She walked up on the porch and toward the door that opens into the house, and when she reached it, she motioned for Mr. Jack to follow her. People who had been scattered about the yard in little groups now began to gather around the porch. By the time Molly and Mr. Jack came back out of the house, everybody except Jasper was standing around and kind of crowding the porch.
   Mr. Jack said, “folks, Molly Tarpley here’s our town’s election board chairman, and she and  Joann Pearce tended the polls today. They’ve tallied the votes, and Molly’s ready to tell us how the vote turned out.”
   Everybody clapped and Molly, said “thank you, folks” Before she could continue, we were almost blown away by the scream of a siren that sounded like it was right in the midst of us – and it nearly was. A car pulled up and a few feet from the back porch with a siren on top that was winding down to a whine. The mayor’s wife was in the front on the passenger side and Mayor Vinson and the preacher’s wife were in the back.
   “Dam, I thought, “they caught the mayor and the preacher’s wife together.” I was sick at the stomach because I thought a lot of both of them people and I didn’t want to believe they’d run off together. And I really felt bad for the mayor’s wife. Then I noticed that the mayor and the two women were smiling and waving at the crowd.
   Everybody got out of the car, including the driver who was wearing a dark suit and Stetson hat. He spoke first, “folks, I’m sorry to disturb your gathering, but what I’ve got to say is too important to put off.”
   “Why don’t you tell us who you are and whatever it is you came to tell us, so we can get on with our main business?” Mr. Jack asked.
   The man stepped up on the porch, along with the mayor, Mrs. Vinson and the Preacher’s wife and said, “I’m Officer John Redman of the State Bureau of Investigation. You people already know your mayor is a good man but some of you may not know that he served in the bureau for a number of years. When he was with us he was involved in several under cover investigations and got pretty good at it. A few weeks ago we asked him if he’d help us bust up a smuggling ring which we knew was operating out of Savannah. It was a hard sell, mostly because Mrs. Vinson was against it, but she finally gave in, knowing it was a good purpose. Naturally we couldn’t tell anybody else about it, so the mayor just had to disappear. We wanted to make it look real good, so we arranged for the disappearance of Preacher Rod’s wife at the same time. She’s been living in a hotel in Augusta for the last three weeks, and it’s been pretty hard on her and Preacher Rod. To put the finishing touches on making the mayor’s disappearance look real, we took the town’s car and money and hid them both in a safe place.”
    “I’m proud to report,” he said “that the smuggling ring’s been busted. We’ve already arrested twelve people and expect more arrests in a day or two. You can read about the investigation and see where it stands in tomorrow’s newspapers. I thank your for your attention and now I’ll be leaving.”
   Mr. Jack spoke up, “Mr. Redman is welcome to stay, but we still have some business to tend to. I know we’re all mighty proud of what Mayor Vinson and Preacher Rod’s wife have done, but in doing it, they’ve put us in an awkward circumstance and created a lot of confusion. We’ve gone to the trouble of holding an election, and I believe the outcome ought to be honored.”
   Mayor Vinson said, “My wife and I have talked the matter over and we agree with you. We ought to let the election stand and I can tell you there won’t be any hard feelings.” I saw pained expressions on a lot of faces, but nobody else spoke up.
    Everybody except Mr. Jack left the porch and joined the rest of the crowd in the yard.
   “That’s settled then,” Mr. Jack said. “Molly, come on up and tell us about the vote and who won the election.”
   Molly came back up and Mr. Jack stepped down to leave her alone on the porch. “This town’s voters are known to be pretty independent,” she said, “and as usual we do have some write-in votes and some surprises. Now here’s how the voting turned out.”
   “Hemingway, Mr. Tad Jackson’s goat, got four votes, and Spot, Mr. Brad Bentley’s three-legged bird dog got three votes.” She paused for a moment and said, “Mr. Jack got three votes and Mr. Paul Vinson got 70 votes.” The crowd was absolutely silent and motionless till Molly broke the spell and said, “Mayor Vinson, would you like to come up and say a few words?" The mayor stood where he was and said, “I’d like to thank you folks for confirming your trust and confidence in me, and I’ll try not to let you down. I’d also like to thank Mr. Jack for having this gathering and for making everybody feel welcome. I expect he might have something to say.”
   Like I’ve said before, Mr. Jack has always laughed off his political setbacks. I watched him make his way onto the porch and wondered how he’d handle this one  because he sure had his sights set on being mayor. “I want to congratulate Mayor Vinson for his landslide win,” he said. “He is, without a doubt, the best absentee candidate I’ve ever heard of. Some of you might think I’m embarrassed or even bitter over this election, but I’m not. I’m not sorry I campaigned so hard, because I got to talk to every one of you during the last two weeks. I don’t begrudge the two boxes of cheap cigars I handed out to the men, or the bookmarks I gave the women, which I hope they’ll use to mark their favorite verses in their bibles. And it makes me feel especially good to know that you people won’t sell your votes for a ride in the back of a pickup truck.”
   “And how do I feel about my poor showing in the election?” Mr. Jack asked. “Well I can tell you that I can see some good in the fact that I only got three votes. Two of my votes were from me and my wife, and that means that only one of my three children, at most, voted for me.” He looked over where his family was standing and continued, “Every father hopes his children will grow up to be good judges of character, and I’m proud to say about mine, two out of three ain’t bad. Now, let’s bow our heads while Preacher Rod says the blessing. Then let’s eat some barbecue.”