Thoughts From the Front Porch

[I'd love to have some help with this piece, if any of you guys are willing. I want to talk about the cars people were driving in 1948. Every bit of this part is fiction, except the fact that there was a fatal house fire in a small town and a passing stranger discovered it. There really was, of course, a family and a policeman and a night telephone operator. Lem Pike had a different name, but he existed, and that's about all I know about him. We're going to make him into a man who notices cars. But what make and model of cars would people have been driving in the middle of the last century? Let's make Lem a traveling shoe salesman, who takes samples to stores in small towns and then takes orders. What kind of car would he drive, if he was car proud? What car would Earline the diner owner have? What can we say about the new Lincoln parked near the burning house? What car would a middle class family drive? and what about a fine and fancy car driven by a wealthy man, who would've paid cash for it right after WWII?]

Lem Pike was used to driving at night. But this was about the darkest night he’d seen in quite a while. No moon a-tall, and it was right cool for early May. He’d been drivin’ hard for hours. And he was about wore out, trying to get home to Birmin’ham..Hadn’t stopped since that late supper at Earline’s place, right outside Between, Georgia.  Earline’s a nice girl, no more than forty. And she runs a good diner. Lem fell into deep thought, mostly considering Earline’s finer attributes.

Atlanta had to be got through. Nothing to do but put your head down and keep pushing.  But at least it had enough goin’ on to keep a man awake. Long about Tallapoosa, Lem began to wish he’d brought Earline on home with him to meet Mama. That Earline was an entertainin’ woman.

Lem stretched himself good and slowed down to a crawl goin’ through Fruithurst. He knew the sheriff and deputy there by face and by name, and he knew their connivin’ ways. Tuckin’ their selves behind billboards and flyin’ out, sirens whinin’. And by crackies, they wouldn’t get him again going 31 miles per hour in a 25 mile zone. Ort to be somethin’ done about the crooked law enforcement in this state. The law ort to do something about it. But, there you go.

Outside the city limits again, Lem stepped on the accelerator with some caution and set his back for the long haul on home to Birmin’ham. Mama would be so proud to see him in the mornin’ –a whole day early for Mother’s Day.

The towns had begun to cruise by him, now that he was getting closer. Heflin, Oxford, Riverside. Nothing on the radio so Lem sang to himself. “You Are My Sunshine.” He coulda used a little sunshine along about then. Or moonshine either one. There was a place at Riverside a man could pick up a little bonded whiskey anytime day or night. But Lem thought better of it and kept on driving.

He pulled into Gearing and slowed down to see what was playing at the Lyric Theater. “The Big Sleep.” Well, Lem thought, I could sure use me some of that. Gearing was a right nice little town. Lem had stopped here before. Good little diner on down here a little ways.

The few street lights helped if you wanted to see the sidewalk. But from the looks of things, Gearing was dead to the world.

Lem stopped at the red light, re-adjusted himself in his seat and moved on through when the light turned green. Eden would be just ahead. That name always made Lem smile. He knew there was a sign out there on the roadside that said “If you ever lived in Eden, you would now be at home.” That just cracked Lem up every time.

Dark. It was about as dark as Lem had seen it. If you can see dark. The yellow beams of his headlights showed some fog risin’ too. Then, up ahead, Lem thought he saw another light of some kind.  He sat up to get a better look. Looked like dawn breaking. But it was way too early for that. Besides, he was headed west. He leaned into the darkness and looked harder. Well that uz sure interestin’. Has somebody put some kind of electric gadget out here?

Drawing closer, Lem could see that the glow was nothing electric. On the right hand side back off the road, a house was afire.

Lem pulled his vehicle up the drive and jumped out. Trying to figure what to do first, he went to the front door. He just had to wake them people up. The flames were shooting out through the picture window, so that was no good. He ran around to the back and noticed a brand spanking new Lincoln automobile parked back there. He wondered, in passing, if that fine car was safe from the flames. Be a shame to see that thang burn up. He banged on a window in the back of the house and tried a door. It opened but the smoke was so thick and the heat. Lord the heat. Lem couldn’t get in that away. He’d have to get help.

He ran back to his car and spun it around, headed back out to Highway 78. He slowed  to look, knowing nothing was coming,  But you never do know. He put it gear and sped to the nearest neighbor’s house, jumped out and set to banging on their door. Well, wait till Earline hears about this.

Lem finally got a tousled-looking man to the door, and he wasn’t too happy either. But as soon as Lem got him to understand, the man peered out into the darkness and saw the fire, then he changed his tune and said hurriedly, “Git  on in here then.”

Lem followed as the man rushed towards the back of the house yellin’ “Mama get up. Fire at McIntosh’s.” In the kitchen, the telephone hung on a wall. The man picked up the ear piece and hollared into the receiver. “Operator? Is this Lucy Jim? Lucy Jim, get me Leroy Weems. They’s a fire up here at Doc McIntosh’s house. Kin you git im up and the rest of em? I’ll take this here feller and we’ll go over there now.”

Lem thought about that. A doctor it was.

Before the man got his clothes on good, a siren began to go off back up towards Gearing some place. The two men jumped in Lem’s car and drove back over to the burning house. They tried again, both of them to wake the people inside, but they had no luck with that. So they could do nothing but watch the flames grow higher and wider.

Not long after that the volunteer fire department arrived. Some came in cars. Some came on the fire truck and went to pumping water on the inferno, but that just seemed to aggravate it somehow, No better’n pouring gasoline on it, it looked like. The glow from the flames made a bright place around the house in the dark night. Other men, and women too draggin’ little children, began to gather into a crowd and just mumble among themselves and watch the house burn. A police car drove up into the yard with the light on top flashing. The policeman got out of the driver’s side and two girls hopped out of the back where the prisoners usually go. They didn’t look a bit like they’d come from the jail.

It wasn’t long before a car pulled up and a wailin’ woman was helped out by the man who drove them and the little a girl who had sat in the middle. Then came another car with a younger couple and two children. The crowd parted for this group. Lem heard somebody whisper, “the family.” They hung onto each other and sobbed. One of the women tried to break away and run towards the house, but her grim-faced menfolk stopped her. She collapsed in their arms. Lem would’ve liked to’ve spoke to them to tell ‘em he’d tried to get the people out and that he was sorry. But he felt a little shy of breaking in on their grief.

By that time, the fire department had given up trying to get inside the house. They’d given up trying to put the fire out too. It just wasn’t any use. Nobody could’ve stopped it or gone in there. That house was goin’ to burn slap up. A policeman talked to some folks in the crowd, and they pointed towards Lem. The cop walked up and asked Lem some questions. The questions didn’t make much sense and neither did Lem’s answers. Dawn was breaking and Lem was mighty tired, so he asked if it was all right to go and got leave.

As he went to find his car down near the highway, Lem noticed a feller off from the others. He was watchin’ the fire and watchin’ the folks too. That struck Lem as odd. But he was too give out to think about it much. Every town has its odd folks. And Lem was looking forward to some of Mama’s ham and eggs and an audience to tell his story to. Just wait till Mama’n them hear about this night in the life of a shoe salesman.

The Right Southern Corner is a series by Sara Rast
Copyright: 2008 Sara Love Rast. All rights reserved.

The Right Southern Corner