Bald-Bellar
James L. Cowles
©
Copyright 2019 by James L. Cowles
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You
might say, Tim Needles has an appropriate name. He is one of the most
nervous guys who ever lived, always on pins & “needles”
and with a very bad habit of worrying about every little detail in
life. You might say he has always seen the glass half empty.
Tim got
married in the early nineteen-sixties at the tender age of nineteen,
with a bride who was only sixteen, and pregnant; that alone would
burden most men, but he was a worrier long before that. He seemed to
have unique abilities many would see as a gift, but he wanted no part
of them; they were a nuisance; “Nothing good in that stuff,”
he’d say. Unfortunately this “gift” bewildered him,
adding more stress to his life, so he never had a desire to develop
it. What about these so called abilities you ask? The first time he
knew he could see things others couldn’t was when he was only
eight years old, sitting on the sofa in his living room watching his
mother wash dishes. She had repeatedly asked him to take out the
garbage and finally, in quite a snit of arrogance, he said, “Nope;
don’t have too!” It was something an eight year old might
say to another eight year old, but when said to your mother, trouble
awaits. He wasn’t quite finished with his condescending
attitude either and so he added; “I’m not gonna do it and
you can’t make me.” His mother, a quiet, somewhat meek
woman, told him he would be sorry for “sassing” her, but
he was not afraid and foolishly stuck to his guns. “You can’t
make me, momma” he said, laughing right in her face. He didn’t
realize he was about to learn a very hard lesson about his own
undeveloped abilities; it would change his life.
Tim’s
next door neighbor, James, had a grandmother who often baby sat him
when his parents wanted to get away for an evening and she would
allow Tim to visit. She had once told the boys about an awful spirit
she called, the “Bald-Bellar.” Granny was a full-blooded
Native American and Tim loved hearing her stories. She seemed to be
full of odd tales, mamy of which were from her childhood and they
were fascinating to young impressionable children such as Tim and
James. She also was glad to have Tim visit because it kept James from
getting bored during the evening. However, she would always insist
the boys sit in the kitchen with her, with the rest of the house in
total darkness. This was no doubt a way to keep the boys near her, so
she could keep an eye on them and not have to get up to chase them,
but they were always too scared to move anyway, mostly because of her
tales.
Sitting
on the sofa in his living room, he was remembering the warning Granny
had given the boys, telling them she had seen this awful spirit once
when she was a bad little girl. She cautioned them that if they
didn’t want to see this horrid creature, they had better be
good. It had indeed proven quite an effective tool to keep them quiet
and close during her baby-sitting duties, but was it real? Tim
remembered those words, “the creature’s head is
spoon-shaped and it is brown all over, with an ugly sharp-toothed
filled mouth and big red eyes on the side of his head. He only
appears when children are bad. He also has been known to bite bad
little children with his very sharp teeth and sometimes even eat
them.” That part made Tim’s blood run cold with fear. The
old woman had a very strange look on her face when she said i. It was
downright scary, but now he sat on the sofa and laughed as he
remembered her tale and the warning she had given. “She just
wanted to keep us close, that’s all,” he thought. As he
sat there, he began thumbing through his “Boys Life”
magazine, thinking about going fishing, but he couldn’t help
but notice his mother crying softly, although he tried to ignore her,
determined to stick it out and not feel guilty. She, like him, was
also a very nervous person, a trait Tim no doubt inherited from her.
He knew she was hurt deeply by his words, but he looked straight
ahead, trying his best to ignore her tears. From his position he
could see the door to the only bathroom and although he couldn’t
be sure, he thought he saw a slight movement there. At first he
thought his eyes were playing tricks on him; he knew his mother and
he were the only two at home and he could see her standing just ten
feet from him. As he watched the bathroom door something that looked
like the ugly “Bald-Bellar” Granny had described,
appeared in the doorway and ground its teeth at Tim, staring
menacingly. He was pretty sure he was not dreaming and for the first
time, was convinced this hideous creature existed. The old woman
wasn’t so crazy after all, was she?
All he
could think about was his need for protection and so he ran to his
mother, hugging her and apologizing for sassing her. It was he who
was crying now. She hugged him of course and couldn’t imagine
what he was blubbering about, but decided to use this as an opportune
time for a life lesson. She said, “I told you, you would be
sorry, didn’t I? Don’t, ever sass me again, young man, do
you understand me?” Of course Tim agreed immediately, as he did
not want to go back into that living room to see that thing again.
The garbage got emptied very quickly after that and when he returned,
he wisely decided to linger in the kitchen with his mother. Later,
when he told his friends what had happened, they just laughed and
said he was crazy, but that day became a day of change for Tim
Needles, because he immediately became more aware of how he treated
others. It was not his imagination, no, no, it wasn’t. He knew
he did not want to ever see that ugly bald creature again.
When Tim
turned twenty-one, his mother became very ill with stomach cancer. In
many ways, his three sisters, all older than he, still treated him
much like a child. They knew how ill their mother was, but were
concerned the truth might “upset Timmy,” so they kept it
from him as long as they could. They surmised that he had enough on
his plate, what with a new baby and both he and his wife being so
young. Tim already knew something was terribly wrong, he just didn’t
know what. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he spent weeks
coming home from work, eating a light supper and going straight to
bed. He didn’t tell his wife, but he sensed an impending
disaster and sleeping was somehow his way of avoiding reality. He
thought it was a good defense, so he feigned illness, telling his
wife he was just working too hard. He somehow knew that someone in
the family was going to die and it scared him to his core. He had
death on his mind almost every second of his life after that and kept
thinking, if he “slept,” at least the pain would stop,
but it didn’t. When his youngest sister finally confided in
him, he was sure that God, an Angel, or a Spirit of some kind had
been trying to prepare him for his mother’s death and oddly, he
felt comforted by that. When she died, he became deeply spiritual and
much more religious, going to church every time the doors opened.
Still, he resisted developing his “spiritual senses,”
although he knew they were there. Despite his maturity, he could not
help but remember that “Bald-Beller” and he stressed out
when he thought about “messing with the spirits.” He
feared he might conjure up something very evil if he wasn’t
careful. Tim had plenty of “smarts,” but didn’t
realize he had above average intelligence, even though he scored high
on an IQ test. Somehow, he had the silly notion that a lack of
intelligence was linked to the spiritual world. It was certainly a
shame, but he feared exploring his God given ability to communicate
with the “spirits.” The young man was screwed up in so
many ways, but perhaps the only good thing that came from such an
early marriage was it forced him to focus on his future and he
decided he needed to make more money to support his small family. He
was determined to be successful and set out to be so.
In
today’s terms, Tim would easily have been diagnosed as having a
severe case of ADD, but in the nineteen-sixties, such a thing was
rare. When he was in high school, his attention span was practically
nil. He was always daydreaming in class and often times waited until
the last minute to study for a test or complete a project. Still, his
grades were mostly above average, but never-the-less, he believed he
had a cloud over his head and had developed somewhat of a tendency to
see himself as the “target” for bad things, despite the
fact his negativity often led to the very result he dreaded.
Certainly no one could say he was the product of positive thinkers,
as both his parents were unable to complete high school, although it
was not their fault. Both had lived in a very rural sitting and
because they had never had very much materially, they seemed
satisfied with living meager lives. On the other hand, Tim wanted to
improve his lot and when his employer offered him a program that
would pay for college tuition, he jumped at it. His determination was
the key that caused him to focus on scholastics. He worked hard
during the day and went to school at night, quickly completing all
hours of his major in record time, but the pressure didn’t end.
Within
two short years another child came along and now he had four mouths
to feed. Despite the added pressure, he continued working hard and
going to school, attempting to better himself and that of his family.
He knew it was the right thing to do and was determined to not let
up. He had worried about completing all the hours of his major first,
but when a counselor at the University told him “that’s
what I would do,” he used that as a positive sign that he was
doing the right thing and took every hour of accounting and business
he could force himself to take. He was always reminded that he wanted
more for his kids, something every parent wants and although he had
never received straight A’s in high school, he easily got them
in college. For the first time, he seemed able to focus and that gave
him great hope and confidence for the future. Unfortunately, he still
had the nagging problem of being a worry wart. He knew he had this
terrible tendency of worrying too much and although his good friend
Joe had once told him, “95% of what you worry about will never
happen, Tim,” he just couldn’t help himself.
Another
of his friends had suggested that both Tim’s parents were
worriers and so it naturally followed, he too would suffer from that
same affliction. Tim did wonder if either of his parents, like him,
had a touch of unwanted psychic ability; maybe his mother conjured up
that bald-beller? That surely made sense. He knew his mother was
always wringing her hands at the slightest problem, while his
father’s first response was usually anger. Both of these
perhaps are the trait of a person with low self-esteem and although
Tim recognized that to be the case, it still didn’t solve his
problem. He surmised that he had been “trained” to bear
the brunt of negativity for years, most likely caused by his fear of
and sensitivity to the spirit world. He wasn’t sure what part
his parents might have played in his development, but he knew it was
logical for him to have their traits. His worrisome ways had caused
him to always be concerned about losing his job it and he wondered if
he might inadvertently cause himself to lose it. “Well,”
he thought, “If mom could conjure up an ugly creature, maybe he
inadvertently could conjure up a lay off at his company.” This
time he was faced with a perfect example; something he had worried
about actually happened and now he was even more worried that he may
have caused it. He lost his job and now was scared half to death for
his family and for himself. While some might have taken their time in
finding a new job, drawing unemployment as long as possible, Tim’s
fear got the best of him; he was afraid he might never find another
job, so he began searching the very next day, right after the
lay-off.
Tim’s
best friend, Joe Handy, a friend of Tim’s since childhood, was
Tim’s exact opposite. He didn’t worry a whit about
anything and despite having never completed high school himself; he
could have cared less about losing a job. When Tim suggested to Joe
he might lose his job if he took too much time off, Joe’s
response was, “so what? I’ll just find me another one,
Timmy. You worry too dath much, son.” It just so happened,
Joe’s sir-name fit him as well. He was indeed a “handy”
fellow, with the ability to figure out most any mechanical problem.
His old car occasionally broke down, but never for long. He seemed to
always know what to do to get it running again. Although he was a bit
clumsy, he was also a pretty good carpenter, even making his own
kitchen cabinets. He had no training to speak of, but amazingly could
watch someone do a job one time and from then on, be able to do it.
He was pretty darned handy!
Joe was
not married, so couldn’t empathize fully with Tim. Unlike Tim,
he also had a swagger about him, although it was difficult to know
where it had come from. His father had to contend with a mental issue
and out of pure necessity, his mother became the family bread-winner.
There was no such thing as disability insurance for a railroad man in
those days, so Joe’s father sat home, often just reading the
bible. In some ways Joe became “the man of the house” and
that may well have given him the confidence he needed in life, making
a positive out of a negative. He certainly was good at that. With his
mother working full-time and his father sometimes really “out
of it,” Joe was mostly on his own and as a result, it was
inevitable he would get into trouble and he did, several times during
his teen years. Once when he wanted to get some friends out of high
school so they could just hang out, he called the school and reported
that he had planted a bomb somewhere inside the building. The story
went viral of course and was all over local news channels. It just so
happened Joe’s TV was busted, so he came over to Tim’s to
“watch the news,” which Tim thought was pretty strange.
It didn’t take Tim long to figure out that Joe was the culprit.
He just watched Joe’s face as he watched the news and it was
obvious he was scared half out of his mind. He confided in Tim that
night and made him swear he would never tell anyone. Finally, a few
days later one of the kids he was trying to get out of school,
“ratted on him” and as a result, Joe spent a full month
in juvenile detention. That was something that would have probably
killed Tim, but not Joe. No one was surprised when he came out
sounding like a gangster, bragging about all the things that had
happened while he was, “incarcerated.” Joe learned this
“new word,” which he seemed to revel in. It was one he
had never heard before he was given first-hand knowledge and he
talked about his “time incarcerated” as if he had just
escaped death row. Tim knew that was all a ruse and he was pretty
sure Joe had cried himself to sleep most every night of his
detention, but he also knew Joe would never admit to it.
Tim and
Joe had known each other from early childhood and one always seemed
to know what the other was thinking or feeling. You might say Joe was
the Yin to Tim’s Yang. They needed each other much more than
either realized. When Tim had a problem, Joe seemed to always be able
to calm him down quickly and when Joe had a “I don’t give
a damn” attitude, Tim knew that he really did care and somehow
helped him come to grips with it. They knew each other so well and
trusted each other so much they felt comfortable sharing everything
in life. When Tim told Joe about his seemingly strange ability, Joe
immediately suggested that he and Tim explore it, look into it and
see what was cooking with it. He even said he was willing to help Tim
become a “ghost hunter,” but Tim’s fear of the
spiritual world and that ‘ol “Bald-Bellar,” kept
him from doing so. Tim had never had more than one apparent
paranormal event in his life, but now his job loss may have suddenly
brought him into the world he most feared. Who is the first person he
decided to talk with about it? Well, Joe of course and Joe was more
than eager to recount Tim’s extremely odd experience with
whomever else was willing to listen. He asked Tim’s permission
to call the local media and try to find someone who would either
print the story, or recount it on TV or Radio. Tim agreed, although
reluctantly. His only condition was Joe couldn’t use his real
name.
Halloween
was not far off and Joe knew he had the perfect story for the event.
Maybe someone on one of the local TV stations would like to hear the
story, or maybe it could come out in the newspaper? Tim had okayed it
and all he had to do was be careful not to mention Tim's name. He
could do that. He made calls to several stations, as well as the
local newspaper, but all he was able to do was leave a voice-
message. Everyone seemed to be too busy to hear the story. When Joe
told him, Tim was actually relieved no one had called back; but Joe
had not given up. Early one morning a few days before Halloween, he
got a call from one of the local public radio stations. A "Mr.
Wright" said they were looking for “scary” stories
for their Halloween special.’ In fact, they planned to pick
several stories to run on Halloween eve and he told Joe his story
sounded interesting. However, Mr. Wright had an unusual request;
would he tell the story over the phone and allow the station to
record it? Depending on whether or not they decided to use it, they
then would choose appropriate music to run behind it and of course,
if Joe did a good job telling the story, they’d just use his
recording to run on the radio. He was a bit nervous about that, but
agreed to give it a try; clearing his throat, he began to tell the
story.
“Alright,”
he said, “let me tell you, you are not gonna believe what
happened to my best friend the other day. I can’t tell you my
friend’s name, because I promised him I wouldn’t, but he
lives right here in this very City, right this very minute.”
Joe was trying to be dramatic. “Maybe he lives next door to
you. Anyway, this is a true story and I can hardly believe it myself,
but I know it’s true. It started this way. My friend, we’ll
call him, Ralph, called me and wanted me to meet him for a beer. Now,
if you’ve ever had a best friend in trouble, then you’ll
know what I mean – my buddy was in a panic when he called,
scared half to death. Now this is not the only time he has panicked,
but just listen to this. He said he had lost his job and had hardly
slept a wink since. People can be weird about the funniest things,
but he is a tried and true friend and I’d do anything for him,
God knows I would. He told me something unbelievable happened to him
and he couldn’t wait to tell me all the details.” He
said, ‘I think I’m going crazy Joe. It’s got me so
danged upset, I’m even afraid to go looking for another job.’
I could tell by his voice he needed help and as I said, we’ve
always been there for each other, so naturally I agreed to meet him.
Anyway, he had me really curious and I wanted to know what the hedo
was going on. I agreed to meet with him and help him hash it out. By
the say, excuse my excitement. I’ll try to keep a little calmer
from here on. I really can’t help it when I get to tellin’
a story.”
“So,
anyway – I know how nervous that boy can get. He just didn’t
want to talk by phone, like someone or something might be listening,
you know, so we decided to meet at a favorite place, ‘Uncle
Louie’s,’ where the beer’s cold and even better,
it’s cheap.” I love that place! Forgive me, I know you
don’t like to run commercials, but it is an awfully good place
here in our neighborhood. Anyway, I’ve never known Tim to lie
and the poor guy doesn’t even kid very much. I mean, I couldn’t
imagine what had him so upset and I worried about him most of the
day. I was really anxious to find out about this ‘big mystery,’
so I showed up at Louie’s a little early to beat the crowd. I
got us a fairly private booth and had drank about half my beer when I
caught a glimpse of him when he came in. He saw me and headed my way
and as he approached, I motioned to the waitress to bring him a cold
one. He was carrying this kinda big brown sack and as he sat down, he
leaned in toward me and immediately began whispering, excitedly. I
tell you, the boy’s face was white as a sheet.” He said,
‘You know I’ve been lookin’ for a job since last
week, dude. It’s only been a few days, I know, but it seems
like forever, man. Anyway, the day after I lost my job, I stopped at
Fred’s diner, you know, the one over there on South Third?’
“He swallowed hard and continued. He said his wallet was not as
flush as mine and said he really needed to get back to a job of some
kind. He continued, saying, ‘It was just the day after I lost
my job, but see, I figured I wouldn’t waste time, so I started
looking for another job right away. I started knocking on doors at
8:00am that morning and I was tired and hungry, so I spent the last
two bucks in my pocket on a grilled cheese and a coke. I know the
owner and he gave me a cup of soup for free. Anyway,” he said,
as he continued, “Dude, I don’t know why, but I just kept
thinking,’ “I’m gonna get a job offer today,”
then he said, “Just as I took my first bite, I overheard a
conversation at the booth right next to mine. A well-dressed older
guy said these very words ‘we need to hire another man, right
now.’ “Well, I could feel my palms start to sweat and I
just wanted to shout, ‘Hey there - I’m your man’!
He paused, then said, “Joe, you know I would dig ditches right
now, man.” I nodded, and he just kept talking. “Anyway, I
figured, what have I got to lose and I took a deep breath, stood up,
turned around and said, “I need a job!” Tim said everyone
within earshot quit talking and the two men at the table began
laughing. Finally the older man said, “Hello son, my name’s
Lenny and this is my son, George.” Tim said he was so
embarrassed, he apologized, saying, “I’m sorry,
gentlemen, but I’ve been knockin’ on doors all morning.
My name’s Ralph Weedles; I lost my job last week and I’m
looking for a new one.” He said the old man just smiled and
said, “That’s okay young man, we’re gonna fill our
position soon now - maybe you’re our man? We’re looking
for an accountant son, can you do that job?” ‘He said,
“Yes sir, I sure can; then he said he stuttered, “I’m,
I’m, still in University, I’m an accounting major and I’m
making straight A-s!” Then he paused again and said, “Joe,
I tell you, I was so proud I could say that. What irony; how lucky
could a guy be? And Joe, these guys were dressed to kill, but oddly,
more like characters in a ‘thirties’ movie, wide lapels
and all, man. Dude, I needed that job so bad, I could care less what
they were wearing. I was pretty sure they liked me.”
Anyway,
Lenny, the older guy, gave Ralph his business card and said, “Now,
call me next week.” Ralph said the phone number on his business
card was strange. It had letters in front of the numbers, but he
said, “Man, I dialed it and to my relief, it worked. Mr. Lenny
was just as nice on the phone as he had been in person and he wanted
me to come in to talk with him right away. I don’t know why I
found myself calling the old guy, ‘Mister Lenny’ but I
found out later, that it’s somewhat of a southern tradition,
showing respect for both age and position. You just don’t hear
people talking like that anymore, but something seemed to compel me
to call him by that name. Joe, look here! Here’s his card. See,
it says ‘President,’ ‘Hopewell & Chance.’
“‘Mr. Lenny said H&C was a brokerage house in Lyndon
and he told me just enough to whet my appetite. We set the
appointment for the next day and all I could think was, I’m
gonna be an accountant for a stock broker.” He said, “‘I
thought I had died and gone to heaven.”
Then he
said, “I didn’t tell Karen about it; I think I just
wanted to surprise her.”’ Ralph was really excited now
and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was gonna tell me he saw
that darn “Bald-Bellar” again last night. Oh, you don’t
know about that thing, do you? I’ll tell you later. Anyway, I
thought, if he is pulling my leg, I’m gonna blow my @#&!
top. Oh, sorry for that! It’s darn hard not to use a little
saucy language now and then, you know, especially when I get excited.
I hope you can clean that up. Now, about that Bald-Bellar. it’s
just an imaginary creature, a real ugly mean thing Tim, er, I mean,
Ralph claims he has seen at least once in his life. It only appears
when a little kid is bad and it came to visit him one time when he
sassed his mother. See, Ralph has the ability to see things others
can’t. He said an old Indian woman told him about the
Bald-Bellar and now that he had actually seen one, he knew she was
telling the truth. He sure sounded convinced, but I don’t know.
By the way, you’ll need to take the name “Tim” out
of my story. Maybe you can just beep it, or something?
Anyway,
back to the story. Now I personally don’t remember the
building, but Ralph said it looked pretty old and was on North 7th
street in downtown Lyndon. They just tore it down, so if you don’t
remember it, you can 't see it. Anyway, he said it was easy to find
and as he entered the foyer, a bell rang, supposedly announcing his
presence. He looked around the lobby and said he noticed an old
spittoon that showed signs of recent use and he remembered thinking
“ugh; not very appealing.” He said he waited quite a
while before looking up the stairway and there, silently and somewhat
eerily, stood a smiling Mr. Lenny. Tim said he scrambled up to shake
the old man’s hand and get his first view of the office. He
said it was arranged oddly, like an old style office, “bull-pen,”
with every desk except one occupied, supposedly his, that is, if he
they hired him, and everyone was very busy. He said the people looked
odd and not a single person looked up. Was that an Abacus? Yep! Tim
said he knew what it was, but it startled him to see someone actually
using one. Then he noticed a crank phone hanging in the center of the
bullpen and thought, “How curious; surely it’s just a
conversation piece.” There was also an old black box ticker
tape clicking away and he said he couldn’t help but notice that
everyone had an old fashioned manual Remington typewriter on their
desk. At that point he decided he was about ready to leave; but he
did not want to be rude.
He said
it scared him when he saw the headlines of a newspaper lying on a
desk. It said in very large print, “CRASH!” He said the
font was strange, but to top it all off, as he looked around the
bullpen, all he saw were dingy green walls, with no art or pictures
of any kind, except for a few calendars hanging over several of the
desks; they looked old and faded, just like the newspaper. He said he
could have sworn he actually saw the year “1929” at the
top of one, but then, he wasn’t sure. He said all the employees
were men and they all were wearing what he described as “out of
date” clothing. Every man was wearing a visor on his head and
they all just sat silently, almost ghostly. He said he felt himself
beginning to sweat. It felt as if he had stepped back in time. The
dingy walls made the place look haunted and he said, “I had to
tell myself, relax, you need this job.”
He said
the interview was lengthy and Mr. Lenny asked some pretty strange
questions. ‘Had Ralph’s father lost anything in the 29
crash? Had any of his relatives committed suicide during the turmoil?
Had any of his father’s friends or relatives ever committed
suicide?’ “Ralph said, “I told Mr. Lenny, none of
my relatives ever had any money, but Mr. Lenny kept on talking about
the ‘horrors of 1929.’ He didn’t ask one single
question about accounting or give Ralph a job description. Tim said,
er, I mean Ralph said he was puzzled and feeling pretty uncomfortable
and when it finally came his turn to ask questions, the first thing
he asked was for a job description. He said Mr. Lenny just laughed
and said, “Oh, I’m sure you’re qualified son, now
let me introduce you to our treasurer – she’ll tell you
more about the job.” Then Mr. Lenny led him through the office
and showed him the desk that would be his, the same one that he
noticed was empty. Once again, not a single person looked up. Mr.
Lenny introduced him to “Miss Molly,” and as he reached
out to shake her hand, a small, “sweet-faced lady with a
quirky, but gentle smile” was staring up at him. She was
probably in her seventies or even early eighties and her hand was icy
cold. She just started talking and didn’t even bother to offer
him a seat. Ralph said her questions were eerily similar to Mr.
Lenny’s and he just stood there, facing a large open window
answering questions the best he could. He said he had a clear view of
the street below and something outside caught his eye. At first, he
said, “I saw a horse and carriage, then, vintage automobiles
and horse-drawn wagons began appearing all up and down the street.
Then came the sounds, and a lot of them; horns honking, horses
neighing and in general, a lot of commotion. Tim said there were no
special events, nor was there a parade scheduled that day, at least
nothing he knew of, but he noticed all the people on the sidewalk
were dressed in old clothes, like in old photographs. He was shocked
to see the streets were cobblestone and he said it caused him to
momentarily lose concentration. He could hear Miss Molly, but her
voice had become an almost distant drone; he knew she was telling him
about the job, but still he continued to be drawn to the noisy scene
below and when he finally came out of his stupor, he was thinking,
“Pay attention Ti, er, I mean, Ralph – don’t blow
this!”’ Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the
feeling that he needed to “be finished with this interview and
get the heck out of there.” He said, ‘I just hung in
there, answering Miss Molly’s questions and she finally lifted
her eyes and nodded to Mr. Lenny, who had stayed the entire time, as
if to say, “hire him.” Ralph told me he never once
received a job description and before he knew it, Mr. Lenny was
leading him to the stairway, shaking his hand, saying, “You’re
a good find, my boy. Thanks for coming in – I’ll ring you
back soon, don’t you worry!” By now Ralph said he was
sweating so profusely he could actually feel the sweat running down
his nose. He was afraid his nerves were showing, but Mr. Lenny didn’t
seem to notice. He just smiled and said, “Please be careful out
on that street, son!” Ralph said the old man gave him the
strangest look and said, “You know, it’s very dangerous
out there,” and he said he felt a weird sensation come over him
and was greatly relieved to be leaving the building. He rushed down
the long stairway, skipping steps all the way, and then practically
flew across the foyer and out the big front door, bursting onto the
sidewalk. He said the feeling of stepping back in time was still
fresh and he was expecting to see wagons and old cars, but the street
was normal, nothing unusual and especially no horses, no cobblestone
and no old cars. Everyone was dressed in fashion of the day,
everything was modern, just as it should be; nothing at all looked
old and there was no parade, nothing out of the ordinary in sight.
The look
on Ralph’s face told me the story was going to get even
stranger. He said, “I was standing on the walk, contemplating
it all and I heard a horrible scream from directly above me. When I
looked up, I saw someone dressed a lot like Mr. Lenny, jumping from a
5th story window. He was careening right toward me, so I panicked and
leaped from the sidewalk onto the street, only to hear the sound of
screeching brakes.” A bus had barely missed him and now, he
said, “I stood looking up into the angry eyes of a bus driver,
with my hands firmly planted on the front of the bus, as if I was
trying to stop it.” “Breath Ralph,” he said he told
himself, and as he regained his composure, it became apparent that no
one had jumped. He said, “‘I was thinking, I surely
didn’t just imagine all this,” but when he turned toward
the building, he saw a very prominent sign in the front window that
read, “Urban Renewal Project.” The building, the one
Ralph had just come out of, was empty and ready to be demolished. He
said he stood quietly, tears filling his eyes, nerves in shambles and
for the longest time, he said, “‘I just stared at the
sign in the window.” A cold chill ran up my spine as I listened
to his story and I was sure he expected me to say, “You’re
crazy,” but I didn’t. I know him well enough to know when
he’s kidding me and if he was, it was one great acting job. At
least it wasn’t another bald-beller story. I tell you what, if
I find out he was lying to me, the boy’s gonna pay, big time.
I’ll kick his behind clear to Sunday.
Anyway,
his eyes began to fill with tears as he continued telling me this
story. He confided this was the main reason he was having a hard time
looking for a job. He said he went home that same day a
and
didn’t want to tell anyone about it, not even his wife. It was
obvious he hadn’t slept a bit, his eyes looked weak and red and
he was trembling. He said he decided to spend an afternoon at the
library yesterday, trying to find out more about “Hopewell &
Chance” and was surprised that he was able to find an old 1929
newspaper and an article H&C. The head-line was a story about a
very successful stockbroker, one “Mr. Lenny Thompson.”
The news article said that Mr. Thompson had began clerking for “H
& C” at the tender age of seventeen and had worked his way
to the top. In 1929, Mr. Thompson was one of the wealthiest men in
Lyndon, but he lost most everything as a result of the stock market
crash. In deep depression, Mr. Lenny had “leaped from an empty
5th story window of his office building,” and unfortunately, he
had landed on an innocent passerby. Now, listen to this; old Ralph
began almost sobbing and said, “Joe, that unlucky guy was my
paternal grandfather, Jesse.”
Ralph
told me his grandfather had died in some strange way, but no one had
ever shared the details with him. Now that he knew, how in the name
of glory could he explain all that had happened to him? “I get
cold chills just thinking about it,”’ he said. “‘You’re
the first person I’ve told.”’ The most astonishing
part, Ralph found out that his grandfather had interviewed that same
morning for an accounting job at H&C, just as he had done! He
said, “I’m a terrible wreck every time I think about it.”
All I could say in response was, “I’m here for you, my
friend.” I just wanted to try to give him a little support and
comfort; I certainly didn’t think it was the time to talk about
his strange powers, although I knew at some point I had to try and
help him get over his unrelenting fear. See, I’ve known old
Ralph had some kind of strange powers for a long time, but I can’t
get him to accept and develop it. He has a gift, but the gift scares
the bewillikers out of him.
Anyway,
he said he found a recent article about the old building at the
library; it had been vacant for at least ten years and scheduled for
demolition. He said he wanted to get inside just one more time and
tried to force the door, but he couldn’t open it. Nevertheless,
he said, “the old building was torn down just yesterday”
and he said, he made it a point to spend the day watching them
demolish it. Then he said, after everyone had left for the day, he
stepped under the yellow tape to look around and there, near the
sidewalk, he spotted an Abacus. Was it the one he had seen during his
interview? Yes, more than likely. He asked me, “Do you think my
grandfather was trying to tell me something, Joe?” He had a
bewildered look on his face, then he reached for tha paper bag he had
with him and he pulled out a beat up old Abacus. He laid it on the
table between us and with his other hand he laid Mr. Lenny’s
business card right on top of it. He paused and looked up as if to
say, “Here’s the proof brother – what do think
about all this?”’
Once
again, there was silence. I knew he was asking me what to make of it
all and I had absolutely no answers. One thing for certain, I knew
when he lost his job he would be desperate for a while. He’s
just so dath nervous. I guess he could have imagined everything; he’s
made for that, but then, what about that Abacus? And where did he get
that old business card? They were his proorn, they were his
documentation. He told me he had held everything in as long as he
could and he said, “now, Karen is gonna think I’m crazy,
but I have to tell her.” “Should I tell her, man”
he asked? Why would he ask me, I really don’t know, but I
quickly replied, no, no, no. Wait awhile on that. I wanted him to
think about it a little more and give me some time to think about it
too and I gave him all the money in my wallet just to help him out;
he made me stand so he could hug me. Hey, I’m not a big shot,
but when my good buddy’s in trouble, you better darn well
believe I’m gonna help him.
Uh, uh,
Ti, uh, Ralph, told me I was the only one he trusted with this story,
because he knew I wouldn’t ridicule him, that I’d support
him and even help him. I was pretty proud of that. He even apologized
to me. “It had to be you brother; am I crazy, man, or what?”
I finally had the opening I had been waiting for and cautiously began
talking about his quirky strange powers, his ability to see things
that others don’t. He listened as I told him he should now
think more seriously about developing those powers and that it was
time to get over his “stupid” fear of them. What else
could I say? He didn’t say a word when we stood we hugged
again, and I wanted him to know I believed every word he said, so I
simply said, “I believe you, man.” Believe me, it all was
more than a little convincing and I have to tell you, I really
believe it all happened, but I have exactly the same question as he
does. Why? I just wish I knew.
So, Mr.
Wright, now that you’ve heard it; how do you feel about using
this story on your radio show? I mean, can you use it? I can’t
answer all the questions you probably have, like, was Mr. Lenny a
specter, re-living his past? Did he choose Ralph because of his
grandfather? It might seem plausible, but I still can’t tell
you the real reason. Maybe Mr. Lenny was looking for an accountant
who could make it all go away? Or one who could help him hunt his
lost fortune? Maybe he’ll spend eternity looking for that
special accountant, if that’s even a possibility and maybe Mr.
Lenny and Ralph are inextricably linked in some odd, perhaps even
spiritual way. Hey, maybe this is Mr. Lenny’s special tale and
somehow, because of his grandfather, Tim, er, Ralph, got pulled into
it. Who knows?
Anyway,
I can tell you this. Ralph was greatly relieved to tell me his story
and to know I believed him. My believing seemed to give him the peace
of mind he deserved. Think about it. Suppose it was you in this
story, would you do more than just go to the library? If you had
Ralph’s crazy power, would you use it to find out more? I sure
would. But for old Ralph, it seemed all he could hope for was that
he’d soon find a job.” Oddly, it gives me peace to think
I may have helped a good friend by just listening. By the way, I
really appreciate you listening. Anyway, Ralph is a smart guy with a
lot on the ball, but he has this little quirk, you know. I suggested
he talk with his pastor, or maybe a good psychiatrist. I even told
him he might want to talk to a “mystic,” or a “seer.”
I also told him I’d go with him.” I know I may have said
Tim a couple of times, but his name is Ralph. I was just talking with
my cousin, Tim, earlier and I had him on my mind. You can take that
out, can’t you?
Mr.
Wright, there sure are a lot of desperate people these days. The
country is split right down the middle and a lot of people are
finding it hard to find a job. Who knows? Mr. Lenny may only come
around when times are like this, but I tell you what, if you are
interviewing for a job, I’d say you’d better get a close
look at a calendar, especially if the place looks anything like the
office old Ralph described. And, if the calendar doesn’t have
the current year on it, or if the place looks weird, get the hedo out
and do it pretty fast. You know, maybe the main lesson would be –
and nothing against the profession - but wouldn’t it make you
want to forget about being an accountant? If you think about it, an
accountant has somewhat the same demeanor as a mortician. And darn if
they don’t practically dress the same. The mortician might even
be a little more trustworthy. What’s the old joke? “A
good accountant can tell you exactly what your bottom line is and a
great accountant will ask you, “what do you want it to be?”
Thankfully,
Ralph has completely lost interest in accounting, which is of course
understandable. He said he is thinking about becoming a plumber; and
listen to this. Yeah, you might want to include this on your radio
show – talk about crazy; he told me he dialed Mr. Lenny’s
old phone number again, just for the heck of it and to his surprise,
“Lenny’s Plumbing” answered. Then he said, “That’s
how I became interested in plumbing.”
All I
could say to him was, “Surely you are kidding me, aren’t
you Ralphy? Ralphy, Ralphy, Ralphy. If you really want to be a
plumber, whatever you do, you sure as heck shouldn’t try to get
a job at ‘Lenny’s!’ And don’t you think it’s
time for me to see this Bald-Bellar you talk about so much?”
Come to think of it, the description sounds a little like those
aliens that are supposedly abducting people all over the world. “Why
not try to find out what is happening in your life? If you ask me, I
think it’s time for you to finally get serious!” Well,
anyway, I would like to say those exact words to him, but I’m
afraid it would make him go bonkers. That’s my friend old
Ralph; he is just one big bundle of nerves. Oh, I need to say again,
that ain’t his real name. I mean, I changed it just like he
asked. I don’t know why I kept saying, Tim, my cousin, but that
ain’t his name either. Okay?
So
anyway, what do you think? Are you gonna use this story? You are? Oh
boy, wait ‘til I tell Tim; uh, I mean Ralph. Hey, that’s
great, man. Do you want me to tell you more about the Bald-Bellar? I
could get Ralph to call you. Well, okay, I suppose you do have
enough, but, don’t leave out the part I told you, you know,
about that Bald-Bellar, okay? Yeah, I know; sorry about that. It just
comes out naturally and sometimea I get pretty loud. Clean it up any
way you can. Thank you, sir and I’ll be listening to your show.
I'm sure anxious to hear how I sound on the radio. Bye now!
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