Chapter Five
The paper mill filed for bankruptcy protection nearly four years prior to Richard and Susan’s arrival. For decades it had been the singular catalyst for life in Erstwhile. Daily operations ceased abruptly. Without it the town and its residents merely existed, struggling to find the one intangible quality that would define their purpose. From the highway the mill appeared as it always had. For months barges ferried away pieces of it as it was dismantled and salvaged until nothing remained but the metal skeleton. A ton of T.N.T. charges had been set in order to reduce it to a measly pile of scrap that would be laid to rest at the bottom of the gulf as an artificial reef. It would once again be the giver of life, but not without the pain associated with change.
Curious onlookers gathered along the roadside to watch the destruction. The hillside of an overpass was transformed into a makeshift amphitheater. Richard and Susan were two of the spectators. He held a large insulated mug filled with hot coffee between his legs. Its warmth felt good on the chilly morning. Susan had a matching cup filled with tea. They both wore jackets and their hands were shoved deeply into the pockets away from the cold.
Richard watched people as they arrived. He was interested in how they interacted with one another, as though they were attending a reunion. Oddly, the occasion seemed more joyous than somber. Having never spent a day of work at the factory could not dampen his or Susan’s enthusiasm for the history they would witness. To them, it represented an opportunity for growth.
Richard noticed a large, shiny black truck as it drove the length of the parking lot in front of the gathered crowd. There was a large rebel flag airbrushed across its tailgate. In the bed was a gleaming aluminum cage used for hauling hunting dogs. On top of the pen was the carcass of a deer. A gooey pink mixture of blood and saliva dripped from its mouth and pooled on the metal surface beneath its head. Richard counted the number of points on the animal’s horns. He knew how to measure a quality kill. There were eight.
“Well, that was a beautiful animal,” Richard said softly as he leaned toward his wife. She only nodded.
The driver of the truck maneuvered into a parking space midway along a row of vehicles. He stepped out, dressed in full camouflage. Just behind him, from the same door, emerged a young boy. The child appeared to be no more than four years old, and was dressed in the same manner as his father. A woman, presumably the wife and mother, exited the passenger’s door.
“Looks like a family affair,” he continued.
“Do they have to go out in the woods and kill a deer in order to survive?” Susan asked, disgustedly.
The hunter walked proudly up the side of the hill amongst several of the spectators, some of whom shook his hand and congratulated him on the morning’s kill. He smiled and strutted ignoring his family.
“Look Richard. This guy is preening for the crowd. How pathetic!”
Richard did not answer. His attention had shift-ed from the family who hunted together, to the Con-federate flag on the tailgate. He stared at it until he could no longer see it as he retreated into his thoughts. For him, there was very little distinction between the varying emotions he felt. It was difficult to discern whether the man’s display of such a volatile symbol was done out of pride or hatred. His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed another man at the foot of the mound. The man was being very demonstrative and spoke to the hunter. Richard watched intently, as he thought the man might be chastising the hunter. Soon he turned to the crowd and began to address them. He waved his hand behind him pointing toward the soon to be demolished mill. Richard could barely make out what he was saying. It sounded like, “Thirty years. Thirty years of my life down the drain. Some of you worked at this mill a lot longer than I did. Some of you are second and third generation mill-workers. Me? I’m a Johnny come lately, compared to you fine folks.”
A man seated a few feet from Richard exhaled a heavy puff of air as he exclaimed, “Fu… bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” Richard asked.
“Sorry ‘bout that, buddy.”
“No worries.”
“That fella there ain’t doin’ any good for any-body here.” The man laughed “Don’t you like how he placed himself beneath the people he’s speaking to by being at the foot of this hill and by building them up, emotionally?”
“Yes, I did pick up on that.” He paused briefly. “Who is he?”
“He’s the old, ex-president of the union, Lucas Johnson.”
“There you have it,” Richard said, using a local colloquialism.
“The only person he is doing any good is him-self. I’m sure he has his eyes on a city commission seat, or some such higher office.”
Richard and his new friend watched in silence as the speech continued. “The company that owns this mill and its powers-that-be have pulled the rug right out from under all of our lives. Our way of life is in jeopardy. Future generations of Erstwhilians are in jeopardy. Our retirement is in jeopardy. This toooowwn is in jeopardy!”
“Fucking idiot!” the man exclaimed; then looked past Richard to where Susan sat. “Sorry ma’am.”
“Not a problem,” she said.
The man looked at Richard. “I’m sorry I get so upset about all this crap, but in my mind this guy’s no better than a drug dealer. He’ll keep feeding them a load of bullshit so that they’ll become dependent on him and his rhetoric, rather than relying on themselves. Hell, since the mill closed there have been several success stories of people opening their own businesses and doing quite well. And, most of the time it’s because they are putting to use a trade they learned while working at the mill. But, there are enough people who will listen to him, and spend the rest of their lives blaming someone else for their troubles.” The man pointed toward the mill. “If these people can’t see this as an opportunity to better their lives, the notion that others can control them will forever be ingrained in their psyches.” He paused and leaned toward Richard and whispered so Susan could not hear him, “Lucas has always been one to slap his dick on the table in order to draw attention to him-self.” The man laughed as he leaned back to his original position and spoke in a normal tone when offering his assessment of the speaker’s intellect. “Lucas Johnson is only smart enough to outwit himself.”
Richard nodded politely and resigned himself to listen without offering commentary. Feeling out of place, he took a sip of his coffee and began to innocently look around. He noticed something that he found troubling. Richard leaned toward his wife and whispered, “Do you think any black folks ever worked at the mill?”
“Of course,” she replied assuredly. But just as quickly as she answered, she began to doubt herself. “Don’t you think?”
“If they did, they certainly aren’t as attached to their former workplace as any of these folks.”
Susan looked around and saw the same thing her husband had seen. There were no people of color present to witness the closing of a chapter in their lives.
Suddenly, a siren blared from the mill. After a few moments of anticipation by the crowd, several large puffs of smoke burst into the air at various points along the mill’s structure. Two seconds after the sights of the explosions were evident came a sound that reverberated over and through the crowd. The shockwave thumped Richard’s chest and made him feel as though his heart would explode. Tons of steel fell as a cloud of dust grew and hid the destruction. It would no longer be there for the residents of Erstwhile to love or hate, re-sent or embrace.
Excellent