Fickle Winds of Change

The winds of change are fickle. No one can predict what will be swept away and what will thrive. You simply do the best you can and hope that you will be able to see the changes coming in time to adjust to them. That is what the town historian wrote, and with good reason. The original name of the town was Micah. The first white settlers called it that because they were farmers who were displaced by land and water frauds in a more fertile frontier to the east. They were a surly lot and tough as nails. They had to be. They fought like hell to secure the water it took to establish cattle and sheep ranches in a place most people would call a desert. Then small traces of gold were found nearby, and the place boomed for a short time. Saloons and a bordello were soon doing a thriving business. There was even a hotel of sorts. The gold rush crowd did not care for the biblical name of the town, and they dropped the h. The Landers arrived during this boom time. They wisely built their general store a good mile away from the debauchery. Like so many gold rush towns, Mica was destroyed by a fire. All that was left behind was one saloon and the general store. Most of the prospectors were ready to give up on the meager gold deposits anyhow, and they moved on.

The store was passed down through the Landers family until it was sold to Bert Jones some thirty years ago. The property was divided at that time, and the Landers family retained their ownership of the house behind the store. Since Bert still needed a place to live he bought a plot of land next to the store. He built his house at the back of that property, thinking he could use the space in front of his house as a parking lot for his customers. He was being too optimistic. Although there were times when people parked their cars in his front yard, it did not happen very often. He rarely had more than six people in his store at a time, and there was enough room to park that many cars in the street if they headed straight in rather than parking parallel. Fortunately, the street was wide enough allow that. Bert thought the unpaved expanse in front of his house added to the rustic appearance of both his house and his store. He found that rustic appearance so appealing that he even reinstalled the hitching posts in front of the store. He also enhanced the illusion of a more leisurely time by placing some benches on the front porch. The porch had been a loading dock back in the days when the store’s inventory had included animal feed.

Gordon and Ben were sitting on one of the benches. Mica was still a small town, but it was growing rapidly. That growth was probably what motivated a corporation to open one of those new super markets on Main Street. Bert was really upset when that market opened. The supermarket could offer a larger variety of products at a lower price than he could. “But it won’t extend credit,” he warned. “It’ll hurt me with the townies, but many of the ranchers still need credit. Furthermore, it doesn’t have anyplace where men can sit down together and talk.” It was the last point that made the difference to the old codgers. They always bought at least one cup of coffee and some tobacco from Bert. Then they sat on the porch, whiling away the morning in idle conversation.

Gordon was reading the local paper. There was an article in there about Bob Cantwell. Mr. Cantwell bought wool from the sheep ranchers and hides from the cattle ranchers. He owned the stinking tannery he had inherited from his father. He shipped the tanned hides and the wool back east for a very good profit. When people complained about the stench of the tannery Mr. Cantwell would always quote his father as saying, “to you it’s stink, to the ranchers and me it’s the sweet smell of money.” The sweetness of the aroma must have seemed rather faint to the ranchers because they frequently called Bob Cantwell the stingiest son of a bitch in the county. “He can’t do well by anyone,” they said.

Gordon looked up from his paper in time to see Miss Lilly climb the steps to the store. The one thing that kept Bert’s general store from becoming one of those convenience markets was that he still carried bolts of cloth and other items women could not get at the super market.

Both Gordon and Ben said good morning to Miss Lilly.

“Good morning,” she replied. She entered the store without further adieu.

Gordon set the paper in his lap and tapped it with the index finger of his right hand. “It says here old Can’t-do-well just got himself appointed traffic commissioner.”

“I didn’t know we had a traffic commissioner.”

“We do now. The city council just created the position.”

“And the Mayor appointed Cantwell?”

“That’s what the paper says.”

“They’re up to no good,” Ben said.

“Probably, but it might not be that bad. You know he contributes a lot of money to their campaigns. They’re probably giving him money for doing nothing. I’m guessing it’s their way of making us return some of the money he spends on them.”

“I hope that’s all it is, but you know Cantwell. He’s going to find some way to make that position pay him more than the city’s paying him.”

Ned made a sharp left turn from the dirt road onto Main Street. He then made a sharp right turn and pulled into a parking space in front of Bert’s store. He was still laughing about what he had seen.  He climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. He was one of the regular front porch codgers, and he was about to explode from the merriment inspired by what he was about to tell Gordon and Ben.

“You’ll never guess what I just saw!”

“What?”

“Well, I was driving down Sheep Trail as usual. There off to the side of the road was Cantwell’s car. He was standing in front of it, taking a leak when the wind kicked up a dust devil. That little whirlwind slammed right into him. It mixed the dirt it was carrying with the dew falling from his lily, and it splattered the front of his pants with the mixture!”

There was an “um umm” from the doorway of the store. Miss Lilly was standing there. “Be careful about how you’re using my name, Ned.”

“Sorry, Miss Lilly.”

Her only acknowledgment of Ned’s apology was a little giggle. The men were almost doubled over in laughter. They watched her climb into her car and drive away.

“She’s a hoot!” Ned said. “And about as cute as they come.”

“I guess old Can’t-do-well will have to go home and change his fancy duds.”

“I’d love to hear him explaining it to his laundress,” Ben said.

Gordon smiled. “If he were honest, he’d tell her it’s hard to keep from pissing into the wind when it changes and swirls on you.”

Ned tossed the words over his shoulder as he entered the store for his morning coffee. “And they say God doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Ben spat. “But Cantwell isn’t honest, and he doesn’t have to be. She won’t dare to ask him what happened to his pants, and he won’t bother to explain it. That’s how things work for men like him.”

One of the things Mr. Cantwell was doing became apparent a few days later when a road crew blocked off the area in front of Bert’s store. Gordon and Ben would have parked in the space Bert had created in front of his house, but the road crew was also blocking their access to the driveway. So the old codgers parked across the street. The road crew was not working on the road. They were tearing down Bert’s hitching posts and replacing them with parking meters.

“Don’t tell me you have to block this entire side of the road in order to install those damn meters.” Ben said.

The foreman told them he had to have room to dig the holes and move the cement mixer into place.

Ben, who was not happy about the parking meters, thought this was a lame excuse. He gave the foreman the finger before walking into the store.

“They’re planting Goddamn parking meters out there,” he told Bert.

“I know. It looks like I’ll have to pave my front yard so the ladies won’t have to walk through the mud when it rains.”

If only it were that easy. Mr. Cantwell had anticipated Bert’s reaction, and Bert was served with a Cease and Desist Order the moment he signed a contract to have his front yard paved.

Miss Lilly was running late. She did not have time for breakfast. Although it was two miles out of her way, she decided to stop at Bert’s general store for the cup of coffee and the sweet roll she would take to work. She drove past Mr. Cantwell’s smelly tannery. The Mexicans he employed were already hard at work. She did not want to think about how little he paid them. She smiled as she turned onto Main Street. She thought Mica was a pleasingly quaint little city. In spite of all the recent construction, the only modern looking building on Main Street was the super market. The image of the super market rolled out of the peripheral vision of her side mirror. The sun then glinted off the silver decorating the gaudy saddle in the window of Cantwell’s Equestrian Emporium. The name of the place was as pretentious as the man was. Bert’s general store was now in sight. This simple, unassuming building was a functional survivor of the fickle winds of change. A narrow street separated it from the business district. From a commercial point of view it was as though someone had hit the space bar before adding the period to end the sentence. Miss Lilly had a more romantic view of it. She thought the setting for the store was perfect. On the other side of the store were some old houses. The properties on which those houses sat could not be called ranches, but most of them held a chicken coop, maybe a horse, and some sheep or cows. To her it was a comforting scene in which the past and the present merged to validate who we are and what we inherited.

She parked in front of one of the new parking meters. The meters were an unpleasant surprise. She dug through her purse until she found the dime she inserted into the meter. She then entered the store. It smelled of coffee and pickles and licorice candy. Except for the beer and soda cooler, it looked very much like something one would find in the late eighteen hundreds. Among the items it contained was a pickle barrel, hand labeled jars of olives, appliances and gadgets that were now considered antiques, and bolts of cloth, including gingham and calico. There were also the beautiful, hand stitched, quilts some of the ladies made as a hobby. Although Bert had a modern phone under the counter, he left the hand-cranked phone hanging on the wall as a decoration.

Miss Lilly poured a cup of coffee and put a lid on the cup. She paused for a moment then she poured another cup for her father. She knew he would be waiting for her to make a pot of coffee when she arrived at the office.

“Good Morning, Miss Lilly.”

“Good morning, Bert. I would like two sweet rolls as well, please.”

He wrapped the rolls in waxed paper and put them in a paper sack for her.

“It sure didn’t take them long to install those darned parking meters,” she said.

“Did you know about the parking meters?”

“No, and I don’t like them.”

“That’s not the worst of it.”

“Oh?”

“Look at this.” He handed her the Cease and Desist Order.

She scowled as she read it. “You might want to talk to daddy about this.”

Her father was Craig Lawrence. He was a prominent land and water rights attorney. Miss Lilly was his secretary, but she had recently enrolled at the law school. She would start attending classes there in the fall.

“I just might do that,” Bert said, but he knew that an attorney of Mr. Lawrence’s stature charged very high fees. He would go to city hall and see what he could do on his own first.

The only person he could find at city hall was the city clerk. Her glasses sat on the end of her nose, and her head was tilted down towards the Cease and Desist Order sitting on the counter. In answer to his question about what it meant, she stated the obvious. “It means cease and desist.”

“How can they tell me what I can or can’t do on my own property?”

“Zoning law, it’s a residential zone.”

“How can that be? My store is right next door to it.”

An exception was made for the store because it’s been there so long.”

“And I’ve been letting people park in my front yard for thirty years.”

“But you haven’t designated it store parking or marked parking places or anything like that, have you?”

“No,” he admitted.

“So it isn’t a parking lot.”

“Even though people have been parking there for years?”

“You’d have to talk to the city attorney, but I don’t think that makes any difference.”

Bert snatched the order off the counter and quickly read it again. It did not say he could not let people park their cars in his front yard. What it said was that he could not carry through with his plan to construct or make a parking lot there. Not being able to pave the parking lot was bad, but not that bad. If the old codgers and other frequent customers could park in his yard, they would take their time in his store. That was good. People usually buy more things when they do not feel rushed.

That afternoon Miss Lilly took several pictures of Bert’s house and front yard. She then took pictures of the front of the store. She walked inside.

“Do you mind if I take some pictures in here?”

“Not at all, Miss Lilly. But why the sudden interest?”

I guess the parking meters and the order you received from the city made me think about how unique and special your store is.”

“Thank you for saying that. I’ve talked to the city, and I think it’s going to be okay.”

She had this horrible feeling that something sinister was happening, and that it was not going to go away. It took some effort to keep the concern out of her voice. “I’m glad to hear that.”

She had intended to talk to her father about Bert’s situation, but her father had to rush off to court. He was there all day. It was probably just as well. “I’m probably making far too much out of this,” she thought. The problem was that her foreboding was like a pebble she could not shake out of her shoe. She finally called her father at his home and told him what the city was doing.

“I can see why you’re concerned,” he said. “Those scoundrels are up to something. Take some time off tomorrow, and find out if anyone’s trying to buy the property near him.”

She took the morning off and started knocking on doors. She did not think about calling people on the phone. “If you want the truth, you’ve got to get face to face and look directly into their eyes.” Her father had told her this more than once. She arrived back at the law firm at noon. Her father took her into his office and closed the door.

“Well?” he asked.

“No one has made an offer to buy yet, but the city sent out notices saying farm animals can no longer be kept on residential property within the city.”

“There’s the stick. The carrot will follow.”

“You know the Mayor and the members of the council have to be getting something out of this.”

“No doubt.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Only if you can prove a quid pro quo or some other financial nexus.”

“And you’re thinking that won’t be easy.”

“I’m thinking a lot of hard work has to be done before I’d be willing to stir things up.”

Mr. Lawrence was a great poker player, but he could not fool his daughter. She did not know why, but he was withholding something very significant. She turned to leave his office, but paused in the doorway.

“By the way, I wasn’t able to contact the Johnsons.”

“I’ll take care of that,” he said.

She thought that was good. She thought it meant that he was going to get involved.

Eight of the thirteen people who received the notices prohibiting farm animals showed up at the next council meeting. They raised so much hell that three of them had to be physically ejected from the chamber. This was unpleasant but not unexpected. The city council was well prepared for it. Many of the people who kept farm animals in the city did not receive the notices prohibiting those animals. As the mayor explained, the prohibition only applied to the people in the path of progress, meaning the expanding business section of the city. “The properties in the more remote parts of the city are still zoned for some farming, and the people living there don’t have to worry about it.” This explanation kept the protest from spreading. Who could argue with progress? Particularly when it is achieved at someone else’s expense.

The one person who was about to argue with how that progress was achieved was Bert. He had just received a threatening letter from the city attorney. The letter said that allowing shoppers to park their cars in his front yard was a violation of the Cease and Desist Order. It also called the dust and noise from those cars a public nuisance that had to be abated. The letter demanded a response or compliance within ten days. Bert quickly called Craig Lawrence’s Law firm.

“Pardon my language, Miss Lilly. But those bastards are trying to keep me from running my business by cutting my legs off at the knees!”

“I’m presuming that you’re talking about the mayor, members of the city council and perhaps Mr. Cantwell because the only defense for using that word is truth.”

Her comment had the desired effect. It made Bert laugh. “Why don’t you come in this afternoon for a consultation with Mr. Denton?”

“I was hoping to discuss the fees first.”

“We bill Mr. Denton out at a much lower rate than daddy, and there’s only a fee if we decide to represent you. You can discuss the fee at the consultation. I’ll try to get you discount.”

“You’re the prettiest and kindest girl in town. What time?”

“Can you make it at three-thirty?”

“I’ll be there.”

Bert walked into the firm, and Miss Lilly showed him the way to Mr. Denton’s office. It had already been decided to charge Bert half of the hourly fee they normally charged for Mr. Denton’s time. Bert and Mr. Denton emerged from Mr. Denton’s office a half hour later.

“What should I do now?”

“That’s up to you, but you don’t have to comply with the order or letter until I receive a reply.”

Bert smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Denton. Thanks, Miss Lilly.”

They both said you’re welcome. Mr. Denton returned to his office. Miss Lilly put the pictures she had taken of the store into an envelope addressed to a friend who was now working as a junior editor for a magazine. Miss Lilly could remember her father saying that Judges and juries were unpredictable. “Whenever you can get what you want without going to court, do it,” he advised. Her idea was to publicize Bert’s store. If she could get it designated as a historical building, it would really put the screws to anyone who wanted to tear it down for some fool development.

Mr. Denton handed her a dictation tape. “Please transcribe this for me, Lilly.”

“My pleasure,” she replied.

It was a letter to the city attorney. Mr. Denton argued that allowing people to park their cars in the “parking lot” was not a violation of the Cease and Desist order, which did not address that issue. Furthermore, he said the parking lot fell under the same exception as the store and so did the sign above the store. He also demanded some offer of proof regarding the allegation that parking cars in the parking lot constituted a public nuisance.

When Miss Lilly finished the transcription she took the letter to Mr. Denton for his signature. He signed it and looked up at her.

“Don’t bother to put a stamp on the envelope,” he said. “We’ll have a messenger deliver it at five o’clock on the day before it’s due.”

He was obviously trying to buy Bert as much time as possible. The city attorney, however, was in a real hurry. His reply arrived at the firm one day after he received the letter from Mr. Denton. The city attorney rejected each and every argument, and he demanded complete compliance with the Order and the letter he had previously sent to Bert. This prompted Mr. Denton to file the appeal that is a required step in bringing any legal action against the city. Since Mr. Lawrence was still tied up in court Mr. Denton did not consult with him regarding the appeal.

The mayor was furiously puffing on his cigar. “This is getting dangerous,” he said. “The city attorney just told me the Lawrence firm filed an appeal.”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Cantwell replied. “It was signed by that Denton whelp.”

“Well, you’d better believe that Lawrence knows about it, and he’s one smart son of a bitch. I’ll never forget how he screwed us on that land deal. He bought it right out from under us, and we couldn’t do a damn thing about it because it was between our land and the utilities we had to run.”

“He was just lucky. He still thinks he got the better of Benson on that. He didn’t even bother to investigate.”

“That’s because he didn’t have a reason to. This is different. This is a lawsuit, and he hates to lose.”

“It’s not a suit yet.”

The mayor almost bit off the end of his cigar. “It will be!” he shouted. He took the cigar out of his mouth. “We don’t really need the Jones’ property. It’ll cut down on our profit a bit, but we might want to think about doing without it.”

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“Don’t worry about my feet. You better concentrate on my ass. Make damn sure it’s covered!”

“I have all our asses covered.”

“They better be, or there’ll be hell to pay!”

The trial was now over, and Mr. Lawrence returned to his office. “Sit down!” he said.

Mr. Denton sat in one of the chairs in front of Mr. Lawrence’s desk. “I see where you’ve filed an appeal on Bert Jones’ behalf.”

“They’ll deny it, of course, but it paves the way for a suit.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing, but we’re not going to file a suit.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we can win it, and I don’t want Bert to pay for a losing effort.”

Mr. Denton was disappointed. He was really looking forward to investigating the cozy relationship between the developers and the politicians. But he knew that arguing about it would not do any good. So he left Mr. Lawrence’s office and told Miss Lilly what happened. The news obviously made her angry.

“Damn it,” she said. “We can’t let them get away with this!”

“I know, but once your father makes up his mind that’s it. The argument is over.”

Mr. Denton was right, but that did not mollify Miss Lilly. She kept in touch with the property owners. The appeal was promptly denied. Two weeks went by with nothing happening.

Gordon and Ben walked into the general store for their morning coffee.

“Good morning, boys.”

“Good morning, Bert.”

“I was afraid the meters had driven you away.”

“We’re not parked in front of the meters,” Ben said.

“Williams is so pissed off at the city, he told us we could park on his property,” Gordon explained. He was rubbing his butt.

“That’s good,” Bert said.

“Yeah,” Gordon agreed, “but I don’t know how long I can put up with his damn goat butting me in the ass.”

“The first cup is on me,” Bert replied.

Miss Lilly had some news. She walked into Mr. Lawrence’s office to deliver it.

“Two of the property owners have sold out,” she said.

“Who’s the buyer?”

“That’s the funny part. It’s Citadel Land Management. I’ve never heard of them.”

Mr. Lawrence grinned. “I have. They’re a front for one of the large department store chains.”

“Why would a department store need a front?”

“Because if people know they’re the buyer, the price of the property goes up.”

“You don’t seem very concerned about it.”

“This is in the strictest confidence, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. Do you remember when the Johnsons moved away?”

“Yes, it was after Mr. Johnson lost his job, and they were going through some pretty tough times.”

“That’s right. He was offered a job in another county, but he couldn’t raise the money for the move. He didn’t want to sell his property here, and it was so heavily mortgaged that no one would give him another loan on it. I loaned him the money with the stipulation that I had the right of first refusal if he decided to sell.”

“And he’s decided to sell?”

“I matched the department store’s offer, and I talked him into not replying to any of their letters.”

“That’s right in the middle of the land they’re buying. When do you think they’ll approach you?”

“When I put it in escrow.”

“When will that be?”

“I’m waiting for them to buy three or four more parcels. I want them heavily invested by the time they have to deal with me.”

She laughed. “So you stand to make a good profit.”

“A very good profit.”

“What about Bert.”

“We don’t have to worry about him. We’ll just let things run their natural course.”

It would have been easy to question Mr. Lawrence’s motives at that point, but Miss Lilly was not that hasty. Within a week the department store bought six more properties for its proposed mall. That was when Mr. Lawrence put the Johnson property into escrow. It was only a matter of days before Citadel contacted him to set up a meeting.

“It’s a fair offer,” Mr. Quinn said.

“Fair for residential property.”

“But it is residential.”

“Only until you get the zoning changed.”

“All right. I’ll add two thousand dollars, but that’s my final offer.”

Mr. Lawrence stood up. “I don’t think so.”

He turned and walked out of the room. There was no reason for him to stay. He knew that Mr. Quinn went as high as he could go until someone higher up the ladder authorized a better offer.

Mr. Quinn then paid the mayor a visit.

“What do you know about Lawrence?” This question was more than it would appear on its face. Mr. Quinn was thinking he could sweeten the pot by hiring Mr. Lawrence to use his reputation as an attorney to convince the other property owners that it was in their best interest to sell.

The mayor did not know that, but he interpreted the question as a request for biographical information. “He’s the smartest attorney in the county, and he’s clean. He never crosses that legal line. He’ll push you right to the brink of breaking off the negotiations. Then he’ll take a half step back. Believe me, he’ll get the most you can possibly pay him.”

“How will he know what that is?”

The mayor laughed. Now that Lawrence was going to make a tidy profit, he would have no reason to investigate the politicians.

“He’s diligent as all hell. He knows who you represent and the highest amount they’ve paid for a comparable piece of land.”

Several days later Mr. Lawrence received another call to set up a meeting. Mr. Stewart now took over the negotiations for the department store. He shoved the sales agreement across the desk.

“That’s it. Your research should tell you that’s as high as we’ll go.”

Mr. Lawrence took his time in reading it. He then pulled out a pen and wrote something on the agreement. “Not quite,” he said.

“Your already on the brink. It’s time to take that half step back.”

Mr. Lawrence pushed the last page of the agreement across the desk to Mr. Stewart. “Why don’t you read what I’ve written?”

Mr. Stewart read it. “No way,” he said.

Mr. Lawrence stood up. “Think it over.”

The next day Mr. Stewart invited Mr. Lawrence to continue the negotiations. This time Mr. Cantwell was also there. It was really a bold step.

“You know, the city could use imminent domain to take the property,” Mr. Cantwell said.

“You might want to think very carefully before you go down that road,” Mr. Lawrence warned. “I can’t speak for the newcomers, but the other residents are cut from the same cloth as the gun toting, anti-government ranchers. If you start seizing property, they’ll want to lynch you!”

“Is that a threat?”

“I never threaten. I’m just making an informed observation as someone who is concerned about your safety. Incidentally, this little ploy just added a thousand dollars to the price.”

Cantwell’s face was as red as a beat. The city attorney said the precedent for using imminent domain for this purpose was not well established. “It may or may not fly,” he warned. Furthermore, the mayor was opposed to the idea.

“It’ll cause a firestorm of anger,” he said, “and I would like to get reelected.”

Mr. Cantwell had taken it upon himself to make the threat. He had gone too far, and Mr. Lawrence had just called his bluff.

“God damn but you’re a hard man to deal with,” Mr. Stewart said. “I’ll add two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Five hundred and you accept the changes I’ve made to the agreement.”

“The changes you made are expensive. I should actually lower the price rather than raising it.”

Mr. Lawrence stood up.

“All right. Three hundred.”

“Plus the changes.”

“Plus the changes,” Mr. Stewart agreed.

“Done.”

A new copy of the agreement was then made. Mr. Lawrence read it carefully. He let the pen hover over the page. He looked Mr. Cantwell straight in the eyes. “And the city will stop screwing with Bert Jones.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“I find it very interesting that you’re here, Bob. Maybe I should take the time to find out why.”

“Everyone’s concerned about the city’s development,” Mr. Cantwell said. “I guess Bert will also benefit from it.”

Mr. Lawrence took that to mean that the city would stop messing with Bert. Both parties then signed the agreement.

Mr. Lawrence walked into his law firm with a big grin on his face.

“I take it you made out like a bandit,” Miss Lilly said.

“I wouldn’t say that, but I turned a good profit.”

“What about Bert?”

“The city will stop screwing with him now, and the department store is going to pave and mark his parking lot.”

“You couldn’t put not screwing with him into the written agreement.”

“No, but once the property is rezoned they will lose their legal justification for forbidding the parking lot. We’ll file for the rezoning on Bert’s behalf to speed up the process.”

“What about the other property owners?”

“They got a fair price for residential property.”

“So they got screwed.”

“No more than usual. There’s a lot of cheap land here, and they got enough to relocate. So they’ll be okay.”

“I wish we could have given the corrupt bums what they really deserve.”

“You have to pick your fights, sweetheart. It’s better to get the good guys what they deserve.”

“I worry about how Bert is going to do with the added competition from the department store and other businesses that’ll move into the mall.”

“So do I, but that’s not something we can change.”

They did not need to worry about Bert. He had a little secret. Actually, it was not secret; it was just that no one had given it much thought. For years he had been going to the ranches and other places. His purpose was to buy old items they might want to sell. His garage was now stuffed with antiques and collectables. Buying and selling those items had become a rather profitable hobby. He still kept his general store as a general store, but many of the antiques and collectables now had price tags on them. Thanks to Miss Lilly’s article, quite a few tourists were visiting his store, and they were buying the antiques and collectables.

The old codgers had considered the tourists a nuisance at first. The tourists, however, were a fresh audience for the funny stories the codgers had told to each other far too often. A travel magazine wrote another article about the store, and the old codgers were mentioned in that article. This made them one of the attractions. They even developed an act of sorts. Bert gave them free coffee, tobacco and sodas.

First published in macsbackporch.blogspot.com on Oct. 29, 2009