Recruiting Chip

The year was nineteen sixty-nine. The apartment building was old but reasonably well maintained. The rents were low, which was the key. The renters were primarily young adults. Most of them described themselves as college students, although some of them were recent dropouts. The more conservative ones had just joined the work force and were living there until they established themselves in their professions. The sound of rock and roll was replacing folk music, and the aroma of marijuana was becoming as common as the smell of tobacco smoke.

Anita and Mary were discussing a neighbor, Chip Herd, who occupied one of the small studio apartments. He was a junior at the university. He had a Beatle haircut and wore the popular bellbottom trousers. That was as far as he was willing to go to fit in. He did not wear anything displaying marijuana leaves or the peace symbol. He was in many ways the gentle soul hippies liked to talk about. He was always polite and often helpful. He had used his jumper cables to help Anita start her car that morning.

“He’s really a nice guy,” Anita said.

“Yes, he is, but … Well, I don’t want to say he’s square. It’s just that he’s so average he fades into the background. I mean this guy is so innocuous I doubt that he could get arrested at a peace demonstration.”

Anita laughed. “I know what you mean. He never has any women visiting him.”

“Do you think he’s gay?”

“No. I think he’s that shy and unassertive.”

“He really needs to get laid.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“No, it can’t be a pity fuck.”

“I’m afraid you’re right about that. Maybe we could talk him into working on the campaign of a charismatic anti-war candidate. There’s nothing like a good cause to stir the old libido.”

“The problem is that he would just be another worker bee lost in the swarm.”

“The same would hold true at a demonstration. Unless…”

“Unless he went there with an attractive woman.”

“Mini!” They said the name simultaneously.

Mini was a wild child. She was full of talk about peace and love, but she was also as militant as all hell. There was nothing she liked better than converting someone to the cause. Chips gentleness would appeal to her. She would not hesitate to lay him in order to save him from the horrible war. Saving him, of course, would mean tearing up his draft card. She would also expect him to earn his badge of courage by getting arrested with her at a demonstration.

Mary was laughing. “The poor guy will never know what hit him!”

“The relationship won’t last, but it might give him the confidence he lacks.”

So they agreed to introduce him to Mini. They had already laid the ground work by telling her about the young man who was far too gentle to become a soldier. Anita bought him a tee shirt that had a large peace symbol on the front.

“You need to harden your image,” she told him. “Wear it when you come for dinner at our place tomorrow. There’s someone you have to meet.”

“Really!”

“She’s a petite blond with a terrific figure.”

“Do you think she’ll like me?”

“There’s no pressure. We’re not really setting you up; we’re just introducing you. And don’t sweat it. Just be your sweet self. Everyone likes you.”

Chip felt a bit self-conscious in the tee shirt, but it would have been an insult if he had not worn it. When Anita opened to door in response to his knock he was greeted by the smell of lasagna and cannabis. Mini was sitting on the sofa. She could not have been older than nineteen. She was wearing bell-bottomed jeans with a frilly, white blouse and love beads. Her long, straight hair was very light and streaked with gold from exposure to the sun. She was about as tan as someone with her fair complexion can get, and she had several small freckles just below her blue eyes. Her dimpled smile had a childlike quality that emphasized the youthfulness indicated by her slim figure. Anita introduced them.

“Pleased to meet you, Chip.”

“Pleased to met you, Mini. I’ll agree not to make any moocher or mermaid jokes if you’ll agree not to make any chip monk or wood jokes.’

“Now that’s a deal. I’m glad to see that you’re as gentle as Anita said you are.”

Chip smiled. “Saying I’m gentle rather than boring was very kind of her.”

Mini laughed. “I can already tell you’re too funny to be boring.”

Marry called from the kitchen. “Is anyone hungry yet?”

“Starved!” Mini answered.

“Well, it’s ready.”

Chip was glad to see that the lasagna was not vegetarian. It contained just enough sausage to give it a good flavor.

“I feel guilty about eating flesh,” Mini said, “but I actually crave it at times.”

“That’s not so bad. We’re wired to do it,” Chip replied. “More primitive cultures give thanks to the spirit of the animals that sustain them. In our culture the connection’s too remote because most of us don’t have to see the sacrifice.”

“I suppose that’s true, but there’s nothing remote about the damn war!”

“I know I don’t want to fight in it.”

“I gathered that from your shirt. What are you doing to stop it?”

“I vote for anti-war candidates.”

“Not good enough. It’s going to take a real in your face effort to end it.”

“I don’t think it’s in Chip’s nature to be confrontational,” Anita said.

“Then it’s even more important to end it before they try to make him fight!”

Something told Mini it would be better to suspend her recruitment efforts at that point, and she paused. This allowed Mary to change of subject.

“We’ve known you for months now, but you’ve never told us what you’re studying.”

“Economics.”

The looks this elicited told him they did not approve.

“You can’t get more establishment than that,” Anita said.

“The people who stand the best chance of changing the system are the ones who know how it works. And judging by the number of people who are still impoverished I’d say there’s a real need for change.”

Mini let out a little squeak of delight. “How wonderfully subversive!”

Chip smiled at her reaction. “People with a vested interest in the status quo consider all reformers subversive.”

Mary looked up from her plate. “So you want to be the Erasmus of the military industrial complex, and Mini wants to be its Luther.”

Mini did not know much about Erasmus, but she obviously caught the gist of the reference. “Never give in. We have to stop worshiping greed and destruction.”

“Amen!” Chip’s exclamation provided the comic relief, and everyone laughed.

After dinner they passed around several joints and drank sangria. A Beatles album played in the background as they spun a top that shot out small sparks. The conversation involved a lot of silly word play that kept them giggling. Chip was not used to smoking so much pot. It and the wine eventually had him nodding off. Mini woke him.

“Come on, lover. We need to get you to your apartment.”

He woke up the next morning in his own bed with her snuggled up to him. They were both naked, and they made love. He was thinking about he lucky he was as they showered together. She made both of them breakfast without bothering to dress. She shared a joint with him when they finished eating. He wanted to make love to her again, but she told him they had to get dressed.

“We don’t want to be late,” she said.

The inclusive we made him ask where they were going.

“To a protest at the draft board.”

“Don’t people get arrested at those things?”

“Sometimes, but they never hold us longer than twenty-four hours. And someone usually bails us out long before that.”

Chip was against the war, but jail was not his idea of a good time. She could tell he was struggling to make up his mind.

“If you think the sex this morning was good just wait. Demonstrations make me horny as hell.”

That did it. How could he say no? “Well, I guess I should do something to end the war.”

“Yes, you should.”

She picked up her purse, removed her driver’s license and stuffed it into a back pocket of her tight fitting jeans. She then removed a ring that had two keys on it. One key was to her car and the other was to her apartment.

“I’ll drive. Leave your keys here. They tend to dig into you when the fat pigs sit on you. I’m damn sure leaving my purse and grass here. The fuckers never return your grass.”

The fact that she seemed to think the police should return an illegal substance to its owner amused Chip. “How narrow minded of them.”

“Right on.”

Her car was a pink Volkswagon beetle. It sported peace signs on each of its doors and a happy face between its headlights.

“Quite a love bucket,” he said feeling grateful that he was not the one people would see driving it.

When they reached the draft board Mini removed the key from the ignition and handed it to Chip.

“I don’t have anywhere to put it,” she explained.

There was already a large crowd in front of the draft board and the steps leading up to the doors were packed with people.

“Damn, all the good places are taken. But don’t worry, I’ll get us on the steps.”

She almost drug Chip through the shrubbery to the side of the steps.

“See the big guy on the second step from the top?”

“You mean that human mountain?”

“That’s Moose. He was a kick ass defensive tackle at UCLA before he blew out his knee. The knee makes him draft proof, but he’s still here fighting to end the war.”

“He must be a hell of guy.”

“He is. Lift me up to the rail.”

Chip lifted her up to the rail of the steps. She climbed over the rail and started jostling the other people to create some space. Moose was bent over as he whispered into the ear the girl sitting in front of him. Chip had just swung his leg over the rail. He was straddling it when Mini bumped a cigarette held by a boy who was standing directly behind Moose. Her bump caused the cherry of that cigarette to fall right down Moose’s exposed butt crack. Moose roared like a lion, leaped to his feet, and swung out one of his meaty arms. His hand struck Chip full on the jaw. Chip tumbled off the rail and into the shrubbery below.

When Chip regained consciousness there was not a soul in sight. His first question was, “Where is everyone?” The was quickly followed by, “What the hell happened?” He could not remember. What he did remember was that they had taken Mini’s car. He was relieved to see that the car was still there and that he had the key. His feeling of relief was short lived because a cop pulled him over less than a block away from the draft board.

“Out of the car, hippie! Hands on the roof and spread ‘em!” The cop patted him down and cuffed him.

“Wooee! Someone’s been smoking some prime stuff in here,” the cop’s partner said as he ransacked the car. “Damn!”

“Find anything?”

“Nothing.”

“This must be your lucky day, asshole.”

“Does that mean I can go?”

“No sir. You’re still under arrest.”

“What for?”

“Parking tickets.”

“But it’s not my car!”

“You were driving it.”

“This is the first time, and I’m not the one who got those tickets!”

The first cop roughly shoved him towards the back of the police car while his partner opened the back door.

“Tell it to the judge.”

“This is fucking bogus!”

The cop jabbed him with the baton. “Get in the Goddamn car!”

Chip did as he was told.

If asked, Chip would tell you it is all too easy to describe the demeaning cavity search, the fingerprinting and mug shots. What is difficult to convey is the amount of time all of this seems to take. It seems like an eternity to the person going through it. Then there is the long walk to the holding cell and the finality of the door clanking shut behind you. Chip could hear the demonstrators singing protest songs in the other cells, and he really wanted to be with them.

“I’m a demonstrator too!”

A very large cellmate grabbed him by the collar. “Shut the fuck up!"  He shouted it right in Chip’s face.

Realizing he was in no condition to fight anyone, let alone someone of this man’s girth, Chip shut up. A few minutes later the jailer appeared.

“When do I get to make my phone call?”

“What?”

“I have a right to make a phone call.”

“All right, hippie. Come on.”

Chip dialed Mary’s number. Much to his surprise a child’s voice chirped “Yellow” at him. Chip’s first thought was that he must have misdialed, but he decided to ask anyhow.

“Is Mary there.”

Chip had no way of knowing that Mary’s family always referred to her as Missy.

“Who?”

“Mary.”

“Nope.”

“Is Anita there?”

“Neeta?”

“All right, Neeta.”

“Uh huh.”

“Tell her Chip’s in jail!”

At last there was a ray of hope because he heard Mary ask who was on the phone.

“Chip an’ Dale,” the little monster replied, and he hung up the phone.”

This was good enough for the jailer. As far as he was concerned Chip had made his phone call. So Chip was taken back to the holding cell with no resolution as to when he would be set free. His greatest fear was that he would be transferred to the county facilities. The jailer must have taken pity on him because he remained in the holding cell until the next morning when Anita finally bailed him out.

“Where’s Mini,” Chip asked.

“She’s paying the fines and trying to get her car out of impound. Have you had anything to eat?”

“No.”

“I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

Chip went to his own apartment to shower and change clothes while Anita cooked. He had just finished eating his breakfast Mini and Mary arrived.

“Did you tell Richie you were in jail? Mary asked.

“Yes.”

“Well that explains the mysterious call from Chip and Dale.”

“Is Richie one of your relatives?” Chip asked the question with the utmost sympathy for anyone who might be unfortunate enough to be related to the little, hearing impaired bastard.

“He’s my nephew.” The fondness in Mary’s voice made him stifle the urge to tell her what he thought of the brat.

“It’s a good thing I asked if anyone had heard from you,” Mini said.

“How did you figure it out?”

“We didn’t, but I couldn’t imagine that you’d run away.” Her tone of voice made the statement sound like an accusation. He chose to ignore that.

“So jail seemed like the most logical place to look.”

“Exactly.”

“When did you get out?”

“The action committee always bails us out the same night, but why did you leave the demonstration?”

His explanation of what happened was greeted with laughter from everyone there.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Yes it is,” Mini said.

Anita smiled at Mary. “I guess you were right when you said he could not get arrested even at a demonstration.”

“But I did get arrested!”

“True, but it wasn’t at the demonstration,” Mary said.

Mini tried to be consoling. “Well, you tried. I don’t suppose I could get you to drop out and work for the cause full time?”

“Sorry, but my high grades are the only thing keeping me out of the army.”

She knew better than to tell him he could refuse to go. “You could still take part in some of the demonstrations and help us elect peace candidates.”

“I’ll be happy to give those candidates any time I can spare.”

“Good, maybe we can see each other occasionally.”

“I’d like that.”

“So would I. You’re only fault is that you’re too gentle.”

He was what he was. People who did not know him well would always see him as the generic man. Looks and mannerisms, however, can be deceiving. There was nothing generic about his abilities. He became the chief economist for a large corporation that paid him a very high salary. He married his secretary and bought a large house in an upscale neighborhood where he and his family lived a quiet but comfortable life.

Mini moved to a commune for a short time. Her militancy ended with the war, but she never lost her concern for people getting screwed by the system. She eventually married an attorney who specialized in representing consumers, and she served as his bookkeeper.

First published in macsbackporch.foxtail-farms.com on Sept 15, 2010