Chapter 11

The Preacher gave me a call one Monday afternoon asking how busy I was. He referred to our earlier discussion shortly after I had returned from Spain. "I've got a problem within my flock. The mobile home park has been sold and it was purchased by a woman. At least she is the title holder. Her husband is a handsome devil and spends most of his time seducing the women that attend my church. I'm afraid that there is going to be a violent confrontation sooner rather than later.

"Would you be willing to visit? I don't know why the woman who owns the park allows it. I'm sure she must be aware of how her husband is acting, but she seems to intentionally ignore what he is doing. The park is integrated, black and white, young and old. There are several single mothers here as well as married women with families. We even have a couple of gay men and two lesbian pairs. Usually the blacks hang out with blacks and the whites with their own kind. This being Kentucky, racism isn't very far under the surface. All it takes is one bad seed to disrupt the balance of a situation that is uneasy at best."

"It sounds more like a problem for the authorities than anything I can deal with."

"They can't do anything until someone makes a complaint or the violence is physical. That hasn't happened yet, but it is a slaughter waiting to happen. Whenever I think about this problem, I think of you. That is why I called."

"Well I can come down, but I still don't see how I can be of help."

Kate was always glad of an excuse to go and be with her family, so off we went to Kentucky. JG was always happy riding. Traveling with Kate brought to mind for both of us the past year when she and I were going to meet her family, she for the first time after many years. That had such happy results after the uncertainty of seeing her father and mother and how she would be received. Now, of course, we were a tight family with JG the newest member.

Wednesday found us in Kentucky. The evening found us all together at Miss Daisy's. Miss Katie was home from a tour and said she wouldn't have to leave again until after Thanksgiving. She told of some of the experiences she has had since going on tour. Kate was shaking her head and saying she didn't see how her sister stood all of the traveling with a new town almost every day.

Claude and Bethanne were there too. He wanted to talk to me, but I wanted this just to be family time tonight. Morning would be soon enough to give my attention to his request that I help him with the trailer park problem. Tom was telling how he had instituted some policies relating to his job. All had been well received and he was always under budget, because for once in the history of the town it was getting a day's work for a day's pay. Will Greene, Sr. was a commissioner and now favored the Grubers. Maybe it was because he had made the mistake and pressed sending Billy Bob to prison fifteen years ago.

Claude finally got me alone long enough to tell me that he convinced the trailer park owner, Berta Brown, to meet with me sometime during the day. She in the last day or so had realized that she was about to have a problem. Knowing that The Preacher would have some influence over more than half of the people that inhabited the park, she asked him to talk to them at the Thursday night prayer meeting. He convinced her that his brother-in-law often saw problems as a whole, and would suggest a solution. That is where I came in.

I dreamed that night. There was no real sense to it--none that I could figure out. When I awoke, the only thing that came to me was the name, Magdalene.

Nine in the morning, I made a call to the trailer park office. "Ms. Berta Brown, please."

"Speaking."

"My name is Jim Ryan. This is in reference to a conversation you had with The Preacher. He tells me that you have a problem. He suggested I listen. The church office is available and private. Could you meet me there? Only if you wish, of course."

"I will be there a little before ten." Her voice was nicely modulated. Claude hadn't given me a description of the woman I was to meet, and I couldn't conjure up an image of what to expect.

I took a carafe of coffee, sugar, creamer and some sweet buns from the diner with me. I no more than sat down when the door to the office opened and in walked this strawberry blonde. She was five-foot six-inches tall, with a nicely toned body. Jeans and a white tee showed little skin, but you could tell some enhancement had been done to her chest. Her face was beginning to show a few wrinkles, so I estimated her age to be in the late thirties.

I had taken time to observe her and I guess it was obvious, for she commented, "What you see, is what you get."

I shook her hand (nice grip) saying, "I'm sorry. It is just that I rely on first impressions when meeting someone the first time. Please excuse me if it offended you. I meant no harm."

"And your impression of me would be?"

"Confident, in control, wants to be liked but never subservient. Young and vibrant, you care for your body, and you care what other people think of you. You also feel you need some help. I hope with my listening to you I can be of service. This is at the behest of The Preacher who is a friend that did have a problem. He attributed the solving of it to me. Whether deserving or not, he believes it."

"You got all of that from just looking at me? How old do you think I am?"

"That is a terrible thing to ask me. If I'm truthful and put your age too high, you will be insulted. If I guess too low, you will think I am trying to flatter you. I'm not going to answer." I smiled.

"Okay, now I know that you are reasonably intelligent by that answer. How do you want to start this?"

"Why don't you tell me about yourself? How you came to be here, the owner of a trailer park. Why would a beautiful woman want to operate such a business? Why I'm asking this is so I can judge your commitment and know where your sympathies lie."

"Boy, if I answer all of that, you will know more about me than any other living person. Secrets that I have kept hidden even from myself sometimes."

"Well, tell me as much as you feel comfortable with. There isn't anything you say that is going to leave this room."

"You might as well hear it all." She paused as if collecting her thoughts on where to begin. "I grew up in a trailer park about the same size as this one, down south of here. However it was a much older park and needed a lot of updating. The sewer system only worked about seventy-five percent of the time. A lot of the trailers were added and the electricity was run from drop cords from another trailer. It was a miserable place to live.

"My father was an alcoholic. I don't blame him. When you don't have a job, what else is there to do? My mom was good-looking for a woman living in a park like this. She did what she had to do to pay the bills and keep my father in booze so he could forget what she was doing. I lost my virginity when I was barely thirteen to a black boy when he caught me down by the railroad tracks. I didn't cry rape or even cry. It happened and I put it behind me.

"A white boy knocked me up when I was sixteen. Mom got me an abortion. I had to have another one when I was seventeen. By this time I was enjoying sex, but I was pretty selective. I had to be in love. Would you believe that?"

I couldn't come to grips with what I was hearing. This woman was describing her life as calmly as if she were a school teacher telling about her students.

"The last abortion did me in. No children for me ever. That's what the doctor told me. I decided I had something to sell, but I was damned if I was going to sell it for twenty bucks a pop. I headed for Hollywood. I worked in a hash house and kept my eyes open. I watched the stars, how they dressed, how they walked and how they talked. Most of them were as fake as the boobs I was planning on getting. I kept my legs together and kept out of the sight of the sleazeballs that preyed on the Newbies that came to town. When I was ready I walked into a studio and asked to see the producer.

"I was nineteen, looked sixteen and acted like I was thirty. I walked in, told the producer that I loved to fuck, and could do anything that an experienced whore would do. I said I would perform with Blacks, Whites, Browns or Yellows. What I wanted for this was a bigger pair of boobs and to be paid a fair amount for something that I enjoyed doing anyway. I told him I had never had an acting lesson but thought I could make my move from the front door to the bedroom in any scenario he put me into.

"I made more money in the first three months than my mother made in all of the bars and back seats her whole life. I took a break and got my boobs. They turned out to be a little bigger than I actually wanted, but what the hell, this is a life of excesses. The producer watched over me and guided me in about everything I did. Seven years I did it all. One day the producer called me into his office and asked me if I had made enough money yet. This was about the time I was considering legitimate acting.