Novel Treatments / Real George Chapter 10 (revamped) and Chapter 11 (Analysis)

Chapter Ten
        George was in constant trouble from the time Mrs. Knaggs replaced Mrs. Kelly.  He was yelled at and pummeled from the time he got to school to the time his mother picked him up, just like before. She piled tons of homework on the kids, mostly arithmetic, which George hated. She also went on about penmanship again. Mrs. Kelly had said your handwriting doesn’t have to be perfect because it was part of your personality. Of course, Mrs. Knaggs thought everyone should write just like Johnny Waldorf.

        He had a bunch of arithmetic one weekend. His parents made him stay inside and work on it while they planted their garden. He hated long division. Mrs. Kelly hadn’t taught long division yet; Mrs. Knaggs gave them a week to learn it. She said it would be important in helping defeat the Communists.

        George eventually got bored and switched on the radio. KRPP was running the “Trading Post” program, where idiots called in with junk to sell or trade. He heard the Cardinals baseball on KOMX, which didn’t interest him. He heard way too much hillbilly and cowboy music, which also didn’t interest him. Then he found WHB, out of Kansas City playing music – good music. He heard a funny song that mentioned Dick Tracy’s villain, Gravel Gertie. When the song ended the announcer said it was “Something Smith and the Redheads with ‘It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie’ and now by request – the one everybody is screaming for – here is Billy Haley and his Comets.”

        George didn’t pay much attention until the song started “One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock ROCK!” This song good to George, as a matter of fact, better than good. This was better than any song he had ever heard. This reminded him of the music they played in Cincinnati on the Allen Freed’s Moondog Show. He loved it so much; he had to hear it again.  Maybe KRPP would play it if he called and asked nicely. George got the phone book and found the number in the Yellow Pages.

KRPP 1240kHz Regional Radio
Your CONELRAD Station for the Ozarks …..................Keystone 9111.

        He turned on the radio to KRPP and they were playing ‘Almost Tomorrow’ by Snooky Lanson, which George thought was the most depressing song ever recorded. He dialed the phone and waited for someone to answer.  The announcer then announced the next record as if the previous record had depressed him as well. “That was Snooky Lanson and ‘Almost Tomorrow’ and now the Joe Reisman Orchestra with a upbeat number called ‘Bo Diddley’ on Regional Radio KRPP 1240, your CONELRAD station for the Ozarks.” George thought they had went from sad to plain old stupid. This was the song Dolly had sang to him a bedtime when was small only by a big band with conga drums. Also Dolly always sang, ‘Mommy’s gonna buy my baby a mocking bird,’ not Bo Diddley. A guy answered the phone with a minimal amount of spunk, “Regional Radio KRPP 1240, your CONELRAD station for the Ozarks.”

        “My name is George Marter and I’m nine years old. Could you please play a song called ‘Rock Around the Clock’ by Bill Haley and the Comets?”

        “I’ll have to ask my boss,” the wimpy guy on the other end of the phone said. George heard the guy put the phone down then another voice came on the phone.

        “This is Darwin Beck,” said the voice on the other end. “General manager of Regional Radio KRPP, your CONELRAD station for the Ozarks.”

        “My name is George Marter and I’m nine years old. Could you please play a song called ‘Rock Around the Clock’ by Bill Haley and the Comets?”

        “Absolutely not,” Beck sneered. “We don’t take request at this station, especially from nine year old boys. That is also not the kind of song we are interested in playing. We also won’t play that song by that Negro guy from St. Louis. We are not in the entertainment business. We are in the information business.”

        Let me tell you about this Darwin Beck guy. Darwin Beck, the general manager of KRPP, was a sort of cross between George Babbitt and Edward Hyde, although he bore a passing resemblance to the Michelin® man. He was a short round blob of a man with white hair.  A born small-town booster who could kiss more butt in one day than anyone on record, always greeting people with a “Hi Guy!” He would then go back to the radio station and abuse the help. He referred to them as help because he didn’t want them to think of themselves as personalities or stars. Actually, most of the “help” considered themselves slaves. He said the audience didn’t like stars or personalities, unless it was Walter Winchell, Earl Godwin, Morgan Beatty, Clarence E. Manion, John T. Flynn, Fulton Lewis Junior, Garner Ted Armstrong, Paul Harvey or his favorite, Dan Smoot. He also allowed Jim Waldorf, Johnny’s uncle, to host a show where people would call in and complain about things. Over the years, most of them were things that George liked like rock and roll, comic books, television, movies and “the behavior of teenage girls.” Jim Waldorf hated teenagers too.

        Old Rev. Lydecker was on every morning berating someone. Just like on Sunday, he never gave an uplifting sermon based on the scriptures about God’s love and Christ’s teachings on peace. He would instead read Galatians chapter five verses nineteen through twenty-one and then set about attacking someone famous or worst someone local, usually the governor. Any of the people on the school board he didn’t like were an open target. One morning he said he hopped old Doc Wilson, who was a county commissioner, would die of a heart attack and sure enough a heart attack killed him the next week. Rev. Lydecker then said he hopped he was burning in Hell. Unfortunately, the FCC didn’t do anything about this.

        The station rarely played music, any music. Beck always supplied the local newspaper, the Daily Republican, with a list of songs that were banned from the station.  Beck banned the song “Too Young” by Nat King Cole because it promoted “underage sex.”  He banned “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford because it “Smacked of unionism”. “Wheel of Fortune” by Kay Starr was banned because “promoted gambling.” “Hot Diggity” by Perry Como was banned also because Beck stated in the newspaper that the words ‘Dog diggity’ were “Probably a sexual term.” He also had ‘Glendora’ banned because it was about a “abnormal relationship with a mannequin.”

        The radio station didn’t even sound like radio stations George listened to in Cleveland. The stations in Cleveland had jingles with music and the announcers on these stations had big booming voices. Not KRPP. The announcers on KRPP sounded like they had a clothespin on their nose and were less than thrilled to be there. George felt they should have been more excited to be on the radio.
        “This is Regional Radio KRPP 1240 AM – Your CONELRAD Station for the Ozarks,” a bored announcer would say at the top of the hour.

        An old woman that listened to KRPP on a daily basis complained about an announcer who said ‘Have a nice day’ at the end of his air-shift. She told Beck she ‘didn’t want to have a nice day,’ so Beck fired him.

        George wondered about what Beck meant by “that Negro guy from St. Louis.” George decided to phone WIL in St. Louis and ask if they knew this St. Louis guy who had made a record. George fooled with the RCA Victor® radio until he found WIL. He listened for until they gave the request number. They weren’t depressing like KRPP even when playing slow songs. A slow song called, ‘Earth Angel’ was playing when he first turned over, then the DJ gave the request number and then launched into a fast song called ‘Black Denim Trousers and Motorcycle Boots.’ George dialed the number and let it ring.

        “WIL, may I help you,” said the voice on the phone.

        “My name is George Marter and I’m nine years old and I live in Bland, Missouri. Could you please play a song called ‘Rock Around the Clock’ by Bill Haley and the Comets?”

        “Sure, kiddo. Bland is quite away off, but I’ll play it.”

        “By the way, do you know of a guy from St. Louis who has a record out?” George asked.

        “You must be talking about Chuck Berry’s ‘Maybelline.’ That is coming up after Bo Diddley. ”

        George was glad WIL was going to play his songs but he had to hear that stupid ‘Bo Diddley’ song again. George went back to the kitchen table to study his arithmetic. The music made him not feel as board. The music had a unique sound – kind of a jerky, crunchy guitar with a voodoo drum.

        “Here’s Bo Diddley with the song he wrote about himself,” the DJ said.

        George was stunned. Bo Diddley was a real guy, not just the name of a big band song. The guy was singing the same song KRPP had played, but it wasn’t that lame big band sound. This was some sort of wild jungle music. If that singer were Bo Diddley then Chuck Berry would be next. Sure enough that song was good too. Too bad KRPP wouldn’t be playing it. Then he heard the drum kick and heard, “One two three o’clock, four o’clock ROCK!”

        It sounded even better the second time he heard it. He had to have that on record so he could listen to it whenever he wanted.

        The next Saturday, Frank took George to the barbershop to get his hair cut, which he had done several times before with no incident. This Saturday would be different. Old Alf Brownfield came in. He was a fat man in his fifties, who wore a beat up straw cowboy hat and let his belly hang out from under his tobacco spit soaked thermal undershirt and over his belt so it would jostle wildly when he laughed at inappropriate stuff. Old Brownfield just sat around and blew enough hot air for twenty balloon trips around the world. The radio in the barbershop had on KRPP and they were airing the ABC news at the top of the hour. They were reporting on Hurricane Dianne hitting Mexico.

        Old Brownfield began giggling his big belly and laughing, “That’s good way to kill off them stupid Mexins’.”

        George walked over to Brownfield and said in a very serious tone for a nine-year-old boy, “That is not nice to laugh about people dying.”

        Brownfield doubled up his fist and smacked George in the mouth. “You have more respect for your elders, boy.”  Blood was spurting from his mouth; Frank grabbed George and held his handkerchief to the boy’s mouth. The barber gave Frank a towel with some alcohol on it. That stung George’s cut lip and he screamed.

        “Don’t let that brat scream in here,” Old Brownfield said after spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the spittoon. “Take him outside and let’em holler.”

        “He wouldn’t be yelling if you hadn’t hit him,” Frank said sternly to the old redneck.

        “Maybe you’d like fer us to step outside and settle this, city slicker,” Brownfield snarled.

        Frank wasn’t going to fight this vulgarian. He just quickly raced George out to the Hudson and took him to the emergency room.  Dr. Botner put stitches in George’s mouth and then had him admitted to the hospital overnight. He said that George would have to go to see the specialist in Springfield Monday to see how much damage there was to his mouth. George didn’t mind going to the doctor in Springfield, because he would probably get to go to Katz Drug Store. They surely would have ‘Rock Around the Clock’ on a 45.

        “You ought to report that Brownfield guy to the sheriff,” Dr. Botner said. Frank decided it was the right thing to do. He called Sheriff O’Riley, but he said he wasn’t going to do anything about it since he felt George “had it coming.”

        Tuesday, George went back to school. His mouth still hurt and he had to talk out of the side of his mouth since he still had stitches, but he had ‘Rock Around the Clock’ on 45 and several new comic books, so he didn’t feel to bad.
  
        George also figured out that KRPP played lousy versions of good songs. You see in the Fifties, each record company released a version a popular song. That is why when you look at the Top 40 charts at that time everyone seems to have recorded the same song. Even worse was when an African American artist had a hit record, a white artist would come out with a lame version, some with the lyrics changed.

        KRPP played several records by Lonnie Waterman. They were mainly bad versions of good rhythm and blues songs. One song Lonnie Waterman sang was ‘Annie Had a Baby.’ It featured an annoying speeded up voice singing ‘Wah-wah-wah-wah.’ Waterman would sing in a monotone voice “Annie had a baby, all it does is cry, every time we try to watch television, she has to stop an sing the baby a lullaby.” He would go through all the stuff Annie couldn’t do now that they had a baby and then say, “Now Annie and I understand without a doubt, what that Naughty Lady of Shady Lane song is all about.” George thought this song was so stupid, there had to be a good version. Just like ‘Bo Diddley.’

        One day, Fred was over at George’s house when KRPP played Lonnie Waterman’s version of ‘Annie Had a Baby.’

        “That’s not the way that song goes,” Fred said. “It sounds different on the juke box in the pool room at Scoey’s.”  Scoey’s was a grocery store with a poolroom in the Old Village. Fred said, “White folks always screw up good songs.”

        The summer came to Bland, Missouri, and although not as hot as the previous summer it was just as bad. George could get comic books in the local stores he had to get them in Springfield or have his dad pick them up in Hillsborough. With the exception of Superman and Batman, the comic book world was dying.

        There was a Saturday in June when Dolly had to work for a few hours. She took George with her and Royanne took Lizzy. The kids walked around the streets of Bland aimlessly, then George saw Fred. The kids talked and played for awhile, then George decided they needed ice cream bars. Dolly had given George money and he decided he would get everyone and ice cream bar. George and Lizzy went into Baggertt’s Grocery Store to get ice cream bars and Fred stayed outside since it was a ‘White’s Only’ business. They walked up to the counter with three Brown Cow Ice Cream Bars®, which were twenty-five cents apiece, and encountered a woman from George’s church, Lynda Bowles.

        George didn’t like this woman in the first place, but to make matters worse she started trouble with him and Lizzy.

        “You have three ice cream bars and there are only two of you,” Mrs. Bowles quizzed the children. “You two are skinny. Now, I saw you talking to that colored child outside. Are you buying one of these for him?”

        “Yes,” George said. “He is my best friend.”
        “You shouldn’t be friends with the Negroes. They are dangerous. They are in cahoots with the Communist. Don’t you realize that we don’t allow them in the store for a reason. They steal. It is also morally wrong for you to buy a colored person something in a store that doesn’t allow them inside. Giving them things only makes them feel wanted.”

        George was getting upset. He didn’t like adults giving him lectures in the first place and especially when all he was doing was buying his best friend, Fred, ice cream. What was wrong with that?

        “I gave you a dollar, now give me the damn ice cream, Lady!” George said with his teeth clenched.

        Mrs. Bowles was shocked. “What did you say, young man?”

        Lizzy spoke up and repeated George’s words to Mrs. Bowles very slowly, as if she were speaking to a person who didn’t understand English, “He said ‘Give- me- the- damn- ice- cream- Lady!’ and you owe him a quarter in change.”

        “I am calling your mommy and telling her what you said,” Mrs. Bowles said. “What is her name?”

        “My mommy is Dolly Marter and she works at the Bell Telephone Company,” George said. “Lizzy’s mommy is Royanne Sims and she works at the same place.”

        “Royanne Sims,” Mrs. Bowles said. “She’s that old gal that was married to Pud Norquist, so that makes you his daughter.”
        
        “Yes, ma’me.”

        Mrs. Bowles shook her head and said, “Poor old Pud, he wanted a boy he could take fishing and coon hunting and instead that Royanne had YOU!” Lizzy looked like she was going to cry.

        “You shouldn’t call Lizzy’s mommy an ‘old gal’ because she is a lot younger than my mommy.”

      Mrs. Bowles sneered at George, “I also know that Dolly Marter doesn’t know how to raise a child since she’s over forty.” Finally, she gave the kids the ice cream bars and the change so they could leave. Mrs. Bowles called the Bell Telephone office to tell the kids moms what had happened. She got Royanne, who laughed about it. She then got off the phone and told Dolly, who laughed about it. They then told their boss, Wayne Robinson and he laughed about it.

        All summer long, J. T. Waldorf was constantly asking Frank and Dolly if they had read the books he had give them. They would say they were reading them, even though George had never seen them read a book that summer. He found one of these books: WILL YOU CHILD GROW UP TO BE A COMMUNIST? by James Waldorf. The book had a black and orange cover. George began to read a page that was marked.

“Good American – Christian gender roles are to be strictly adhered to in order to prevent the spread of Communism. Boys should play outdoors and enjoy it immensely. They should enjoy getting dirty, being bit or stung by misquotes, ticks, wasp and other bugs. If they don’t there should be some intervention. For instance, if a boy child is stung by a hornet and begins to cry. The parent, usually the father, should ridicule the child and make fun of him for crying. It is advisable to say things like “Don’t be a baby! That never hurt” or “Only women cry. Do you want people think you’re a little girl?” If this doesn’t work, then you should slap or spank your son for showing feminine emotions.

This also brings up a disturbing trend in medicine: the “allergy” scam. These are conditions in which children have adverse affects to common place things such as plants, flowers, dust, and bee stings. Contact with these harmless things cause illness in the so-called “allergy sufferer.” This can happen in little girls because they are weaker and delicate, but a male “allergy sufferer” is not to be tolerated. If a boy suffers from allergies is probably a biological error. This is not to be tolerated or even acknowledged. Tell the child it is all in his mind. If you take him to a doctor for treatment then you are creating hypochondriac or homosexual. Now let me say that food allergies are different. Many people are allergic or sickened by certain foods, usually of an ethnic variety. That is because ethnic groups are purposely trying to make us sick in part of their twisted attempt to take over America.

Boys should also make more noise than girls, who should play quiet. This will prepare girls for a future as a housewife and mother.  A male child who doesn’t make an excessive amount of noise and is well mannered at playtime may grow up to be a homosexual Communist.”

        George read more and more. He realized that from what he read, he was a homosexual Communist, whatever that was, and he wasn’t even ten years of age.  He continued to read and was even more disturbed.

“Boys playing with other children should not have manners. Girls use manners when playing together, boys should not. Girls are to be sweet, polite and submissive, where as a boy is to be loud, proud, aggressive and manly. Manners are only to be used when around elders, not other children. They are not old enough to earn respect. A boy who respects other children’s feeling or belongings, especially a girl’s, is destined to grow up to be a homosexual Communist. This must be stopped.

A good practice for a father is to teach your son is to take away another child’s things. Say another child has a new toy, then you should instruct your child to take that item away from the other child. Instruct your son that if the child who owns the toy ask for it back, he should hold it high above the other child’s head or out of his reach. If the child cries, then you must teach your son to mock his tears and ridicule him much the way you should mock and ridicule your son if he cries. A Communist believe in sharing things, we Americans believe in taking things away from people who don’t deserve them. Remember if American men become sensitive and polite, the Communist will take this country with little effort.

It is important to stress roughhousing and horseplay to your son. A boy who doesn’t want to partake in such activities is probably homosexual. An important thing to do is show him the proper way to hit someone. Teaching a child that it is not nice to hit another person, especially a woman, is leading them down the road to homosexuality and Communism. The only answer is to institutionalize any child showing these traits.”

        George didn’t like the sound of any of that. It sounded like James Waldorf wanted every kid in America to be just like his nephew Johnny or at the very least, Buster Booms.

        Let me just say here that there were several books around like this in the Fifties and Sixties and most of them did have black and orange covers. Jim Waldorf wrote several of these when he wasn’t busy defending crooked business men and spoiled rich kids. One of these was a book called The Reds Are Everywhere.  Here is an excerpt of the stupidity inside the orange and black cover:
I would say to anyone if there is truly a wall of separation between church and state, explain why there are paid chaplains that open each House of Congress with a prayer? Why does every president has taken the oath office with his hand on a Bible and ended with “so help me God”? Yes, even godless idiots like Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman.
Even the evil, Communistic, Supreme Court begins each proceeding with “God save the United States and this honorable court.”  All currency bears “In God We Trust” and now the Pledge of Allegiance affirms that we are “one nation under God.”  The Declaration of Independence emphatically refers to God. What does the Communist dogs of Russia, New York and Hollywood have to say about that?
I believe that Americans must prepare to fight upcoming the cultural wars against the Reds. We must stop the Communist as we work to reestablish a Christian-run, anti-Communist government to this nation. Furthermore, I believe bloodshed is needed. I don’t care if we have to use atomic weapons. We must keep the Reds from ruining our country. It won’t be easy and will require suffering on our part. Once the war against Communism begins, we expect every American to support our military, and if you can’t do that, just shut up. Americans, and indeed our foreign allies who don’t support our fight against Communism will be considered enemies of the state.

Communist concepts such as pluralism, tolerance, and diversity, are dangerous to America. They could lead to such things as Negroes and homosexuals holding public office; Orientals owning businesses and Christians forced into observing Jewish holidays.

Just fair warning to you, Marlon Brando, Lucille Ball, Rock Hudson, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Doris Day, Jackie Gleason, Elizabeth Taylor, Sid Ceaser, Rosemary Clooney, Steve Allen, Eve Arden, Nat King Cole, Red Skelton, Johnny Mathis, Perry Como, Stan Freburg, Chuck Berry, Danny Thomas, Buddy Holly and all you other Communist sympathizers.  I don’t want to demonize anyone, but anyone who hurts this country in a time like this will have his or her life destroyed. Let’s just say you will be spotlighted and hunted down like a dog. Once decisions have been made and lives are on the line, patriotism must be factored in.”

        As you can tell, Jim Waldorf was as nutty as pecan pie, however, the people of Bland thought he was the smartest person alive. He frequently would blow into town and give a speech at the Bland High School Fieldhouse. The scary part the place was packed. Instead of sitting at home watching TV like good decent people, folks in Bland would pay to listen to that moron rant and rave about Communist in government, public schools and the entertainment industry. Then at the end he would sell his latest book and talk people into being ‘Patriotic Freedom Partners’ who would distribute his tomes. It was actually a Ponsi scheme that only profited him and his brother J. T. It was one of several little illegal activities these two were involved in.

        But let’s get back to George.

        One day he heard his mother crying and yelling, “How could they do this to us? What kind of people go to that church?”

        “Calm down Dolly,” Frank said. “This will blow over in a few weeks.”

        “He is a little boy,” Dolly said in tears. “A fragile little boy who may not be on this Earth much longer. How could these people hate him so?”
        George could tell his mother was talking about him but he didn’t know what it was exactly she was upset about. Latter that afternoon, he found the ‘Pastor’s Notes,’ a mimeographed letter from Rev. Lydecker (typed by his personal secretary, Miss Charen) that was sent to members of the Bland Community Church every week. George read a little of it.

        “It has come to my attention that Paul Ferguson is cheating on his wife, Vera. It is wrong to cheat on a spouse, however, it is not as bad as what Vera does. I am told by some of the sister’s of the congregation that Vera has be neglecting her duties as a housewife to SUNBATHE NAKED IN THE BACKYARD. Vera may think that she can’t be seen because there is a fence around their backyard but GOD SEES EVERYTHING.

        The most grievous transgression of God law this week was by nine year old George Marter, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Marter. I was informed by Mrs. John B. Bowles, that George and a little girl, who doesn’t attend church, used vile and foul language toward her at Baggertt’s Grocery. She had been trying to instruct the Marter boy in good Christian behavior when he became verbally abusive toward our dear sister in Christ. She said that the children were consorting with a Negro child. If you’ve read Jim Waldorf’s latest book, as I have suggested, you probably know that he suggest institutionalizing sickly children like George Marter. He needs to be away from other children because he could contaminated them.”

        That Sunday George put the letter in his pocket and went up to Rev. Lydecker.

        “I have to correct you on some of the facts in your letter,” the tiny boy said. “You said that my friend Lizzy doesn’t attend church. I know she goes to Bland First Christian Church. Also the only word I said was ‘damn,’ which is short for damnation. I’ve heard you use the word
damnation several times in your sermons, so I feel that you are being a hypocrite complaining about me. You are acting like I used several bad words. What Mrs. Bowles did was tell me I couldn’t by an ice cream cone for my friend Fred, who goes to the Old Village Baptist Church. I feel what she did was wrong. When I got the ice cream bar for Fred, that was kind of what Jesus did when he feed those people with the bread and fish.”

        “First of all, I consider attending the First Christian Church the same as NOT attending a church. Second of all, you are not supposed to utter four letter words and I can say whatever I choose because I AM THE PASTOR. Third, I don’t ever want to hear you compare yourself to Our Lord and Savior. The only child at this church that even comes close to being like Jesus is Johnny Waldorf. Now, I’m going to have a talk with you parents about your bad behavior.”

        George started to walk away, when Johnny Waldorf tripped him. He hit his head, leaving a big bruise.

        Rev. Lydecker said, “That is what you get for questioning my authority, you little brat.”

Several other people began laughing at George. Dolly saw what happened and grabbed up her son.

        “You people are awful!” She began crying as she rushed George to the car. Frank was standing beside the Hudson smoking. She explained what happened on the way home.

        The bad part of this, things were just going to get worse for George.  

Chapter Eleven

        I could go into detail about George’s fifth grade year but there isn’t much too it. Mrs. Knaggs yelled and screamed at him. She slapped him a few times, which caused Frank and Dolly to complain to Superintendent Novell Savage. He did nothing about it. Same stuff, different year.

        I’ll skip on to the fall of 1956 and George’s sixth grade year, because that is where things get ugly. For the first time since fourth grade, he had a teacher that wasn’t Mrs. Knaggs. His teacher was Mr. Robertson. He hoped that maybe, like Mrs. Kelly, this teacher would treat him better.

        He came in the first day of class with his thinning black hair combed over his bald spot wearing his black horn rimmed glasses and preceded to tell the class he was the ‘best looking teacher in the school system.’

        Let me explain something first. Mr. Robertson was married to Novell Savage’s daughter. His best friend was Darwin Beck at KRPP and they were big in the Civil Defense. I think you can see where this is going. About the second week of school, he announced that he had found in his genealogy that he was kin to Mayor Waldorf, hence he was also kin to Johnny, which made Johnny his favorite student.

        Mr. Robertson was big on making the kids write essays. He also had this rather crazy idea that the kids had to write all of their essays in pencil and then recopy them in ink. One of the first essays, he gave the kids to write was “My Hero.” They had to read their essay in front of the class. Johnny, of course, won Mr. Robertson’s approval with a love letter to George Washington and Buster gave an essay on President Eisenhower. Most were kind of the same thing; copied from the World Book encyclopedia. George’s was different.

        “Last year, I probably would have said that my heroes were Superman, Batman, Lone Ranger or Rocky Jones. My new hero’s name is Elvis Presley,” George read to his classmates.

        “Sit down, Marter,” Mr. Robertson said. “You’re stupid.”

        “But I’m not finished,” George said, not really knowing if Mr. Robertson was serious or not.

        “I said sit down before I come over there and knock you down!”

        The kids began to laugh at George. He walked back to his seat crying. He was almost to his seat when he felt a yardstick hit him across the back of his shoulders. He screamed.

        “You were supposed to give me your essay when you finished!” Mr. Robertson yelled. George was in pain. “Stop crying like a baby!” The kids laughed louder.

        There was a large bruise on George’s back. Frank and Dolly complained first to Mrs. Knaggs and then to Superintendent Savage. Neither one did anything about Mr. Robertson. George also received a “F” on that essay.

        It was true, George was crazy about Elvis. It was his new obsession. He listened to the out of town stations in hope of hearing a new Elvis song. KRPP didn’t play Elvis or anything else really good. He quickly amassed several of Elvis 45’s. He had to get most of them when he went to the doctor in Springfield, since Mayor Waldorf had banned Elvis records from the stores and juke boxes.

        George was out of school very often during that year. Most of it was asthma and his heart condition, the rest of it was he played sick just so he didn’t have to face Mr. Robertson. Mr. Robertson regularly assigned twenty pages of math homework, which George hated. He never did really understand math very well and Mr. Robertson didn’t explain it. He just assigned it and told the kids they were old enough to know how to do it. George rarely finished his math and when he didn’t Mr. Robertson would follow him to Dolly’s car after school to inform her that he had failed to complete his homework. It was so bad Dolly dreaded pick George up after school. He also called her at work; sometimes twice a day.

        One day at school, George became ill and began sweating. He asked for a drink of water and Mr. Robertson told him he ‘had to be a man and wait until recess’ to go get one. George then vomited in the floor. Mr. Robertson got up from his desk and slapped George.

        “Don’t ever do that in my classroom again.”

        One Monday afternoon, there was an assembly in the all-purpose room of the Adolf Waldorf Elementary School. The subject was “Civil Defense and You” presented by Mr. Robertson and KRPP’s Darwin Beck.  Mrs. Knaggs screamed at the kids telling them that they needed to be quiet and pay close attention because this was a matter of life or death.

        Mr. Robertson class sat at the front of the audience. George was seated in the front row. Mr. Robertson walked over with Darwin Beck. He pointed George out to Beck.

        “See this scrawny kid with the glasses,” Mr. Robertson said with a smarmy tone. “He likes Elvis Presley.”

        Beck laughed, “He won’t be hearing that garbage on my radio station.”

        George was upset that Mr. Robertson constantly made fun of him in front of the class, but now he was ridiculing him in front of people outside school. He didn’t want to hear any of his presentation. It was pretty boring stuff about tornadoes and thunderstorms. They told the kids how the Communist had machines that caused violent storms to wipe out whole towns. Some of the kindergarten and first grade kids were getting scared. George didn’t believe that. Then they began explaining how the Russians had atomic bombs, which they planed to drop on the United States. They told about how you would need to protect yourself against atomic radiation. They talked of bomb shelters. The smaller kids were now crying.

        “If you are unable to get to a bomb shelter,” Beck explained. “You should at least cover yourself with your coat, a blanket or a newspaper.”

        George was smart enough to know that this was not going to work. As a matter of fact it was a load of crap. The real gist of the assembly was that KRPP was the CONELRAD and NOAA weather alert station. There came a time at the end of the assembly when kids were allowed to ask questions. George had one.

        Mr. Robertson begrudgingly allowed George to ask his question. “I read that the scientist that tested the atomic bombs had to stand behind lead walls.”

        “That is true,” Mr. Robertson answered.
        “Then why did you tell us kids that we could protect ourselves by covering up with a blanket or newspaper. The atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima melted the sidewalks and killed many people who were walking on those streets.”

        “The Japanese had it coming,” Beck yelled. “Just what is your point, little boy!”

        “I think if the bomb was dropped and you followed the advice you gave us kids,” George said in a rather intelligent voice for his age. “You are going to have a blanket or newspaper permanently burned into your skin. Not very smart for a guy who brags about not playing Elvis Presley’s records on his radio station.” Mrs. Knaggs ran over and grabbed George’ by the arm, twisted it behind his back, marching him to her office, where she beat his rear with her paddle.

          On Friday, after the assembly, Frank and Dolly were called to a meeting at the Bland R-3 School District Administration building by Superintendent Novell Savage. They were told to bring George with them. Mr. Robertson and Mrs. Knaggs were in the meeting.

        “Mr. and Mrs. Marter, I called you here to discuss your son’s future in the school system,” Savage said. “Mr. Robertson and Mrs. Knaggs have recommended your son be removed from regular school. He should either be placed in the special class or sent to the state institution for those severe health conditions and mental retardation. Your child has missed several days of school this year.”

        “Not only that,” Mr. Robertson butted in. “As I was telling your lovely daughter this morning, as she served me a wonderful breakfast, when George is in attendance he disrupts. He ask stupid questions and doesn’t complete his math work. Your darling, beautiful daughter, who I married happily some fifteen years ago, said she didn’t know how could I dealt with such a horrible nuisance of a child.”

        Mrs. Knaggs spoke up, “WE HAD AN ASSEMBLY WITH A GUEST SPEAKER FROM THE COMMUNITY. NOT ONLY DID THE MARTER’S SON INSULT HIM, BUT HE MADE SEVERAL KINDERGARTEN STUDENTS CRY. THIS KID HAS BEEN IN MY CLASSES IN PREVIOUS YEARS AND I CAN TELL YOU HE IS NOTHING BUT TROUBLE. I HAVE TO DISCIPLINE HIM BECAUSE HIS PARENTS DON’T. I BELIEVE THEY ARE COMMUNIST AND ARE RAISING HIM TO CORRUPT THE OTHER CHILDREN. PUTTING THIS KID IN THE STATE SANITARIUM WITH THE POLIO GIMPS AND RETARDED FREAKS WOULD BE A VERY GOOD IDEA.”

        Mr. Robertson pulled out two of George’s essays. “I brought these to show you an example of George’s stupidity. I told the kids to write about a person they considered a hero and Mr. Marter wrote about comic book and TV characters before writing the rest of this five page atrocity about Elvis Presley. ”

        “Now just a minute!” Frank spoke up. “I remember that essay. I read it. He wrote about his mother and I. I remember he asked me about serving in the Pacific in World War II. He also wrote about how we have sacrificed a lot because of his medical bills. He talked about how his mother works to help out with the expenses. He only mentioned Elvis at the beginning of the essay. Didn’t you read the whole thing?”

        “I don’t have to read all of a student’s paper to ascertain what grade I want to give,” Mr. Robertson said. “He attempted to read it in front of the class and I stopped him after he mentioned Superman and Elvis Presley. I don’t care read about Superman or Elvis Presley nor do I care to read about you or your wife.” Mr. Robertson handed another one of George’s essays to Superintendent Savage. “Here is another one which will show you the warp mind of George Marter. I asked the pupils to write an essay on what they what their future would be. Most of the students gave very realistic answers, for instance Sally Parker said she was going to marry a doctor, Buster Booms said he would be a football coach like his father and Johnny Waldorf said he would be president,” Mr. Robertson paused. “George Marter said he would be dead from the various illnesses he supposedly suffers from. He then wrote several asinine pages about what he thought the future would be like. It was like something out of a comic book or cheap paperback novel. The children enjoyed laughing at him after I told him his ideas ridiculous.”

        Superintendent Savage perused the essay before giving his opinion. “People will carry small telephones with them. Men will be able to carry these phones in their shirt pockets and women will carry them in their purses. They will also be able to carry tiny jukeboxes with them. Televisions will be larger and show color pictures. People will have machines, which allow them to save their favorite shows to watch over and over. They can also buy the same movies they see at the theater in the store and watch them on this machine at home. There will be a channel on TV that would be kind of like watching “Your Hit Parade” everyday. We will even be able to travel to the moon…” Savage looked at the Marters. “How did you get such a stupid kid?”

        “Stupid!” My son is not stupid!” Dolly said. “I think the ideas in George’s paper show a lot of imagination and creativity.”

        “We frown on imagination and creativity in Missouri. Imagination and creativity will eventually lead to Communism. We can not have the students of the Bland R-3 School District being creative and using their imagination.”

        “THIS IS THE PROBLEM, MR. SAVAGE. THESE TWO HAVE BEEN TELLING THERE SON THAT HE IS SMART, GOOD LOOKING AND NICE FOR THE PAST ELEVEN YEARS. WE KNOW THAT HE IS DUMB, UGLY AND AS EVIL AS ANY COMMUNIST IN RUSSIA. TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE THEY ALLOW THE CHILD TO READ COMIC BOOKS, WATCH TELEVISION AND LISTEN TO THIS HORRIBLE NEW MUSIC THAT THE TEENAGERS ARE LISTENING TO. I PERSONALLY THINK HE SHOULD BE REMOVED FROM THE HOME COMPLETELY! THESE PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO RAISE A CHILD! HE SHOULD BE PLACED IN AN ORPHANAGE!”

        Dolly began to cry. Frank lashed out, “Why do you people think you can make a judgement about my son just because you don’t agree with the essays he wrote? How can you make a judgement on my wife and I just because we try to give our son a comfortable life while he is on this earth? You think the answer to every problem you have with George is to beat him, which we have told you is dangerous to his health condition. You compare George to the other kids and when he doesn’t mirror them, you accuse him of being a Communist. I’m beginning to believe you people are crazy.”
        The Marters took George home. Dolly cried all the way home, thinking about George being taken away from Frank and her. Tears were running down George’s face as he gazed out the window of the Hudson. He was almost catatonic. He didn’t speak the rest of the night. Every time he walked past Dolly she would hug him, but even then he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even watch TV after dinner. He just stayed in his room listening to the radio and reading comic books. He read some Superman, Batman and Showcase comics, but he preferred his old horror comics. He was enjoying reading about people dying violently. One of his favorites was called Tales from the Morgue. The cover was a picture of a group of highway patrol men working a car accident. In the foreground was a girl’s decapitated head, lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the highway, with her eyes wide open and a thought balloon over her head reading, “Don’t they know I’m STILL ALIVE!!!”

        He scanned the radio dial looking for songs by Elvis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard or someone he liked. There were an abundance of high school basketball games and news about Communist and desegregation. He listened to the last half of Bob & Ray and then turned the dial when it was over. Then he heard the sound of a wolf and a little song.

        “Mister Werewolf, Mister Werewolf, play a song for my baby and me. Mister Werewolf, Mister Werewolf, play some of the good ole R & B.” Another “AAARRRWOOOO” sound effect and then a voice that sounded friendly and happy; sort of like Fred’s daddy and Jack Benny’s butler Rochester.

        “That is right friends and neighbors, kith and kin, chick and hipsters, old codgers and little bitty babies, this is the Werewolf of Memphis coming to you on WHKL at 1060 on your ray-dee-eye-oh-eye-oh. I got stack of big black wax to play for you all, cause as we all know boy the ladies prefer them big and black.” Another howl of a wolf and then the DJ said, “We got a request for some Hank Ballard and the Midnighters but first I got to do my patriotic duty and tell you all about Night Owl Fortified Wine. The only wine you can get with a shot of 100 proof vodka in every bottle. It’s only one dollar a gallon or fifty cents for a quart bottle. What a bargain! Night Owl Fortified Wine is the reason I’m on this late. If the folks in Washington don’t like it then old General Ike can git his white bald head down here and get me off the air. He can bring Mamie and Little Dickie too. I got to sell Night Owl Fortified Wine with a shot of 100 proof vodka in every bottle. Comes in three flavors: strawberry, blackberry and gooseberry. Made by the same fine folks that make TKO Malt Liquor and Party Time Draft Beer. And now as I promised Hank Ballard and the Midnighters with “Annie Had a Baby.”

        George thought everything was going to be good until he announced the song. That was the song he hated that KRPP always played by Lonnie Waterman. This one at least sounded better because it did have those annoying ‘wah-wah-wah’ sounds in it. George noticed the words were different too. This one kept saying “She can’t work no more.” George liked this one better. The words were totally different. It was like how ‘Bo Diddley’ on the St. Louis radio station was different from the version on KRPP. Then George heard a part of the song that was defiantly different from the one on KRPP. “Now I know and it is understood, that’s what happens when the loving gets good.” The whole time the song played you could here the intermittent howl of the wolf.
    
        “Now lets here from Willie Joe and his Unitar. They gonna do the ‘Cherokee Dance.’ I just hope they are drinking Night Owl Fortified Wine. The only wine with a shot of 100 proof vodka in every bottle.” George liked this song. It kind of sounded like ‘Bo Diddley” only with this sound like a buzz saw and a guitar, which George assumed was the Unitar. “Now we’ gonna hear from Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers with ‘Why Do Fools Fall in Love.’ He’s just a little fellow but he sings so good he’s got My Little Margie scared out of her wits with this.”

        “Tay-Do-bop-a-Do-bop-a-Do-bop-a-Do-bop” the bass singer sang followed by Frankie Lymon singing “Oooh-wahh-oooh-wahh-ooh-ooh-wah-ooh-waah.” George realized this Werewolf of Memphis was right, Frankie Lymon did sing that song better than Gale Storm. George grabbed a note pad and began taking down the titles of the songs. He was going to call KRPP and tell them about this music. It was just possible that they wasn’t playing these good songs because they didn’t know about them. He also wrote these down so that he could look for them in Springfield the next time he went.

“Annie Had a Baby” Hank Ballard and the Midnighters
“Cherokee Dance” Willie Joe and his Unitar
“Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers
“Something Is Wrong With You” Screaming Jay Hawkins
“At My Front Door” the El Dorados
“That’s All There is To That” Nat King Cole
“Brown Eyed Handsome Man” Chuck Berry
“Tutti Fruity” Little Richard

        He called the radio station the next day and talked to the general manager Darwin Beck, whose response to every song was, “This station will play that over my dead body. That music is too Negro and appeals to the black leather jacket crowd.” He then launched into a speech about how KRPP ‘served the community interest.’

        “Well, I’m part of the community and nothing you guys do now interest me,” George said. “You need to be more like WHKL1060 kilocycles in Memphis. I heard them Friday night and they have a werewolf that plays good music like…”

        “WHKL in Memphis is supposed to sign off at sundown,” Beck said. “If they are broadcasting at night when you can hear them, I’ll have to report them to the FCC to get them taken off the air.” George hung up realizing that he had accidentally supplied Darwin Beck the silver bullet to kill the Werewolf of Memphis.  

        The next week, there was a letter arrived at the Marter household which said that the Bland R-3 School District could not send George to the state institution school in Jefferson City until he took a test to see if he qualified. There was some relief among the Marters. Rev. Lydecker had all ready written in his newsletter that he hoped George would be sent to the state institution. Johnny Waldorf and Buster Booms had, all week, chanted “George is going to the retard house, George is going to the retard house.” J.T Waldorf had said that it was dangerous to have George in school because ‘the Communist use the retarded, crippled and the diseased as pawns to take control of America.”  Frank and Dolly scheduled George for the test that week.

        A week later, Frank and Dolly were called into a meeting with a representative of the Missouri Department of Education and Superintendent Savage, Mr. Robertson and Mrs. Knaggs.

        “We at the state level are questioning why you son was recommended by the Bland school district for admission to the state institution for the retarded. According to the IQ test he is gifted,” a representative of the Missouri Department of Education.

        “YOUR TEST IS WRONG!” Mrs. Knaggs screamed at the man. “WE SAY HE IS RETARDED! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE IN JEFFERSON CITY…A BUNCH OF COMMUNIST!”

        To celebrate George not having to go to the state institution, Frank and Dolly took George for a cheeseburger and fries at Verne’s Malt Shop, then to the Lyric Theater to see a movie. The movies in Bland were usual sometimes two or three years behind. The movie that week was Rebel Without a Cause.  Frank and Dolly worried that George wouldn’t enjoy the film since it was a more mature film, but they felt that a movie was a good treat for him after all the stress of the past few weeks. George sat with his eyes glued to the screen. The only thing he said was, “Could I have a red jacket like that boy in the movie has?”  

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