The Boxcar Blues (21 page)

When Curly had arrived back on the farm, he
found an atmosphere of hate and chaos. His Father, bedridden with
colon cancer, had been given a month to live. Curly’s brothers
refused to work for their step-Mother, or even live in the same
house with her, so they’d moved into the barn. They were still
doing the chores on the farm, but because there was no market for
the crops everything they grew and harvested was consumed or given
away. With no crop sales there was no income and they were several
months behind on their mortgage payment. In its present state, the
farm faced certain foreclosure within a few months. As Curly would
learn, however, all the farms in the area were going through lean
times. Everyone was working hard, just to keep the wolf from the
door.

Curly’s Dad, although overcome with his
illness and the problems facing them, appeared grateful to see that
his eldest son had returned home to help the family. Curly said,
“Papa, I came home because Phil wrote to me and told me about all
the problems around here. The first thing I’m going to do is keep
the farm from foreclosure, although I’m not sure how. Besides that,
I’m making some changes and the first one is, Charley, Phil and
Maury are moving back in the house. This is their home and they
shouldn’t have to live in the barn. Theresa will treat them with
the respect they deserve, or she’ll be leaving.”

His Father knew questioning his son would be
futile. When Curly had first walked into his room, he’d seen a
grown man who’d been hardened by life on the road. There was
nothing he could do to ease the rift between his wife and son, so
he merely asked, “Abraham, all I ask is that your treat my wife
with the respect she deserves.”

Out of consideration for his dying Father,
Curly said, “I will, Papa.” Then he thought, until you die, then
I’m throwing her ass out of here.

His Father asked, “What can you do about the
farm, Son? We haven’t made a mortgage payment in four months.”

“
On my way out here I
talked to Hiram Levine and Shorty Walker. Tomorrow night we’re
having a meeting of all the land owners around here. Everyone is in
the same situation, so we’re trying to come up with a plan to
prevent foreclosures.”

“
They already took Seth
Henderson’s place.”

“
I know. Maybe we can save
the rest.”

His Father looked at him with tired, dying
eyes and said, “Good luck, son.”

Curly left so his Father could get some
rest. Theresa came in and sat down beside her husband. He said
nothing and turned his head away so she couldn’t see him smiling at
the peaceful prospect of death.

The following night Curly attended a meeting
of the local land owners where the objective was to save their
farms in the face of foreclosures. After he’d talked with other
farmers, Curly thought of the plush life he’d given up as an
airline pilot. Life in the farm, especially a failing farm was
about as far from that existence as you can get. He wondered if
he’d ever return to the more prosperous routine of working for
Rocky Mountain Airways again.

His thoughts were interrupted as a man stood
on a flour barrel and said, “Men, listen up. I’ve been talking to
people from other parts of the country, and I’ve got news; some
good, some not. The CCC camps and WPA projects have put people back
to work, but the impact of the new jobs haven’t affected the crop
demand yet. The farm bureau estimates several months yet before we
see the demand for our crops increase. The estimated number of
farms that have been lost to foreclosure in this country is seven
hundred thousand. But, out in Iowa they’ve had some success at
dealing with foreclosures.

“
Here’s how they did it;
every time they held an auction, the local land owners would make
low bids, less than a dollar, until the farm was sold for a price
that would allow the owner to buy his farm back. If anyone came in
and tried to get the place with a higher bid, they found themselves
looking down the barrel of a shotgun.”

Someone shouted, “What about the police? I
heard they were bringing in police to stop this sort of thing.”

“
If the police show up and
try to stop our bidding, we’ve got to be prepared to disarm them
and throw them off the property.”

Shouts of agreement filled the room.
Although the men knew this plan could turn violent, they were
desperate, willing to try anything to save their property. If
violence was included in the solution, so be it.

The man continued, “Day after tomorrow
they’re having an auction at George Pearson’s farm. I say we show
up and put this plan into action to see what we can do for George.”
The place erupted in shouts of unity and acceptance of their plan.
This was the first glimmer of hope the men had seen for keeping
their farms. The meeting was adjourned and the men congregated
around a keg of beer that Curly had provided.

The next night, Curly showed up at the
Pearson auction, as many other men from the area did, armed with a
pistol concealed in his overalls. The men took their stations and
waited for the auctioneer to begin the auction proceedings. The
first item to be auctioned was the mortgage on the farm which was
for eight hundred dollars. One man opened the bidding, “I bid five
cents.”

The auctioneer acknowledged the bid and
another man cried out, “Ten cents.”

As was bound to happen, an outsider who
didn’t know what was going on, made a higher bid, trying to steal
the farm at a bargain price. “Two hundred dollars!”

The bidder immediately found himself
surrounded by several scowling farmers. Two men held him as Curly
stuck his pistol in the guy’s gut and said, “You bid is a little
high. Why don’t you withdraw it, so I don’t have to pull the
trigger?”

The guy was immediately convinced that he’d
made a mistake and he’d better do exactly what the mob suggested.
Just loud enough for the auctioneer to hear, the man said, “I
withdraw my bid of two hundred dollars.”

As this took place, a deputy made the
mistake of approaching the men who’d forced the bid withdrawal. The
men surrounded and overpowered the officer, then took his gun and
badge and threw them in a watering trough. The deputy was told,
“You just stay out of this and everything will be peaceful
like.”

The deputy, realizing the danger of mob
violence and how badly he was outnumbered, returned to his patrol
car and drove away from the farm. He did not report the incident to
his superiors.

By now the auctioneer knew what the locals
had planned; the bids were going to be kept low enough so Pearson
could keep his farm. He finished the bidding for the mortgage,
which sold back to Pearson for two dollars. The livestock was sold
to other men, who gave it back to Pearson, for a nickel a head.
Everyone left the auction feeling like a ten ton lead weight had
been lifted off their shoulders. It wasn’t because Pearson had kept
his farm that had them so elated. It was because for the first time
in several years, they felt like they had some control, albeit
slight, over their destiny. They left the auction feeling like they
could stand on their own two feet again without being repeatedly
knocked down.

As a show of unity and fellowship, the
farmers then took several cans of milk to the nearest towns where
they donated it to hungry children. When Curly arrived home and
told his brothers about the auctions, they thought he was a miracle
worker. His Father admonished, “You better be careful, son. People
are getting killed in some of these shenanigans that are taking
place.”

Curly told him not to worry, then left for
the local tavern for a much needed drink.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Barney and Lem departed Grand Junction at
eleven o’clock in the morning bound for Denver. They’d seen the
weather report that indicated thunderstorm activity in their route
of flight, but Barney thought if the storms became a factor, he had
plenty of room to circumnavigate the weather system.

As they passed Glenwood Springs darkening
skies filled the distant horizon. Barney told Lem, “Plot me a
course that’ll take us north of Mt. Powell and then toward
Boulder.”

Lem taped a slip to his yoke with a heading
of zero-five-zero degrees.

Barney had been on this heading for ten
minutes when he said, “This storm is moving right into our flight
path. I’m turning further north.”

When he turned, however, the darkening
clouds seemed to follow him. He noticed several lightning strikes,
which mean thunderstorm activity—an airliner’s worst enemy. Storms
like this could spawn severe turbulence and down drafts that could
easily slam the Boeing into a mountain like she was a toy.

He said, “This is getting bad, Lem. The tops
are too high to go over the storm; we might have to turn around and
head back to Glenwood Springs.”

“
I think that’s our best
bet. Let me get you a heading.”

Barney started a slow turn and said, “Before
you do, go back and tell the passengers that we’re turning around
due to the weather. We’ll try to land at Glenwood, but we might
have set down in Meeker.”

Barney rolled out on a westerly heading and
his worst fears were realized; the storm had closed in behind them.
He faced a wall of black clouds streaked with lighting and
wind-whipped rain. Lem sat down and Barney said, “We’re right in
the middle of this thing and it’s building fast. Plot our position
and get a heading to the Colorado River. If I can descend into the
river valley, we might be able to get under the clouds.” As Barney
said this, he knew he was playing Russian Roulette. Making a blind
descent in mountainous territory, while in the middle of a violent
thunderstorm was risky at best.

In gale force winds Barney fought the
control yoke. Lightning flashed and booming thunder filled the
airplane, as streaks of St. Elmo’s fire danced across the
instrument panel.

Lem poured over a chart for a minute, then
shouted, “We should be right over the river valley. Descend on this
heading and we can follow the river into Glenwood Springs.”

Barney started a five hundred foot per
minute descent. He tried to weave his way around the clouds to
maintain some forward visibility. Despite his best efforts, the
turbulence continually threw the plane into the clouds where he saw
only the driving rain. His grim realization was, the violence of
the storm had transformed he and Lem from pilots—into
passengers.

The altimeter unwound through ten thousand
feet, as Barney fought to keep the plane on a westerly heading. An
incredibly loud crash of thunder reverberated through the plane and
Barney felt the rudder go slack under the pedals. He yelled,
“Lightning strike, got the rudder!”

A second later, Lem saw an opening in the
storm and shouted, “A field, one o’clock!”

Barney caught a glimpse of a beautiful green
pasture a couple thousand feet below them, but a violent updraft
grabbed the plane and tossed to a south heading. The field, which
might have saved their lives, disappeared. The updraft was followed
by an intense down draft that stressed the wings to their limit as
Barney fought the controls.

The next thing they saw was the side of a
mountain rushing at them. Both men cranked the yoke hard to the
right, barely avoiding a head on crash into the mountain. Barney
thought they had saved the plane, but then heard the grinding sound
of a treetop ripping off the landing gear. The plane plunged nose
first into the trees. When he felt the jolt, Barney’s last
conscious act was to turn off the fuel switch—then, darkness.

Catwalk, Julio and Billy Sue were in the
middle of dinner when the phone rang. Julio answered and started
asking questions. Catwalk overheard enough to know something bad
had happened. Julio confirmed his fears, “Barney and Lem’s flight
is overdue in Denver. They departed Grand Junction at eleven this
morning, but there was a bad storm system in their route of flight.
They haven’t been heard from since.”

Catwalk thought about the extensive
mountainous terrain on the route of flight. Other than the open
ocean, there was no more daunting place to make an emergency
landing. “Did they say how many passengers were on board?”

“
Six passengers, three
hundred pounds of cargo and two hundred pounds of mail.”

“
Call the weather service
and see which way that storm was moving. That might give us an
indication where Barney had to deviate. Then call Denver and make
sure search and rescue has been sent out.”

Billy Sue asked, “What are you going to
do?”

“
I’m going to get Don
Blake to fly my trips for the next few days. Then I’m taking a
Jenny to look for them.”

Julio said, “I’ll go with you.”

“
O.K. I’ll pack our cold
weather gear and a couple days food. Billy Sue, you can stay as
long as you want to. When you leave just lock the
doors.”

“
Good luck,
guys.”

Barney regained consciousness an hour after
the crash. When he saw the way Lem’s head was bent, he was certain
that he’d died from a broken neck. He unbuckled, climbed out of his
seat and checked Lem’s pulse; there was none. He then noticed plane
was laying at an angle with the nose and right side down.

He looked to the rear and saw four
passengers that also appeared to be dead. Two people, however,
looked up when they heard him moving. He said, “Are you hurt
bad?”

A man said, “My leg is busted, but my wife
is OK, just some bruises.”

“
It looks like everyone
else died in the crash.” Barney then crawled across the seats,
checking the pulse on the remaining passengers. Finding nothing but
corpses, he said, “We’re the only survivors.”