Chapter 5

Homer Barlow was the Mayor of Appleton, a lifelong resident. He was much older than Cal—pushing seventy. He’d once owned a hardware store in town and got into local politics about twenty years before when he ran for City Council. It all started when he couldn’t get a zoning variance.

He and Cal sat in a booth in the back area of the diner. It was easier to discuss business over lunch than in the Mayor’s office.

“I called the meeting, so I guess lunch is on me this time,” Cal said as they scanned the menu.

“I never pass up a free one,” Homer replied.

Homer got people to vote for him by being an affable man. He was portly, sported a big Wally Walrus moustache that moved up with the corners of his mouth when he smiled. He often told Cal that walking down Main St. waving to the citizens was a major part of his job.

“I want to give you a heads up on a prospect for the Annex,” Cal said. “This one might be the real thing.”

The corners of Homer’s moustache turned down.

“Maybe we should have brought Kyle Stevens along. He does all the detail work. I just look over the big picture.”

Cal took a breath.

“I’ll leave it to you to fill him in. When you do, make sure he understands that this has got to be kept quiet for the time being. The prospect is just kicking the tires. Publicity at a premature time might make them walk away, and we can’t afford that.”

“Well, we’ve had outfits kicking the tires before,” Homer scoffed. “Never amounts to anything in the end. High hopes at the start and then it all fizzles out in the end.”

Cal lowered his voice.

“We’re not gonna let that happen this time. This set-up is perfect for the prospect and for us. The building is just the right size. They don’t need the crane capacity that’s disqualified other tenants in past years. They like our proximity to the Interstate and the State Route.”

“I can see why it’s perfect for them,” Homer said. “What makes it so perfect for us?”

“All we have in the parking lot at the Annex are weeds growing through the blacktop. This will put some employee cars in there for once.”

“Give us some property taxes, too,” Homer spouted with a note of glee in his voice, “not to mention the windfall from selling the place.”

Cal shook his head.

“Don’t spend those tax money chickens before they’re hatched. They’re gonna need some sort of package from us—and taxes are always a part of the package. We’ve got to be ready to offer some incentives.”

Homer eased back in his chair and pursed his lips in a show of disapproval.

“Maybe we just don’t want...”

Cal leaned forward, as if chasing his reluctant listener.

“This is the best chance we’ve had in years. We can’t blow it. Some other town will get this if we don’t come up with a good package.”

“Alright—alright; we can listen, at least,” Homer said. “Who is this outfit, anyway, and what are they going to be making out there?”

“It won’t be a factory,” Cal told him. “They want to install a Distribution Center and Call Center. The company is Midco Apparel.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“They have clothing factories overseas. They do mostly private label. You’ve never heard of them because they usually put someone else’s label on what they make. Their parent company also owns a national chain of women’s clothing stores that are known by another name. They want to service all their retail customers in the Northeast from Appleton and gradually phase out their operation in New Jersey.
“I don’t get it,” Homer replied.

“It’s easy,” Cal countered. “New Jersey is expensive and we’re not.”

They stopped talking when Millie came by to take their order. Cal could see that Homer was thinking things over.

“We’ve all got to get on the same page,” Cal advised him. “There are a lot of people that have to fit on that page. We’ll have to bring the State people in. I hate to do it, but there’s no way around it. We’ve got to be united.”

“I guess so,” Homer conceded, “at least for right now. What should we do for the next step?”

“I want to bring in the Midco guys to tour the facility,” Cal answered. “Let’s keep this confidential. So far, it’s only you, me, a few people at the County and one guy in the Governor’s office who know about this. We’d be smart to keep it that way. It won’t be long until we let out the facts when the time is right. That’s when we’ll really need you, Homer.”

Homer and Cal finished their BLT’s and were capping them off with a cup of coffee. Homer’s attitude was improving.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Cal. You’ve really got this Annex project square in your sights.”

“It’s my job to get the ball rolling,” Cal replied. “You’re good at getting the people behind an idea. Once things get rolling we’ll need the citizens on board. There’ll be some compromises to make. If we stall...”

“I know,” Homer agreed. “It’s just like the other prospects that’ve come through. There’ll be a lot of irons in the fire; everyone will be concerned about something; taxes, environment, zoning, you name it.”

“We’ve blown a lot of deals,” Cal said. “I hope we’ve learned our lesson.”

“The people are hungrier now,” Homer conceded. “This might be the time that does it.”

Cal nodded and the older man looked away for a second. Cal knew that he was working up to something. He let him take his time.

Homer sighed and turned back and looked at Cal.

“Truth is,” he said, “I’d like pulling this project together to be kind of a legacy for me. I’ve got two-plus years to go on my term. I think that’ll be enough for me. I don’t plan to run again.”

“Are you sure, Homer?” Cal asked. “You’ve got time to think it over.”

“Yeah, I think so. It will be enough time to see this project through and then wrap things up. But, that’s not why I brought it up.”

Millie arrived at the table with the coffee pot. They stopped talking. Homer took a refill, but Cal passed on it.

“Here’s the deal,” Homer restarted after Millie walked away; “I’m hoping I can pass the office on to you when I’m done, Cal. You’d be a natural for it. The people like you and trust you. You’d be a shoo-in and you’d do a fine job, too. I’ll make the endorsement—you’d be unstoppable.”

Homer’s offer surprised Cal. He always thought that Homer would have to be carried out of his office feet-first.

“Jeez, Homer! I’m flattered that you’d...”

“No you’re not,” Homer interrupted. “Some things are as plain as day. You’re just surprised that I don’t want to go out feet-first.”

“Well, Homer, I uh...” Cal stammered.

“Then the answer is ‘yes’?” Homer confirmed.

“Yes, I would like it,” Cal said. “What about Kyle Stevens? He’s your number-two. Won’t he expect you to endorse him?”

Barlow shook his head. Kyle is a good Vice-Mayor, but it’s not the same as being Mayor. It’s not for him. He knows that.”

Cal shrugged and allowed himself a broad grin.

“Homer, what can I say?”

Homer’s eyes turned dark.

“Then you’ll wait until my term is over? I’m not gonna quit ‘til my term expires.”

“Of course,” Cal answered. “I would never...”

“There’s some who think that you should be Mayor right now,” Homer said.

“That didn’t come from me,” Cal declared with conviction.

“Oh, I know where it came from,” Homer countered. “I’ve got ways of findin’ out these things. All you gotta do is stay away from that kind of talk, keep your nose clean and wait ‘til I finish my term. Is it a deal?”

Millie placed the check on the corner of the table. Homer handed it to Cal.

“Thanks for lunch,” he told the younger man. “I already gave you the tip.”

Cal paid the lunch tab, as promised, and pondered the hardball in Homer’s last comment. It was an aspect of the man that Cal had seen only a few times, and most had never known. Overall, he felt good about the results of the lunch conversation. He never expected Homer to eat out of his hand regarding the Annex deal. The support that he showed would be more than enough, if it held up.

“I usually take a walk around the Business District, just to show everyone I’m around,” Barlow said after they crossed the street together. “Why don’t you come with me? It’ll send the right message.”

“I’d like to, Homer. Problem is, I’ve got a client scheduled in fifteen minutes.”

It was easy to forget that Cal’s main job was his legal practice.

“Can’t put it off for a while?” Homer asked. “Who is it?”

“Nothing very exciting, but I never break appointments,” Cal answered.

The client was Erland Dickinson and his wife, coming in to update their will. Homer gave him a look, as though expecting Cal to answer the second question, but Cal looked back at Homer and said nothing.

“Next time, then,” Homer said with a smile.

They parted for the day. Cal headed to his office. Homer was already shaking hands with a merchant.

Cal liked the feeling he had as he strode down the street. Two years was hardly a long time to wait. He thought about looking for a partner to buy out his practice when it was time to make the change. Wills-and-deeds were alright to make a living. The Mayor’s office is where he could really spread his wings.

“Someone from the Tuckers will amount to something,” he said to himself, almost out loud. “It will be nice for Ma and Dad.”

That turned his thoughts to Edwin and all that meant. Homer had told Cal to ‘keep his nose clean’. That would be easy. Cal wondered if Homer’s comment referred to his brother’s nose, too. That would less easy. It was clear enough that his younger brother possessed more than enough potential to splash some dirt on Cal’s nose from any one of his antics. Cal decided to keep a closer eye on him.

He was at the doorway of the little office building where he met with clients. It wasn’t too much, but not bad for a country lawyer at the age of thirty-three. It was the way Abe Lincoln started out. Being Mayor of Appleton wasn’t the same, of course, but a lot closer than where he was a few years ago.

Roxie gave in and showed up at the Red Rooster on Saturday night, after all. It was tempting not to, after being brushed off by Junior the past Monday. She thought about it for a few days and realized that Junior could be like that. Who knew what floozy he might find at the ‘Rooster’ to take her place?

So, she reasoned herself into going where she did not want to go.

“Every floozy has a right to protect her turf from all the other floozies.”

So, although she seldom went there and disliked the bar, she walked into the ‘Rooster’ at nine-thirty that night.

As soon as she passed through the door she remembered why it was so much nicer hanging out at the Dew Drop Inn. The men at the Red Rooster were tougher, just the kind with whom Junior could find trouble. The women looked rough, too. Roxie knew that Junior was somewhere about because she’d seen the pickup truck parked down the street. She figured her best bet was somewhere around the pool table. She squeezed her way past the crowd at the bar, and found out she’d been correct.

“Hey! There’s my good luck charm,” Junior yelled out when he saw her.

She sidled up to him and he handed her a sawbuck.

“Get yerself a drink,” he yelled over the chatter. “Get me one, too—the usual.”

Roxie reversed course and made her way back to the bar. She turned and looked at Junior. She wondered why he always wore his cowboy hat with the feathered band and sunglasses when he was indoors—even at night. With his long narrow face, two-day scruff and curly, dark hair he looked like a poor woman’s version of Richard Petty. Roxie thought it was kind of cool. She could see, however, how it could rile some, especially in a Red Rooster kind of place.