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Reaping the WhirlwindPublisher: Winepress Publishing, July 2000
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The drug store felt cool after the warmth of the street. Though not up to scorching summer temperatures, the weather had risen to just above the comfort zone. Tyson let the jingling door close behind him and edged between several occupied tables on his way to the counter. At a table on the left, the Hicks brothers, Herb and Sue, had their heads together, deep in conversation. Well-known local attorneys, the men looked alikeódark-haired and slightóbut Sue wore glasses. His mother had died during his birth, so a grieving father had given the boy his mother's name. "I'll take a double strawberry soda and a glass of water," Tyson told the young soda jerk. Carrying his drinks, Tyson found a seat in the corner. A few minutes later Belinda Riesbeck arrived with Jody. Wearing a white sailor suit with a red tie, the little girl clutched a hand-carved train engine. While her mother ordered, the child sidled up to Tyson, eyeing his ice cream. "My mother's getting me a sundae." "That's great, Jody. What flavor?" "Vanilla with strawberries on top." "That's my favorite, too. Say, that's a nice engine you've got there." She proudly held it out for him to see. "Mr. Buntley made it for me! He says he'll make some cars to go with it, too." Her attention drifted to Tyson's silver badge. "Did you catch any bad guys today?" He grinned. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow." "Jody," her mother called. She sent a polite smile to Tyson. "I'm sorry if she's bothering you." "No bother. Jody's my little friend." He looked into the child's deep blue eyes. "You must come over to play with Lori soon." "Can I, Mama?" Belinda smiled. "Sure, baby. Now come and eat your ice cream before it melts." Jody perched on the dainty chair and dipped a long-handled spoon into her dish. She chattered happily, her eyes in constant motion. Ten minutes later Jody gave Tyson a parting wave as she and her mother left the store. They paused at the door to let George Rappelyea come in. Rappelyea carried a folded copy of the Chattanooga Times. More agitated than usual, he marched to the cash register and thrust the paper at Robinson. "You and John Godsey are always looking for something that will get Dayton a little publicity. I wonder if you've seen the morning paper?" Tyson glanced their way. What was Rappelyea up to now? "Sure I've seen the paper," Doc said. "Why?" "Did you see this?" Rappelyea pointed to a spot on the creased page and waited while Doc read it. The pharmacist did, aloud. "We are looking for a Tennessee teacher who is willing to accept our services in testing the Butler Act in the courts. Our lawyers think a friendly test case can be arranged without costing the teacher his or her job. Distinguished counsel have volunteered their services. All we need now is a willing client. The ACLU." Robinson's head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes narrowed. "What do you have in mind, George?" "Why don't we take them up on it? Get Ferguson or someone else to stand trial? It would be the show of the century." "I'm listening," Robinson said, watching the small man before him. "The ACLU promises to cover any fine, so we can't lose. Look, Doc, I've got connections with the ACLU. I'm from New Yawk, remember." His voice intensified. "What a boon for Dayton!" "We'll have to talk to Walt about it," the druggist said, referring to Walter White, the county school superintendent. "I'll phone him this afternoon." Rappelyea retrieved his newspaper and stuck it under his arm. "Let's meet here tomorrow and talk it out." "Sure, George. Around three." The mining manager stiff-legged out the door. Tyson slowly stirred bits of fresh strawberry in the bottom of his soda glass. If a trial of that size came to Dayton the crowds would be unbelievable. Harris would have to call in some more boys to help out. Dropping a few pennies to the table, Tyson left the store. **** A few minutes before three, Tyson eased into the drug store. Maybe he was nosy, but he wanted to see what George Rappelyea was up to. Moments later, Tyson settled into a chair near the front windows with a tall root beer float in front of him. Bubbling with enthusiasm, Rappelyea arrived first. As usual, his suit looked as though he'd slept in it for the past two nights. His hair resembled a thorny bush. The mining boss got a cream soda and sat at a table close to the cash register. He and Tyson were the only customers in the store. Robinson remained behind the soda fountain while a clerk filled gooey containers with ice cream toppings. Wearing a linen suit, Walter White arrived next, a solid man in build and in character. Behind White, the small-framed Hicks brothers walked with Wallace Haggard, a muscular young giant who looked more like a football player than an attorney. Throwing down his towel, Robinson set four colas on a tray and brought them over. While Doc handed out drinks, Rappelyea took the lead. He laid the ACLU ad on the table. "We're meeting today to tawk about setting up a test case on the Butler Act," the mining engineer said in his broad New York accent. "If we can find a teacher who's willing to stand trial, Dayton will get nationwide publicity and maybe draw in new commerce. "I called the ACLU yesterday," he went on. "They'll provide A-number-one lawyers and guarantee to pay the teacher's fine. We only provide someone to sit in the defendant's chair." "Who would we use?" Sue Hicks asked. "Ferguson is a family man with children." Rappelyea shook his head. "I tawked to him last night. You can count him out. He's too scared his reputation will be ruined." "I don't blame him," Sue said. "A family man has to think about those things." He reached up to adjust his round spectacles. Superintendent White spoke up. "How about John Scopes? He doesn't teach biology, but he's a science teacher." "Is he still around?" Haggard drawled. "The term ended four days ago. I thought he'd be home in Kentucky by now." Robinson said, "He's still here. He came into the store yesterday. He said he met a blonde, and he's waiting around to have a date with her." Their laughter filled the store. "Sounds like John," Rappelyea said. He flipped a straw skimmer back and forth between his hands. "Let's get him here and ask him." White rubbed his heavy jaw. "I saw him playing tennis at the school an hour ago. He may still be there." Rappelyea darted to the door and thrust his head outside. "Hey, Jimmy!" A medium-size boy came near. He wore a plaid, golf-style hat and suspenders. "Yes, sir?" "Would you go over to the school and ask Mr. Scopes to come here? I'll give you two bits if you bring him back." The child took off at a run. Fifteen minutes later Scopes burst through the door, huffing. His cheeks glowed and glistened. He paused to wipe his face with a wrinkled handkerchief. His shirt had wide sweat stains under the arms and down the chest. Rappelyea stepped outside to pay his messenger, then returned, smiling widely. "Good afternoon, John," Rappelyea said, rising. "I'm sorry about my appearance," the young teacher panted. "I was playing tennis." "That's quite all right," Robinson told him. He lifted a chair from another table and set it down for Scopes. He turned to the fellow at the fountain. "Bring another soda, Bobby." George Rappelyea opened the game. "John, we've been arguing, and I said that nobody could teach biology without teaching evolution." "That's right," Scopes said. His puzzled expression showed he wondered where this was leading. A chain smoker, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Haggard lit it for him. "The biology book we use at RCHS teaches evolution," Scopes said, puffing smoke as he spoke. He laid his cigarette in a black ash tray and crossed the room to the shelf of textbooks on the back wall. He returned holding Civic Biology by G.W. Hunter. The young teacher scanned the table of contents, then opened the book and lay it on the table. The page described man's development from lesser animals, complete with drawings. "You've been teaching this book?" Rappelyea asked. "Sure. I got this text from the storeroom when I subbed for Mr. Ferguson during exams." Dragging deeply on his cigarette, Scopes let the smoke gently billow out as he scanned the circle of intent faces before him. "What's this all about?" "You've been violating the law," Robinson said. "Here, read this." He handed over the Times. All eyes watched the young man's face as he read it. Scopes placed the newspaper on the table. "I still don't get it." "Would you be willing to stand for a test case? Would you be willing to let your name be used?" "You don't have to do it, John," Sue said. "If you have any qualms whatsoever, say so now." He and Scopes were good friends. "I never taught evolution," Scope protested mildly. "All I did was review for the exam." Sue said, "That's not the point here. The question is: are you willing?" "I don't know. I don't like the idea of having a police record." Rappelyea said, "But it won't be the same as a criminal offense. The fine is one hundred to five hundred dollars, and the ACLU has promised to pay it. They'll provide you the best lawyers free of charge. You'll help the country get rid of a bad law." The discussion lasted several minutes. Scopes removed his glasses to rub his eyes. His face pensive, he listened to the arguments. "Will you let your name be used?" Robinson finally repeated. Abruptly, the young teacher nodded. "I agree that it's a bad law. I don't care. Go ahead." Glancing at his watch, Rappelyea said, "I've just got time to run over to the justice of the peace and swear out a warrant." He looked at Tyson. "Hang around, Deputy, will you? You can serve him." At Tyson's nod, the mining engineer stood and lifted his skimmer off the table. "We'll get a bunch of scientists and preachers down here. H.G. Wells and a lot of the big boys." He bounded outside. Tyson finished his soda and strolled outside. He crossed the street and walked a block to the office of the justice of the peace in time to meet Rappelyea coming out. "It's ready," the small man announced, as though it were a personal achievement. "The bond is a thousand dollars." Without a word, Tyson received the document from the bald, spectacled official and dropped it into his inner coat pocket. Scopes accepted the warrant, glanced at it and ground his cigarette into a glass ashtray. "If that's all, I guess I'll get back to my game." More handshaking followed, and John left with Sue Hicks. Robinson walked to the wall phone behind the counter. Giving a number, he waited. "Chattanooga Times? This is F.E. Robinson of Dayton. We've just arrested a man for teaching evolution." Pause. "John Scopes of Rhea County High School." A few minutes later he clicked the armature to break the connection, then called the Nashville Banner. "I'll wire the ACLU," Rappelyea said. He dashed through the door and down the street. Running his thumb across his wedding band, Tyson gazed through the window until the mining engineer disappeared around the corner onto Market. The group dispersed. Tyson sauntered out with the last of them. Heading for home, he followed Walter White a short distance down Market Street. Outside of Darwin's store, White met Bob Gentry, stringer of the Chattanooga News. The school superintendent said, "Something has begun that's going to put Dayton on the map." The date was May 5, 1925. |
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