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| Leonard telling a tall tale at the 2017 Big Fibbers Contest. |
I had a great time telling stories at the Spires yesterday. I go over to the main building there once a month. I usually take along an animal or two and tell a story or two. Often one or more of the audience members will chime in with their stories.
I couldn't help but think of someone we've lost since last October. On this date last year one of the residents there was Leonard White, one of my favorite local storytellers. Leonard always had a story or two ready. On that day he told three stories!The Haunted RV
from Leonard White
In 2003 Paula and Leonard decided to buy an RV -- a recreational vehicle -- and take off to see the country in it. They shopped around for weeks. Taking a day every now and then to drive up to Dalton, or over to Ellijay to shop some of the RV dealers. But finally they stopped at a huge lot full of RVs of every size and shape and type down at Kennesaw. Way back at the back of the lot they saw a small one, plenty big enough for the two of them. It had a big “newly refurbished” sticker slapped across the window and others that read “16 feet” and ‘low mileage’ and “Price reduced.” They’d done a lot of price comparisons and couldn’t believe the price he was asking -- a couple of thousand dollars less than similar models they’d seen. The dealer bragged about how he’d completely redone the bath with new fixtures and repainted and re-papered throughout, and put down new flooring.
They took it for a test drive and along the way had their mechanic give it once over. Everything seemed good and it was such a good deal went ahead and signed on the dotted line and became owners of a top notch small motor-home at a bargain price and began planning trial tour, just a few days down to Savannah and along the coast.
The first night they found a little campground along Interstate 16 just east of Macon. The set up was a breeze even the first time and in no time they were cozied up in a comfortable bed snoozing away.
Sometime in the middle of the night Paula nudged Leonard awake.
“Do you hear running water?”
“I sure do; better check that out.”
Leonard went into the little bathroom to find the hot water in the tub running but it had been running so long that the water was cold. He cut it off a returned to bed, and he and Paula had a discussion about which one of them had managed to leave it running. Each was privately convinced it was the other.
The second night in the outskirts of Savannah in the middle of the night -- the RV cranked up! They heard the motor running! What was going on? Paula got up and turned off the motor and removed the keys. They looked out windows but could see anybody stirring outside in the moonlight. They went back to bed only to be awakened again when they heard the doors slamming. Boom! Boom!
“Didn’t you lock the door?”
“Yes, I did -- at least I thought I did.”
We locked up again and I checked the windows and looked out into the moonlit campground. No one was around. So we went back to bed and eventually back to sleep till morning.
But we were beginning to feel a little spooked.
The next night they were in Brunswick and beginning to dread going to sleep. This time it was a voice that woke them: “The water is cold!” The water is cold!”
Leonard flipped on the light and they both jumped out of bed. They both grabbed walking sticks next to the door and held them like clubs as they looked for an intruder, but where would an intruder hide in that little RV? They found nothing. Paula tentatively opened the door to the little bathroom. She sorta screamed and Leonard shouted back. “What is it?”
“Come here; stand in the doorway.”
So he did. He said it was like an air conditioner was blowing strait on him. It was cold, but when he stepped on into the bathroom it was warm again. The cold was just in that one spot.
Well that was the final straw. They decided they didn’t want that RV.
They drove straight from Brunswick back to Kennesaw and told the guy what happened and said, “we don’t want this thing!” He actually chuckled a little. He said he’d be glad to buy it back -- but he’d pay $2000 less than theyd paid.
After they got home that RV was all they could think about for a while. Finally they decided to do some investigating.
they checked their paper work and saw that dealer had repossessed that RV up in Helen, Georgia before he sold it to them. so they decided to drive up there and see what they could find out. The sheriff had signed the repossession papers so they went to see him.
As the sheriff heard the story his eyes got real big.
“Well I’ll be”, he muttered, “Wait’ll you hear about the original owners. In the middle of the night the 911 operator called me out to the RV camp down by the Chattahoochee just above the shoals. I got there and the placed was in an uproar. Every camper was standing around in the night clothes. They said there was heard screaming and yelling coming from from that RV. Cletus and Marie the couple that owned it were arguing. About that time Marie come out the door screaming and holding a pistol, “The water is cold! she hollered. She slammed the door. Then she opened it again. “The water is cold! You used up every bit of the warm water!” Then she suddenly turned back around and slammed the door again. We heard her shout again from inside, “The water is cold!” Then two gunshots, “Boom! Boom! “ We ran top the door, but too late. “Boom!” Another gunshot. Then all was quiet.”
Well, the sheriff and his men entered the RV and found Cletus dead in the tub and Marie dead in the doorway to the bathroom of a self-inflicted wound, and the whole place splattered with blood.
Sometime later Leonard said he talked with a guy who had worked for that RV dealer. He had had to do some of the restoration on that thing after they repossessed it. There was blood every where and gunshot holes in the fixtures. It had required a pretty thorough cleaning, replacement of fixtures, painting, papering, and completely new flooring. But he said he still reckoned the fellow had come out alright. But seeing as how folks had kept bringing that RV back and selling it back at a loss, he figured the dealer had come out alright on it.
Cornbread and Buttermilk
from Leonard White
My great-great grandparents Cliff and Bess Gaines in 1855 bought a farm just outside Adaisville Georgia and moved their family there. Nice little house with a big front porch.. There was a spring in the side yard with a shelter built over it. That was such a cool spring it served as their refrigerator. Bess always kept a big jar of buttermilk cooling in that spring.
Six years later the whole world changed for America. Sumter was fired on and most of the young men fron all parts of the country were signing up to fight on one side or the other in the war that was coming. Cliff was forty and too old in ‘61, but by ‘62 it was plain that everyone would have to pitch in. Consciption came and Cliff had to kiss Bess goodbye and leave the farm and the babies to the care his wife and his mother.
Cliff’s company of mostly men in their forties. Theyn joined Lee’s army in Virginia.
He and Bess kept letters movoing between Adairsville and wherever he was, though the uncertainties of war sometimes meant the letters were delivered very late or maybe not at all. He wrote of bad food, worn-out shoes, bad times but survival.
The day before Independence Day in 1863, Cliff’s mama had taken the kids up the road to their aunt’s house for the afternoon. Bess sat alone for a change on that big front porch sipping a big glass of that buttermilk, when she glanced up and caught some movement at the top of the hill way up the road. A speck of a man was coming. As he got closer she could see he was walking with a stick and limping. And then she could see the slouch hat and the butternut-colored uniform and she saw who it was. She almost upset the buttermilk as she jumped up and ran toward Cliff and they embraced.
He was dirty. He was thin. His clothes were ragged and faded. He wore no shoes,
Through her tears she exclaimed, “Oh, honey, let me get you something to eat!”
“Oh, Bess, darling, You know what I want? I have been craving a cool glass of buttermilk and some of your cornbread.”
She kissed him again and said, You sit right here and drink this, I’ve cornbread in the kitchen and, when you finish that there’s plenty more buttermilk cooling in the spring!”
And soon they were sitting together in that double rocker. He had crumbled the cornbread into the cool buttermilk and while she sat with both arms arapped around his neck he would spoon a bit into her mouth and then one for himself. As they enjoyed the cornbread a =nd buttermilk she told him all about the children, how they had changed, what they were learning, the silly or endearing things they had said or done. When he finished he said, “Reckon there’s any tobacco in the house, I haven’t had any real tobacco in weeks.“
It was not all that unusual for older ladies to smoke a pipe in thoise days and Cliff’s Mama was one of those.
Bess kissed him again. “I’ll be right back. Oh Darlin I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”
“You know I couldn’t let that happen”, he said and sqeezed her again. She took his pipe with her into the house. She packed it with tobacco and took it back to the porch.
The double rocker was still creaking back and forth but Cliff was gone. She hunted everywhere for hoim. She walked down the road and met her mother-in-law and the children coming and they all seached for cliff. Neighbors came to help. She was such sincere Christian no one questioned her story. But no one saw Cliff again.
The war drug on for two more years. When if finally ended it was a while before dependable mail service resumed. Once a week or so Bess would go into Adairsville for supplies and the mail. And one week a package came for her. It was postmarked Gettysburg, PA.
1869 package came... return address Gettysburg. Inside was a letter and a tin can.
The letter read: Dear Mrs Gaines, I waited till delivery was reliable to send this to you. On July 3, 1863 there was a terrible battle right here in Gettysburg and some of the fighting was on my farm. The next day I found two dead soldiers in my field, one Union and one rebel. I decided to go through their pockets before giving them a burial side by side in my field. I found this tin can in the rebel’s pocket. It contains a few coins, a pocket watch, a short note, and a letter. I have enclosed them here.
She took out the note first. It read: If you are reading this then I have died. Please see that my watch is delivered to my son, Joel Jr., and the letter to my beloved wife Bess..
And the letter was dated July 3, 1863.
“My dearest love, my Bess, a great battle is commensing and I grieve to think that I may see you and our little ones no more. How I pray to God, even now, for one last chance to kiss your sweet lips and sit with you warm against my side on our front porch and share some of your cornbread crumbled in a big glass of cool buttermilk. Please know that I love you with all of my heart, and I would be there this very day if heaven would allow. Kiss our babies. With all my love, Cliff”
Top of His Class
from Leonard White
When one of Berry’s mathematics professors unexpectedly took a job elsewhere the department head contacted me - Paula and I were actually on a month-long trip to Scoland. -- to come out of retirement to fill in for a semester to teach just a single course that they didn’t have anyone to cover. He said it would be a small class but several math majors really needed it for graduation. Well, it would start just a couple of days after we got back, but I was glad to do it and agreed.
The first day I greeted the class and called the roll I’d been supplied by the registrar. When I’d finished, a hand went up. It was a young man at the very back of the room at least two rows behind every one else in a class of only fifteen math students. “Professor White,” he said, “I didn;’t hear my name.”
So I asked him his name.
“I’m Joel Brewer, Sir,”
“Thank you, Mr Brewer.” His was not on the list but that didn’t greatly concern me. Mistakes like that happen and I was sure the mistake would be taken care of.
I wrote his name at the bottom of the roll and went on with class.
I tell it turned out I was very glad that Joel was in the class. He was an excellent student and always had good questions and and interesting approaches to problem solving. I suspected he’d go on to study math beyond a bachelors degreee. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him teaching at a good university some day. himself. Every time there was a test his was an A and usually the top score.
Sure enough when it was time to turn in the grades for the semester, his scores were right at the top. When the registrar sent the blank grade sheets for me to fill out I soon realized, that soimehow, his name was still missing. I kicked myself for not following up with the registrar. I had just figured the it would get fixed as these thiungs often did. So I took my earliest opportunity to visit the registrar and get the roll straitened out.
When I explained the situation, he got all serious a frowned at me. “If this is some sort of a joke, I don’t find it funny at all.”
“Why would I joke? He hasn’t missed a day of class. He is puctual, prepared, and really about as brilliant as any student I’ve had. But his name is not on my roll.”
“Leonard, I won’t pretend to understand what you are telling me, but I can tell you right now that Yes he would have been enrolled in that class this year... but he was killed in auto accident last summer, surely you heard about it.”
I didn’t know what to say or do. Of course we’d been in Scotland. How strange that siomeone would impersonate that poor boy. And how interesting that it was someone who could do such excellent work. It was just strange and really creepy.
When I left the registrar’s office I walked over to the student center for a cup of coffee and to gather my thoughts. As luck would have it two of my students were sitting at an otherwise empty table so I asked to join them.
I asked them if they knew anything about the student who always sat on the back row of our class.
“Well, Professor White, no one ever sat on that last row that I can remember. But, to be honest, we all wondered why you would look over our heads and seem to talk to the back wall sometimes.”
And for a second time in just a few minutes I had no idea what to say or do. I just smiled and said, “Well it doesn’t hurt for a professor to keep in an aura of mystery. about himself”
I never saw Joel Brewer again and as far as Berry Collge is concerned I never taught the kid who was the top of his class.
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