Bismark Pacheco Pacheco was in charge. But for the lack of crossed cartridge belts over his chest, Pacheco could have been a survivor of Pancho Villas' army. He was of medium height, solidly built, with thick, powerful wrists, and a dense black mustache that drooped almost to his jaw line. He wore a shiny black short sleeved silk shirt, with silver piping on the two chest pockets. The shirt was open to the fourth button revealing a thicket of black chest hair. Around his neck was a heavy silver chain from which was suspended a silver Star of David, a popular jewelry item for Costa Rican men, not necessarily a religious symbol. A black campesino hat was cocked on the back of his head. The only hair on his head was a wide black fringe just above ear level. Thick-heeled black boots showed beneath his black denim jeans, held at the narrow waist with a wide black belt, and a large silver buckle. Beneath the belt and the shirt were two cream-colored money belts, one positioned just below his well-muscled abdomen, the other in the small of his back; each held 50 United States of America 100 dollar bills. Pacheco never went anywhere without enough cash to take him around the world at least once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door to the classroom opened, and in swept Sherlock Holmes himself, wearing a deerstalker hat, smoking a Meerschaum pipe, but looking suspiciously like Professor Tony Powell. The class laughed appreciatively, but Luz Stella noted several what-kind-of-a-screwball-have-we-got-here expressions. Professor Powell placed his briefcase on a small table near the blackboard, which covered the entire front wall of the room; he picked up a piece of chalk, regarded it suspiciously, sighed deeply, and turned to the board. He stood hesitantly with his back to the students, it seemed he wasn't sure how he wanted to begin. The students were ready; they sat with notebooks open and pencils poised. Suddenly, the professor turned and fired the piece of chalk toward a corner wastebasket. He took two menacing steps toward the seated students, and let fly his booming voice. "Ten weeks!" Several students dutifully wrote it down.

   

 

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

Silent as death was the room. Only the occasional rattle of the window and moan of the wind broke the monotony. The old man slowly got up from his chair by the window, rearranged the shabby blanket over his shoulders, and moved with short, halting steps to a small table where he bent to turn on a battered radio.

 

. . . clouds thickening late in the afternoon. Blizzard conditions are expected with accumulations up to eight inches. Temperatures will fall to zero degrees or below. Wind chill factor of forty below. You are advised to stay inside if at all possible . . .

 

The old man returned to his chair, where he watched the wind-blown snow rise in great clouds, blocking the sun and causing oddly shaped shadows to be cast on the frozen ground. At intervals the gusts subsided, and the bright sun reflected with dazzling brilliance on the freshly fallen snow. Each flake, it seemed, caught the rays, bounced them around, and discarded them to be seen as sparkling gems to the attentive eye.

 

. . .  and now, live from the Chapel of King's College in Cambridge, England, we present a Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. The program combines the readings of Biblical Christmas lessons with performances of traditional hymns and carols . . .

 

The old man was alone with his memories, but they were rich, and he reviewed them often. These days his needs were few, which matched his resources. He wanted to get through another winter. He looked forward to spring, and to sitting on a bench in Riverfront Park with his friend Sparks. They liked to watch the boats on the river and swap sea stories; both had served many years in the Navy, mostly at sea.

 

. . . with righteousness He shall judge the poor . . .

 

As the snow swirled before his eyes, it was transformed into salt spray . . .

 

. . . He struggled to keep his balance on the wildly gyrating, ice-slick deck of a U.S. Navy World War II Geary class Destroyer. The admirals and politicians liked to call these ships the greyhounds of the fleet. The men who made them go called them tin cans and rust buckets.

A crew of three men in life jackets huddled close to the bulkhead, port side, just forward of the amidships passageway. He saw the fear in their eyes, and measured it against his own. As Boatswain's Mate First Class, he had been in charge of more fueling details than he could count, but he had never seen one like this. The sea was the enemy, and it was attacking from all sides with battleship force. He could see waves crashing over the bridge, 50 feet above him.

Okay, you shit-birds, let's get some fuckin' lifelines rigged here, whaddaya think this is, a fuckin' picnic? He shouted above the roar of the sea.

What the fuck's goin' on, Boats? The Old Man tryin' get us all killed? It was Vink; Boatswain's Mate Third Class, arms like 16-inch shells, the strongest man on the ship, and probably in the whole 7th Fleet.

Never mind about the Old Man, he wouldn't have us out here if he didn't think we could handle it.

Boats was not as confident as he sounded. He knew the Captain was fueling out of desperation. Normally they fueled at sea every six or seven days, but the weather had been so rotten the Old Man had put it off for four extra days hoping for a break; instead, it got worse. Boats also knew that running out of fuel was of less concern than restoring ballast. In a sea like this, with fuel tanks depleted, the Captain was worried about capsizing.

Boats trusted the Captain; had trusted him since the first day he came aboard in Nagoya. The Captain was a redheaded Irishman, rough as a barnacle, and fearless as a hammerhead shark. Boats remembered the first time the Skipper took the con leaving Nagoya. They were tied up alongside a dock, and no sooner had the All lines clear call gone to the bridge, than he heard a quiet but firm voice of authority say, All back full. The ship had shot backwards from the dock and into the channel in an instant. The Captain knew the crew was watching him, and the cheer from the fantail let him know they liked his style.

Boats also remembered how the Old Man had backed him the last time Vink got in trouble on liberty in Sasebo. He had simply told the Captain, I need Vink. Now the Captain needed him, and he didn't have to be reminded.

The ship was maneuvering to come alongside an aircraft carrier they could barely make out, laboring in the heavy seas several thousand yards ahead. Just our luck, he thought, to get mixed up with a bunch of flyboys instead of some real Navy tanker-men who know what they're doing. This would not be easy, but he knew the Captain had the con, and Chief Petzhold had the helm, and this comforted him. It was no time for amateurs.

 

 . . .  and the Angel of the Lord seduced the Virgin Mary . . .

 

You got everything under control, Boats? The high-pitched voice from behind jarred him. It was Ensign Craig, an Engineering Division Officer.

Boats thought  Why can't this little shit just go away and leave us alone? All he can do is get in the way. He threw a half-salute at the Ensign and shouted, Yes, sir.

Ensign Craig was a hopeless case. Out of some ROT corps school in Texas. A pharmacist, for Christ's sake, and the Navy wanted to make an Engineering officer out of him. The Ensign had been aboard for eight months, and still didn't know his ass from the after fan room.

Look, Mr. Craig . . . The words were half out of his mouth when the deck dropped like a falling roller coaster, and a monster wave slammed him against the bulkhead. He managed to stay on his feet, and immediately saw that his men, hooked to the lifeline, were safe.

            Ensign Craig was not. The wave caught the young officer off balance and folded his back around a life raft stanchion like a gymnast on a high bar. He crumpled to the deck, and floated quietly off into the wildly tossing sea.

MAN OVERBOARD! Boats bellowed.

Seaman Faust on the sound-powered phones relayed the message to the bridge. Man overboard, port side amidships, this is not a drill.

 

. . . go and search diligently for the young child . . .

 

Boats riveted his eyes to Ensign Craig in the bright orange life jacket growing smaller and smaller in the foaming, swirling sea. The Ensign was either paralyzed or unconscious because there was no sign of him struggling.

The ship heeled sharply to port, and rolled at a perilous 45-degree angle as the Captain did not hesitate to attempt rescue of the stricken man. The sound from the ship's loudspeakers filled the air, the voice sounding almost nonchalant. Now hear this. Now hear this. Man overboard, port side. Man overboard, port side. All hands, man your man-overboard stations. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.

They had practiced this procedure until they were sick of it, but always in fair weather. The drill called for putting a whaleboat in the water, but today, Boats thought, if we try that we might have the whole boat crew in the water. He knew what he had to do. Vink, he shouted, secure this line to the winch, I'm goin' after him. He tied one end of an inch-thick hawser around his waist.

You're crazy, Boats. You can't swim in that sea.

When I reach him, I'll signal with the Very Pistol. He patted the holster on his belt, and dived into the water.

Boats was a strong swimmer, but more than strength was needed here. He had gauged the direction and flow of the waves, and as the ship came around, judged the moment to jump that would carry him as close as possible to the man in the water. The surge of the slate-gray sea carried him to within 20 yards of the crippled Ensign, and he began to swim towards him with all the strength he could muster. Instantly he sensed that he could make headway, and the feeling exhilarated him because he knew that the rescue would be successful. In ten minutes that seemed like hours, he was alongside the helpless officer, who looked at him with grateful eyes. What took you so long, Boats? he asked.

Boats secured the line around the Ensign's waist and said, Navy red tape, sir. I had to apply for hazardous duty pay.  He fired the Very Pistol.

 

. . . when they saw the star they rejoiced with exceeding great joy . . .

 

Later, in a Yokosuka bar, one of his drinking buddies asked him a question. Boats, how come you risk yo black ass to save that pimp Ensign's white ass?

 

. . .  he came unto his own and his own received him not . . .

 

         Boats didn't know the answer then, and after all these years, he still didn't know the answer. One thing he did know though; whatever the answer was, it had nothing to do with skin color.

 

. . .  full of grace and truth .

 

And here are the characters:

 

Part one-

1. Booker T. McCan - the main protagonist. When the story begins in 1939 he is 12 years old. His brother Davey is a hero during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor but later dies when his ship is sunk near the south Pacific island of Tarawa. Booker T. vows to avenge his brother's death.

2. Count - He lives in a shanty hut in the Peoria city dump. He is a survivor of the Civil War battle of Gettysburg. He reads Plato. He is infinitely wealthy. He has chosen Booker T. to become the first black president of the United States.

3. Buck Fulton - A Navy boot camp pal of Booker T. He organizes the 24-hour a day poker games on the troop transport heading for Hawaii. He makes so much money that Booker T. calls him Bucks.

4. Flapper Jackson - Shore fire control party officer on the cruiser Indianapolis. He enters the story pinned down by machine gun and mortar fire on the invasion beach at the island of Peleliu.

5. Susan Land - Navy nurse who treats Flapper after he is whacked by a Samurai sword at Peleliu.

 

Part two- Booker T., Count, Susan and Flapper are all back, along with lots of new faces.

 

1. Arthur Holly Compton - Chancellor of Washington University in St. Louis where Susan and Flapper (now married) are enrolled. He lectures on 'The Moral Meaningof the Atomic Bomb'.  

2. Achilles Demimelius - Professor of chemistry at the Alabama Polytechnic Institute in Auburn where Susan joins the faculty.

3. Jerry Mulhane IV - J-four - A son of Dixie from Pisgah, Alabama - J-four came home from the European war with a new view. He aims to become a writer and begins by making a deal with - - -

4. Miz Sarah Lincoln, an ex-slave- J-four will teach her to read and write and she will tell him of her joys and sorrows over the years. 

 5. Stanley Gordon - An API graduate student who shares a cubicle with J-four. Stanley and J-four share a common heritage - both their fathers and grandfathers were members of the Ku Klux Klan.

6. Virgil Young - Exalted Cyclops of the local Klan klavern.

7. Deon McKeen - Professor of Philosophy at API and spiritual head of the Auburn Unitarian Fellowship.

8. Bob Black - Principal of the Carver Elementary School in Auburn. He also runs an adult literacy class.

9. Mags - Page 202 - Mary Magdalen was a beautiful young lady with smooth mahagony colored skin, high cheekbones, and deep chocolate brown eyes.She didn't think of herself as a whore, but by modern definition that's what she was. 

10. Dean Daniel Dunn - On page 215 he addresses Booker T. from behind the fortress of his desk - "You think just because you served in the military you should be allowed to study at the University of Illinois?"

11. Lloyd Rhodewald, Professor of English at the University of Illinois. As he did in 1919 so now in 1946 he begins his first lecture to the returning veterans with a recitation of Walt Whitman's "As I Pondered in Silence" which ends with the line "I above all promote brave soldiers." 

12. Professor Odin - He tells his Political Science 102 class that fighting a war is easy compared to making a peace and convenes the Champaign Conference onWorld Peace.

13. Dean Charles Gomillion - Dean of Students at Tuskegee Institute - nobody worked harder at getting Negroes registered to vote in Macon county Alabama tha Dean Gomillion.

14. Moose Odell and Spider Snyder - Booker T.'s fellow officers and best buddies on the destroyer Agerholm, during the sea war in Korea.

15. Hideko - An Okinawan bar girl.

16. Zeng-tzu- A lao-tzu, an old master. Master Zeng. He asks: " If Heaven wishes peace and order for the world, who is there besides you to bring it about?"

 

From the book-page 218:

 

            Gradually, and grudgingly, the class fell silent. Morning sunshine streamed through high windows around the top of the amphitheater illuminating myriad sparkling dust particles aroused from summer calm. A student sneezed. The Professor waited. Ninety-seven eyes focused on him. A scant 27 years before, following the war touted to end all wars, he had stood in this same spot looking at these same faces, so recently returned from ghastly old lands. Now, as then, he would offer them Walt Whitman.

 

 

 

 

 

                 

 

GIESSOW'S COTTAGE FARM -ISBN -0-595-20651-4

iUniverse - 216 pp -$14.95

 

Jaybird was bored. The novelty of sitting in a high row of the small amphitheater looking down on the teacher had long ago worn off. The school year as usual had gone too long, and still it was only April.

        He looked around the room at the backs of the heads of all those ratty kids sitting in front of him . . . those pitiful kids had probably never seen a Shetland pony in their lives, much less ever ride one the way he did last summer at his Grampa's summer resort . . . at Giessow's Cottage Farm. He could feel the warm breeze flowing against his face as he pressed his knees against the pony's smooth sweaty flanks racing at full gallop down the dusty gravel road. He was riding bareback . . . no saddle, no shirt . . . just like the Indians used to do.

 

 

1. Jaybird - He's 11 years old and ready to try anything.

2. Rin - Jaybird's German Shepherd dog. He goes where Jaybird goes.

3. Phil - Also known as Crazy Dan - you'll see why.

4. Otto Giessow - Jaybird's grampa. He built and operates "the Farm".

5. Katie Giessow - Jaybird's grandma. She's in charge of the home brew.

6. John Frederick- Jaybird's dad. He's called 'Coach'. He's ready to 'tan that kid's hide'.

7. Edith Frederick - Jaybird's mom. Jaybird has taken to the hills and she's   frantic to get him back. 

8. Donnie Giessow - Jaybird's cousin. Two years younger than Jaybird, Donnie is not so sure running away is a good idea.

9. George Giessow - Jaybird's uncle. Maybe the only one who understands Jaybird.

10. Captain Lynch - His job is to organize a search party to find Jaybird, but he would rather ride a horse.

11. Jennie Wren - Her real name is Ruth Stoltzfuss. She is 12-years old and is ready to run away with Jaybird.

12. Abraham Stoltzfuss - Jennie Wren's father. He knows why Phil is called 'Crazy Dan'.

13. Mother Stoltzfuss - She binds all wounds, and makes a pretty good pot of bean soup.

14. Dr. Land - Horse doctor to the rescue.

15. Eb King - He runs the General Store in Grubville.

16.  Mysterious Brown, Blinky, and Frog - Hobo friends of Phil. Mysterious makes a great potof Mulligan Stew. Jaybird wonders why they call Phil 'Chief Hogsett'.

17.Chief Hogsett - A lefthanded pitcher for the St. Louis Browns.

18. Milt "Alabam" Delmas - Equipment manager for the Browns.

19. Rogers Hornsby - Browns' manager.

 

 

         Phil grabbed the dice. "Watch this, Jaybird," he said.

        Jaybird watched. Jaybird had never before seen a crap game so he did not know what to look for. He knew something good had happened when Phil's first roll came up a 4 and a 3, and Phil picked up $20 off the blanket and winked at him. When Phil's second roll came up a 5 and a 2, Jaybird knew from the groans, and from Phil's million dollar grin, that his friend was making money just as he said he would.

 

 

 

There are people who question the importance of baseball. Not Max, and not

A. Bartlett Giamatti who wrote a book called The Greenfields of the Mind.

He wrote:

             Of course there are those who learn after the first few times. They grow out of sports, and there are others who are born with the wisdom to know that nothing lasts. They are the truly tough among us, the ones who can live without illusion or without even the hope of illusion. I am not that grown up or up-to-date. I am a simpler creature, tied to more primitive patterns and cycles. I need to think that something lasts forever, and it might as well be that state of being that is a game; it might as well be that, in a green field, in the sun.

 

 

iUniverse - 265 pp - $17.95

 

The book has five parts, here is the table of contents:

 

One - Pennant Races

         The Streak

 

Two - What is a Novel Without at Least One Baseball Chapter?

 

                                          Times

          Chapter 1- The Most Protuberant Event in Baseball History

          Chapter 3- Winner Gets the Dough

 

                                    For Those In Peril On the Sea

          Chapter 11- Colonel Nishi and the Bbrowns

 

                                    Giessow's Cottage Farm

           Chapter 17 - Stoltzie

           Chapter 19 - Baseball is Played Here

 

                                     Murder At the CAT

            Chapter 2 - The Turrialba Baseball Factory

 

                                    Higher Ed

            Chapter 8 - Mel Private - 1969

 

Three - A Time to Coach

 

              Aces and Eights

 

Four - Life of a Fan - How to Root for a Losing Baseball Team

 

           A Short History of the April 1997 Philadelphia Phillies

 

Five - What Grampa's Are For

 

            God Is Alive And Playing Third Base for the Appleton Papermakers

 

              

 

 

 

           Sixteen year-old Ed Frederick, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep, looks at his mother as if she has denied the existence of God.

           Mother Frederick, God bless her, has done nothing more than she almost always does in the morning, she has told her son to sit down and eat his breakfast. This time, she has added a piece of shocking news that expresses her own jaded view of a situation that has filled her kitchen with tense emotions for about as long as she can take. "It's only a game," she says, "and not the end of the world."

          Ed's twin brother Ted is only slightly less astonished at Mother Frederick's dismissal of an issue that has gnawed at the boys' sense of comfort and well-being for the past six months: the fate of the 1916 Brooklyn baseball club, currently locked in a gripping pennant race with three other teams, and only six games remaining in the season. The destiny of the team is at issue to be sure, but of equal, if not greater importance to the boys, is the fortune of the individuals who make up the team, men they have come to know and admire, perhaps even love, over the course of the long, difficult season. The club is a motley collection of professional ballplayers gathered from all around the country to carry the banner of Brooklyn to the great National League cities of the East and Midwest in a country that seems to have fallen in love with the game when it is not caught up in some kind of labor dispute. The team is searching for an identity-newspaper accounts of theri games, often in the same column, call them the Robins, the Superbas, and the Dodgers, a shortened version of theri original 1890 name-the Trolley Dodgers. Who are these guys?

 

 

 

From the book, page 149

 

          If anyone has their finger on the pulse of events in the fall of 1916 it is Wickham Steed, Foreign Editor of the New York Times. Steed loves bagels; he is a regular on Ted and Ed's midnight delivery route. He sits behind his desk chewing appreciatively on a raisin bagel and eyeing Ted and Ed in a new light. "So," he begins, "my bagel boys want to enter the shadowy world of espionage. When do you plan to sleep?"

         It is a good question, but Ted and Ed have heard enough small talk and condescension from Colonel House; they are on a mission from the President of the United States. At the same time they don't want tobe rude, their mother would not approve of that. Ted answers the question straight on. "It's more important for us to help the President than to sleep," he says.