Cedar Shoals

Finally I had covered my territory to where Cedar Shoals was the next nieghborhood on my route. I had been there a couple of times before, and couldn’t wait to sell there. I turned my bike off of the main thoroughfare and onto the first side street I came to, Clarke Drive. Green lawns dotted with children’s playthings, thoughtfully landscaped shrubs and trees and newly painted houses welcomed me. I went to the first house on the left and nobody was home. Maybe it was too early in the morning. I would revisit the house on my way out later that day.

The next house had a big shady maple in the front. A car was in the driveway, so someone was home. I knocked on the door and stood back. A young woman opened the door. I gave my approach, but the young woman said that the people who owned the house were away on vacation and she was just checking in. “Fine.”, I said, “When will they be back?”

She seemed about to tell me when her eyes widened and she retreated from the door saying, “Just please go away.” With that, she closed the door. I made nothing of it and decided I would need to check back on this house in some after some weeks had gone by. It would keep.

I went to the next house, a white split level with brown eaves. It was surrounded by low, manicured yews. It had many windows facing the front, including a large bow shaped picture window. The woman who answered was downright friendly. Her face had an open quality, like the windows of the house. She offered me a coke and I accepted. We sat down in the living room, she on the sofa and me on a chair facing the picture window. I gave the demo for the Family Bible Library and she seemed interested. I was in the middle of writing out the order when I happened to glance out the window and see a police cruiser slowly drive by.

“What are you looking at dear?” Mrs. Jones asked.

I answered, even though I had qualms about it. “It’s the police; they just went by outside your window.” She had a ‘so what?’ look on her face so I continued. “I think they are after me.”

“Now why would that be?”

“I was just at a house across the street and a young woman told me that the owners were vacation. She probably thought that I was casing the joint because I asked her when they would be back. She looked worried and suspicious as I left. I never would have thought that someone would call the police on me for that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Those people are kind of strange over there and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well but maybe I should go out there and explain it all to them.”

“That would only make you look guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong and should not let them know you think they’re here for you. Besides, the police here are very good at their jobs. If they are here for you, they’ll catch up to you sometime. So, don’t worry. Now, where were we? The deposit. Is half okay?”

By the time I finished the sale, and my coke, and got out of there the police drove by again. But they were nowhere in sight when I got out side. I reviewed what I had learned from sales school about handling the police. The saying was that you were not a man (or woman?) until you spent a night in jail. My twin sister was actually taken to jail for vagrancy while selling books last year. She had the police telephone Robbie to verify her employment. But they let her stew for a while before letting her go. Robbie used to say that the perfect response to the police was to try to sell them a book so they would send you on your way quickly. I took my Parchment employment card and sales permit out of my wallet and put them in my pocket. I was prepared.

So I moved on down the block. I managed to visit a couple more houses before they caught up to me standing on the side walk. There were two cops in the car. The passenger side cop got out of the car and asked, “Would you please get in the back of the car?” He opened the door.

“Hi there officer. What seems to be the problem?”

“We just want to talk to you. Please get in.” I put my bike down on the grass between the side walk and street and got in the car. The officer also got in. He turned to face me and continued, “Do you have a permit to sell books?”

I handed him my papers. They called my name in to the station and meanwhile, asked me some questions. “Where are you from?”

“Nassau County, New York, Sir.”

“How long do you plan on being in town?”

“Just for the summer. I go back to college at the end of August.”

“And where are you staying?”

“In Athens on Meigs Street.” I answered. His tone was so serious that I really began to wonder if they were going to take me in to the station. Then they stopped talking to me for a while.

“Did you ask a woman on this street about the owner’s return from vacation?”

“Yes Sir I did.”

“Well, you got the lady worried that you might have been making plans to burglarize that house. Why did you ask for that information?”

“I planned to return when they got back from vacation to sell them some books. I guess it wasn’t very smart of me to ask.” I offered.

“Nope. We’re just doing our duty checking out a complaint, but we trust you’re telling us the truth. Had you heard about the crime problem going on in Athens where you live?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well you be careful. There’s some nut on the loose out there raping women and stabbing them to death afterwards. There are five victims now.”

“Five?” I said a little shocked that these serial attacks had continued since I was there.

“Yeah. Try not to be out and about in your neighborhood after dark. Patrols have been increased. If you see anything strange while you’re out on the road let us know.”

“I will officer.” I was always back home after dark, but I never stopped riding for anyone or anything, until I reached my destination.

The passenger side officer then got out of the car and opened my door. What bragging rights it would be if I could sell a book to one of the officers. Leastways I wanted to be able to say that I had tried. I wanted to launch into a demo, but I had left my sales case outside on the bike. As I got out of the car and stood, I began a modified demo-approach to ease into showing the Bible Dictionary. The officer just waved me off. “Be careful now.” he said.

They drove off after a while, and I resumed knocking on doors. Many of the neighbors had seen me get in and out of the police car, but surprisingly, none were suspicious of me as a result. It was just their police doing their job, and I had passed inspection. In all, the greater Cedar Shoals area was great territory and I did rather well there. Mostly the people living there were young couples raising families. Today we would call them yuppies. There was no such term in 1976. I saved a small piece of territory in Cedar Shoals in case I found myself in the middle of a bad week at some time in the future. It was the last chunk of suburbia left in my territory. All the rest was rural.

Finally I had covered my territory to where Cedar Shoals was the next neighborhood on my route. I had been there a couple of times before, and couldn’t wait to sell there. I turned my bike off of the main thoroughfare and onto the first side street I came to, Clarke Drive. Green lawns dotted with children’s playthings, thoughtfully landscaped shrubs and trees and newly painted houses welcomed me. I went to the first house on the left and nobody was home. Maybe it was too early in the morning. I would revisit the house on my way out later that day.

The next house had a big shady maple in the front. A car was in the driveway, so someone was home. I knocked on the door and stood back. A young woman opened the door. I gave my approach, but the young woman said that the people who owned the house were away on vacation and she was just checking in. “Fine.”, I said, “When will they be back?”

She seemed about to tell me when her eyes widened and she retreated from the door saying, “Just please go away.” With that, she closed the door. I made nothing of it and decided I would need to check back on this house in some after some weeks had gone by. It would keep.

I went to the next house, a white split level with brown eaves. It was surrounded by low, manicured yews. It had many windows facing the front, including a large bow shaped picture window. The woman who answered was downright friendly. Her face had an open quality, like the windows of the house. She offered me a coke and I accepted. We sat down in the living room, she on the sofa and me on a chair facing the picture window. I gave the demo for the Family Bible Library and she seemed interested. I was in the middle of writing out the order when I happened to glance out the window and see a police cruiser slowly drive by.

“What are you looking at dear?” Mrs. Jones asked.

I answered, even though I had qualms about it. “It’s the police; they just went by outside your window.” She had a ‘so what?’ look on her face so I continued. “I think they are after me.”

“Now why would that be?”

“I was just at a house across the street and a young woman told me that the owners were vacation. She probably thought that I was casing the joint because I asked her when they would be back. She looked worried and suspicious as I left. I never would have thought that someone would call the police on me for that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Those people are kind of strange over there and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well but maybe I should go out there and explain it all to them.”

“That would only make you look guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong and should not let them know you think they’re here for you. Besides, the police here are very good at their jobs. If they are here for you, they’ll catch up to you sometime. So, don’t worry. Now, where were we? The deposit. Is half okay?”

By the time I finished the sale, and my coke, and got out of there the police drove by again. But they were nowhere in sight when I got out side. I reviewed what I had learned from sales school about handling the police. The saying was that you were not a man (or woman?) until you spent a night in jail. My twin sister was actually taken to jail for vagrancy while selling books last year. She had the police telephone Robbie to verify her employment. But they let her stew for a while before letting her go. Robbie used to say that the perfect response to the police was to try to sell them a book so they would send you on your way quickly. I took my Parchment employment card and sales permit out of my wallet and put them in my pocket. I was prepared.

So I moved on down the block. I managed to visit a couple more houses before they caught up to me standing on the side walk. There were two cops in the car. The passenger side cop got out of the car and asked, “Would you please get in the back of the car?” He opened the door.

“Hi there officer. What seems to be the problem?”

“We just want to talk to you. Please get in.” I put my bike down on the grass between the side walk and street and got in the car. The officer also got in. He turned to face me and continued, “Do you have a permit to sell books?”

I handed him my papers. They called my name in to the station and meanwhile, asked me some questions. “Where are you from?”

“Nassau County, New York, Sir.”

“How long do you plan on being in town?”

“Just for the summer. I go back to college at the end of August.”

“And where are you staying?”

“In Athens on Meigs Street.” I answered. His tone was so serious that I really began to wonder if they were going to take me in to the station. Then they stopped talking to me for a while.

“Did you ask a woman on this street about the owner’s return from vacation?”

“Yes Sir I did.”

“Well, you got the lady worried that you might have been making plans to burglarize that house. Why did you ask for that information?”

“I planned to return when they got back from vacation to sell them some books. I guess it wasn’t very smart of me to ask.” I offered.

“Nope. We’re just doing our duty checking out a complaint, but we trust you’re telling us the truth. Had you heard about the crime problem going on in Athens where you live?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well you be careful. There’s some nut on the loose out there raping women and stabbing them to death afterwards. There are five victims now.”

“Five?” I said a little shocked that these serial attacks had continued since I was there.

“Yeah. Try not to be out and about in your neighborhood after dark. Patrols have been increased. If you see anything strange while you’re out on the road let us know.”

“I will officer.” I was always back home after dark, but I never stopped riding for anyone or anything, until I reached my destination.

The passenger side officer then got out of the car and opened my door. What bragging rights it would be if I could sell a book to one of the officers. Leastways I wanted to be able to say that I had tried. I wanted to launch into a demo, but I had left my sales case outside on the bike. As I got out of the car and stood, I began a modified demo-approach to ease into showing the Bible Dictionary. The officer just waved me off. “Be careful now.” he said.

They drove off after a while, and I resumed knocking on doors. Many of the neighbors had seen me get in and out of the police car, but surprisingly, none were suspicious of me as a result. It was just their police doing their job, and I had passed inspection. In all, the greater Cedar Shoals area was great territory and I did rather well there. Mostly the people living there were young couples raising families. Today we would call them yuppies. There was no such term in 1976. I saved a small piece of territory in Cedar Shoals in case I found myself in the middle of a bad week at some time in the future. It was the last chunk of suburbia left in my territory. All the rest was rural.

Midnight Move Part 1

It was a warm clear night. I got carried away selling because I was doing well and it had gotten late seemingly all of the sudden. It must have been almost nine o’clock and I was still pedaling for home on the Macon Highway. I was trying to make good time coming home, so I rode at a pretty good clip. This was a pretty isolated area; no houses, plenty of crickets. I knew that here was a long down hill ahead, and when I got there I was really moving. I’m sure that old Sears three speed never went so fast. My tire driven headlight shone really bright at that speed.

A car passed me in the oncoming lane and I noticed it was a police car. To my surprise, the police car made a speedy u-turn. I guess I just heard tires stroking the pavement behind me and knew what it was. The car came up behind me with the blue and red lights on top engaged. One whoop of the siren answered my question, they were pulling me over. I stopped at the bottom of the hill and got off the bike. I felt kind of vulnerable standing out on the road like that.

The officer left the headlights on and also put his spot light on me. I couldn’t see his face when he got out of the car, but it was a one man car; he was alone. He walked over to where I was standing. “Do you have any identification, driver’s license?” he said.

I fumbled with my wallet and handed him my Parchment employment card and sales permit.

“What’s the problem officer?”

“No driver’s license?”

“I don’t drive yet.”

“Do you know how fast you were going down that hill?”

Aw, come on now I thought. This was too much. “No I don’t, Sir.” I answered politely.

“You were coming so fast down that hill that I thought you were a motorcycle. Technically, you were over the speed limit for this area. What are you packing in that case?”

“Packing?” not understanding what he meant.

“You heard me. Do you have a weapon in there?”

“No Sir.” I opened the case slowly, while he held his flashlight so he could see. He looked carefully in between the books and under the lid.

“Well, you don’t have anything in there but books! How can you feel safe out here, at night without a weapon? There’s plenty of room in there for a pistol.” he said.

This caught me off guard, and I didn’t quite know what to say. At least the officer’s mood had changed from giving me a hard time to protecting me.

“I guess there is room.” I answered. The thought of ‘packing’ had never occurred to me.

“Haven’t you heard about the murders of women in town? That’s where you’re headed at this time of night? Look, let me take you down to the station house and loan you a standard issue police 38'. It’ll fit right there in the lid.”

“I don’t know how to use a gun. I’d probably shoot myself in the foot with it.”

“You really ought to be packing something out here.” he tried to convince me.

“Gee, thanks but I wouldn’t know what to do with it. But maybe you could give me a lift home seeing as how it’s so late?”

“I could drive you home, but what about your bike?”

“That’s easy!” I said from experience, “It fits in the trunk, and we can use my bungee cord to hold the lid down.” He opened the trunk of the cruiser and I had that bike in there and the trunk lid tied down too fast for him to entertain a second thought on the matter. Now I would get home at a decent hour, although probably too late to go to MacDonald’s. I went to the back passenger side door to wait for him to unlock it.

“Why not come and sit up front with me?” he said. “It’s not like you’re a criminal and have to sit in the back.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” I answered. “I’ll sit in the back.” He conceded. But he made me suspicious. Off we drove towards Athens. I am always a little nervous when I take a ride, and this was no different. The whole way he pulled me over was weird. He struck up a conversation, looking at me in the rear view mirror. He asked me how long I was in town for, that sort of thing. Then, the tone of the conversation changed.

“Are you married?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you are. What husband would let a pretty thing like you out on the road to sell books all summer? But you could be engaged or even have a boyfriend. Am I going to hear it from some guy who’s your boyfriend or are you free and clear?”

Before I could answer, a guy in a sporty red metal flake kit car pulled up next to us at the stop light and honked his horn. “Hey Joey, how are you doing? What’s that sweet little thing doing in the back of your car?”

“I’m just giving her a ride home, Hank.” he explained.

“Uh huh. You stay out of trouble now, you hear?” The light changed and we rode on. Hank scoped me out big time as he drove by. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car.

“Um, yeah. I have a boyfriend. Hey look, this is my street! Could you let me off right here, please?” I asked, lying about the street. We were just at the corner of Reese and Milledge Streets, two blocks south of my street. There was no way I wanted this cop to know where I lived.

“Oh, which house is it; I’ll drop you at your door.”

“Thank you, but this is close enough.” I was willing to take my chances with the stabbing-rapist at this point. The rear door was not locked, so when the car came to the corner, I got out. I thanked him again as he took my bike out of the trunk. I waited until he had driven off to get on the bike and ride home.

Mary was home already. She sat on her bed recording her day’s sales on the forms. “Sue, I was thinking that we should move.” she said.

“Really? Why, I like it here.”

“Well, Mrs. Epps told me today that she wants to raise our rent. We could do better. I visited a house just one block down on Meigs Street that is cheaper and has more room. It’s a studio apartment. It has three beds and a kitchenette and, get this, a private bath room with shower. We could cook our own meals! The rent is only as much as Mrs. Epps wants to ask us for.”

“Wow, I can’t believe it. A studio apartment for that little money?”

“Yeah, and the elderly couple that own the house are really sweet. We can go see it tomorrow morning if you like.”

“Sure, sounds great. I’d love to have a private bath room. But we were able to get this low price with Mrs. Epps by renting for the whole summer.”

“Yeah, but she wants to renege by raising the cost!”

“You’re right.”

“Just go look at the place. If you agree, I’ll handle everything with Mrs. Epps. Can I take my bath first?” I nodded to both questions.