Volume 36, Number 2 - Fall 1996
Ike Meets the Railroad Executive
by Ike Pangle as written by Tressie Narramore and edited by Cassie Hagen
The passenger train came whistling out of the east end of the
valley,
Rolled gracefully around the curve and across the fill To the end of the Georges Creek Bridge, Slowed easily with much screeching of brakes and came to a
stop there.
And a man casually alighted.
Then, puffing and snorting, the train got up speed and was
on its way again.
Our work took us to the side of the field near the railroad
And Dad, plowing with his team of mules hitched to a
double-shovel,
Stopped for us to rest and to see if this was Bartlett who got
off the train.
Dad stood eyeing the man in a white shirt, Conversing with Slade, the boss over the project. They were standing some distance away from where a cloud
of dust
Enveloped the laborers who were using their teams and slips
to move dirt.
Slade turned and pointed a finger in our direction
And Bartlett began to pick his way carefully toward Dad.
Tall and angular, hat cocked at a rakish angle,
Wearing white shirt, collar and tie,
His brightly polished shoes covered with dust,
He sauntered slowly over to Dad
And addressed him a little condescendingly.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Pangle?"
"Yes sir," answered Ike all business.
"Yes, I did, Mr. Bartlett. I sent word for you to come to
see me.
But I’m ‘lke’ to my friends--not ‘Mister.’"
"Just what do you wish to discuss with me, Mr. Pangle?" Bartlett’s manner was aloof, cold. "Well, Mr. Bartlett," Dad was taking his cue from
Mr. Barlett.
"I wish to discuss the Fill and most of all the Levee.~~
"Yes-s-s? Well, so far as I can see They seem to be coming along splendidly! Magnificent project!"
"Like hell it is!" Dad exploded.
He wrapped the lines around the plow handles and stood up
very straight.
"You seemed to be an educated man, Mr. Bartlett,
An’ I can’t understand your language an’ ways. But you can understand mine,
Because you was once a damn fool like me.
An’ a Damn Fool could see what’s goin’ one here."
"You are building that levee in the wrong place!
That levee was to be built where it was needed to protect this
low bottom."
He made a wide sweep with his arm.
"To keep George’s Creek from coming in on my field here."
"That levee, Mr. Pangle," said Bartlett, Aloof and deliberate, "is built according to specifications."
"Like hell it is! That levee will be built along the Georges Creek bank!
You was to build a levee to protect my land--an’ not here by this barrow pit."
"That levee, Mr. Pangle, is built exactly as the contract specifies."
As Dad’s ire rose, in the heat of his anger at being virtually called a liar,
He made a sudden movement with his still good right arm, And his fist made contact with Mr. Bartlett’s jaw. Surprised and stunned, Bartlett staggered and went down
to his knees.
At last fully aware of Mr. Pangle, Bartlett rose to his feet
And began to back away. But Dad was advancing on him.
Bartlett began to admonish him, waving him back, and talking very fast.
"Don’t do that Mr. Pangle! Don’t do that! You’ll get yourself in trouble."
"By Gawd!" said Dad balefully.
"You are already in trouble, about as deep as you can get! That levee will be built where I say build it!
I won two cases against th’ railroad An’ I know I ain’t gonna lose this one."
"You’ll start work on that levee come mornin Afore it rains an’ gets th’ creek up. Once the creek overflows this field here, It will cost you more than the dirt you bought from me for
the fill."
Mr. Bartlett was using a white kercheif to wipe his forehead And to brush the dust from his trousers and replacing
his hat.
"Mr. Pangle," he said respectfully, "you could be right at that.
I will give this my earnest consideration and
It may be that we could do just that,
Whether or not the specifications are named in the contract.
Good day, Mr. Pangle."
[22]
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