Bakers Dozen
From the offices of The Honorable Curtis ‘Fitz’ Slocum
Two Rivers Mayor and Acting Chief of Police
February 13, 2004
Porker,
Kindly take care of the attached.
Sincerely,
Mayor Slocum
Lester ‘Porker’ Hogg ran his thumb over the embossed seal in the mayor’s expensive letterhead and cursed under his breath. The memo was dated the previous Friday and had taken the entire weekend to make its way across the hall from the mayor’s office. ‘Fitz’ as he preferred to be called, was the only one in town who still used the nickname, ‘Porker’ when addressing Lester.
The nickname originated 20 years before when the two had played together on the last football team the town had fielded. Thinking of that fateful day in the shower, Lester shuddered. ‘Fitz’, a 200 pound tackle, eyeing Lester, a 135 pound guard, had pointed out that Lester had a hard on. “That’s a porker,” Fitz had declared.
Like the raised letters on the mayor’s new stationery, that day in 1984 was indelibly etched in Porker’s mind. In addition to being the last football game to be played in Two Rivers it was the last day either of the boys would see their fathers alive. Porker’s father, as a member of the fire department, perished in the fire that leveled the mill, leaving only the irregular foundation at the edge of the mill pond where two rivers came together. Curtis Slocum Senior, manager of the Fitz Yarn Mill, committed suicide that same night.
Until the night of the fire Fitz and Porker had only been acquaintances. Coming from different economic spectrums and different parts of town, they had little in common. But the fire brought them together; they now had something in common. They vowed to return after college to look after their widowed mothers and to look after the town.
Over the next four years they remained friends, seeing one another during school vacations to renew their vow. Rebecca Fitz Slocum was financially independent and did not need much looking after but Porker’s mother, Mary Ann Hogg, was getting by on her deceased husband’s small pension. Fitz spent his summers relaxing while Porker did repairs on his family’s old home.
The mill fire had taken its toll. The town they returned to was quite different from the town they had left only 4 years before. Mill workers had moved away, reducing the population from 2000 to 1000 and reducing the need for most businesses in town. All that remained was one general store, one bar, one church and one real estate firm. The high school was closed and the fire department was now manned by volunteers. Two Rivers was becoming a ghost town.
Fitz had a job, he would take over his mother’s business interests. Porker had no prospects for work but he intended to fulfill the commitment he had made to his mother and to Fitz. He started by painting the old house he and his mother would share. There was no other work in town. Banks had foreclosed on many of the homes vacated by those who had moved away. The business district was in shambles. Prospects were dim.
Just as Porker was putting the finishing touches on the paint job, Fitz was elected mayor of Two Rivers, an unpaid part time position. At his first meeting with the board of selectmen, Fitz told the three men of the vow he had made with his friend, Lester ‘Porker’ Hogg, their plan to look after the town. Young Fitz Slocum was congenial fellow. Even with the town’s meager budget, he convinced the board of selectmen to hire Porker as his administrator. Like the town’s budget, the salary would be meager.
They made a strange pair as they surveyed the rubble and made elaborate plans to revitalize their home town. Fitz had gained forty pounds while in college. Porker had grown a handle bar mustache and gained 6 pounds. Seeing to his mother’s business interests required frequent travel, Fitz left Porker to ‘handle’ things.
When Fitz married in 1990, Porker was his best man. As the years passed, the mayor and the selectmen placed more and more responsibility upon Porker. In order to save money, positions were phased out until Porker became the town’s only full time employee. He prepared the town budget, issued tax bills and attempted to collect taxes on real estate that had been vacated and abandoned.
He wore a number of hats. As collector of taxes, Porker foreclosed on property with outstanding taxes. As building inspector he proclaimed the property uninhabitable and issued contracts to dismantle buildings that were deemed hazardous. As street commissioner, he often made the decision to close streets rather than spend the town’s funds on repairs. After a time he issued contracts to have them dismantled.
The mayor and the three selectmen were happy with Porker’ ingenuity and the way he conducted the town’s business. Porker was a devoted son, making his mother as comfortable as possible on his scanty salary. He devoted his time and energy to a declining town.
Then, three things happened to turn Porker’s life upside down. A four lane highway that would come very near Two Rivers was built. The state declared an audit of Two Rivers’ books. About this time, Porker’s mother died.
Having fulfilled the commitment to his widowed mother, Porker decided to resign from his position and made plans to leave Two Rivers. By going elsewhere he could easily triple or quadruple his present salary. He would get away from his home town, possibly meet someone with whom he could settle down. At the next selectmen’s meeting he gave notice that a replacement should be found because he would be leaving. The selectmen said they would accept his resignation as soon as the audit was completed.
Irregularities were found. The audit took years to complete, keeping Porker chained to the job. Seventy-five percent of the contracts had been issued to one Seth Tucker, a general contractor. The city council pleaded ignorance to this, saying that Lester Hogg had awarded all of the contracts in question. Porker explained that Seth Tucker was the only contractor with a dump truck and jack hammer who would bid on the jobs. All other contractors had left town during the real estate boon of the eighties.
By 2003, with the new highway completed, Two Rivers had suddenly become a very desirable place to live, being between two cities that offered employment, it was a convenient commute to both. Houses were in demand. Porker had issued 250 building permits and the town’s population had doubled. Seth Tucker became a prominent developer of new sub divisions.
Now, in 2004, the audit complete, there was talk of hiring a town manager and Porker was packing his bags. He rubbed the Mayor’s seal on the expensive stationery, typed by the mayor’s new full time secretary who had been too lazy to walk the memo across the hall. Instead, the memo had gone through the mail department which was operated one hour each day by the new part time janitor.
The attachment, a pink telephone message, had been stapled to the memo.
Mrs. Margaret Potash had called the mayor’s office at 4:30 p.m. the previous Friday to complain about her house number. There was a telephone number and an address, 13 Cornbramble Road.
Cornbramble was a Seth Tucker development. Porker had been there often to perform inspections as the 25 homes were constructed. He recalled a conversation with Seth who wanted to know how to number the houses. Porker had said to number them one through twenty-five with odd numbers on the left hand side of the street. There would be no need to skip numbers for future use because the town’s new zoning by-laws were very strict with regard to lot sizes. Porker foresaw no additional homes on this street. He also recalled that Seth had bought the land, a corn field with brambles along the back fence, from one of the selectmen.
Now that new town business demanded they meet weekly, the selectmen had voted themselves a raise in pay. Porker had been excluded from the pay raise because he would be leaving soon.
“Mrs. Potash? This is Lester Hogg, I’m the street commissioner of Two Rivers. The mayor asked me to look into your complaint.” Porker had chosen the title that seemed most appropriate to the complaint as he understood it.
“Mr. Hogg? You’re the street commissioner?” The voice was soft spoken, timid.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I was expecting to hear from the Mayor.”
“Mayor Slocum asked me to see if I can help you Mrs. Potash.”
