We scooted past the sound truck, and then I saw
Pop was up there. He was walking along beside the
front one of the yellow trucks, and he motioned for
them to pull off in an open place beside the ruts
about a hundred yards away. He waved for the one
with the lumber to pull off on the other side.
The one with the lumber stopped, but Uncle Finley
was already there, and before the man could even get
out he ran around back and pulled off a board about
twenty feet long and started running down the hill
towards the ark, dragging the board after him.
“Hey,” the men in the truck yelled, and took out
after him. One of them got hold of the end of the
board and started trying to take it away from him.
The other one yelled at Pop, “Who’s this crazy old
bastard? Tell him to leave this lumber alone.”
Pop was telling the drivers of the yellow trucks
where to park. He looked around and waved a hand.
That’s just Finley. Let him have the plank and he
won’t bother you no more. He’ll be all day nailing it
up.”
The two men let go the plank and Uncle Finley
went scooting down towards the ark, letting the end
of it drag behind him. They came back to the truck
and began unloading the rest of it on the ground.
I was close enough to the yellow trucks to read the
signs. They said “Burke’s Shows.” It was a carnival!
Going to be set up right on Uncle Sagamore’s farm.
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Fourteen
I looked behind them. There was more coming. And
some big yellow trailers with “Burke’s Shows” on the
side of them. And then some cars. And then a big
shiny aluminum house trailer. And then more cars.
They was just pouring down the hill from the gate
with dust boiling up everywhere. They ran right on
past the house and across the cornfield, and when
they hit the edge of the timber they stopped and men
began to jump out. They took off into the trees.
They’d sure find Miss Harrington now, I thought. It
looked like the whole world had turned out to look
for her.
I ducked across when there was an open space
between cars so I could get through, and ran to
where Pop was. He was still waving his arms and
motioning to the drivers of the trucks. They was
backing them here and there, and as soon as one was
in the right spot men jumped down and began
unloading the big tents. Other men had axes and was
cutting down the little trees and bushes in the way.
“Hey, Pop,” I yelled as I came up, “where did the
carnival come from?”
He looked around at me, and went on motioning to
one of the drivers. “Careful of them cars, Billy,” he
says. “Don’t get run over.”
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“But, Pop,” I says, getting out of the way so a truck
could swing up past me, “how’d they happen to bring
a carnival way out here?”
“Don’t bother me now,” he says. “I’ll talk to you
after a while. And you watch out for them cars.”
I was jumping up and down, I was so excited about
the carnival. Sig Freed was excited too, and he began
running around in big circles, getting in the way.
“Get that dawg out of here before he gets run
over,” Pop yelled. “Go on down to the lake or
somewhere. You can come back after it’s all set up.”
I could see the gate from here, and when I looked
up the hill I saw Uncle Sagamore. He was standing
there beside it, with all the cars going past him. I
could see some sort of sign nailed up on one of the
posts, but this far away I couldn’t tell what it said. I
called Sig Freed and we ran up that way to see what
he was doing.
When I got a little closer, I could make out the sign.
It said “Noonan Farm. Parking $1.00” Uncle
Sagamore was standing across from it, on the
drivers’ side of the cars, with a flour sack. Every time
a driver would turn out of the road and in through
the gate he would hand Uncle Sagamore a dollar.
Uncle Sagamore would drop it in the flour sack and
wave for him to go on.
It seemed to me like a dollar was pretty high to pay
for parking way out here in the country where there
was thousands of acres, and I wondered why a lot of
them didn’t just drive on down the road and pull off
somewhere further along. Heck, they only charged
fifty cents at most race tracks.
Then, when I got up to the gate I saw why they was
all turning in. The road going on past was blocked.
Uncle Sagamore’s truck was broke down right square
in the middle of it less than a car’s length past where
our ruts turned off through the gate. It looked like he
had tried to turn it around and had got lodged
between the trees growing up on both sides. It was
jammed in for fair, with the front axle against a
stump on one end and the tail-gate between two
The Diamond Bikini— 149
trees on the other. And on top of that, one of the back
wheels was missing, like he’d had a flat tire and
started to change it. There just wasn’t any way you
could move that truck without cutting down the trees
on both sides or taking it apart and carrying it away
in a wheelbarrow.
And they couldn’t get out of the road anywhere
back the other way for at least a hundred yards.
There was solid pine trees on both sides, plus Uncle
Sagamore’s wire fence along this edge of it. I looked
up that way, and it was just jammed with cars,
bumper to bumper. They was going slow because
each car had to give Uncle Sagamore a dollar, and
that jammed them up behind. Some of them was
honking their horns, and men was yelling, wanting to
know what the trouble was.
Just as I walked up alongside Uncle Sagamore the
car making the turn stopped, but the driver didn’t
hold out a dollar. He was a big red-faced man with a
white moustache and there was another man in the
front seat with him.
The man driving jerked his head at the sign and
then shouted at Uncle Sagamore. “You think I’m
going to pay a dollar to park out here in the country?
You’re nuts.”
The other man in the seat jabbed him with his
elbow, and whispers, “Shhhh! Hush, you dam’ fool.
That’s Sagamore Noonan.” He was a real skinny man
with a big Adam’s apple that kept on going up and
down when he talked.
“I don’t give a goddam who he is,” the red-faced
one says. “I ain’t going to pay no dollar to park.”
Cars behind was beginning to blow their horns at
the delay. Somebody stuck his head out back down
the line. “Hey, what the hell’s the matter with you
guys up there? You want ‘em to find her before we
get there?”
“Shut up!” The red-faced one shouted. “This here
bandit’s tryin’ to hold us up.”
Uncle Sagamore spit and wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand, real thoughtful. Then he reached
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down by the gate post for something. By golly, it was
his shotgun. I hadn’t seen it before. He hefted it once
and slid the safety catch back and forth, and then
leaned on the car window with it across his arm. The
end of the barrel was sticking right in the big man’s
face. Only his face wasn’t red now. It was white, and
getting whiter by the second. Big drops of sweat
collected on his forehead.
Uncle Sagamore cocked his ear around a little by
turning his head like a deaf person, and says, “How
was that again? Them horns back there was makin’
so much noise I didn’t quite catch what you was
sayin’.”
“Oh,” the big man says. “Oh, I was—unjust sayin’ I
sure hope we find that there girl.” He took a dollar
bill out of his pocket and reached it out real careful
like it might blow up in his face.
Uncle Sagamore took it and waved for him to go
on. Cars kept right on coming. I never saw money
pouring into anything like the dollars pouring into his
flour sack. It was just like a two-dollar window on
Saturday. Sometimes a man would give him a five or
a ten, and Uncle Sagamore would just reach down
inside the sack and come out with a wad of ones as
big as a hat to count out the change. Then he’d stuff
the rest back in, along with the five or the ten. Silver
coins went right in the sack along with the paper
money.
One or two more started to give him an argument,
so he just kept the shotgun in the crook of his arm. It
saved picking it up each time, and it seemed like it
also cut down on the arguments a lot too. There was
no way the cars could back up, if they didn’t want to
pay, because they was bumper to bumper way back
as far as you could see, and there wasn’t room to
turn around. So they just had to come on in, and
when they did they had to pay. I could see Uncle
Sagamore was going to make a fortune if this lasted
very long. The sack was already beginning to bulge
and rattle at the bottom.
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In nearly all the cars somebody would stick his
head out as they came through, and ask, “They found
her yet?”
For a while Uncle Sagamore would say, “No. Not
yet.” Then he took to just saying, “No.” And finally he
quit even that and just shook his head.
A truck come through carrying ice and tubs and
cases of pop and a big icebox and a stove. The man
driving it was Murph. Uncle Sagamore waved him on
through without the dollar, and says, “They’re
buildin’ the stand down there now across from the
carnival.”
Murph nodded. “Looks like a good crowd.”
Murph drove on in. I could see there wasn’t any
chance of talking to Uncle Sagamore as long as he
was busy raking in money like that so I ran down the
hill alongside the truck. It pulled up on the left-hand
side of the road where they had unloaded the lumber.
This was near Dr Severance’s trailer, and there
wasn’t many trees from here on down to the house,
about a hundred yards. Right across the road they
was putting up the carnival tents. They had one of
those big ones partly up now, and there was a raised
ticket stand and a little stage out in front that had a
big sign over it that said “Girls! Girls! Girls!” It didn’t
look like they had a Ferris wheel or even a merry-goround,
though.
Murph stopped the truck and got out. The whole
place was in an uproar now and it sounded and
looked like a big day at a race track. You’d think it
was the Preakness, or something. Cars was whizzing
on down the hill and past the house, out into the
cornfield. Men was shouting and struggling with the
tents over there, and now a bunch of girls was
beginning to come out of one of the trailers, all
dressed in romper suits. The two men that had
unloaded the lumber was trying to nail together what
looked like a hot-dog stand out of it.
They had the outline of it started, up about two
planks high nailed to 2-by-4’s at the corners, but
every time they’d pick up a board and start to nail it
The Diamond Bikini— 152
up, turning their back on the lumber pile, Uncle
Finley would swoop down and grab a plank and light
out for the ark. They’d have to drop theirs and chase
him and rassle it away from him.
Murph lit a cigarette and looked around. “Good
God,” he says. “What a boar’s nest. Be ten thousand
people here by noon, the way they’re pouring in.”
They sure ought to find her,” I says.
“What?” he asked. “Oh. Sure. Hell, there won’t
even be room for her down in that bottom in another
two hours, unless she sits on somebody’s shoulder.”
The two men come up with the plank and put it
back on the pile. Uncle Finley stood off a little ways
and watched them.
“Shake it up, you guys,” Murph says. “We got to
get in operation here so we can feed all them hungry
heroes when they come up out of the bottom.”
“Well, how the hell can we get anything done,” one
of them says, “with that old crack-pot stealing the
planks faster than we can nail ‘em up? What the
hell’s the matter with him, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Murph says. “Mebbe he thinks he s
a termite. He started lifting the tubs down and
breaking up ice in them for the bottles of pop.
Then he looked across the road to where the girls
that had come out of the trailer was standing around
lighting cigarettes and waving at the men going by in
cars. “Hmmmm,” he says. “Not a bad-looking bunch
of pigs he rounded up. They ought to pull ‘em in. You
know, kid, I’ve seem some operators in my day, but
he’s the most.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Who else? Your Uncle Sagamore. Don’t ever let
that bare-footed act of his fool you, kid; he’s a genius.
The only real, honest-to-God genius I ever saw. I’ve
watched him operate a long time now, and he’s got
the touch. There ain’t no use trying to develop it; you
got to be born with it. Barnum couldn’t have handled
this thing any better than Sagamore’s done it.”
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“Well,” I says, “he was a little afraid the sheriff
wasn’t using enough men to look for her.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “You can say
that again,” he says. “By the way, you haven’t seen
the sheriff lately, have you?”
“No,” I says. “He went back to town last night. But
I reckon he’ll be along pretty soon.”
“Well, he may be having a little trouble getting in
here. I expect there’s quite a bit of traf—Hey, you old
bastard, come back here with that board.”
Murph dropped the chunk of ice and took off down
the hill after Uncle Finley.
* * *
I looked around for Pop. I finally spotted him clown
the hill between the house and the barn, and he was
really busy. The cornfield was jam-packed with cars
now and they was beginning to overflow up around
the barn and the back of the house, so Pop was trying
to direct them where to park. Most of the drivers
didn’t pay much attention, though. They’d just go on
as far ahead as they could, until they was up against
the car ahead, and then they’d stop and everybody
would jump out and head for the timber. It was an
awful snarl, and I wondered how they would ever get
out when they wanted to go home.
Then they started parking downhill towards the
lake and around Uncle Finley’s ark and filling that
part up. Pop managed to keep the front yard clear
and a little stretch each side of the road up the hill
past where they was putting the hot-dog stand and
the carnival. I backed up towards the gate, watching
the rest of the space fill up. It was just like filling the
neck of a bottle. He jammed ‘em in on both sides of
the road clear out to the trees and then solid in the
road itself until the last cars was just turning in at
the gate and stopping. The last two that paid was
only half-way through the gate from there back up
the road as far as I could see, they was still bumper
to bumper. The whole thing had stopped now, of
course, so the horns started blowing. That went on
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for two or three minutes, and then the men started
jumping out and coming ahead on foot. They came
through the gate, some of them, and others just
climbed through the fence and headed down through
the trees towards the river bottom.
I came in as Pop went over by Uncle Sagamore and
leaned on the fence post and took off his hat. He
mopped his face and neck with his handkerchief.
“Whew!” he says.
Uncle Sagamore put down the flour sack. It was
bulging half-way to the top with money. “Feel kind of
wore out myself,” he says. He took out his tobacco
and rubbed it on his overall leg and bit off a chew.
“But it looks like a man’s just got to keep hustlin’
night and day to keep ahead of the game, with the
Gov’ment takin’ nearly everything he can make.
Right sizeable crowd, ain’t it?”
“Must be around three thousand cars,” Pop says.
“Well, there ain’t no use stayin’ around here no more.
You couldn’t get another car in here if you greased it.
Let’s go meet the folks an’ see if they’re gettin’ set
up all right. The first wave of tired ones will be
comin’ back out of the bottom pretty soon, an’ we got
to be ready for ‘em.”
We walked down the hill, squeezing between cars
until we got to the place where the hot-dog stand
was. They had it just about finished now. Anyway,
they had used up all the planks. There was spaces in
it here and there, and I guess that was the ones
Uncle Finley had beat them to. There was a counter
along the front of it. Inside they had set up the stove
and icebox, and the tubs was full of pop. Murph was
starting to paint a sign.
“How much do you reckon we ought to charge for
hamburgers?” he asked Uncle Sagamore.
Uncle Sagamore spit and rubbed his chin with his
hand. “Well sir,” he says. That there’s a kind of hard
question to answer offhand. Ordinarily I’d say a
hamburger was worth about two bits. But on the
other hand if you been walkin’ around in a river
bottom for five or six hours an’ ain’t got no lunch
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with you, an’ then you find it’s a nine-mile walk to the
nearest restaurant, I reckon you wouldn’t say a dollar
was too much, would you?”
Murph shook his head kind of slow, and lettered
the sign. “Hamburgers $1.00.” “Like I always say,”
he says, “you’d never think it to look at you.”
We started on down to the house, with Uncle
Sagamore carrying the flour sack. The shiny house
trailer was parked off to the left. A big blonde woman
with a lot of bracelets and a real red mouth was
standing outside the door of it. She waved at Pop.
Pop says to Uncle Sagamore, “Come on over. I’d
like to make you acquainted with Mrs. Home. She’s
sort of travelin’ around the country with her nieces.”
We went over. “Hiya, boys,” Mrs. Home says. Her
hair was real smooth and shiny and about the color of
butter and it was in little waves like the grain in a
piece of wood. “I reckon this is Sagamore, and this
must be Billy, huh?”
“Well sir, I’m real proud to know you,” Uncle
Sagamore says. “Sam told me about meetin’ up with
you last night, an’ how you’d kind of worked out a
dicker.”
“Dicker?” she says, and laughs. “I was grabbed and
stabbed for a flat ten per cent of the gross. You boys
are really operators. But I guess it’ll be worth it; I
ain’t seen this many men in one place since me and
the girls was up at the atom project. Come on in and
meet ‘em. They’re negative types.” She laughed
again.
Pop looked at me. “Billy, you better run on to the
—”
Mrs. Home waved a hand and her bracelets
clanked. “Oh, what the hell, let him come in.
Nobody’s working yet. You want him to grow up to be
a sissy?”
We went in. The living-room of the trailer had long
sofas on each side, and there was white slats over the
windows. There was a nice rug on the floor and all
along the walls there was big pictures of girls
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without much clothes on. A radio was playing, and
two girls was sitting on one of the sofas. One had red
hair and the other kind of a silvery color, and they
both was wearing romper suits like Miss
Harrington’s, only maybe a little skimpier. They was
real pretty. You could see Pop and Uncle Sagamore
thought they was nice.
Mrs. Home introduced us all. “These is my nieces,”
she says. “The platinum job is Baby Collins, and the
redheaded number’s La Verne.”
“Hi, honey,” Baby Collins said to Pop. “You’re kind
of cute in a gruesome sort of way. Wanna buy me a
drink?”
“Relax, girls,” Mrs. Home says. “These types are
the Noonan boys. The customers will begin to show
up later. Where’s Francine?”
“In the sack,” La Verne says, and yawns. She
picked up a magazine and started to look at the
pictures. “Let me know if a live one shows up.”
“I was just listening to the radio,” Mrs. Horne says.
“The news is full of it. They say it’s the biggest
stampede since the Klondike gold rush.”
“Well sir, by golly,” Uncle Sagamore says. “That’s
fine.”
“Oh, I knew it was a natural as soon as I saw those
hand bills you was throwing around,” she says.
“Which one of you boys wrote that?”
“I did,” Pop says.
“Well,” she says, “if you don’t get an Oscar for it
you been gypped. What time you expect the first
wave of shock troops will begin to drift back from the
boondocks?”
“Likely in a couple of hours,” Uncle Sagamore said.
“It’s kind of hot, tiresome work, lookin’ for somebody
in a swamp. Especially if you got no way of knowin’ if
she’s been found yet.”
“You got an information center set up?” she asked.
Pop nodded. “The carnival’s got a big public
address system.”
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“Well,” she says, “you boys don’t miss a bet. That’s
all I got to say.”
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Fifteen
We went down to the house, and Pop and Uncle
Sagamore counted the money in the flour sack, and
then Uncle Sagamore went off with it somewhere.
The smell from the tubs was pretty bad, because
there wasn’t any breeze to carry it away. It was after
ten o’clock now and sunny and hot. The sheriff’s
sound truck wasn’t making any noise, and then I
remembered it hadn’t made any since I woke up. I
wondered if the man was still asleep, but when I
looked up that way he seemed to be working on the
equipment, like there was something wrong with it.
The whole place was real quiet except for Uncle
Finley’s hammering away down at the ark, and the
only thing that was changed was that it was just
covered solid with acres and acres of cars. And then,
of course, there was the carnival. But I hadn’t had
time to look into that yet.
I just couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t found
Miss Harrington. Pop said that judging from the
amount of money they’d took in for parking, and
figuring two men to a car and allowing for cars that
was stopped back on the road, there must be
between seven and eight thousand men looking for
her right now. There wasn’t hardly any of them up
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around the house and cars, either. They was all still
down there looking.
Then I remembered the sheriff had said he was
going to be back around ten and that he wanted me
to show him where we’d hid in the ferns. It was funny
he hadn’t come, I thought. Everybody else in this end
of the state must be down there trying to find her,
and he hadn’t even come back. I called Sig Freed and
we went down that way, skirting along the lower side
of the lake. Once we got out in the timber it was just
crawling with men. They was running ever which way
and yelling to each other to ask if she’d been found
yet. Some of them was sitting down on logs, like they
was tired out already, and a few was drifting up
towards the house.
It just didn’t seem to make any sense, I thought. If
the whole bottom was as full of men as this hillside
was, they would have found a lost marble by this
time. It worried me, because the only way I could
figure it was that something had happened to her.
Otherwise she would have heard the racket and
yelled at one of the men where she was, even if she
couldn’t walk any more.
It must have been nearly noon when I got back to
the house. There was quite a few of the searchers up
there by that time. They was up the hill from the
house, mostly, on account of the smell from the tubs.
Uncle Sagamore and pop was walking around,
talking to them. I asked him for a dollar to buy a
hamburger.
“Murph will give you one,” he says. “Just go on up
and ask him.”
I went up to the stand. There was a big crowd of
men around it now. They was complaining about the
prices, but they was buying hamburgers. Everybody
was asking whether she had been found or not.
Murph and the two other men was telling them no,
and making hamburgers as fast as they could. I
finally squeezed through to get to the counter.
Murph saw me after a while and give me a
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hamburger and a bottle of coke. I went across the
road to see how the carnival was coming along.
There was a lot of men there too. The place was
beginning to swarm with the ones coming back from
the bottom. I pushed through the crowd and I could
see there was five tents altogether, but there still
wasn’t any rides. No Ferris wheel or merry-go-round,
or anything. There was this big tent in the middle,
the one that had the sort of stage out in front and the
sign that said, “Girls! Girls! Girls!” The others was a
shooting gallery and a toss-the-hoop, and a couple of
wheels of fortune.
I was just about to go look for Pop and see if he’d
give me some money for the shooting gallery, when a
man got up on the stage. There was a microphone on
a stand in the middle of it, and he walked over to it
and whistled. The big loudspeakers on both sides of
the stage went, Wheet! Wheet! Then five girls come
out of the doorway of the tent and up the steps of the
stage. They lined up behind the man. They was real
pretty, and didn’t have hardly anything on in the way
of clothes.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the man with the
microphone started to say, but there was so much
racket he had to stop.
Everybody around me was yelling. Some of ‘em was
shouting, “Hooray! Bring on the girls!” and “Shut up
and let ‘em dance!” But some more was yelling,
“Hey, what the hell is this? What about Choo-Choo?”
“The whole thing looks like a fake,” another man
yelled.
“I bet she ain’t even been here,” somebody else
says.
The uproar was getting real bad now. And then
suddenly Pop was up on the stage beside the man
with the microphone. He eased the man out of the
way and started talking.
“Men,” he says, “I been asked to make an
announcement. I’m Sam Noonan, an’ it was my little
boy Billy that was with Miss Caroline when them
gangsters attacked her. She saved his life, men.”
The Diamond Bikini— 161
They kept yelling.
“The hell with that.”
“Where is she now? How come we can’t find her?”
“What kind of sellout is this, anyway?”
“It’s a racket.”
“Get outta the way, you jerk, so we can see the
girls.”
“Shut up and let him talk. Maybe we’ll find
something out.”
Pop held up his hands for them to be quiet. “Just
listen for a minute and I can answer all your
questions. You read in the papers and heard on the
radio how they been looking for her in twenty-three
states because she was a witness in a big murder in
New Orleans, an’ how she was hiding out right here
on this farm. Of course, we didn’t even know who she
was until the day the gangsters got her an’ opened
up on her an’ my son Billy.” The noise was dying
down now.
Somebody yelled, “Let him talk.”
Pop kind of gulped, like he had a catch in his
throat. “Well sir, men,” he went on. That there girl,
Miss Choo-Choo Caroline, is lost right here on this
farm somewhere—and men, she saved my son’s life. I
want her found, so I can thank her.” He kind of broke
down then, and had to wait a minute before he could
go on.
“What she done, men, was the bravest thing I ever
heard of in my life. But wait a minute, everybody.
Wait a minute. I see my son down there in the crowd
right now, and I’m goin’ to let him tell you in his own
words. Billy, will you come up here? Make way there,
men, and let him through.”
I gulped down the last of my hamburger and
started towards the stage. Everybody moved aside to
let me through. When I got to it, Pop leaned down
and caught my hands to lift me up, and there I was
right in front of everybody. He put an arm across my
shoulders. The crowd let out a cheer.
The Diamond Bikini— 162
“Now, son,” he says, pulling me over in front of the
microphone and lowering it a little, “I want you to tell
everybody out there what a heroic thing that girl
done, savin’ your life, an’ how much you think of
her.”
I started out. I told ‘em how we was swimming and
how the water suddenly started getting chewed up
all around us with that noise the guns was making on
the other bank. And when I was telling how she
caught me by the neck and pulled me under the
water and towed us along till we was under the
bushes, I looked around and doggone if Pop wasn’t
crying. He was trying to hold back the tears, kind of
gulping like he was swallowing something too big for
his throat, and then at last he had to haul out his
handkerchief and dab at his eyes. When I finished up
everybody was cheering and waving their hats.
“We’ll find her, Billy,” they yelled.
Pop took hold of the microphone again, and had to
clear his throat a couple of times before he could
talk. “There you are, men,” he says. “That’s the kind
of girl Miss Choo-Choo Caroline is. Besides bein’ one
of the most beautiful women that ever lived, she’s
one of the bravest. An’ now she’s been lost down
there in that wild river bottom for over eighteen
hours with hardly a stitch of clothes on, nor nothin’
but that little patch of diamond-covered ribbon half
the size of your hand, with the mosquitoes bitin’ her
all over that lovely body an’ brambles scratchin’ her
on the legs, an’ nothin’ to keep the night chill off. We
got to find her, men. We just got to find her.”
The crowd let out a big roar then. It was getting
bigger all the time. Then I saw Uncle Sagamore
coming up on the stage.
Pop went on. “An’ now here’s my brother
Sagamore, that’s in charge of the search. He’s been
up all night without a wink of sleep, goin’ back and
forth across that bottom tryin’ to find her. And he
ain’t goin’ to give up as long as there’s a breath left
in his body. He knows the river bottom like you know
The Diamond Bikini— 163
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