Hard Times: Chapter 6 "The Sun Camp"

The Sun Camp (Zar’s Story)



We were both students at the university when hard times hit us like a hurricane wind. Jo had a grant from the state for graduate work in engineering. That was one of the first cuts from the state budget. I was surviving on a combination of work-study and parental assistance in my senior year as a student of philosophy. Both were coming to an abrupt halt. Times were hard and no one was spared. My parents said it was the hardest decision they ever had to make but they didn’t have enough saved to pay the mortgage and the medical bills. Their world was crashing down on them so I didn’t have the heart to protest. The truth is it was an easy decision and one that I would have insisted on if they had not.

I was resigned to pack it in and go back home when Jo and her circle of friends came up with the idea of creating their own community. For me it was perfect timing. I was disenchanted with postmodern deconstructionism. I resented the growing religious nature of my discipline. I saw the irony of canonizing a man whose philosophy was antithesis to canonization. Friedrich Nietzsche was a great man but he was not a god. He was the philosopher who sought no followers yet attracted them in legions long after his death. I believed in the philosophy of Nietzche’s fictional Zarathustra who instructed all to follow their own paths. It was a revelation that led me to profound and persistent doubt. When hard times came I was not only compelled to abandon my formal education, I was mentally primed to do so.

In many ways I was the least likely to join a community of idealists. I was the least valuable. I had no practical skills. I could pound a hammer but the others could design systems, energy systems and water systems, greenhouses and gardens. They could build a community from the ground up and I could reflect on their work. I was hopeful I could acquire a serviceable skill but I was invited only because of my association with Jo. Jo was eminently useful. She was a valued member of a study group that was at the forefront of solar technology. The core of the group consisted of practical engineers but they were socially conscious enough to want couples. Contented couples would mean less tension and greater focus on the task of building a self-sufficient community. They were less interested in utopian ideals than they were in utilitarian values. They had the practical technological knowledge to create a working system unless human conflicts got in the way. I guess some of them thought a philosophy major might be useful in that regard.

Even though my life had no particular direction I would not have been interested in forming a pre-Apocalyptic commune if not for Jo. Jo was a rock. When everything else was rusting away and collapsing like sand castles at high tide, Jo was steady. Her belief system was firmly grounded in science but she an unbreakable spirit like that ancient musical The Unsinkable Molly Brown. No matter how bad things went she held on to the belief that everything would turn out fine if we just kept moving, working and fighting. Jo believed in what they were doing and I believed in her.

We sent out the word to other universities while the web was still up. We had a location scouted out and plans in place. We invited others of like interests to join us. There were a few professors backing the project. One managed to get funding before the financial system broke down. He pilfered as much as he could from the university. Anticipating the fall of the internet we downloaded and printed out everything we thought we’d need. We collected books and journals and technical papers. We shipped supplies down to the site in phases, one truckload after another, until we were ready to set up camp. It was a fairly remote location with a natural clearing by a creek and good fertile soil. With everything else that was going on, the locals didn’t seem to mind a bunch of college kids and hippie types moving into the neighborhood.

We set up tents in the spring, planted a garden and started building the community center with a large kitchen and gathering hall. There were about two dozen of us in the beginning and others joined us as we went along. We invited those who were useful to stay and encouraged those who were not to move on. Only a couple of times did we have to insist: One man who was a born troublemaker and wanted to assert his leadership and another who was just plain lazy. We came to our decisions as a group and confronted the offenders straight up. The lazy guy packed his bag and left the next day. The troublemaker resisted but after three days of being ignored he gave a rant about our self-righteousness, our lack of vision and of course our lack of leadership. He left us with a prophecy of doom and a curse of darkness. We laughed about it at the time but when the virus came and knock us all to our knees we remembered. You can’t help wondering about something like that.

Before the spring let out we finished the community center and kitchen. We expanded the gardens, set up a greenhouse, finished building a warehouse for canning, drying and storage, started an expanded tool shop and began work on two rows of cottages. It was hard work but the payoff was phenomenal. It’s amazing what people can accomplish when they know what they’re doing and do it right. We worked from morning until dark with a couple of breaks for food every day. In the evenings after dinner we got out our instruments – mostly guitars and drums – and played until we were too tired to carry on. Most nights it didn’t take too long. Honest labor leads to deep sleep and pleasant dreams.

While the weather was still good most of us slept in the courtyard under the stars but we all set up inside the community center. We had a large wooden chest for our belongings and a rug that sort of defined our personal space. We had solar lights and plenty of energy to run our kitchen from the solar panels and the windmill in the center of the courtyard. We had a crew working on tapping the creek for waterpower as well. To an academic intellectual like myself it was extraordinary. In a very short time a fully functional, self-sufficient working community sprang up from the land.

Midway through the summer we felt like we could relax a little. We had a good supply of dried goods, canned fruits and vegetables. We completed a second greenhouse and finished off enough cottages for everyone in residence and a couple of guests. We had three working solar crawlers that we sent out up and down the valley to set up an alliance of communities for trade and support.

We called our community Paradiso and from my perspective it was amply named. We may not have set out to create a utopian society but what we accomplished was close enough. Every man, woman and child that was a part of it felt a sense of pride and belonging. We were feeling strong and confident – maybe a little too confident. That’s when the sickness hit. I don’t know how it started. Jo says it was some visitors, friends of friends just passing through to witness what we had built. I guess one of them had a cough. I don’t have any clear recollection but it hit us hard and fast and it spared no one.

We were all sick but some were sicker than others. Some of us, including Jo and I, could still walk and gather food and cook meals and tend to the ones who couldn’t get out of bed. Some people were coughing so hard they spit up blood. Jo thought it might be tuberculosis. That’s when we sent someone on a crawler into town to contact the authorities and get help if he could. Eventually a man from the Center for Infectious Diseases showed up to tell us it was a particularly bad case of the flu. Reports were coming in from all over the valley. Everyone was sick. There was nothing they could do for us.

After a week of tending to people in their cottages, we moved everyone who was bedridden into the community center. It was the only way we could tend to them all. We lost three people in those first horrible weeks: an older man named Raven, a beautiful young woman named Breeze and a baby whose name I can’t recall. It was constant misery. We could smell death (its gray and rotting) and watched it crawling closer but we were too weak to fight it back. We made a big pot of soup and spent most of the day moving from cot to cot or bed to bed, trying to get them to eat, putting fresh cold rags on their foreheads, wiping the sweat from their bodies, changing sheets whenever we could no longer stand the smell. It was pure misery. I was certain we were all going to die. My bones and muscles ached, my head throbbed and my cough sent me into a panic. I was afraid to lie down for worry that I would never get up again. I was so tired I don’t know how I made it from day to day.

It had to be the same for Jo but she never complained. We had to keep working and Jo wouldn’t give in. Someone had to tend the gardens, gather fresh vegetables for the soup, and make sure the irrigation system didn’t break down. She kept going and she kept me going just watching her. After I don’t know how many weeks (I lost track of time) it was down to us and I was fading.

I still remember the day Janis showed up with Holly and Stone. We couldn’t believe that anyone would come here. No one had since the man from the Center for Infectious Diseases. We later learned he put a distress sign up down the road. We were in virtual quarantine and anyone who got close could see and smell a cloud of danger surrounding us. But here they were offering to help. Jo and I talked about how much we should tell them but in the end neither one of us had it in us to say anything but the truth. We were a broken community preparing for death. We were both shocked that they decided to stay. I know its cliché to say a weight was lifted but how else can you say it? I felt a physical force pushing down hard on my shoulders every minute of every day but it became lighter and easier when they showed up and stayed.

The first time I went out to see them, to deliver a meal, I must have talked for an hour without relief. Jo and I were too tired to talk and when we did it was always about the sickness, about what to do next and what to do if. I hadn’t talked to other humans for as long as I could remember. I talked and talked and they listened. I asked questions and didn’t wait for the answers. I asked them about the news and baseball, forgetting for the moment that there was no news and as far as anyone knew no baseball. I had to apologize later but it was so good just to talk to someone who wasn’t sick and dying.

I don’t believe we would have pulled through if not for their help. It was miraculous that Jo and I kept going as long as we did. If they hadn’t come along I truly believe the entire community and everyone in it would have succumbed. We would have been a tragic story of the endemic flu that swept through the valley in hard times.

They tended the gardens, collected fresh fruits and vegetables, did the necessary maintenance and made sure everything was in working order. When the weather started turning they chopped wood in preparation for the winter. Jo and I shared meals with them three times a day and the rest of our time was spent inside tending the sick. We savored our time with them. Janis was full of good ideas for treating the illness, including opening the doors twice a day for ventilation. She was eager to help and always asked to be allowed inside but we always refused. We needed them to stay healthy. Holly was a very likeable man and a good worker. Stone was quiet at first, a little laid back, listening more than talking, taking it in. We loved his dog Cinnamon and she loved Stone. Later, when we got to know him and heard him tell his stories about the people he met and the communities he’d encountered, we both realized he was the kind of person that people instinctively listen to and respect. He had a vision of pulling separate communities together so that all of them could enjoy the best of each community. It went beyond trading goods and services. It was an alliance of sharing, exchanging ideas and people and coming to a common understanding. He believed that any community that was isolated was in constant danger of dissolving either from within or without. He believed that the more communities we could bind together the stronger we would all be and the better our chances for survival.

I was skeptical at first. I liked what we had going here. I wanted to keep it like it was and I was afraid that outside influence would alter it in a bad way. I wanted my own vision of utopia and I thought our best chance of realizing that vision was Paradiso.

As the weeks went by we spent many hours talking things through. More and more people were getting out of their beds, recovered enough to stand and then walk and then join us outside. Eventually I became convinced that Stone was right. If we were a part of a greater community this illness would not have threatened our very existence. We have had help from the early stages. We would face other threats as time went by and we would need help again. By the same reasoning, we had to be prepared to help others. It all made sense.

One of Stone’s ideas was to maintain the road that led to Paradiso. He envisioned a constant traffic of solar crawlers traveling from the south as far as Fresno to the north as far as Chico. He envisioned a transport service, an exchange of information, goods and personnel. He wanted each member community to accept responsibility for maintaining its share of the road, for building campsites and ensuring security. The more he talked the more he persuaded everyone who listened. After a while I realized it was not just the fact that he was enthusiastic; it was that he was talking about the future—and not just the immediate future. He was a man of vision. He was talking about a new order, a new way of living, a new and better society. It had been a long time since anyone talked in those terms. I guess that’s why Paradiso (he called it the Sun Camp) so appealed to him. It was a place of dreams and a place that encouraged dreamers. Stone was a natural dreamer and it seemed he had found a home.

When Stone got sick it scared us. We were already numbed by the deaths we had endured and the struggle we had overcome. He was more than a friend; he was someone we were willing to follow. He was a part of our family. He was my brother. He never talked about his family much before he was sick. He told us who they were and where they were and why he had left them but that was all. I think he was afraid that if he talked about them too much it would consume him. He didn’t want to go back until things had changed and he could be sure that his presence would not add to their hardship. So he didn’t talk about them. After he got sick that was all he talked about. He faded in and out of consciousness and every time he woke up he wondered where he was and asked for Madge or Denim or Charlie.

There was a young woman named Oleander who held herself responsible for his illness. I don’t that that’s true but she felt it was. She and Janis sat by his side around the clock. He was never alone. Cinn was there too. She would lay by his side with her head on his chest looking at his face for signs of life. When he woke up she was always there licking his face and reminding him he was loved.

We sent someone on a crawler to check up on Stone’s family. We had a long discussion about whether or not to tell his wife that Stone was sick and might not make it. We decided not to tell her because we were afraid she would come to care for him and the sickness would take hold of her. We didn’t want to leave their children orphans. I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do. In her place I would want to know. But that’s what it came down to and that’s what we decided. We just wanted to be able to tell him that his family was safe.

We had the same decision regarding a professor from the university who came down to observe our progress and offer advice. She was close to Jo and a number of students. Jo said that without Dr. Arakawa none of this would have happened. She was a brilliant physicist with practical knowledge in energy systems – particularly solar energy. She was more than pleased with what we had accomplished but she came at exactly the wrong time. It was the week the illness hit so no one knew how bad it would be. She held on for a long time. Like so many others it seemed she would recover. She was up and walking around in late autumn. But she had a relapse and it hit her hard. We had already informed her family (she had a husband and two grown children) that she was ill. We were frank about the seriousness of the illness though we were confident of her recovery chances at the time. They came immediately. All of them. We tried to stop them at the gate down the road but they wouldn’t listen. We even had the professor write a letter to dissuade them but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The father who was a professor of sociology tried to persuade his son and daughter but they refused to hear it. They were a family. Their wife and mother was deathly ill and they would be there by her side just as she would if it was one of them. I thought it strange that intelligent and educated people, people who dedicated so much of their existence to reason, would yield logic to emotion when it counted most. I can’t say that I would do differently.

Dr. Arakawa held on until Christmas. The winter was mild but a storm came down from the mountains for Christmas Eve and held for three days. It snowed. The locals said it hadn’t snowed here for twenty years. It was comforting. Like chicken soup or fresh baked bread. We stayed inside most of the time, sipping warm drinks and talking softly about everything that had happened and whether it was worth it. When Dr. Arakawa died Christmas morning there was a deep sense of loss. We were gathered in the community room when the family came in and announced her passing. Her husband told us she was coherent in the last moments before her death. She said that what we were doing was important. Her last wish was that we should carry on and complete the work that she had helped birth. She said there would always be hardships but we would succeed as long as we refused to fail. Those were her last words: Refuse to fail.

It was a solemn Christmas. I went to see Stone around midnight. Oleander was asleep in a chair with an open book in her lap. I think it was Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. I talked to him for quite a while. I told him what had happened and how sorrow had a grip on us. I said we needed him to pull through or we might not make it. I explained how important the professor was to everyone. I told him I felt the same way about him and I thought the others had the same feeling. I asked him to think about it and if he could find a way back to us he should. After that I just stood there looking at him, wondering what he was experiencing, wondering if it was selfish to ask him to think of us and thinking that somehow he understood what I was talking about.

A couple of weeks later he came out of it. He just woke up and he was here. He was weak but he was fully cogent and aware. Later when I got a chance I asked him what he remembered from when he was unconscious. He told me he remembered everything but not in words. He said he felt warmth and a sense of closeness to those around him when he was sick. He said he couldn’t remember what was said but he knew how it felt. It felt like we were pulling him back from wherever he was. He thanked me.

I don’t know if there’s a god or another realm or another life after this one. On so many levels it doesn’t make sense. But I had a feeling that Stone went somewhere else and chose to come back to us. I know it’s irrational and it goes against everything I’ve learned. Still, I choose to believe an individual has a choice even in death. Jo didn’t agree. If wishes and prayers could bring a person back from death then they would have worked on Dr. Arakawa. She chose to place her faith in science and her prayers were scientific inquiry. She was no less grateful that Stone survived but she refused to attribute it to anything other than loving care and the laws of probability. It comes down to religion. No objective observer can doubt that religion is a mixed blessing at best and a scourge on humanity at worst. The problem with religion as I see it is orthodoxy. When people band together and recruit others on the condition that any knowledge that is not established in orthodox beliefs must be rejected it becomes the enemy of social and personal progress and growth. Jo and I agreed that orthodox religion should have no part in our community but that all belief systems should be regarded with absolute tolerance as long as no one was harmed or hindered in any way. That was the unspoken creed of Paradiso.

Stone awakened with a strong desire to see his family. He wanted to go back as soon as he was physically able. It took a while for us to persuade him that he should wait until spring when he was fully recovered and the weather was more forgiving. After Christmas the freeze lifted and a series of strong storms rode in on the waves of fluctuating temperature. Warm spells followed cold spells and when they met hailstorms, lightning and strong winds pounded us. We spent much of our time making repairs from the storms. One of the worst brought down an ancient oak tree on our workshop. We all knew the prophecies of the environmental movement concerning global warming and climate change and here was the proof – a little late but clear and powerful. The good side of economic collapse was that it closed down massive industries. The planet was in the process of cleaning up industrial poisons and waste in the air, the water and the land. We were determined it stay that way. That was in fact our prime directive: To live in harmony with the planet.

When Stone left in the spring I went with him. Paradiso was back in working order. We had a cottage industry producing more solar panels and crawlers than we could reasonably use. We had a mission to trade our technology and expertise for anything that other communities could bring to us. Stone had an idea the each community possessed something that they did better than anyone else. We did energy systems, the farm did food, the bridge camp did masonry and brickwork and the city community, while they had no particular specialty, could contribute in other ways. The first step was to clear the path and to get everyone to agree on the vision. He was sure we could get the Bridge Camp and the farm to buy in but he wasn’t so sure about the city. He wanted to convince his own family to move to Paradiso. It was a delicate balance because he didn’t think his extended family – his wife’s mother, his aunt and uncle, or his in-laws – were a good fit for Paradiso. His brother-in-law was too bossy and set in his ways and the others were not physically able to contribute in a meaningful way. The time might come when we could accommodate a more diverse community, including the elderly, but at this stage it was ill advised.

We were a little worried about security. Our people had kept the road clear and made repairs and we had established camps off the road that couldn’t be seen but we heard reports of criminal gangs roaming from town to town, taking what they wanted or needed and leaving them destroyed. We were traveling light so we could get off the road and take cover if someone approached. The gangs invariably used internal combustion vehicles so it was easy to hear them coming.

We had very little trouble and made good time. We had to take cover several times but we never felt threatened. We camped with people who were of like mind. They knew of our community and they had established relations. One of them had come from Stone’s hometown and told us about a massacre that had taken place there. A gang of released prisoners was wiped out by the military. No one from the community had been harmed but some of them, the story went, had been relocated when their homes were destroyed. There was no way of knowing whether it was his neighborhood or not but Stone was worried. We agreed that he should get home as soon as possible so when we reached the farm, I stayed and he took the crawler. We had enough crawlers on the road at that time that I could easily catch a ride so we weren’t worried about my getting stranded. We were a little worried about traveling alone but a man’s got to do what he’s got to do.

The farm was an amazing place. Stone introduced me to Leon before he left and they took me in like I was one of the family. Their gardens and greenhouses were state of the art and their canning operation was professional. Leon was already convinced that solar was the way to go and I had some ideas concerning wind and water energy that interested them. I spent three days talking to people with wide eyes who were eager to buy what I was selling. The only problem it seemed was the boss – a leftover from the old school who resented any ideas that came from the workers no matter how much sense it made. I talked to him only briefly. He was intransigent. I left thinking it was a problem that had to be overcome if we were going to make any headway here. I told Leon we’d be back as soon as we could.

I caught up with Stone at the Bridge Camp. That’s when I found out it had been his neighborhood and what happened there was horrifying. The story of that massacre would be told to every community in the valley. It served notice that we should all take care of our own security needs or there would be blood on our hands. Of course we knew we could rarely count on the authorities anyway but this was something different. Until then we didn’t know what they were capable of doing. Fear of inaction was suddenly replaced by an equivalent fear of action.

Stone was shaken but he was grateful that his family was okay. I told him about the problem at the farm and he wasn’t surprised. He said it was inevitable that they would have to deal with that man. He was a capitalist slave driver and he refused to change. He had a deal with the local authorities (such as they were) to deliver food around town and that protected him. Stone’s idea was to negotiate a new deal with the authorities that would pretty much cut the boss out of the equation. Property rights weren’t what they used to be. Stone was already on it. They had a deal worked out where the town would receive more for less than they were giving now – even with the boss’s ten percent cut.

What was happening at the Bridge Camp was truly inspiring. Much like Paradiso they were building a community from scratch. The difference was they were building with adobe-like bricks that they developed from local resources. The structures were sound and the insulation effect was phenomenal. It retained warmth when it was cold and coolness when it was hot. They also developed some roofing tiles that worked beautifully. The headman there was a guy named Sugar who was something of an expert in building things. No schooling, just the knowledge acquired through hard work and experience. He was already signed on to the alliance and waiting for the next shipment of solar panels.

The only holdup was Stone’s neighborhood community. I could see right away why Stone had a problem with his brother-in-law. Stubborn failed to do him justice and pig headed was an insult to pigs. He had three reasons why every idea wouldn’t work. Stone kept working on him. He said the key was to make him think it was his idea. The turnaround happened when he spent some time at the Bridge Camp. He respected Sugar and he saw how things were coming together. The solar panels were in place and it was pretty hard to deny how well they worked. Carlin stayed a few nights and he was sold.

I stayed on longer than I planned. I was excited with how things were going. I took a lot of satisfaction in watching new structures go up and new projects go into action. We transported ovens from Stone’s neighborhood and started turning out bricks and tiles. Solar and insulation panels were coming in as shipments of dried goods, bricks and tiles were going out. People were traveling between the communities bringing their knowledge and experience. We worked hard but it was deeply gratifying. It felt like we were building something that would last and maybe make a difference in this world.

I intended to go back to Paradiso with Stone but when his wife Madge decided to go with him I decided to find another way. I stayed another week and then I hitched a ride on a crawler. The road was clear and smooth and the camps were full. Everyone I talked to had a sense of optimism. The air was cleaner and the future was full of promise. When I finally I made it back it knocked me down. Sometimes you don’t see things clearly when you’re in the middle of them. You take a step back and you begin to grasp the whole. Paradiso was a thriving, well-planned and beautifully constructed work of art. Jo was ecstatic and everyone else was full of energy and surprise. Stone was everywhere at once. It was as if his wife and son Denim – a great kid like his father – had always been here. It was a community, a family, and everyone was on the same page. I knew then that this was my home. I could live here and be happy here.

It was damned near perfect.

Things were going so well that when we decided to take the first solar train from Paradiso north we didn’t expect any problems. We were stunned when we confronted an obvious ambush attempt. We had discussed whether or not to bring the dart guns that Stone brought with him from the city. We probably would not have if Denim were not along. I’m not sure what we would have done. It was our good fortune the bushwhackers were incompetent. Someone could have been hurt or killed. We couldn’t be sure how reliable our weapons were so we were reluctant to use them. I really felt I had no choice when they threw an ax and started to rush us. When I plugged that man and watched him drop like a sack of potatoes I thought he was dead. The other outlaws must have thought so too because they took off in all directions as fast as they could run. I was relieved when he was still breathing. I’m not a killer and I’d like to keep it that way. They tell me it changes a man and I’m sure it’s true. For that split second when I thought he was dead I was a killer. But I was spared.

When Stone pull the man’s mask off and recognized who it was it was pretty easy to put the story together. Our alliance was facing a new challenge and now we knew who was behind it: Frank Connelly, former owner-proprietor of The Farm. We understood his frustration. It was his place and he was used to doing business a certain way. That he capitalized on hard times was a strike against him. The Farm was one of the few places that still had jobs. According to the laws of free enterprise he had every right to call the shots. If he wanted to take advantage of the situation, if people were willing to work for food and a place to sleep, that was his business. If people were willing to be slaves (that’s what they were) that was their business. The only problem was human nature and several thousand years of human evolution. People have a natural aversion to slavery.

From his point of view Connelly was entitled to make a profit any way he could but like so many others of his bent he went too far. With his back against the wall, when he should have paused to take account, he went even further. He sent his thugs to ambush us and that was only the beginning of his transgression.

Connelly’s man was Smitty. We tied him up and muzzled him with his own bandana. We had to clear the road with a rope and a couple of handsaws before we could deal with him. It was an old oak tree so it took us all day – even with the help of some friends who came along. We were tired and pissed off when we finally made camp for the night and got around to questioning Smitty. He was a free agent. He had no loyalty to his employer. He was a bad man with a nasty disposition. He didn’t like anyone and he would take any man’s reward to do his dirty work. Connelly paid in gas and food rations. Good enough for Smitty. We offered him mercy and he took it. He sang like the nightingale. He confided that Connelly was behind it and his orders were to cause as much trouble as possible. We asked if that included killing people and Smitty nodded. He said he hadn’t killed anyone but he wouldn’t be surprised if others had. Said they were a ragtag bunch of rats and thugs and some of them were probably in it for the killing.

We discovered the truth of his confessional the next day after a long haul from sun up to sun down. We pulled off the road into a campsite and there for all to see were two of our friends and coworkers hanging from an oak tree. One of them was Java from the Bridge Camp. He was young and full of energy, smart and eager to learn. He made friends everywhere he went and everywhere he went he was welcomed as a brother. There was a sign tied to his belt reading Thief. He wasn’t a thief and neither was his friend Paco. Paco was from The Farm. He was an older man, a quiet man and a hard worker. His friends said he was fluent in Spanish but he struggled in English. He’d come north looking for work just before hard times hit. He was making his way back to his family down south when he found The Farm and stayed to help out. He liked what we were building here and planned to bring his wife and children here as soon as it was safe. He’d never make that trip now and no one but his friend Java knew where his family was.

Smitty swore he had nothing to do with it and I believed him. He was a nasty piece of work but it seemed to me he wasn’t a killer. We’d never know for sure but we were as sure as we could be that Connelly had blood on his hands. So we took Smitty back to The Farm as a witness and put the man they called the boss on trial. We tried to make it as formal as we could. Stone was nominated as judge but he refused on the grounds of personal bias. The truth is we were all biased but some were more so than others. We did the best we could under the circumstances. After a lot of discussion (some of the workers didn’t want a judge at all; they just wanted to string him up an eye for an eye) Jo was appointed judge, Leon represented The Farm, Janis represented Connelly and I stood for Smitty. Stone volunteered as court recorder and wrote everything down from beginning to end. We decided seven was as good a number as any and chose seven jurors. The majority would decide the verdict.

The trial was in two phases: The first without Connelly in the community center and the second confronting Connelly in his own house. We took witnesses and everyone got their say. Half a dozen took the stand to say they’d heard Connelly threaten to kill someone. Others testified they’d seen Connelly and his thugs haul people to the shed out back, heard the screams of people being tortured, and on a couple of occasions watched them carry a body off to be buried out in the woods.

Janis argued that most of the testimony was based on hearsay and conjecture. No one had actually seen the bodies or knew where they were buried. She said that this trial was not about the past but about the two men that were hanged by the side of the road. She said that Smitty could not be trusted because he was just trying to save his own skin. I countered that Smitty had nothing to gain by implicating Connelly. It didn’t make him any more or less guilty of what he had done. Leon said we had to consider the character of the accused and a history of violent crimes was the best way to reveal his character.

In the end the jury decided by unanimous vote that Connelly was guilty of sponsoring an ambush and causing two innocent men to be hanged. Smitty was found guilty of taking part in an ambush but he could not be held accountable for the hangings. Next we had to decide what to do about it. First we had to hear from Connelly but we had to be prepared to act on the assumption that his testimony would not change our verdict. The penalty had to be carried out immediately or Connelly would hire his thugs and start a war.

It was a heated discussion. We all pretty much agreed that the best way to deal with Smitty was to banish him. We would let him go but if we ever saw him again he would pay the price. We were not in agreement on Connelly. Some wanted Connelly to suffer the same fate as the men he hanged. The community leader Leon spoke out for hanging and Stone spoke out just as strong against it. He was against the death penalty before hard times and he remained against it. He said the interest of the community was to insure that harm should not be inflicted on its people. If killing someone was the only way to prevent harm then it was justified but if it was not necessary it was wrong. He said it was up to all of us to decide whether or not it was necessary to protect the community. But if we could protect the community by other means then we should do so. We talked it out and finally decided we could protect the community by confining Connelly and his family to their home. We could post guards 24-7 to make sure no one entered and no one left. We could take his rations and therefore his means of hiring thugs as penalty for his crimes. It was a hard decision and a close vote but Stone prevailed.

The entire community with Smitty still tied confronted Connelly at the house. We were armed and prepared to act. Connelly never denied hiring his thugs to carry out his dirty work. He only said that Smitty was a lying sack of shit and swore he’d have his revenge. He only confirmed that our decision was just. We informed him that he had been found guilty of sponsoring a crime and causing the death of two innocent men, that he would be confined to his home on penalty of hanging and that his rations and possessions of value now belonged to the community. His thugs stood down. They knew their time at The Farm was coming to an abrupt end. One by one they peeled off and went their own ways.

From that time forward Connelly would cause no more problems. The Farm belonged to the people who worked the land and the boss was their captive. No one can say what would have happened if Stone hadn’t come along. Maybe it was inevitable but even the inevitable can take a long time and a whole lot of suffering. Blacks in the south took hundreds of years to win their freedom and hundreds more to gain anything resembling equal rights. Maybe Stone just pushed history forward. Maybe that’s the best any of us can do. Maybe that’s enough.