Hard Times: Chapter 7 "The Farm"

The Farm (Leon’s Story)



I’m a born leader. Women listen to me and men know what I’m talking about. I was blessed with a sound understanding of common sense. It usually works out. Stone was born to be a leader of leaders. I was drawn to him the first time I saw him in action – out behind the shacks in a pool of light. He stood up to the boss man and we stood up for him. We saved his ass because we knew by seventh sense he was born to save ours.

I’m a big man with strong hands. That’s why I never had any trouble finding work before these hard times. Hell, hard times don’t do it justice. This here’s a great depression – no different than those pictures you see in the history books. That’s how I came to be working in a slave operation. Had to be hard hard times. Men like me don’t suffer such indignities unless he has no choice. Before Stone come around that’s exactly what we thought and told ourselves every day of the week and twice on Sundays: We got no choice. We was wrong as wrong can be and that’s what Stone come to tell us: You always got a choice.

The problem was: I was in love with a woman. Marge was the finest woman I ever did know – except maybe for my mama – and I would have suffered all kinds of indignities just to stay in her company. That was wrong headed thinking of course and that’s what Stone come to teach me. He come to teach us all something about human dignity.

We had us a celebration that first night and a big breakfast in the morning. All day long we was passing the word about what we were going to do and the changes we were going to make. After the day’s work was done I moved in with Marge and her roommates moved into a new place – a shack we finished up that day. We didn’t ask permission. We knew it was against the rules and we was breaking those rules with our eyes wide open. The boss man should have taken me out that first day when he had a chance. I know what he was thinking. He was afraid the workers would back me up. I was afraid they wouldn’t. People talk big but the doing is always sketchy. Turns out the boss man was just as afraid his thugs would back down. That’s the trouble with hired help. They got no sense of loyalty. They got no pride. It’s been that way all through history. Hired guns will turn and run the first time they come up against heavy resistance.

Stone stayed with us a week or so – long enough to watch things change but not long enough to see if they stuck. The day we said goodbye he swore he’d come back and I promised things would be better when he did. Once people get a taste of freedom they don’t turn back. I could tell he had his doubts. Truth is we all did. But Stone had places to go, people to meet and stories to tell. That’s what he was all about back then: Telling stories about people caught in hard times. I watched them going down that road, a man and his dog, and I said a prayer. I asked god so long as there is one to watch over these two beings and keep them safe. I can’t say enough about that dog Cinnamon. She was a special breed. Like Stone always said, she was smarter than me. She would have died to protect her man and I prayed that would never be necessary.

It would be a long time before I heard from Stone again. In a way I think it was a trial period to see if we measured up. You see Stone had a vision. It was just a glimmer that first time he came through but it was taking shape even then. He talked a lot about the Bridge Camp and how they ran things with dignity and respect for all the folks who passed their way. He talked about the opportunity that comes with hard times. When things break down and we have to rebuild we can choose to build them better or worse or just the same. Stone was hoping we could build things better and he was always thinking about how to do just that.

It was maybe three months before I heard that he made camp down south at a place named Paradise but most called it the Sun Camp because the folks there were real good at capturing the raw power of the sun and turning it to good use. Solar energy. They built most of the crawlers you see these days. The word was he was sick, real sick, might even die, but he made an impression on the people there just like he did here. He told them about us and said we’d make real good partners if we managed to keep the boss man under control. After that the folks from the Sun Camp would check up on us every two or three weeks to see how we were and ask if we needed any help. Before long we started trading goods and ideas. They gave us solar panels and crawlers and we gave them dried and canned fruits, herbs and vegetables. We sent some folks down to help out with their greenhouses, irrigation, canning and whatnot. They helped us with our energy systems. Smart people they were. College educated and smart too. About that time we linked up with the Bridge Camp. They brought masonry to the table. We started putting up buildings and homes that would stand up to four strong winds instead of those wood and tin shacks we were living in. Things was looking real good.

All along we had to deal with the boss man and yes he fought us every way he could without a direct confrontation. By that time he knew full well he’d lose if he picked a fight straight up so he found other ways to gain back the power he’d lost. He told us it was still his property and we had no authorization to put up buildings he didn’t want built. We told him his property rights were being suspended for the public good. If he didn’t like it he could take us to court. We had someone on his trail everywhere he went. When he went to the authorities, we went to the authorities. The fact is they had no problem with whatever went on at The Farm as long as the food was delivered where it was contracted in a timely manner. When the boss man tried to stop deliveries we took over the operation. There were a number of times when the local volunteer police force showed up to check out what the boss man was telling them. We showed them what we were doing and what we were building and I was there when they told the boss man he was nuts if he thought they were going to stop us. It was clean operation. Solid as a rock. Efficient. The boss man was taking his profits and everyone was getting what they paid for: What’s the problem? They told him to step on back, take it easy and enjoy life while he could. Times were hard for most people but not for him. He had no grounds to complain.

If you thought that would be the end of it you’d be wrong. We had any number of incidents that under any other circumstances would have called for swift and decisive action but we played it cautious. The boss man harassed our workers and we went about our business. He sabotaged our work and we made repairs. At one point we thought he put something in our drinking water to make us sick so we boiled water and kept a better watch. Some of our workers went off and never made it back to camp, never said a word to no one. We had our suspicions but we kept on working. We were afraid if we took him out or burned down his house like some of us wanted to do the authorities would come down on us. We heard stories about the military coming into situations and wiping people out. I figured it was rumors but we weren’t about taking chances.

Stone came back this way after he recovered and we were sure glad to see him. He took it all in and told us we did the right thing. Write it all down he said. Put it on the books. He’d take it to the authorities so if anything did happen at least they’d know our side of things.

Everything else was going fine. We tilled more land and planted more crops. We doubled our canning and drying operation. Some said we were turning out more food than anyone in the valley. We left the boss man out of it and hired more workers. We survived the storms and the sickness that hit other folks hard. We fought back marauders and thieves who wanted to take what we had without working. Anyone who came to our gates got a meal for whatever labor he could give. We turned no one away. But when these criminal gangs come making demands and giving orders we stood our ground. We made walls because of them. We put an iron gate and a watchtower up because of them. We buried some good working folks because of them and we buried some of those gangsters too.

Food was always plentiful at The Farm and the cooking was the best I ever had and I had me some good eats in my time. That’s one of the advantages of community dining. You find out real quick who can cook and who can’t. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. We was all ‘n all pretty lucky. All’s we had to worry about was some would be Cracker Jack slave master.

When Stone came back the second time with his beautiful wife Madge and his son Denim we had us a rock on party. Stone was amazed at everything we accomplished. We had a new community house and a good two dozen new homes. Not the old shacks but nice homes with water, electricity and indoor toilets. We also had us a long house for workers who were on the road or waiting for new homes to be built. We had a board of directors for making decisions and everyone knew their roles. Stone said we were a model of how workers could run an operation better than the old boss man system.

Marge and I were getting on well. She was about to have a baby. Buck found his self a good woman and he was settled down in his own house. All ‘n all it was a pretty good life. The only problem was we had to keep our guard up to keep the boss man from doing any harm. There was any number of times I would have liked to take that man down. I wanted it bad but Marge has a level head on her shoulders and she reminded me of my responsibilities – not only to her and the workers but to the new life that was growing inside her. It changes a man knowing he’s going to be a father. Makes him more cautious and thoughtful about things. Makes him think about the consequences down the road.

The next time Stone came by he brought a load of trouble with him. They had one of the boss man’s hired thugs, a nasty piece of work by the name of Smitty, tied up and gagged. They told us the whole story from the ambush to the hangings. Reminded me of an old Billie Holliday song: Strange fruit hanging from the Sycamore tree. That song always brings out the anger in me. Some of us knew Java from the Bridge Camp but all of us knew Paco. He was one of ours. As hard a worker as ever toiled on god’s green earth. It seemed clear to me that the boss man had gone too far. If I’d had my way, I would have hanged Smitty from the nearest tree and then I’d have marched the whole lot of us over to that pretty white house, dragged that son of a bitch out and hanged him in front of his own family. Then I’d have burned it to the ground. To hell with the consequences.

Thank god Stone and his friends were there because there was a whole lot of folks who felt pretty much the same as I did. We was filled with rage and itching for sweet revenge. That’s the way of my people. That’s the way I was raised. You take one of mine, we take three of yours. You take two and we take ten. On and on. It never ends. It’s the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s all over again and one of the reasons this world is so fucked up.

It took a while. I can be stubborn about these things. But in the end Stone convinced me and most of the others. He said this was a test. It just might be the most important decision we would ever make: Whether we were going to be a community governed by laws or by men, by reason or by emotion. He knew both of the men he found hanging from an oak tree out there. It could have been him and his wife and his son. But he didn’t believe in blood vengeance. He believed in justice. He believed in protecting the community but that’s all. He didn’t say so but I believe he would have turned his back on us if we made the wrong choice. He wanted no part of it. The folks he was with felt the same way he did.

We did it their way. We had us a trial. We put it all down on paper so there was a record of what we did. We appointed a judge and representatives for all parties. We selected a jury and heard all witnesses. We found Smitty guilty of taking part in an ambush but we couldn’t pin the hangings on him. We found the boss man guilty of giving the order that ended up in killing two innocent men. We talked a long time about what punishment we could rightly dish out. I argued hard and long that boss man Connelly ought to be hanged. He took two innocent lives and for all we knew maybe more. If we let him live who’s to say what he might do? Give him a chance and he might take another. He might take out the whole community just to spite us. That’s the way of his people.

Stone said we could protect the community without killing. He didn’t believe in an eye for an eye. Said that when a society killed a killer it stooped down to the same level. He said that if we took a life there would be a price to pay. Friends and family would bear a grudge that would be played out in years to come in ways we can’t even imagine. It was the way of the world before hard times and it was time for change. I think that’s what got to me. I thought back to my old neighborhood in the city. I thought about the gangs and the code of honor and all that bullshit that kept us fighting and hating each other long past the time anyone could remember what started it all. So I gave in and one by one he won us over. It was time for a new way and The Farm would be a part of it. We wouldn’t take that man’s life but we would make damn sure he wouldn’t take another. We took everything he had including his rations so he couldn’t hire any more thugs. He could live out his life in his pretty white house and his family could stay with him but he would never leave.

Stone said he would take the case to the authorities and explain it to them so they could understand and that’s what he did. They never gave us any trouble over it. Truth is they were probably just as happy as we were that the boss man was out of the picture. They could work with us without some middleman angling for profits.

Things went well after that. The Farm kept on growing. We hired more and more folks willing to work for a living and delivered more and more food to folks that were hungry. We put all our workers up in nice strong houses, welcomed their families and saw to it their needs were provided for. We had us a working partnership with the Bridge Camp, the Sun Camp, the Town Camp and a few others as time went by and every one of us was better off for it. We offered a fair deal. We had rules and expectations but if you couldn’t live with that you could leave any time you wanted. We built a school and took care of the kids from early on. We had arts and theater and music. If you wanted to learn a trade we had folks willing to teach you. After the trial, we had a court of law and a means for settling differences. If the workers or anyone else had a grievance they could take it to a vote. If folks weren’t happy with the leaders they had they could call an election and choose new ones. We stood strong for majority rule.

The last time I saw Stone he had his whole family and his little dog Cinn with him. He was all packed up and heading down south to the Sun Camp. I guess that’s the place where he was most happy. We ate a fine meal, opened a bottle of red grape wine and shared stories deep into the night. I told him he was a good man and no matter what happened in the great expanse of time my house would always be open to him and his. He told me pretty much the same thing. He said we should always be proud of what we’d done. We’d built a new kind of world from the ruins of the last one. It was a damn lot better by all accounts.

That’s the way it was on The Farm and that’s the way we were determined to keep it.