Marvin And The Law
The deck lid of Marvin’s dilapidated 1950 Plymouth coupe was a source of constant problems. And little wonder! Having neither lock nor handle it was in a perpetual up and down motion as he drove merrily along.
Marvin tried every conceivable method to hold that trunk lid down. That is---except one. It never occurred to him the best way might be to replace the missing parts with a new lock and handle. We, the employees at Pop French’s Esso Station, didn’t mention it either. We were keenly interested in seeing what he’d try next and did nothing to alter his innovative ideas in dealing with the matter. For example, the following:
He came up with a brainstorm which at first seemed it might work. Two bags of cement (94 pounds each, that oughta’ do it) were placed on the deck lid and lashed down with rope tied through rust-eaten holes in the rear fenders. This worked just fine until a torrential downpour of rain at which time they burst. The lid was concreted down and could be raised only after 3 days work with air-compressor and jack-hammer finally chipped it away
The body of Marvin’s coupe wasn’t in showroom condition. It had been in collision a varied assortment of objects. Trees, signposts, a mixture of brick and rock walls, fences and other motor vehicles. If any moving object ( immobile one’s too ) got in Marvin’s way he would either run over it, or run it down.
Once the 1950 Plymouth coupe was involved in an accident at the intersection of Main and Boulevard; right where a new annex to the Methodist Church was built.
I will describe for you what happened that day (about 1955), and 10 years later Marvin was still swearing vehemently, saying that wreck wasn’t his fault. Imagine yourself as the on the scene investigating officer and what, other than pulling your hair, you might have done.
The other vehicle involved was travelling east, heading for Pearisburg. Marvin was coming off the Boulevard and approaching Main. A stop-sign was there (and still is today) for traffic exiting the Boulevard. It might as well not have been; Marvin went hell-battin’ right on thru. His reckless driving resulted in a rending, broadside collision. Luckily no one was injured, but there had been some serious dents put into car panels. The car Marvin hit had two doors caved in , and his own jalopy was 2 feet shorter. It’s grille had been driven back into the radiator.
When the officer arrived on the scene and spotted Marvin, his first and only utterance went thusly: “Oh lord, tell me this ain’t so”. But it was, and he knew his patience and fortitude would be stretched to the limit before this accident-report was filled out. How true, how true!
Without being asked Marvin told the policeman how that there other feller had been at fault. The officer responded by saying: “I don’t think your story will hold water”. It had been he---Marvin---that had ran the stop-sign. Marvin answered in “Stengelese”.
Quite possibly a few readers don’t know what Stengelese is. Permit me, to the extent of my limited ability, to explain. Casey Stengel was manager of the New York Yankees during the 1940’s and 50’s. In baseball circles the bow-legged skipper was known as “The Old Perfesser”. That nickname was bestowed on him for two reasons; first, his uncanny knowledge of the game---secondly, his adept way of answering questions during interviews.
Casey murdered, quite horribly, the English language. During those interviews and while talking with sports-writers ( or anyone else ) he was both loquacious and evasive. The old fellow would talk about everything except the question that had been put to him.
When asked about baseball and the Yankees chances for yet another pennant, he answered by launching a long-winded tirade about green apples. Or wondering aloud if the canals on Mars were filled with freshwater or saltwater. Swearing that both apples and the Red Planet had a direct bearing on his Yanks chances to participate once again in “the Fall Classic”.
Casey Stengel Was never known to answer a question, and no one, absolutely no one, ever knew what the old sonofagun was talking about. The word “Stengelese” was coined in his honor. And that’s exactly what this investigating officer got a “heap big” dose of when he arrived at Boulevard and Main.
“If’n that hell-fired stop sign hadn’t uv’ been there they wouldn’t be no wreck in the first place”, said Marvin ( please allow me to soothe the grammar specialists out there. Admittedly the preceding sentence is not correct use of our native tongue. But this story, as with many other I’m associated with, is not a work that stresses the proper use of the English language. This is a work about Characters. Thus I will quote my Characters in their own special jargon. Casey spoke in “Stengelese. Marvin spoke in “Marvinese” So back to the “ain’t no”---“don’t got no”---etc.)
The officer scratched his head on hearing the initial remark by the old man and, being well aware of who he was dealing with, braced for more of the same. “Marvin, what on earth do you mean by that?”
“I mean I drove thru here yesterday and they wuzn’t no stop sign”.
The man in blue resigned himself to the fact that a trying ordeal awaited him here at Boulevard and Main ( much more than he could possibly dream of. ). “There’s been a stop-sign here Henry Ford made his first T-Model. Everybody knows that but you , Marvin”.
“You’re crazier than a lunatic. I wuz drivin’ on this here very road yesterday and stopped right on this spot. And I’m uh tellin’ ya’, they wuzn’t no sign here. Somebody musta’ put the damn thing up during the night”.
The policeman wished he was on vacation. A lot of time and expense goes into the training of a cop. None of it, however, prepared him on how best to cope with an old gray bearded man like this. The book hadn’t yet been written on Marvin Crabtree.
“You tell me you stopped at this intersection yesterday, and then turn right around and say there was no stop-sign here” The officer paused for a moment and then, with a sense of timing Jack Benny would’ve greatly envied, continued: “What did you stop for if there wasn’t a stop-sign?”
“I wuz lookin’ fer a stop-sign!” exclaimed the senior citizen in a classic example of Stengelese.
“Come again”, the officer voiced with a measure of confusion clearly audible.
“Watch your mouth, Marvin. There’s a lady sitting in that car”. The officer was referring to a passenger in the automobile that had been an unwilling entrant in this demolition-derby at Main and Memorial Boulevard. The unfortunate lady was just coming around after being administered a potent dose of smelling salts.
“I don’t care who wuz settin’ where. If’n they’d been at home where they belonged none of this damned mess would’ve happened!” Marvin said all that and then added: “The roads are gittin’ too full of idiots gawkin’ and not watchin’ where they are goin”.
With that remark the cop dropped his ticket book. This had definitely been one of his rougher days since joining the force many years ago. At this very moment he was seriously considering changing his way of earning a living. “Someone was gawking alright,” the policeman stated. “And I’m talking to that someone”.
“Hurry up and let’s git this thing over with. I’ve got to git my car down yonder to French’s fillin’ station.” Marvin made it sound like an order.
“It’ll hafta’ be towed down there,” remarked the officer.
“Why?"
“Because the radiator is busted. There’s no water in the system.”
“You mean I can’t drive my car?”
“Give me strength,”said the cop, all the while gazing upward toward the heavens.
“I gotta’ git down there and find out when I’m supposed to go up yonder to that infernal hell-hole where I work.”
“Never mind that Marvin. We have a little matter here that needs attending to, and your presence is required.”
“Well, but make it snappy.”
Marvin had said he drove thru the stop-sign because it was there. Then he said he would’ve stopped had it not been there. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Stengelese ( uh, pardon---Marvinese.
The officer consulted with all parties involved, and in the end justice prevailed. Marvin had to pay all damages…
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