Marvin And The Man In Blue And Gray

         One more story about Marvin and the law. For a long time he drove without a driver’s license. Lots of people (myself included) had a sneaking suspicion every cop in the County was aware of the situation, but should any question ever arise they were in the clear. Quite simply none of them had ever checked Marvin’s credentials.

         But suddenly the ballgame changed abruptly---a newcomer appeared in their ranks. A young Virginia State Trooper, fresh from the State Police Academy, came to Giles County.

         And just as those U.S.Marshals once rode into outlaw-infested towns to clean em’ up, in like fashion he would clean Giles County up.

         Times haven’t changed one bit, you see. The powers that be down Richmond way were of the opinion then, just as they are today, that anyplace west of Roanoke is frontier country.

         So maybe that’s what this trooper was told--- they were sending him to the frontier to “clean er’ up.” The powers down there chose the right man!

         The youngster, not yet dry behind the ears, began cleanin’ er’ up the day he arrived. Word quickly spread far and wide---this new boy in blue and gray was cut from a different mold. Things were being said of him---“He’d give his mother a ticket”---“If you commit a traffic violation , no matter how minor, he’s gonna’ get ya.”

         The law was the law, and should be administered by the book---the exact manner in which this trooper was enforcing it. Besides, he had a reputation to build.

         As a result of his omni-presence and eagle-eye, all hot-rodders and speed demons started using the brake pedal. The slowed-down pace on area highways became very noticeable. When driving one tended to look more often in the rearview mirror---to see WHO or WHAT  might be following behind.

         For now it was beginning to be said he could be in 8 places at the same time. He could issue a ticket in Glen Lyn and 3 minutes later write one on the Montgomery County line. Let me tell ya,’ that much-sought reputation was being built in whirlwind fashion!

         Yessir,this one was hard to outfox. He and Marvin were bound to meet; that inevitability was never in doubt. They did--- about the third day after the troopers appearance on the local scene.

         Marvin was working the 3-11 shift. Driving out route 100,he was enroute to Celanese Corporation of America’s giant facility to endure another 8 hours of sweat and torture ( and laying a horrific cussin’ on his co-workers every time they mentioned catalogs. ). He should’ve been traveling  across the river on route 460. Route 100 was, on this black infamous day for Marvin, being worked by the new policeman. Lotsa’ motorists  have this rather silly notion these state-troopers patrol only our busiest highways. A wrong assumption on their part. Marvin learned this as he was driving past Chute Hollow, trunk lid bouncing up and down.

         The man driving a sparkling bright blue and gray supercharged Ford was parked there where a secondary road begins it’s steep climb up to Fletcher’s Mountain ( Chute Hollow is a secluded place that allows for a considerable amount of sneakiness ). The policeman instantly decided that old Plymouth coupe was being operated in a wildly reckless manner. The rear view of it’s driver, whoever it might be , was bound to be obstructed by the bouncing deck lid. Tires squealed somethin’ awful and a cloud of dust arose as he roared out of Chute Hollow in hot pursuit. Quickly overtaking and pulling in behind the coupe, siren was blaring and red lights blinking (emergency vehicles didn’t have blue lights in the 1950’s).

         Maybe Marvin didn’t hear or see him. Evidently not, for he kept going. The trooper was right on his bumper, and still the throwback  from another era seemed totally unaware anyone was on his tail.

         Finally, at Motor Supply Co. in Bluff City, a stop-sign appeared in front of the terribly abused auto. Surprisingly, Marvin rolled to a stop at this one. Alighting from his super Ford, the policeman hurried quickly to the driver’s side of the junky old car. He was greeted by Marvin in a manner the lawman was totally unaccustomed to: “Jist what the hell are you tryin’to do? You put nigh run over the top uv’ me back yonder. Sitch things as you ought not be allowed on the highways!” No doubt about it, Marvin had spat out a real big mouthful!

         From all indications this was his first encounter with a state lawman. Someone should’ve taken Marvin aside and had a chat with him. He ought have been informed that one never, but never, talks to the man in such a manner. One says yes sir. One says no sir. That’s it--- no more.

         “Step out of the car, sir,” said the man dressed in a dapper blue and gray. To say he was taken aback by the initial outburst from this old coot would be a vast understatement. He wanted the old buzzard out and standing on the ground where he could closer study the person responsible for the steady stream of invectives reaching his ears.

         “Git out uv’ the car!”screamed Marvin. “Man, I’m on my way to work. I ain’t got time to fool with sitch things as you.” He’d  opened his mouth far,far too much.

         “Out of the car sir!” This time the young trooper was not requesting.

         “Alright you young whipplesnapper, but you make it snappy. I’m gonna’ be late fer work.”

         “Let me see your operators license sir.”

         “What!” The old man shrieked the single word.

         “Your driver’s license---the permit. Let me see it.” The new from the academy lawman had by now grown most irritable.

         “My drivers permit ! I ain’t got one uv’ them things now, ain’t never had one, and what’s more don’t ever want one uv’the damn things. Now you smart-aleck, put that in yer pipe and smoke it.”

         No, the trooper wouldn’t put anything in a pipe, but he would put somethin’ in his blue and gray cruiser. He placed Marvin under arrest and seated him inside the luxurious vehicle. When the two were finally situated in the ford, the policeman eyed the ancient passenger and said in a manner most emphatic:”Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

         “Go to hell!”, Marvin exclaimed.

         But the man in uniform had an answer: “Not to hell, old man---to jail”

          A few minutes later they were in the sheriff’s office. Marvin knew all the officers here and they knew him. He felt among friends here at police headquarters, and he truly was. Just as his co-workers at Celanese liked talking with him about catalogs and a million other things, so too did every policeman. Except this new one .

         This worked in Marvin’s favor; it would keep him from being locked behind bars. Make no mistake, that’s exactly what the trooper had in mind.

         Explaining in detail what had happened (especially the verbal abuse heaped on him by this old man) the spanking-new policeman was all for locking Marvin behind steel bars and throwing the key away. But he was alone in wanting to take such drastic action against the old man. None of the other officers wanted to see that happen.

         A compromise was reached. I never learned the deal, only that Marvin wasn’t placed behind bars. An officer offered to drive him to Celanese, but Marvin said that just as soon as he could get down to where his car was parked, he’d drive himself.

         But the state policeman would have none of that---this thing would go no further. This old geezer would get an operator’s license before doing anymore driving.

         The incident and ensuing delay had caused Marvin to miss 2 hours work. As he headed for the exit the oldster paused in front of the new cop, shook a finger in his face and expressed his thoughts: “I’ll tell you one thing young man. If’n they dock my pay over yonder at that plant you’re gonna’ make it good.” The trooper felt funny in his head and nearly fell to the floor. And the other officers in there ---well, they just had a hearty laugh.

         This “incident” occurred 50 years ago (this version is a 2007 update of the original written in 1980). The trooper was, of course. New to this area. If he had known the situation he would’ve been aware that from the moment he fell in behind the Plymouth coupe he had placed himself in one of those “can’t win” scenarios. He had locked horns with Marvin Crabtree. And right from the start, even though he represented Virginia as one of her finest, the outcome was never in doubt.

         Because this grizzled old man was too much for even the Virginia State Police. Let it be said in defense of their fine organization,however--- the United States Marine Corp. would have fared no better.

         Marvin arrived on his job about 2 hours late. Someone in the payroll department had heard the reason for his delay, some strings were pulled, and his pay wasn’t docked.

         And the State Trooper? I’ve said thru these many years that if he’d known Celanese paid Marvin in full, then perhaps he wouldn’t have pursued the course of action he chose. The very next day he motored to state-police headquarters in Wytheville and applied for a transfer. His request was granted, he moved out the next day, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.

         It’s been my contention these many years he left because he thought he might have to pay Marvin for his lost time. Others say it was fear of another confrontation with the whiskered old man that caused him to vamoose. Only that trooper will ever know.

         It all happened---once upon a time. Was it decades ago---or only yesterday? It happened in a time when today’s politicians say anyone in their right mind should not want to revert back to. Then I’m out of my mind.

         It happened at a service-station where time was actually found---between all other activities and events that happened there---to every now and then pump a few gallons of gasoline. At the outlandish price of 19 cents per gallon!

         Just recently I was walking down the sidewalk which 50 years ago was a part of that old gas station driveway.

         Two old ladies were strolling just in front of me, and were doing some talking. They were looking at that parking lot and one was commenting about how it had improved of the downtown area. Though not eavesdropping, I couldn’t help but overhear what she said, along with some other comments.

         I was in the notion of telling this sweet old lady that I couldn’t agree with her thoughts concerning that blasted parking lot but, having second thoughts, decided it wouldn’t be proper.

         But I was thinking something. I was thinking that had to be the ugliest chunk of asphalt in the whole wide world…