Past Stories

The Visit

      Jeb Jackson loved walking country roads, enjoying the sounds of peace and serenity.  Though nineteen, he had experienced life to be much like a wandering road in that one never knows what the future holds 'til it happens.  Without turning the next curve this late spring morning of 1958, however, he knew there would be a continuance of birds chirping, the fragrant smell of flowers and shrubs which grew abundantly throughout the countryside, plus the mournful sound of wind blowing through tall south Mississippi pines.

      God must have developed a special spot in his heart for people who would one day live here by blessing them beforehand with splendid scenery, which rich out-of-state folks would pay much to see, yet not take time to enjoy.  Evidently, you had to be poor, like Jeb, to periodically stop on a knoll, slowly sweep the horizon with your eyes and soak in the absolute beauty God intended people to gaze upon and enjoy.  Or watch closely as a mockingbird flounced its wings in hopes of flushing out a tasty meal.

      A gray squirrel snapped its tail vertically, vibrated it, and yelped several sharp barks before scurrying into security of a nest.  Jeb heard the vehicle approaching that had startled the squirrel and positioned himself alongside the road with thumb up in hopes of catching a ride.

      Like many folks who used this particular highway, the driver slowed and stopped for a fellow traveler.  First glance revealed an elderly man who farmed somewhere in the local area.  The fact he was a farmer was obvious from faded bib overalls, tanned weather-beaten face, and big, rough hands, which appeared never to have met a pair of gloves.  Additional clues were his tattered old straw hat, the type with a green sun visor sewn into the brim, and his Chevrolet, half-ton pick-up truck, which issued the definite odor of cow and pig droppings.  He was returning from the livestock yard in Hattiesburg, a town having a population of approximately 60,000, located a few miles to the north of Jeb's hitch-hike point.

      Jeb knew the impending ride would be a smelly one but was grateful for the opportunity to head southward.  He had lingered enough admiring the picturesque view while enjoying the antics of birds and squirrels.  It was time to continue the foreboding Poplarville journey, conduct business, and return home to Hattiesburg before day's end.

      "Wanna' ride, young'un?"  The driver hollered as the truck rolled to a halt.

Yes, Sir," Jeb replied happily.

     "Where ya' headed?"

     "Poplarville."

     "Well, you'll git almost there with me.  I live a few miles jus' this side of where you're goin'."

     "That'll be fine, Sir.  I sure do 'preciate your stoppin'."

     "My pleasure."

 "You got kin foke in Poplarville?"  The old man queried while shifting the gears of his tired, old pick-up.

"No Sir, I don't."

     "Well, do ya' mind me askin' why you're goin' down there?"

     "No, Sir.  I'm going to Pearl River Jr. College to see if I can get a football scholarship."

     "Well, son," the old man chuckled, "not meaning to hurt yore feelings' none but you sure are a mite skinny-lookin' to be wantin' to play football...'specially at Pearl River."

     "Yes, Sir, that's what I've been told.  But I played first string quarterback at Petal high school for a coupla' years and feel I can play at The River if given a chance."

      The old man failed to respond but a smile slipped over his face and his eyes twinkled.  Jeb figured part of the reaction was because of his 'never say die', youthful attitude -which probably reminded the farmer of his younger days- and part was perhaps because of his reference to Pearl River Jr. College as ‘The River’.

      Folks 'round these parts took a lot of pride in the college because of good educational opportunities it offered sons and daughters.  Additionally, though it had the smallest student enrollment of the 13 state junior colleges, The River consistently produced outstanding football teams, which were perennial state champs or runners-up to the state champions in the state's junior college league.  The coach, T.D. (Dobie) Holden, was a legend in his time.  His own high school football days had been played at Picayune High School during the 1930s.  Picayune is a relatively small city situated about 40 miles north of the beaches of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and some 15 miles south of Poplarville where the college is located.

      During his senior year at Picayune High, Dobie and teammates whipped the best high school teams in Mississippi for the state football championship, though pre-season rankings had listed them in last place.  His high school was extremely small in comparison with opponent schools, and folklore had it that the football players were treated as backwoods country bumpkins before their last game with one of the larger urban schools.  After soundly defeating this last opponent, however, the team was looked at differently and shown more respect.

Young Thomas Dobie Holden was recruited by and played for the Louisiana State University (LSU)Tigers, better known as 'Tigahs', as pronounced by Louisiana Cajuns.  He Co-Captained the football team his senior year at LSU and scored the winning touchdown against Ole Miss (The University of Mississippi), which was at that time, and still is, an archrival of LSU.

      Local folks loved talking about Pearl River football and swapping tales about their beloved coach, though at times he perplexed them with unorthodox ways and unpredictable demeanor.  He was an individualist.  A favorite story recounted many times was how he acquired a nickname of 'Crawdad.'  Before entering Picayune High School and becoming a star football player, young Dobie attended an all-boys Catholic boarding school, St. Stanislaus, in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi.  One day, Dobie slipped several live crayfish, which are called crawfish or 'crawdads' in the Deep South, into the holy water.  Crawdads can be likened to small lobsters, some exceeding four to six inches in length from the tip of their tails to the end of their claws.  And a pinch from those claws could put you on your knees in pain.  On that particular day when the holy water was tainted by the addition of several small crustaceans, and during the height of a religious ceremony, when the Priest dipped his fingers into the desecrated water, one crawdad latched onto his finger.  Experiencing sharp pain, the Father danced, wiggled and screamed in a manner never before witnessed by members of the congregation.  This revelation, along with embellishment of the resulting chaos, usually resulted in hysterical laughter to the point of tears from those who had never heard the tale.  And listeners who had heard the anecdote many times never tired of it.

Such stories, talk, and admiration were part of the bond that held area people together and gave all a sense of pride to be associated with 'The River', its fabled coach, and the continued success of both.

      The truck droned along over hills and valleys one encounters on the drive between Hattiesburg and Poplarville, slowly progressing toward Jeb's eventual meeting with Coach Holden.  He dreaded the encounter but wanted so much to obtain a college education and, hopefully, one day improve his economic and social status in life.  Entry into Pearl River College would be the first step toward achievement of these ultimate goals.  There was a tremendous problem to overcome, however, in that his family was poor and could not afford to send him to college.  Therefore, as he saw the situation, his dreams were tied to success in obtaining a football scholarship that would cover college expenses.  This was the burning motivational factor driving him to the dreaded meeting with Coach Holden, an ominous, foreboding venture that plagued him the past several weeks.  He had heard many tales about the coach; one being that he was a psychological wizard, capable of making grown men cry.  Also, as rumor went, he had psychic powers, unusual abilities that allowed him to determine falsehoods when uttered.  But the most frightening characteristic attributed to Holden was that he enjoyed verbally toying with an individual, much like a cat plays with a mouse before dealing the lethal blow.

      While those thoughts haunted him, Jeb reflected upon his earlier conversation with the farmer.  "I can't blame the man for the unbelieving look he gave me after I told him my intentions.  My hopes and dreams seem impossible even to me.  Here I am a five foot, seven inch, 130-pound high school dropout; son of a poor, illiterate, automobile mechanic with five kids; and a descendant from an immediate family tree that has never yielded a college graduate.  Entertaining the notion that this great coach, whom I hope to talk with, will see far beyond these shortfalls and grant me the honor of joining his proud football team.  What a fruitcake I must be to others.  I wouldn't be surprised if this old salt-of-the-earth farmer stopped his truck and demanded my departure before I begin frothing at the mouth.  For surely I must be rabid or loony."

      True to his word, the old man dropped Jeb off within a few miles of the college.

      "You take care, young'un," he cautioned.  "And watch out for Dobie."

      "Yes, Sir, I will."

      Ten minutes passed before Jeb caught another ride toward the school.  Ten agonizing minutes during which he again questioned his resolve and desire to continue this apparently impossible task.  In the end, however, he reached the same conclusion as in the past: "I must go on because there are no other options."  The second driver dropped him off on highway 11 on which part of the PRC campus borders.

      Standing on the side of the highway, Jeb slowly scanned the hilly slope on which the college was situated.  He had visited the school before and knew his way around the small campus.  But each time he arrived, the teenager loved to stop at this roadside vantage point and take in the beauty through admiring, envious eyes.  He was the outsider wanting so much to become part of this educational environment, fearing that he never would, yet driven to try, try, try!

      Housed predominantly in eleven buildings, the school had an administration building, library, two girls' dormitories, two boys' dormitories, a cafeteria, a science building, the band hall, the vocational education building, and a gymnasium.  Additionally, there were approximately 10-20 veteran apartments and a football stadium.  A two-way road encircled the front campus and all buildings were located behind the paved road.  Many tall pines, a few very majestic old oaks, flowerbeds, and seemingly unending evergreen shrubbery covered the campus between the drive and the highway.  This wooded area blotted out a sometimes-merciless summer sun and harbored an occasional breeze that whispered through treetops, creating an ideal spot for students to gather and relax between classes.  Glancing at the boy's dorm brought to mind fun times he had enjoyed during earlier visits, and the girl dorms reminded him of several pretty ladies with whom he wanted to become better acquainted.  "Schools must exist," Jeb reflected, "that have more majestic buildings and prettier campuses, but those schools are for other folks, not for me.  This is my school."

      Jeb soon began the relatively short trek from the highway to the Coach's office, which was located in the center of the school complex.  The location provided a commanding view of on-campus student activities, an arrangement resulting in athletes conducting amorous activities elsewhere.  Players knew if the ol' man saw them with a girl, there would be hell to pay should they make the slightest mistake on the football field.  He saw all, forgot nothing.

      Jeb hesitated before knocking on the door, aware of conversation coming from behind it.  "God, I wish I'd called ahead for an appointment," he murmured to himself.  But fear that Coach would have told him not to come had kept him from doing so.  He knew people are less apt to decline a request if made in person.  Taking a deep breath, he mustered all available courage and timidly knocked on the door.  A moment later it flung open, framing the imposing form of Coach Lewis Murray.  He was a middle-aged man of about six feet, two inches in height who had approximately 230 pounds well distributed over a big frame.  From what Jeb had heard about him, he was a rather intelligent man, a Korean War veteran, a good husband and father, a Captain in the local Army National Guard unit, and a darned good football line coach who got concerted effort from his charges.

"Hello, young man, c'mon in!"  Coach Murray boomed out, offering a solid handshake as he laughingly observed Jeb's temporary state of rigor mortis.  He wore a big smile underneath friendly eyes and Jeb began to relax.  The overall demeanor of the man gave the healthy impression of an individual at peace with himself, happy with his work and life.

    "Thanks, Coach," Jeb said weakly as he entered the room.

    "Why hello, Jeb," Coach Holden greeted as he rose and offered a handshake.  He stood about five feet, eleven inches tall, on a partly overweight frame of approximately 185 pounds, had silvery hair and small, partly closed eyes that twinkled yet looked ominously foreboding enough to pierce cold steel.

    "How's Johnny?"

The question helped lower Jeb's anxiety level though the handshake was not the firm grip given by Murray.  The question referred to Jeb's older brother, Johnny Jackson.  Johnny was a natural athlete who made the All-American Junior College team while playing quarterback for Pearl River last year, was a star in the post-season All-American Jr. College football game, and now had an athletic scholarship with the University of Miami.  He was the first of Jeb's family, immediate and extended, to attend college.

    "He's doing fine, Sir, and sends his regards."

    "What can I help ya' with?"  Holden questioned.  Jeb paused for a few seconds as he recalled that the man in front of him had a sterling reputation as a gentleman around the ladies but was blunt and to the point on business matters.

    "Well, Sir, I just dropped by to see if you needed another ball player."

     "Well now, Jeb, huh, huh, huh.  Didn't I tell ya' last week over the phone that I didn't need any more ball players?"  Coach Holden followed the reply with his characteristic huh, huh, huh chuckle and began his notorious mannerism of repeatedly moving his thumb through the partly cupped fingers of his left hand.  Jeb knew he was in trouble because the old man squinted his eyes and the tone of his voice changed, sounding deliberately sinister, menacingly.

    "Well yes, Sir, you did," Jeb replied hesitantly.  He was embarrassingly flustered and attempted to lighten the conversation by laughing it off.

    "But, I thought you might have changed your mind by now.  Ha, ha, ha.  I know my size and weight are awfully small when compared to your players but I did beat out stiff competition in high school and played first string quarterback for two years at Petal High.  Last year I passed for nine touchdowns, ran for three more, and played defensive back.  Other players say I tackle them harder than most boys weighing 150 pounds."  Realizing his utterances were not being favorably received, Jeb was bound to get in all his good points now, for he might never get another opportunity to present his case.  Coach Holden nodded his head with a slight sneer on his face, glanced at Coach Murray, and again chuckled, "Huh, huh, huh."

      "Did ya' hear that, Murray?

He thinks we don't receive scouting reports and might have changed our minds.  Have you changed your mind about additional players?"  Holden queried in a pseudo-sarcastic manner, and the junior coach duly noted that fact.

     "No, Sir!"  He blurted.  Murray was resting uneasily in his chair because of the abrupt, unrelenting direction this conversation had taken.  He knew Coach was worried about the upcoming football season for he had a tough football schedule, only a few returning starters from last year's State Championship runner-up team, and was evidently miffed because this young man had interrupted an important planning session.  However, he was surprised Coach Holden was in the process of dismissing the young boy so quickly.  On the other hand, he was also quite aware that the ol' man didn't like repeating himself.  And Murray most assuredly knew to keep his own mouth shut or Dobie would turn the verbal fury on him, as he had in the past.

      "Well now, Jeb," Holden continued with his eyes glued on the visibly shakened young man, "Coach Murray hasn't changed his mind and I haven't changed mine, so we still don't need another player.  Therefore, you just enjoy yourself while on campus then tell your mom and dad hello for me when ya' get back home."

      With this comment, the conversation ended.  Jeb received weak handshakes from both men and was quickly dismissed.

     Again by themselves, the two men relaunched into their planning session.

      Though he could hear the men through the door, Jeb was oblivious to their sounds.  He was crushed.  His scholarship effort had resulted in absolute failure; his plans for the future had been dashed to the ground.

     Slowly, he moved out onto the campus underneath the trees where several students relaxed between classes.  Leaning against the trunk of one of the great oaks, Jeb relived the conversation and became angry due to the manner in which he had been treated.  Thoughts raced through his mind.

     "How could he be so callous?"

     "Doesn't he know how badly I need that scholarship?"

     "Who the hell is he to treat me so harshly?!"

     "I've a good mind to go back in that office and tell him what part of Hell he can occupy!"

     Unbeknownst to him, a girl, in the company of her friend, had been quizzically, amusingly watching Jeb.  Suddenly, both approached.

     "Hi," greeted the strikingly pretty girl whose eyes gleamed with youthful happiness.  Jeb was startled, but pleasantly so, and was immediately captivated by this pretty, young thing who was lovely enough and exuded sufficient dynamism to have stepped directly out of the spring edition of any fashion magazine.

     "Hi yourself," he replied coyly, regaining composure.

     "My name is Susie Dalton.  Aren't you Jeb Jackson, and don't you play quarterback for Petal High?"

     "Yes.  I'm Jeb Jackson and I played for Petal High School, but not anymore."

"See there," she said to her friend.  "I told you it was him."

     "I saw you play in a coupla’ games and thought you were terrific.  Are you gonna' play for The River?"

Jeb didn't know what to say momentarily but knew for certain his recent failure would not be shared with this pretty, little blond-headed admirer.

     "Well, maybe.  I haven't made up my mind.  I'm just down checking out the program, trying to determine whether to come here or not."

     "Oh, I hope ya' do.  You'd love it here as we all do, and I'd be disappointed if you went somewhere else."

      Suddenly the girls realized they had to hurry quickly for their next class, so said good-bye, apologizing for having to leave so quickly.  Before departing, however, Susie made a personal request of Jeb to look her up next time he returned to The River.

      With their departure, Jeb was left again with haunting thoughts but he didn't feel so dejected now.  For there is nothing quite like having a couple of admirers around to boost one's ego.  The short visit resulted in a high level of adrenaline now coursing through his veins.

     Walking toward the highway in order to hitchhike back to Hattiesburg, he again mentally taunted Coach Holden.  "How could he do this to me?"  Then a smile crossed his face and he mused, "How could he do this to her?  After all, doesn't he know how distressed this young lady would be if I'm not allowed to come back to The River and date her?"

Chuckling to himself, he thought, "What a heartless old man who'd deprive this lovely young lady of my most ardent and passionate affections.  Gads, this lovely wench could be driven to the point of slashing her wrists should I fail to return."

     Spirits soaring, Jeb remembered that Johnny would be home from Florida for a few days next week, and Coach Holden regarded him as one of the best athletes he had ever coached.  "Maybe I can persuade Johnny to speak on my behalf," he gushed.  "Surely Coach Holden would honor such a plea from Johnny."

These positive thoughts erased the agonizing pain that had racked Jeb less than twenty minutes earlier.  Such is the wonder of youthful elixir.

     Before long, he boarded a northbound automobile toward Hattiesburg and home.  He bade farewell to The River for now, but not good-bye.  There would be another time, soon.  But Jeb's quest was now two-fold: His desire for a college education for himself, and his pursuit to bring happiness to the life of a pretty young damsel.  Surely, Don Quixote would've been pleased with such noble thoughts.