The Fiddler
1949
Mamma watched as Daddy opened the front door to see who knocked loudly.
“How are you, Sir?” the stranger said joyfully. “Can I come in for a little while? I’d like to show you our latest Stanley Products. I’m sure the Missus would love to see ‘em”. The tall, gangly man peered around the door facing and smiled broadly, his snuff-stained dentures showing as he smiled at mamma.
“Come on in,” Daddy said, stepping aside as he opened the door wider.
The stranger dragged a battered, black suitcase inside with him as well as a tattered fiddle case and sat them down in front of the couch.
“Have a seat,” Daddy said as he sat down in the chair opposite the couch. “Birdie, drag up a kitchen chair and have a look.”
“My name’s Murdock….., Leslie Murdock,” the stranger said, reaching out a grimy hand for Daddy to grasp.
Daddy shook Mr. Murdock’s hand cordially. “Johnie Kirksey, Mr. Murdock. This here is my wife, Birdie and my daughter, Patty.”
“How-do, Mam,” he said to Mamma. Nodding his head toward Patty, he winked one of his pale blue eyes. “Mighty nice to meet you folks! I’d like to show you our newest hair brushes and shoe brushes,” he said as he began opening his suitcase and he laid it wide open on the wood floor.
Patty’s eyes shone as she gazed at the new bristle brushes lying in neat rows inside the suitcase. There were colorful combs of different sizes, lying in rows of their own.
Mr. Murdock picked up a cedar-handled hair brush and handed it to Mamma.
“Just look at that fine hair brush, Mrs. Kirksey, and this sturdy plastic comb.” He handed the comb to Patty. She turned it over carefully, inspecting the pale-pink comb wistfully.
“You notice, Mrs. Kirksey, the comb is two inches wide and eight inches long, a nice, big comb easy to hold onto and hard to lose,” he said, grinning widely. “I can sell you both, comb and brush, for two-bits apiece; just a half-dollar for both of ‘em.”
Birdie ran her fingers across the smooth handle and firm bristles of the hair brush, comparing it, in her mind, to the worn brush lying on the dresser in the bedroom. She looked up at Johnie, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. He was reaching for a large shoe brush that Mr. Murdock was handing to him.
“This here is a ‘top-of-the-line’ shoe brush, made of fine horse hair. It’ll last longer than a dozen pair of new shoes, I guarantee it! I got some black and brown shoe polish right here, too. You got another pair of shoes I could polish and shine for you, Mr. Kirksey? I’d be glad to show ‘ye how spiffy it makes ‘em.”
Johnie looked down at his well-worn, brown oxfords that had dried mud from the field on them.
“I reckon I got a pair of Sunday shoes you could spiff up. Patty, go get them for me, Gal.”
Patty hurried to get his shoes from the bedroom. She brought them back and set them down in front of Mr. Murdock. They were black, leather shoes with hardly any shine on them. Daddy had only worn them to church and to town sometime and they had lasted a long time.
“Fine shoes,” Mr. Murdock said, taking one of them in his hands and inspecting it. He proceeded to open a small can of black shoe polish and with a well-used, black scrap of cloth, he scooped a dab of polish out of the can and onto the top of Daddy’s shoe. He spread the black polish lovingly, all over the shoe, scooping up more polish as he needed it. Then, he repeated the process, with the other shoe. The Kirksey family sat, entranced, watching Mr. Murdock handle Daddy’s shoe with such care. Finally, setting the shoes side-by- side, he said, “Now, we’ll just let ‘em dry for a spell and then I’ll shine ‘em.” Gazing up at Mamma, he continued. “How ‘ye doin’ on vanilla flavoring? I got the pure extract and I got imitation. Most folk buy the imitation. I figure it’s just as good as the extract, and lots cheaper.”
“I don’t need no vanilla,” Mamma said. “I could use this brush and comb, though.” She looked questionably at Johnie.
“You can get them,” Johnie said meeting her gaze.
“It ain’t too much?” she asked him.
“It’s all right. All of us can use them.”
Mr. Murdock was beaming as he began brushing the first shoe he had polished. The shoe began to shine and before he was done, it looked glossy. He picked up the other shoe and began to brush it.
Johnie had to grin, seeing the old pair of shoes being brought back to life. “How much for a tin of that polish and the shoe brush?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do!” Mr. Murdock said happily. “I’ll let ‘ye have both of them for two-bits apiece, just like I done for your wife. All four items for a mere dollar bill! How’s that, Mr. Kirksey?”
“That’s all right. I’ll pay you a dollar for all four,” Daddy said, as he drew his wallet out of his back pocket and carefully selected a dollar bill and handed it to Mr. Murdock.
“Much obliged!” Mr. Murdock exclaimed, taking the bill and stuffing it in his pocket. He closed the suitcase after taking out a new tin of black polish and handed the polish and shoe brush to Daddy. “Them shoes look mighty fine, Mr. Kirksey.”
“Yeah, they look ‘purty good.” Motioning toward the fiddle case, he continued, “You play that fiddle, Mr. Murdock?”
Mr. Murdock actually blushed. “Well, I play ‘at it,’ he joked. “Can’t say I’m so good.”
“Would you play a few tunes for us? Birdie can cook us some supper while you’re playing, if you want to stay for supper.” Johnie looked warily at Birdie.
Birdie nodded reluctantly, her mind racing, wondering what she had in the kitchen to feed company. She got up and took the chair back to the kitchen. Patty followed. Mamma handed the hair brush to Patty. “Go put the brush and comb on the dresser and come help me fix supper,” she said softly, so Mr. Murdock wouldn’t hear.
“What are you fixing?” Patty asked.
“I don’t know. I got fried okra and pinto beans cooked. Maybe I can fry some potatoes to go with that and fry some bacon. That’s all the meat I got.”
“I love your bacon, Mamma. Mr. Murdock will like all that, too.”
“I hope so. We got tomatoes, too,” Mamma mused, “I can slice some of them.” She stopped in mid-thought as a beautiful melody erupted from the fiddle, filling the whole house with the sound.
Patty grinned from ear to ear. “Listen, Mamma! Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, dreamily.
“Yeah, it’s ‘purty. Now, let’s get busy. You peel the potatoes and I’ll start cookin’ the bacon.” There was a twinkle in Mamma’s eyes as she began laying strips of bacon in the cast-iron skillet, her spirit lifting as though being carried away by the musical sound coming from the living room.
The End
1949
Mamma watched as Daddy opened the front door to see who knocked loudly.
“How are you, Sir?” the stranger said joyfully. “Can I come in for a little while? I’d like to show you our latest Stanley Products. I’m sure the Missus would love to see ‘em”. The tall, gangly man peered around the door facing and smiled broadly, his snuff-stained dentures showing as he smiled at mamma.
“Come on in,” Daddy said, stepping aside as he opened the door wider.
The stranger dragged a battered, black suitcase inside with him as well as a tattered fiddle case and sat them down in front of the couch.
“Have a seat,” Daddy said as he sat down in the chair opposite the couch. “Birdie, drag up a kitchen chair and have a look.”
“My name’s Murdock….., Leslie Murdock,” the stranger said, reaching out a grimy hand for Daddy to grasp.
Daddy shook Mr. Murdock’s hand cordially. “Johnie Kirksey, Mr. Murdock. This here is my wife, Birdie and my daughter, Patty.”
“How-do, Mam,” he said to Mamma. Nodding his head toward Patty, he winked one of his pale blue eyes. “Mighty nice to meet you folks! I’d like to show you our newest hair brushes and shoe brushes,” he said as he began opening his suitcase and he laid it wide open on the wood floor.
Patty’s eyes shone as she gazed at the new bristle brushes lying in neat rows inside the suitcase. There were colorful combs of different sizes, lying in rows of their own.
Mr. Murdock picked up a cedar-handled hair brush and handed it to Mamma.
“Just look at that fine hair brush, Mrs. Kirksey, and this sturdy plastic comb.” He handed the comb to Patty. She turned it over carefully, inspecting the pale-pink comb wistfully.
“You notice, Mrs. Kirksey, the comb is two inches wide and eight inches long, a nice, big comb easy to hold onto and hard to lose,” he said, grinning widely. “I can sell you both, comb and brush, for two-bits apiece; just a half-dollar for both of ‘em.”
Birdie ran her fingers across the smooth handle and firm bristles of the hair brush, comparing it, in her mind, to the worn brush lying on the dresser in the bedroom. She looked up at Johnie, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. He was reaching for a large shoe brush that Mr. Murdock was handing to him.
“This here is a ‘top-of-the-line’ shoe brush, made of fine horse hair. It’ll last longer than a dozen pair of new shoes, I guarantee it! I got some black and brown shoe polish right here, too. You got another pair of shoes I could polish and shine for you, Mr. Kirksey? I’d be glad to show ‘ye how spiffy it makes ‘em.”
Johnie looked down at his well-worn, brown oxfords that had dried mud from the field on them.
“I reckon I got a pair of Sunday shoes you could spiff up. Patty, go get them for me, Gal.”
Patty hurried to get his shoes from the bedroom. She brought them back and set them down in front of Mr. Murdock. They were black, leather shoes with hardly any shine on them. Daddy had only worn them to church and to town sometime and they had lasted a long time.
“Fine shoes,” Mr. Murdock said, taking one of them in his hands and inspecting it. He proceeded to open a small can of black shoe polish and with a well-used, black scrap of cloth, he scooped a dab of polish out of the can and onto the top of Daddy’s shoe. He spread the black polish lovingly, all over the shoe, scooping up more polish as he needed it. Then, he repeated the process, with the other shoe. The Kirksey family sat, entranced, watching Mr. Murdock handle Daddy’s shoe with such care. Finally, setting the shoes side-by- side, he said, “Now, we’ll just let ‘em dry for a spell and then I’ll shine ‘em.” Gazing up at Mamma, he continued. “How ‘ye doin’ on vanilla flavoring? I got the pure extract and I got imitation. Most folk buy the imitation. I figure it’s just as good as the extract, and lots cheaper.”
“I don’t need no vanilla,” Mamma said. “I could use this brush and comb, though.” She looked questionably at Johnie.
“You can get them,” Johnie said meeting her gaze.
“It ain’t too much?” she asked him.
“It’s all right. All of us can use them.”
Mr. Murdock was beaming as he began brushing the first shoe he had polished. The shoe began to shine and before he was done, it looked glossy. He picked up the other shoe and began to brush it.
Johnie had to grin, seeing the old pair of shoes being brought back to life. “How much for a tin of that polish and the shoe brush?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do!” Mr. Murdock said happily. “I’ll let ‘ye have both of them for two-bits apiece, just like I done for your wife. All four items for a mere dollar bill! How’s that, Mr. Kirksey?”
“That’s all right. I’ll pay you a dollar for all four,” Daddy said, as he drew his wallet out of his back pocket and carefully selected a dollar bill and handed it to Mr. Murdock.
“Much obliged!” Mr. Murdock exclaimed, taking the bill and stuffing it in his pocket. He closed the suitcase after taking out a new tin of black polish and handed the polish and shoe brush to Daddy. “Them shoes look mighty fine, Mr. Kirksey.”
“Yeah, they look ‘purty good.” Motioning toward the fiddle case, he continued, “You play that fiddle, Mr. Murdock?”
Mr. Murdock actually blushed. “Well, I play ‘at it,’ he joked. “Can’t say I’m so good.”
“Would you play a few tunes for us? Birdie can cook us some supper while you’re playing, if you want to stay for supper.” Johnie looked warily at Birdie.
Birdie nodded reluctantly, her mind racing, wondering what she had in the kitchen to feed company. She got up and took the chair back to the kitchen. Patty followed. Mamma handed the hair brush to Patty. “Go put the brush and comb on the dresser and come help me fix supper,” she said softly, so Mr. Murdock wouldn’t hear.
“What are you fixing?” Patty asked.
“I don’t know. I got fried okra and pinto beans cooked. Maybe I can fry some potatoes to go with that and fry some bacon. That’s all the meat I got.”
“I love your bacon, Mamma. Mr. Murdock will like all that, too.”
“I hope so. We got tomatoes, too,” Mamma mused, “I can slice some of them.” She stopped in mid-thought as a beautiful melody erupted from the fiddle, filling the whole house with the sound.
Patty grinned from ear to ear. “Listen, Mamma! Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, dreamily.
“Yeah, it’s ‘purty. Now, let’s get busy. You peel the potatoes and I’ll start cookin’ the bacon.” There was a twinkle in Mamma’s eyes as she began laying strips of bacon in the cast-iron skillet, her spirit lifting as though being carried away by the musical sound coming from the living room.
The End
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