Dateline Smileyville - Markus Jr. Pell

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attempt that has been made since the Republican Party was created. I had Tad Flummox for several classes during my college career. He is retired. I am fifty-three. He still flings pop quizzes at me.

      "The vast majority of the efforts are from the left or far left and are therefore unable to attract sizable numbers in a nation that, in the main, leans conservative. And they all tend to throw everything including the kitchen sink into their platforms. And also, often their timing is bad. And sometimes some people get the idea that a political party with broad appeal and staying power can occur from the billionaire on down. But that, of course, is never the way and can never succeed."

      "Correct!" He beamed at me. It bugs me that, after all these years, I still feel like a proud peacock in school getting a gold star, when Tad Flummox gives me that look. Of course, I don't get it near so often as I merit, but Doc always was a tough grader. "A successful political party will of course be called upon to take a stand on thousands of issues over the course of time, and many of those issues will find eventual expression in the platform of a fully mature major political party. But a new party is not a mature party - it needs to focus on several key issues, not encumber itself with, and fracture from the weight of, a platform with two hundred planks! We have our several issues, Markus. Everyone has just got to accept that."

      "Well, Doc," I replied after slurping the remaining milk from my apple crumble bowl, "I got a sense at the meeting today that everyone is finally catching on to that fact."

      "Good. It's about time." He beamed at me again and then gazed at something in the distance, a look of happy remembrance on his face.

      Now, back in college days, Doc Flummox would occasionally brandish a ruler; it was neither a three-footer nor a one-footer, but a rare foot-and-a-halfer. And it was not one of those cheap plastic things. This one was wooden - hickory - and it appeared to be of a thickness perhaps double that of your basic, run-of-the-mill ruler. To the best of my knowledge, that ruler of his was a prop; Doc never bloodied the knuckles or tanned the behind of any student. It did not make an appearance during every class session, but only occasionally, perhaps on an afternoon when we students were unruly and Doc wanted us to quieten ourselves down, or on a morning when we students were sluggish and inattentive and he sought to animate us, and to focus our attention.

      As I say, Americans, I never saw or even heard of Doc ever utilizing that impressive ruler for purposes of corporal punishment. But, then again, no one ever saw him actually measure anything with it, either. Moreover, there were these little notches along the metal edge of the ruler, that put one in mind of the notches the baddies etched into their guns in those old black-and-white westerns to signify how many 'kills' they had made during their infamous careers. Sometimes he'd run his thumb along those notches, his eyes aglitter. The first time I ever laid eyes on that ruler, there were nine notches in it. This was way back in 1977. But there were twelve the last time I'd seen it, which was in the spring of 1982.

      And now, thirty years later, at a regularly-scheduled meeting of the general membership of the Conservative Democratic Party, Oscar Nobble had just taken the floor. There are no major book stores in Smileyville Township, of course. There is, however, Nobble's Used Book Barn, and Oscar owns it. And for a third consecutive meeting, Oscar Nobble was attempting to introduce a plank into the party platform regarding the "evils of ebooks." He is not pleased that my entire presidential campaign consists of two ebooks. Attempting to encourage him with the notion that the ebooks are likely to become hard-copy books, too, and therefore may one day grace the shelves of his used book barn, did no good. Nothing was doing any good. But on this day, as Oscar began to address the executive committee, of which Doc is a member, I was stunned to see Doc reach under the table and produce a small, narrow, rectangular case, a case I'd not seen in three decades. It resembled the case a billiards sharp would carry his cue in, only smaller. Back in college, everyone noticed when Doc had his ruler, because no one could miss it when he would withdraw it from its case with the flourish of a magician producing his wand.

      It is certain that no one missed it on this day, either, at the regularly-scheduled meeting of the general membership of the Conservative Democratic Party. In short order the bubbling stream of words pouring forth from the mouth of Oscar Nobble had fallen to a murmuring creek, and then dried up altogether. And the queue of people waiting to speak after Oscar? Well, it mysteriously disappeared right along with Oscar's flow of verbiage. And the remainder of the meeting ran just about as fine as frog hair, which, as everyone knows, is very fine indeed.

      And there at Mabel's Diner, I sat looking across the table at the face of my old political science professor as he in turn gazed across the room, with that smile still on his face. And I smiled, too.

      FOUR: I'm Just Wild About... Harry?

      DATELINE SMILEYVILLE - I am sure, Americans, that you've all heard of the Devlin twins. They are (until now, ahem) the most famous people ever to hail from Smileyville. After having established themselves as the hottest songwriting duo to hit country music in many a year, most everyone around these parts assumed they'd up and move to Nashville. But, no, they still live here, albeit in much, much larger houses than they lived in before discovering the career that made them wealthy. In fact, I was there the very moment that career was launched:

      We rarely play cards these days, everyone is just too busy, but a number of years ago we had a regular weekly euchre game. I would partner up with my cousin, Quentin 'Quiet' Riott, and we'd square off against JimJerry, the Devlin twins. They nearly always beat us. I don't believe they cheated; I think they had some kind of 'twin telepathy' thing going on. Maybe. My cousin grew up with them and I had met them a few times over the years, but I did not really get to know the twins until after I moved to Smileyville. I have always had a devil of a time telling them apart, but it was easier to do so when we played euchre, because JimJerry were forever arguing with theirself over what radio station to listen to as background music for the card game. Jim was a big fan of country music, which Jerry despised. Jerry craved his classic rock, which Jim abhorred. On the night when Devlin Twins Music was born, Jim had commandeered the radio. Which radio station we listened to mattered not to my cousin, Quiet; he enjoys both country music and classic rock. And I enjoy all kinds of music, as long as it does not yell at me; that stuff, Americans, I can live without.

      The game on this particular night was being played in the rec room in the basement of Quiet's house; back then Quiet had been married for a couple years, and his wife Lotta had given birth to their son, Stuart A. Riott, a few months previous to the card game that night. Before becoming Lotta Riott, Quiet's wife's name had been Lotta Smiley. Yes. Those Smileys. Unbeknownst to the mayor (and nearly everyone else in the village and township), his eldest daughter had been seeing Quiet Riott on the sly for about a year before the news of their elopement rocked the community. The Riotts and Smileys are not exactly the Hatfields and McCoys, but they are the closest we come to it in these parts. The Riott menfolk tend to 'marry late.' Uncle Pat did. And so did Quiet. So not only did Mayor Smiley's eldest daughter marry a Riott, but she married a Riott several months older than the mayor himself. And to top it all off, she had gone and married a Riott who is the son of the patriarch of the entire extended Riott clan, and Mayor Smiley's arch political enemy, to boot.

      Well, Americans - it was simply delicious, and I freely admit to having enjoyed the mayor's discomfiture and chagrin in full measure, in the days and weeks following the marriage. And in these epages, I know I've already made clear that I am no particular fan of Mayor Smiley. But even I began to worry about the mayor and to feel sorry for him when, several months after the wedding, he still hadn't recovered. The mayor has a garrulous personality by nature, but that personality had gone fishin'. He went from being mayor of Smileyville 24/7 and proud of it (he is not a bad mayor, Americans, to be fair to him), to doing no more than the barest minimum of work incidental to his position. And the word quickly got around that Mrs. Smiley was now running the weekly paper, The Smileyville Grimace. Mostly what the mayor did, and for a very long while, was to stay home just as much as he possibly could.

      And his daughter? Lotta did all she could to build a bridge back to her father, assisted by her mother, who was doing what she could to put the best face on the situation, although there wasn't much of a 'best face' to be found.

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