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A Tale of Two Legacies Page 2
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Chapter 3
Harrell Wade got a good start the next morning and his mind was awash with great expectations. His pa took the old Citation and handed him the keys to a brand new Mercury Sable. Wade was aware that Ford no longer manufactured the Mercury line and guessed that his pa had gotten quite a deal on this gray beauty. It was already gassed and washed and ready to go. The first scheduled stop was in Columbus, Mississippi, and he located Magnolia Motors quite easily. His contact, Billy Joe Beeson, was the owner. Wade waited outside Billy’s office until a customer left and then went in and introduced himself. Billy was most cordial as he accepted the package that Wade presented him. Wade was somewhat startled as Billy opened the package right away and removed several significant stacks of banded currency in, apparently, a multitude of denominations. Wade caught himself staring and consciously forced himself to blink.
“Tell your pa that I appreciate the fast remuneration. I should have another 100 or so catalytic converters for him next time since I now have procurement representatives in sixteen cities,” said Billy.
“I’ll do that. Just what does pa get out of those things?” asked Wade.
“I’m surprised you don’t know. He salvages platinum and rhodium among other precious metals from them. The rare earth metals are especially dear. And the demand for such will be quite high as soon as the electronics manufacturin’ gets goin’ ag’in. Most of these are from Toyotas and the high clearance on their SUVs and trucks makes sawin’ them off just a few minutes work. And there are plenty of older Toyotas still bein’ driven around throughout the South these days. Won’t you join me for some lunch at the Burger Barn?”
“You bet!” replied Wade not wanting to show too much that he was having difficulty following everything that Billy was telling him.
The Burger Barn was right across the street. Waiting for their order to arrive, Billy quietly continued his spiel, “With the economy in the toilet, theft is really on the rise across the country for almost anythin’ ... of little value or of great value. One hears of the telephone companies squawkin’ every day because somebody is stealin’ copper wire right off the poles. Out west towards the 100th meridian, they make off with the copper wirin’ from the electric wheel motors on the farmers’ center pivot irrigation systems. I even read in the paper that an art museum in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, got ripped off for some Grant Wood paintin’s. He’s the artist who painted American Gothic.”
Wade brightened, “Isn’t that the one of the dour farm couple with a pitchfork standin’ in front of a barn?” Wade thought that at last his art appreciation course had been worth something.
“Yes, indeedy, and, if that’s the one that was swiped, it will be a real problem to fence. No pawnshop in the country would dare touch it. It would have to be put on ice for quite some time,” laughed Billy. Bemused, Billy went on, “I remember not too many years ago, your pa got aholt of a paintin’ lifted from the Taft Museum in Cincinnati called The Singin’ Wire or somethin’ like that, but it was so well known in the art world that he had trouble findin’ a buyer on the Q.T. It was a beautiful paintin’ too – an Indian in the middle of nowhere listenin’ to a telegraph pole. He had it hangin’ on the back of his bedroom closet door for the longest time. That deal was sure a faux pas as it were, a good one on all of us. As I recall, he eventually sold it for a tidy sum to a philanthropist who returned it anonymously to the museum. I think your pa had it so long that it became part of his life. He kind of hated to see it go!”
Wade could not recall ever seeing any such thing at home. He was more intrigued by Billy’s catalytic converter operation, but felt he dare not try to draw him out. Wade had clumsily already revealed his lack of insight as to his being here in Columbus.
Billy very nicely paid Wade’s luncheon tab and expressed his hope that he might see Wade again relatively soon. Wade took his leave and headed due west for Greenville and the Mississippi River.
Harrell Wade got a good start the next morning and his mind was awash with great expectations. His pa took the old Citation and handed him the keys to a brand new Mercury Sable. Wade was aware that Ford no longer manufactured the Mercury line and guessed that his pa had gotten quite a deal on this gray beauty. It was already gassed and washed and ready to go. The first scheduled stop was in Columbus, Mississippi, and he located Magnolia Motors quite easily. His contact, Billy Joe Beeson, was the owner. Wade waited outside Billy’s office until a customer left and then went in and introduced himself. Billy was most cordial as he accepted the package that Wade presented him. Wade was somewhat startled as Billy opened the package right away and removed several significant stacks of banded currency in, apparently, a multitude of denominations. Wade caught himself staring and consciously forced himself to blink.
“Tell your pa that I appreciate the fast remuneration. I should have another 100 or so catalytic converters for him next time since I now have procurement representatives in sixteen cities,” said Billy.
“I’ll do that. Just what does pa get out of those things?” asked Wade.
“I’m surprised you don’t know. He salvages platinum and rhodium among other precious metals from them. The rare earth metals are especially dear. And the demand for such will be quite high as soon as the electronics manufacturin’ gets goin’ ag’in. Most of these are from Toyotas and the high clearance on their SUVs and trucks makes sawin’ them off just a few minutes work. And there are plenty of older Toyotas still bein’ driven around throughout the South these days. Won’t you join me for some lunch at the Burger Barn?”
“You bet!” replied Wade not wanting to show too much that he was having difficulty following everything that Billy was telling him.
The Burger Barn was right across the street. Waiting for their order to arrive, Billy quietly continued his spiel, “With the economy in the toilet, theft is really on the rise across the country for almost anythin’ ... of little value or of great value. One hears of the telephone companies squawkin’ every day because somebody is stealin’ copper wire right off the poles. Out west towards the 100th meridian, they make off with the copper wirin’ from the electric wheel motors on the farmers’ center pivot irrigation systems. I even read in the paper that an art museum in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, got ripped off for some Grant Wood paintin’s. He’s the artist who painted American Gothic.”
Wade brightened, “Isn’t that the one of the dour farm couple with a pitchfork standin’ in front of a barn?” Wade thought that at last his art appreciation course had been worth something.
“Yes, indeedy, and, if that’s the one that was swiped, it will be a real problem to fence. No pawnshop in the country would dare touch it. It would have to be put on ice for quite some time,” laughed Billy. Bemused, Billy went on, “I remember not too many years ago, your pa got aholt of a paintin’ lifted from the Taft Museum in Cincinnati called The Singin’ Wire or somethin’ like that, but it was so well known in the art world that he had trouble findin’ a buyer on the Q.T. It was a beautiful paintin’ too – an Indian in the middle of nowhere listenin’ to a telegraph pole. He had it hangin’ on the back of his bedroom closet door for the longest time. That deal was sure a faux pas as it were, a good one on all of us. As I recall, he eventually sold it for a tidy sum to a philanthropist who returned it anonymously to the museum. I think your pa had it so long that it became part of his life. He kind of hated to see it go!”
Wade could not recall ever seeing any such thing at home. He was more intrigued by Billy’s catalytic converter operation, but felt he dare not try to draw him out. Wade had clumsily already revealed his lack of insight as to his being here in Columbus.
Billy very nicely paid Wade’s luncheon tab and expressed his hope that he might see Wade again relatively soon. Wade took his leave and headed due west for Greenville and the Mississippi River.
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